⠀⠀⠀— fem!reader x husband!nanami, fluff with suggestive themes, bro loves his wife.
⟢ 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: hi loviesss:33 this is quite rushed m sorry.. its not my usual number of texts but i need to give u guys smth!! im really busy lately and ill only get busier but ill try to post each two days <33 LOVE U ALL THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT AND 800 FOLLOWERS!! im beyond grateful and feel sosososo loved🥹🥹
Mini Gojo shouted “shut up, mom!” and her husband took that personally.
It was Saturday morning, and the house had that strange weeken quiet. You were in the living room, your son was lingering in the kitchen, and Satoru… Satoru was somewhere upstairs.
Minutes earlier, in the kitchen with your son, you’d cooked up the plan in whispers: he’d yell, and you’d see how long it took Satoru to appear.
Your son glanced toward the stairs, then back at you. You gave him the tiniest nod. He took a deep breath, raised his voice, and yelled it at full volume:
“SHUT UP, MOM!”
The second the words left his mouth, Satoru was already standing right in front of him—glasses pushed up onto his forehead, blue eyes sharp and completely unimpressed.
“What did you just say?”
Your son’s eyes went wide. “I—”
“Uh-uh.” Satoru’s voice was calm, almost amused. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Try again.”
“It was—”
Satoru didn’t wait. In one smooth motion he reached down, hooked a hand around your son’s ankle, and lifted. The boy left the ground with a startled yelp as Satoru started swinging him gently, but firmly, back and forth like a particularly noisy pendulum.
“DAAAAAD—!”
“What,” Satoru repeated, giving him a little higher swing, “did you just say to your mother?”
“DAD STOOOOP—!”
You appeared in the doorway just in time to see your husband holding your son upside-down by one leg, expression deadpan, while the kid flailed and kicked at empty air.
You clamped a hand over your mouth.
Satoru glanced over, still swinging. “Sweetheart. Did you hear what this brat just said to you?”
Your son twisted, face red. “IT WAS A PRANK—DAAAAD PUT ME DOWN—”
“A prank,” Satoru repeated thoughtfully, giving him another slow swing. “Interesting. Because it sounded a lot like my only child telling my wife aka the love of my life to shut up. In my house. While I was upstairs.”
“MOM—HELP—”
You were already laughin hard. Leaning against the doorframe, shoulders shaking.
Satoru’s mouth twitched. “Ohh, she’s not helping you. Look at her. She’s enjoying this.”
“IT WAS A PRANK!” your son wailed, spinning slowly as Satoru adjusted his grip. “WE PLANNED IT—MOM SAID IT WAS OKAY—”
You finally managed to speak between laughs. “I—I did not say it was okay to yell it like that—”
“You nodded!”
“I nodded for a normal volume, not a house-wide announcement!”
Satoru gave one last dramatic swing and then flipped the boy upright, setting him back on his feet with exaggerated care. Your son staggered, white hair sticking up in every direction, face flushed, looking equal parts dizzy and betrayed.
Satoru crouched down to his level, still grinning. “Next time you want to test me, buddy, maybe don’t do it by disrespecting your mother. Because I will appear. And I will swing you. And your mom will laugh.”
Your son pointed an accusing finger at you, still wobbly. “She’s still laughing!”
You wiped at your eyes, trying and failing to compose yourself. “I’m sorry—the way he just appeared—and then started swinging you—”
Satoru stood and walked over to you, sliding an arm around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to your temple.
“You should’ve seen his face. Pure betrayal. Ten out of ten.”
Your son groaned and collapsed onto the nearest chair. Then, still looking dizzy and betrayed, he reached over with a stubborn little scowl, grabbed the spare pair of sunglasses Satoru always left on the table, and shoved them onto his face. He crossed his arms hard and just sat there, glaring at both of you from behind the oversized lenses like a smaller, offended version of his father.
“Awww, our baby is angry. I’m soooo scared.”
“Shut up, Dad.”
Satoru’s eyebrows shot up, and your son immediately realized his mistake.
“NO. WAIT—”
Too late. Satoru was already reaching for his ankle again.
ᥫ᭡. how the jjk men express their love for you .ᐟ .ᐟ written with fem!reader in mind.
gojo satoru ✿ gift giving — spoiling you with material items
satoru is a man that appreciates the finer things in life, and that sentiment extends to you when you’re someone he loves dearly. expensive luxury clothing, high end jewelry, fine dining, even silly souvenirs that he buys when traveling. anything he sees that he believes you would like, or even that just makes him think of you, is yours without a second thought. this also rings true if you happen to be out together and something captures your eye for a fraction of a second, it’s yours without you having to utter a word about it.
this is something he derives genuine joy from doing, because he’s sharing something he personally loves with you. if you didn’t like it or told him to stop all together he would listen, but a part of him would surely be crushed. he only wants you to have the best things that life has to offer, it’s what makes him feel the most content; knowing that as long as you’re with him you’ll never have to “want” for anything.
geto suguru ✿ words of affirmation — verbal expressions of love and complimenting you regularly
unlike his best friend, suguru is someone who believes the ultimate expression of love is just…telling you so, often. speaking from the heart and reassuring you of his unwavering feelings comes as naturally to him as breathing. he’s a man who is very emotionally intelligent and demonstrates such by easily knowing how to communicate how he feels. even in moments where you’re doing the most mundane thing, he’ll gaze at you quietly while you do it and the words just slip out as if he were cast under a spell.
it doesn’t just stop with him telling you how much he loves you, he tells you how beautiful you are just about everyday. whether he’s complimenting your skin, your hair, your clothes, aesthetic effects you put on, you hear it frequently. you also know without a sliver of doubt that he means every word, and that he never grows tired of letting you know.
nanami kento ✿ acts of service — making your life as practical and easy as possible
kento is a very reliable individual, as well as a seemingly natural problem solver. if you’re feeling stressed and disorganized about your finances? tell him so he can create a spreadsheet for you. something in the house has stopped working? he’s a handy man, he’ll fix it himself. need to vent? he’s all ears and will even give you advice if you want it. a second opinion? he’ll readily give it, even though he knows you’ll follow your first mind anyway.
if you’re feeling overwhelmed in your work life, he’ll try to make your home life as cushy as he can manage. he’ll pick up more of the house upkeep to ease your load, or even do it himself all together. even though he’s just as busy as you if not more so, it’s worth it if it helps you relax. kento will even convince you to take time off so he can plan a getaway for you both, anything to make you feel happy and at ease.
higurama hiromi ✿ quality time — making space for you when his schedule allows
working as a lawyer was a demanding job, one that took hours and hours of his life away from you most days of the week. so, whenever hiromi had downtime outside of his work he was quick to spend it with you. it didn’t matter what exactly you did, you could both rot in bed all day and it would still be the highlight of his whole week. he valued his time in general, you didn’t get it back once it was lost. he especially valued his time with you and held on to every second that ticked by. even if all you were doing was streaming a series he didn’t particularly keep up with beyond his days off with you.
when you weren’t lounging at home he planned dinner dates wherever you both could fit them. at home you normally ate dinner separately due to your schedules, so these moments were always a good opportunity to talk about your week and spend that intimate time together. it usually led to you both turning in to bed at the same time later to sleep, another infrequent thing that he never took for granted.
kamo choso ✿ physical touch — clinginess but not overbearing
choso always has to have his hands on you, whether its holding your hand, keeping an arm around you, cuddling, or slipping his arms around you to hug you from the back. he’s always touching you in one way or another, he can’t help himself and he always hopes he isn’t being a nuisance when he does it. he loves the calming effect it gives him, to feel the texture of your skin against his or pick up your scent when he nuzzles into your neck. it’s almost cathartic, and he doesn’t know what he would do without it.
in general he likes to be in your presence, even without touching you directly. Standing so close that you brush arms or hands, sitting so close you brush legs. sometimes he’ll even make smaller gestures, like casually linking his pinger finger with yours. his personal favorite is when you nod off and end up resting your head against his shoulder or on his lap, when that happens he doesn’t want it to end.
fushiguro toji ✿ quality time — comfortable silence shared between each other often
often times, toji is a man of few words and that didn’t change where it concerned you. however, where usually his selective communication came from not wanting to waste his breath, with you it was a more silent comfort. he was the type of man who expressed care not through compliments or loving words (though you still got those as well), but through physical proximity in the absence of casual conversation. even knowing what you need without having to ask.
he was also the type to remember small, physical details about you that you yourself probably didn’t think of often. like the types of food, drink, or snack you didn’t like. your favorite fragrance, the type of makeup you like if you wear it. he’s observant when it comes to you, and he always likes to catch you by surprise by offering these small things you think he wouldn’t know about.
sukuna ryomen ✿ words of affirmation — knowing just the right words to express his feelings in the smallest ways
ryomen spoke with an archaic elegance naturally, one that gave the quality of a time long passed. any words he spoke to you had the air of a poet in love and it never failed to fluster you, much to his amusement. even in regular conversation, anything you said that struck that cord would cause the words to flow out of his mouth like second nature. it was never too much, never a shakespearian monologue of how he felt, but always a passing comment that made clear where you stood with him.
sometimes he enjoys writing out his feelings in the form of notes, to leave by your bedside anytime he woke before you and had to leave. they were always the perfect way to start your morning, something to energize you for the day. you find them incredibly sweet and you keep them, but he swears if you show anybody he’ll stop writing them for you. you know that isn’t actually true, he loves writing the notes more than you do reading them. you still humor ryomen and tell him its your secret anyway.
animated divider created by @/chrisssiren. I tried to make these even in length, which one was your favorite? :)
SYNOPSIS. Gojo has a staring problems and doesn't understand the concept of personal space. You don't mind either.
A very short blurb :D
"Stop it, Gojo."
Your voice is soft enough that it's drowned out by the gentle tinkling of the wind chimes.
Your pen hovers over your half-done report, containing the details of the drills you made both the first and second years perform in neat scripture.
You don't have to second-guess whether your words were heard or not, considering the way you catch him inclining his head to the side from your peripherals as an answer itself.
"I'm not doing anything." His reply is just as gentle as yours, so unlike the loud and boisterous Gojo that you briefly glance at him.
"You do know what you're doing " you counter, pen resuming its methodical movement.
The sound of a chair lightly scraping against the floor, and you feel his presence close around you like a warm, plush blanket, never overbearing, but cozy enough that your shoulders reflexively loosen up.
He's graciously tall, the difference blatantly obvious even when he's sitting down, and he's been utilizing it to his advantage so often that you aren't surprised when his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.
His chin, not the buzzing and unreal sensation of his Infinity.
Your head tilts in the opposite direction to give him space; the silk of his blindfold and tufts of his snow-white hair brush against your cheek.
His lips, always swatched with a fruit-scented lipb alm, feathers along your earlobe. "Enlighten me."
The waxy residual he presses into your skin always has you lightly squirm at first at the textural difference. "I don't have to; you've just once again proven that you'd rather face Yaga's wrath than finish a report."
A small laugh slips past your lips. "I don't know how you do it."
He tuts, his breath fanning under your jaw. "It's all so boring; I'll just let Ijichi do it."
"Give that poor man a break, Gojo." You flip to the next page. "Just because he's hardworking doesn't mean you should dump your unwanted work on his shoulders."
A gasp, an arm wraps around your shoulders, a hand slides under your jaw, and your head is pulled back to rest on his shoulder, forced to look at his pouty face and covered eyes.
"I work hard, and you're comparing me to timid Ijichi. I'm wounded. Where's all the appreciation for my contribution to society?"
Your lips curl into a gentle smile, lifting your hand to squeeze Gojo's cheeks together before you pull him down and plant a kiss on his cheek.
A high-pitched gasp rings out.
Your lips move on to the tip of Gojo's nose.
A voice that very suspiciously sounds like Kugisaki is whisper-yelling at someone.
You take a moment to gaze at Gojo's covered eyes, his smile more playful than yours, but the light dusting of pink across his cheeks suggests his true feelings are much deeper.
Your lips connect with his glossy ones, and the faintest hint of cherry creeps up on your tongue.
And you could never mistake Fushiguro's tone of disappointment directed towards his classmates.
Gojo chases after your lips once you separate, his own parting for more. Instead of giving in, your hand leaves his face, and you turn back to the report lying on your desk, waiting to be finished.
"There. That's enough appreciation for the honorable Gojo today."
The sound of several footsteps scrambling fades down into the hallway.
"Now go and explain things to your students before the entire campus finds out, Satoru."
◞ in which
you are scared of thunderstorms, and he notices before you can pretend you are fine.
◞ content + warnings
thunderstorm anxiety, fear of loud noises, comfort, protective behavior, slightly rough behavior w toji and sukuna, but mostly fluff.
◞ author’s notes
hi hi wanted to write something soft that gives comfort. likes, reblogs, comments, and little thoughts in my inbox are always loved <3
⌗ links masterlist · ao3
⌗ GOJO SATORU / 五条 悟
“you’re not scared of a little thunder, are you?”
satoru’s voice is teasing but his hand is already reaching for yours before you can even answer, tugging you closer on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“i’m not scared,” you mutter, even as the whole apartment lights up white for a second and the thunder cracks so loudly that the windows rattle, making you flinch so hard that your knee knocks into his thigh.
“uh huh.” he doesn’t let go of your hand. “totally not scared. that’s why you’re trying to climb into my lap right now.”
“i am not trying to climb into your lap.”
“you kind of are though.” but he’s already shifting, pulling you in properly instead of making you do the work. one of his arms loops around your waist, pulling you in until you’re tucked against his side, your face pressed into his shoulder. he smells of fabric softener and the coconut shampoo he definitely stole from you at some point. “there. better?”
you don’t answer, just burrow in a little more when the next crack of thunder rolls through, closer this time, rattling something in the kitchen.
“hey.” his hand comes up to your hair, fingers combing through it slow, unhurried, like he’s got nowhere else to be and nothing better to do than this. “it’s just noise. can’t actually get you in here.”
“i know that.”
“you sure? because you’re gripping my shirt really hard right now.”
“shut up.”
he laughs and you feel it more than hear it, his chest shaking under your cheek. he doesn’t let go of you though, doesn’t stop stroking his fingers through your hair, and when the next flash of lightning goes off he tightens his arm around you half a second before the thunder even hits, like he timed it, like he’s been counting the gap between them just so he’d know when to hold on tighter.
“y’know,” he says after a while, “when i was a kid i used to think storms were kind of cool. dramatic. main character energy.”
“of course you did.”
“but if it makes you feel any better, i also used to hide under my desk during them. so we’re not that different.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, unimpressed. “you did not.”
“i absolutely did. i hated thunderstorms.” he’s grinning down at you, easy and warm, and it’s working, you notice, the knot in your chest loosening slightly, distracted by him instead of the storm. “when i was little, i used to sit in the hallway because there weren't any windows.”
“really?”
“mhm.” his hand keeps absentmindedly playing with your hair. “then i decided i'd had enough.”
“of thunderstorms?”
“of being scared.”
“that's not how fear works.”
“not with that attitude.”
“so what'd you do?”
“i built myself armor to protect me. out of paper. cardboard. whatever i could find.” he shrugs. “i'd put it on every time it stormed.”
“…and?”
“and it worked.”
“worked.”
“every single time.” he nods. “i'd wear the armor, march around the house for a bit, and eventually the storm would leave.”
“you're joking.”
“i'm not.”
“satoru.”
“i'm telling you the truth.”
“you cannot scare a storm away with a paper armor.”
“who said anything about scaring it away? i intimidated it.”
you finally laugh properly, the sound soft but real, and his grin turns impossibly pleased.
“there you are,” he murmurs.
you shake your head, still smiling despite yourself. “you made all of that up.”
“most of it.”
“which part was real?”
he pretends to think about it. “…i was a little scared of thunderstorm.”
you groan and hide your face against his shoulder again.
his laugh rumbles through his chest beneath your cheek, warm and familiar, and when the next roll of thunder sounds in the distance, you're listening to him instead of counting the seconds between the lightning and the noise.
“see,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “still not thinking about the storm.”
“…that was the plan the whole time, wasn’t it.”
“what plan.”
“the armor. all of it.” you tip your head back just enough to look at him properly, narrowing your eyes. “you lied about being scared of thunderstorms to make me laugh.”
“i lied about the paper armor. the fear was real, if that helps your case any.” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb lingering against your cheek after. “worked though, didn’t it. you haven’t flinched in like, four whole minutes. i’ve been counting.”
“you’ve been counting my flinching?”
“among other things, yeah.” the next roll of thunder sounds, distant now, and you don’t so much as blink at it, too busy glaring at him instead. “see. there it is. proof of concept.”
“i can’t believe i felt bad for you and your fake paper armor.”
he doesn’t answer that one. just pulls you in a little closer, arm tightening around you until there’s no space left between you at all, his chin settling on top of your head like he’s got nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
the next thunder rolls through, and outside the rain keeps falling steady against the windows, but it doesn’t feel like something to be afraid of anymore, not with the way he’s holding you, not with his heartbeat slow and even under your ear.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
⌗ GETO SUGURU / 夏油 傑
“you always do this,” suguru says, not even looking up from the book he’s reading, “count the seconds between the flash and the thunder.”
“i’m not counting.”
“your lips were moving.”
“i was breathing.”
“sure you were.” he finally sets the book down on the side table and shifts so his arm is stretched along the back of the couch, an open invitation you take approximately two seconds to accept. you tuck yourself against him and he settles his arm around you like it’s just where it belongs. “come here then, if you’re just breathing.”
“i hate this weather.”
“i know.” his hand finds your hair almost absentmindedly, fingers slipping through the strands before settling there. “you’ve hated storms since the day i met you. remember the camping trip?”
“don’t bring up the camping trip.”
“you cried.”
“i did not cry, there was a hole in the tent and rain got in my eye.”
“mm.” you can hear the smile in it even without looking up at him.
“suguru.”
lightning flashes through the curtains, and you go rigid for a second, waiting, and when the thunder comes it’s loud enough that you actually jump, and he just pulls you in a little closer without making a thing of it, like it’s the most normal reaction in the world and not something to comment on.
“it’s just sound,” he says, quiet now, voice low and even like he’s talking you down from somewhere. “loud, sure. but it can’t touch you. you know that.”
“i feel stupid,” you mumble against his shoulder. “i’m twenty-something years old and i still can’t handle a thunderstorm.”
“hey.” his hand stills in your hair for a second. “don’t do that.”
“do what.”
“the thing where you make yourself small over something that isn’t a big deal.” he tips your chin up gently so you’re looking at him. “you’re allowed to be scared of something. doesn’t make you stupid.”
“but it’s so stupid, it’s nothing dangerous.”
“knowing something and feeling it are different things. you don’t get to skip the feeling part just because the logic checks out.”
you look away, a little embarrassed, and he lets you, doesn’t force the eye contact, just pulls you closer instead, arm tightening around you until there’s no space left between you, his hand going back to smoothing through your hair.
“besides,” he says after a moment, quieter, “it’s kind of my favorite thing about you.”
that gets your attention. “what is.”
“this. the fact that you don’t pretend. you could put on a face, act unbothered, but you don’t. you just let yourself feel the thing and let me see it. that’s not nothing. that’s trust. i don’t take that lightly.”
“that’s a very generous way of describing me being afraid of thunder.”
“i’m allowed to be generous. i like you.” he says it simply. “so no, you don’t get to feel stupid about this. not around me.”
you don’t say anything, just let yourself sink into him fully, breathe him in, the calm, steady way he always smells like something clean and grounding, and let yourself focus on that instead of the wind picking up outside.
“you know what helped me, when i was a kid,” he says after a while, thoughtful, “counting things. not the storm. just anything. how many books on a shelf. how many buttons on a shirt.”
“is this a therapy technique or are you just distracting me.”
“can’t it be both.” he glances down at you, something soft in his face that he doesn’t bother hiding. “how many buttons do i have on this shirt.”
you actually look, squinting at his collar in the low light. “five.”
“see. and now you thought about buttons instead of thunder for a whole five seconds. i’m basically a professional.”
“you’re stupid.”
“but i’m your stupid.” the next thunder rolls through, further off now, and you don’t flinch this time, too busy fighting a smile against his shoulder. his hand keeps moving slow through your hair, patient, unbothered, like he’d stay exactly like this all night if the storm asked him to. “and i'm not going anywhere.”
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
⌗ NANAMI KENTO / 七海 建人
“i already told your supervisor you’re leaving early,” nanami says, standing in the doorway of your office like he’s been there a while, coat still damp from outside. “so get your things.”
you blink at him, still half caught up in the email you were typing. “kento? what are you doing here?”
“the trains are down. and it’s supposed to get worse before six.” he says it plainly, like it’s obvious, like driving across town in the middle of a storm to sit in your office lobby wasn’t even a decision he had to think twice about. “so. your things.”
“you didn’t have to do that.”
“i know.” he doesn’t elaborate further, just waits, patient in the way he always is, watching you save your work with the kind of attentiveness that tells you he’s not leaving until you actually stand up.
you save the document and shut your laptop, gathering your bag, oddly touched in a way you don’t quite know what to do with. “you left work early for this.”
“i finished what i needed to.” a pause. “and you weren’t going to tell me you were still here, were you.”
you don’t answer that, which is answer enough, and he exhales something that isn’t quite a sigh, more like the sound of a man confirming something he already suspected.
the walk to the car is quick, his hand at your back the whole way, steering you under the awning and away from the worst of the rain, and by the time you’re both inside with the doors shut the thunder cracks loud enough to rattle the windshield. you go still in your seat.
“seatbelt,” he says, not looking at the sky, looking at you instead.
“right.” your hands are a little unsteady buckling it, fumbling with the clasp twice before it clicks, and he notices, of course he notices, watching you struggle with something so simple without a word of judgment on his face.
“here.” he reaches over without making it a thing, fingers brushing yours briefly as he guides the buckle home for you.
“sorry,” you say immediately, face warm. “i don’t know why i can’t even do a seatbelt right now.”
“don’t apologize.” he says, and before he sits back he leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “your hands are shaking. that’s not something to be sorry for.”
“it’s just a seatbelt, kento.”
“it’s not about the seatbelt. you didn’t have to explain that to me either. i can see it.”
you don’t say anything, a little embarrassed. “you didn’t have to leave early,” you say then, quieter this time.
“you’ve mentioned that.” he pulls out of the lot, steady hands on the wheel. “i’m aware i didn’t have to. i wanted to.”
“why.”
“because i know what these storms do to you. and i’d rather you go through it in a car with me than alone on a train platform.” he glances over, brief, back to the road. “that’s all.”
the next thunder rolls and you flinch, and his hand leaves the wheel just long enough to rest over yours on your knee, warm and grounding.
“almost home,” he says.
“you’re not even fazed by any of this.”
“i am fazed by very little.” a small, private curve at the corner of his mouth. “but i’d tell you if the thunder concerned me even slightly, so you can trust the calm.”
you look over at him and notice the careful way he’s driving slower than usual through the rain, clearly adjusting for you without saying so.
“oh, and i ordered takeout,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought, though you suspect it’s anything but. “should be there not long after us. figured neither of us wants to cook after a day like this. and if you want, we can watch that show you like. the one you’ve been going on about.”
“you remember that?”
“you’ve mentioned it four times this week. i’m not incapable of listening.” the corner of his mouth lifts again, just slightly. “so. dinner, your show, storm outside where it belongs. sounds like a good evening.”
“kento, you’re the best.”
“i’m your husband.” but he says it dry, almost teasing, and his hand finds yours again over the console, thumb moving slow against your knuckles.
“thank you,” you say again, quieter, and mean it more this time.
“you don’t need to thank me for this.” his eyes stay on the road, steady, unhurried, like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be right now than driving you home slowly through the rain. “i love you, that’s why i do this.”
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
⌗ FUSHIGURO TOJI / 伏黒 甚爾
“you’re going in tonight?” you ask, glancing up from your book as toji shrugs his jacket on, keys already in hand.
“yeah. shouldn’t take long.” he checks something on his phone, distracted, one boot already on.
“in this weather?”
“weather’s not my problem.” but he pauses at the door when the next flash of lightning goes off, glancing back at you on the couch, at the way you’ve gone stiff, knees pulled up tight, book nearly slipping from you lap.
thunder cracks loud enough to rattle the windows and you flinch hard, and he watches you do it. “you good?” he asks.
“i’m fine.”
“didn’t ask if you were fine. asked if you were good.” he’s still standing there, hand on the door, not actually opening it.
“go, toji, you’re gonna be late.”
he looks at his phone again, then back at you, then makes some decision behind his eyes that you don’t fully catch. “it was a shit job anyway,” he says, already pulling his jacket back off. “guy’s a pain to work for. i’ll tell him something came up.”
“you don’t have to do that.”
“wasn’t that into the job to begin with.” he tosses his jacket over the back of a chair and drops onto the couch beside you like the whole thing’s already settled, like there was never really a decision to make at all.
“toji.”
“what.” he’s already pulling you toward him, one arm easy around your shoulders. “relax, you’re jumpier than a cat.”
“sorry.”
he glances over, sees you curled up small against him, and something flickers across his face before he looks back at the tv remote, flicking it on for background noise. “s’just rain and some noise, that’s all it is.”
“i know that.”
“then it’s not gonna do anything to you.” he says it easy, like he’s stating a fact and not dismissing you, but the next crack of thunder is loud enough to shake something in the kitchen, and this time your breath catches and you press your face against his arm.
“hey.” his voice is different now, lower, all the teasing gone out of it. “hey. look at me.”
you shake your head, still hiding, and you hear him shift, closing what little distance was left between you. his hand lands on your back, big and warm. “c’mere,” he says, gruff, pulling you fully into him, tucking you against his chest. “didn’t mean to brush you off like that.”
“i know,” you mumble into his shirt.
“you don’t gotta tough it out around me.” his hand moves slow over your back. “s’just thunder. can’t do a damn thing to you while i’m here.”
you don’t say anything, just breathe him in and let yourself sink into him, the even thud of his heart under your ear doing more to calm you than any words could.
“m’sorry,” he says again, quieter. “didn’t realize it was actually getting to you.”
“i’m not crying.”
“i know. you're a tough one.” but his arms tighten around you anyway, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you like he can shield you from the sound if he just holds on tight enough. the next thunder rolls through and you flinch, and he just presses his lips briefly to the top of your head and stays exactly where he is.
“m’not going anywhere,” he mutters. “i’m here.”
you nod against his chest, and after a while his hand finds yours where it’s fisted in his shirt, prying your fingers loose gently and pressing his palm flat against yours instead.
“look at that,” he says, almost more to himself than to you, turning your hand over in his like he’s studying it. his fingers curl around yours slow, and he holds them up between you both. “damn.”
“what.”
“i never realised your hands were so small.” he sounds genuinely surprised by it, thumb tracing along your knuckles. his hand really does dwarf yours completely, fingers long enough to wrap clean around and then some.
“everyone’s hand looks small next to yours, toji.”
“maybe.” he doesn’t sound remotely bothered by that, still turning your hand over like it’s the most interesting thing he’s come across all week. “still kinda insane though. look, your whole hand fits in my palm.”
he laces his fingers through yours properly and there’s something almost boyish in the way he’s looking at it, a small, distracted kind of wonder that doesn’t show up on his face very often.
“it’s just a hand.”
“it’s a good hand.” he squeezes gently, careful, like he’s aware of exactly how much bigger his is. the next thunder rolls through, quieter now, and you don’t even flinch this time, too distracted watching him turn your hand over as though it’s the most interesting thing ever.
“stop staring at my hand.”
“can’t help it.” he brings it up, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. “feels right in mine.”
his other arm comes around you at the same time, pulling you in so close it nearly knocks the breath out of you, like he wants no space left between you at all. you let out a small huff against his chest, and he doesn’t loosen his grip even slightly, just holds on like this until the storm passes.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
⌗ RYOMEN SUKUNA / 両面 宿儶
“your phone rings right as the first crack of thunder hits, loud enough that you nearly drop the remote onto the floor. you scramble for it on the second ring, heart already pounding from the storm outside and now from the sudden noise on top of it.
“hey,” you answer, voice already a little shaky.
“need you to check something for me.” sukuna’s voice is all business, like he called for exactly this reason and nothing else. “the papers on my desk. left side, the stack under the lamp. tell me what the top one says.”
you blink, phone still pressed to your ear as you glance toward the dark hallway that leads to his office. “right now? it’s eleven.”
“right now.”
“you couldn’t have asked before you left.”
“didn’t think of it before i left.” which is obviously a lie, and you both know it’s a lie, but you get up anyway, phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear, and pad down the hallway in the dark. lightning flashes through the window at the end of it, bright enough to throw your shadow long across the wall, and you flinch hard enough that you nearly knock into the doorframe.
“you okay?”
“i’m fine. just walked into the door a little.”
“walked into the door.”
“it’s dark, sukuna, i didn’t want to turn all the lights on.”
“why not.”
you don’t answer that one, just flip his desk lamp on and squint down at the papers scattered under it. “okay, um—” you shuffle through a few, most of them just contracts and numbers that mean nothing to you. “top one says client meeting moved to thursday. is that what you needed?”
“mm.”
“that’s it? mm?”
“that’s it.” a pause, and you can hear him shift, the creak of a chair or a bed. “keep talking.”
“about the paper?”
“about anything.”
you frown at the phone, sitting down slowly on the edge of his desk chair, still in the dark hallway light. “sukuna, is everything okay? you’re being weird.”
“i’m not being weird.”
“you called about a paper you could’ve read yourself off your laptop. you have a laptop. you took it with you.”
silence. long enough that you almost think the call dropped.
“you good?” he says finally, instead of answering any of that.
thunder rolls again, closer this time, loud enough to rattle the window at the end of the hall, and you’re up out of the chair and moving back toward the bedroom before you even decide to, phone still glued to your ear, blanket already half dragged off the bed and around your shoulders by the time you sit down.
“i’m fine,” you lie, voice a little tighter than you mean it to sound.
“mm.” you can almost hear him not believing a word of it. “storm’s supposed to get worse before it lets up. gonna sit right over the city another hour, maybe two, but no longer.”
you go still. “…how do you know that.”
nothing on the other end.
“sukuna.”
“i checked the forecast,” he says, gruff. “sue me.”
“you checked the weather.”
“i checked the weather for the city. not for you specifically.”
“the city we live in. that i’m currently sitting in. during the exact storm you now know the timing of down to the hour.”
“could’ve been curious about the weather in general. i’m a curious guy.”
“you’ve never once asked about the weather in the four years i’ve known you.”
“first time for everything.” but there’s no real heat behind any of it, only something that isn’t quite laughing, and you hear him shift again on his end, like he’s settling back against a headboard somewhere in his hotel room. “stop making it a whole thing.”
“i’m not making it a thing.”
“you’re making it a thing. i can hear you smiling.”
“you cannot hear smiling.”
“i can hear yours.” a beat. “it’s annoying.”
you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, curling into the corner of the bed, knees drawn up, phone warm against your cheek. thunder cracks again, closer this time, and you flinch so hard that you almost drop the phone. on the other end, you hear him go quiet too, like he could feel your flinch through the line.
“hey,” he says, before you can say anything. “m’not there. so you’re gonna have to get through it without me actually in the room. but you’re not doing it in silence, you hear me. talk to me. tell me something stupid, i don’t care what it is. what you had for dinner. what’s on the tv. anything.”
“you called about papers,” you say again, quieter this time, mostly just to hear him say it back.
“i lied about the papers.” no hesitation in it, no shame either. “wanted to hear your voice before the storm actually got bad. figured if i called with an actual reason you wouldn’t ask questions. didn’t account for you being annoyingly observant about it.”
“that’s kind of sweet, actually.”
“don’t say it like that.”
“like what?”
“like it’s some big discovery.” he sounds almost embarrassed, which is rare enough on him that you sit up a little straighter despite the next rumble of thunder outside. “i’ll be back tomorrow night, late. flight gets in around nine. till then you’re stuck with my voice instead of me actually being there to shut you up properly.”
“i don’t mind the voice.”
“i know you don’t. now stop stalling and tell me about your day. every boring detail. i’m not hanging up till this storm’s done with you.”
“you’re gonna be tired tomorrow. you have that meeting at eight.”
“don’t care.”
“sukuna—”
“i said i don’t care. you’re not sitting in the dark by yourself listening to that on your own. talk. now.”
so you do. you tell him about dinner, about the show you’d been watching before he called, about the neighbor’s dog barking at every single flash of lightning, and slowly, with his voice steady in your ear and the occasional rough comment cutting in whenever you pause too long, the storm outside starts to matter a little less than it did twenty minutes ago.
⌗ navigation masterlist
◞ author’s notes
thank you soooo much for reading. felt like writing something cozy and sweet. hope it gave you some comfort, and tell me which one you liked best <3
modern au ⚓︎ grumpy bf!sukuna 𝔁 sunshine gf!reader ⚓︎ sfw drabble!
warnings. suggestive fluff, mdni. crude language, uncomfortable situations. mentions of blood. beach day filler episode with friends satosugushoko! but your bf is grumpy mcgrumps. and possessive...
be sure to look for links as u read! song to listen along here 🤍
masterlist | wc: 3.6k
"seriously, sometimes i wonder how she puts up with you."
an uninterested sigh leaves shoko's lips as she applies a generous layer of sunscreen on her pale arms.
sukuna simply grunts, sat on the beach chair under a large umbrella shading his deeply tanned skin.
he hated the beach. he would've rather ate a dirty sock than be on this trip, but you gave him an angry ultimatum that either he came willingly or you would spend the entire week pretending you were single, which was high enough of a threat to have him throwing clothes into a duffel bag two minutes later.
so here he was, grumpily parked where he could watch you through his shades. you giggle and scream as you ran into the crashing waves with his idiot friend (if you could call him that), satoru. suguru is a couple steps behind, already shaking his head when the white-haired man nearly trips over his own feet in the wet sand. tch, the entire bunch of them were so easily entertained. still, his lips momentarily upturn at the sight of you having fun.
"gross." shoko stands up, brushing the sand off her butt.
his head raises up to look at her. "what?"
"you tried to smile, it was terrifying."
"i wasn't smiling."
"quit lying, loser."
"i'll throw apples at you. don't those keep you away?"
"that's probably why she makes you come on trips, actually. you have such a pleasant and welcoming disposition."
his attention snaps back toward you as another burst of laughter echoes over the beach, and sukuna watches you turn around to wave at him with both arms thrown dramatically above your head.
"ryo!" you yell, although the wind muffles your voice. "come hereeee!" sukuna hesitates, but begins to sit up himself. if he didn't listen now, he was going to get it later.
shoko lets out a cackle. "y'know, it's a miracle that you found the exact combination of pretty and insane required to domesticate you."
before he could find a meaningful insult to throw back, footsteps pound across the sand toward them and you appear in front of him dripping seawater from your two braids, wearing the brightest expression he has seen on you all day. goodness, even on sand you move fast.
"come in the water with us, pleaseeee!"
sukuna looks from you, to the ocean, then back to you again, contemplating just how much misery he is willing to endure for your sake.
"five minutes."
your face lights up, squealing. "ten!"
"five."
"okay, seven."
"keep it up and you're about to get zero."
"fine, fine! five," you concede immediately, already dragging him away before he can change his mind. "but you're actually getting in, not in ankle-deep water like a wussy."
sukuna follows you with a huffy grunt, stepping onto the wet sand with the resignation of a man being marched towards his execution. the second the water washes over his feet, his entire face twists. it was disgustingly cold, even for such a hot day. the feeling of little oceanic debris brushing past his skin makes him gag. he mutters curses beneath his breath that you pretend not to hear, but he continues after you until the water reaches his thighs. he plants his feet firmly against the shifting sand beneath him and refuses to move another inch, crossing his arms over his chest while you splash farther ahead toward the others. satoru notices him immediately.
"awww, look at him!" he calls, squishing his hands on his cheeks in a mocking pout. "our little beach boy finally joined us!" sukuna's stare could have curdled milk.
you laugh, stepping backward through the waves until your back bumps lightly against sukuna's chest. automatically he brings his hands on your waist to steady you, feeling slightly less miserable with you by him. you were wearing the cutest two-piece in his favorite color. he made sure to let you know just how much he liked it in the changing room when you bought it.
suddenly, satoru splashes up water that hits you both directly in the face. you gasp in mock horror, but take it in stride with another fit of giggles. sukuna, however, is nothing short of an oversized toddler.
"i'm going to kill you, four eyes."
"see, that! is exactly the attitude we're trying to fix on this vacation. you're supposed to be reconnecting with the natural world!"
"i'll help you reconnect your face with the ocean floor."
suguru groans, dragging one wet hand down his face. "satoru, why do you deliberately create problems that eventually become everyone else's problem?"
"ohh, c'mon! he's a total wet blanket, i'm loosening him up!"
"nono he was having fun," you insist, turning around in sukuna's hold with an incredulous expression. "weren't you?"
sukuna stares at you, and you stare back expectantly.
"no."
your mouth drops open, sulky. "you couldn't even lie for me?"
"you asked and i answered."
"you have absolutely no sense of romance, ryo."
"i'm standing in the fucking ocean for you."
you knew he was quite averse to foreign objects touching him, so this was definitely a leap in effort. sukuna raises an eyebrow as if daring you to argue further. your expression softens for all of one millisecond before satoru ruins it.
"that's actually the sweetest thing i've ever heard him say!"
"nobody was talking to you," sukuna barks.
"d'awww, don't be shy! tell her how much you love her again,"
another spray of water catches the side of your body when suguru retaliates against satoru on sukuna's behalf, starting an entirely new argument between the two of them. shoko was busy taking pictures of starfish underwater with her waterproof phone pouch and snorkel. you lean against your boyfriend with your shoulders shaking from laughter. sukuna glances down at you. little droplets of water cling to your cheeks while the sun glitters over your skin. okay, maybe this wasn't completely unbearable.
then something long and slimy brushes by his ankle. his entire body jerks, eliciting a high pitched squawk you've never heard come from your boyfriend before.
"g—motherfucker! what the fuck was that?!"
your head whips downward, frantically searching through the murky water around his legs for whatever horrifying aquatic creature had assaulted him. the second you realize there is absolutely nothing there besides a long strand of seaweed drifting innocently with the current, your concern dissipates.
"babe oh my god, no way!"
sukuna is already backing up. "what, what?! i swear, better not a fucking eel—"
your shock drains into a sly smile. "it was seaweed."
your smile begins to tremble as you fight to hold back the laugh threatening to escape. he points at you, stern. "don't."
"did that squeak come from you?"
"i didn't fucking squeak!"
you burst out in cackles, doubling forward. satoru is beside himself the moment he understands what happened. both his hands were braced against suguru's shoulders to keep himself standing while laughter renders his speech.
"no, no—HAHAHA! 'cus i heard something, but i thought there was a little girl behind me!"
suguru tries valiantly to suppress his own amusement, though the corners of his mouth are already pulling upward. "in his defense, you don't really know what's swimming with you in the ocean."
even shoko looks up from where she had been crouched farther down the shoreline, pushing her snorkel onto the top of her head with a confused expression. "what happened?"
"seaweed got ryo!" you call.
"he went—" satoru attempts an exaggerated imitation of the sound.
sukuna lunges at him and satoru bolts through the water before he can get anywhere near him, nearly crashing straight into suguru during his escape, and whatever small amount of patience sukuna had been preserving for your sake officially evaporates.
"fuck this."
your laughter fades when he begins walking toward shore. "wait baby, where are you going?"
"back to my shade and my book."
"ryo!" he doesn't stop. you hurry after him until you catch his arm. "you're seriously leaving because some seaweed touched you?"
"five minutes are over."
you blink. "there's no way."
sukuna lifts his wrist and glances at the apple watch he had stubbornly refused to take off despite your warnings about getting ruined. "five minutes and forty-one seconds."
your jaw falls open. "you timed it?!"
"i wear my watch for a reason."
"that's not the point!"
sukuna finally stops trudging toward shore long enough to turn around, brows already drawn together from a combination of irritation, humiliation, and the lingering phantom sensation of something slimy wrapping itself around his ankle. "what? you asked for five minutes, i gave you five minutes, and now i'm going back."
"you are six feet of pure drama."
sukuna gives you a flat look before glancing pointedly toward your hand wrapped around his wrist. "are you letting me go willingly, or am i dragging you back with me?"
your eyes narrow, and he matches you with equal fervor. eventually, you release him with a new foul attitude.
"fine."
he knows your different versions of fine by now, mostly because dating you has required learning an entire language composed of facial expressions and tone changes. there's the honest fine, distracted fine, even playful fine, and then there is this one. this fine means he will be hearing about it later.
"babe, don't do that."
you roll your eyes dramatically and satoru starts snickering nearby. "i'm not doing anything. go read your stupid book."
sukuna becomes equally stubborn as you. "i was planning on it."
"good."
"good."
"great!"
suguru looks slowly between the two of you before glancing toward satoru with a whisper. "they're going to argue about this again tonight.." a low whistle. "oneeeee hundo."
"both of you need to shut up," you snap.
sukuna scoffs before finally turning toward shore and leaving.
he hates sand. he cannot understand why anyone could like sand. a small child darts across his path carrying a plastic bucket overflowing with the stuff. god, they're brainwashed from youth. the dry bits with his wet feet had him gathering clumps of sand as he moved, little bits of shell crunch beneath his weight. something stringy catches around his ankle, and he kicks it away with an expression of disgust that makes a woman passing him in the opposite direction give him a confused look. by the time sukuna reaches their covered spot, his feet look like breaded chicken. this couldn't be more fucking miserable.
he glances over his shoulder once, and there you were; already playing with the others again. although—he can tell from the exaggerated way you refuse to look in his direction that you're still mad at him.
the towel waiting across the back of his chair is immediately put to work, sukuna rubbing every trace of moisture from his legs before brushing the sand from his feet with increasingly violent movements. by a strike of bad luck more replaces whatever he removes, and after the fourth attempt, he simply stares down at the ground in disdain.
"stupid fucking beach."
nearby, a seagull squawks, looking at the man.
"you too."
the bird continues staring at him.
sukuna narrows his eyes.
"don't test me."
perhaps sensing that the human before it is considerably more unstable than the average tourist, the seagull eventually waddles away.
finally, sukuna collapses back into his chair beneath the umbrella and reaches for the paperback he had left resting beside his bag. at peace once more! shade above him, a cold drink beside him, a good book in his hands and enough distance between himself and satoru that the man's voice is unheard over the crashing waves. this was how the beach should be experienced. even though he would've been happier inside the hotel.
he flips open to the dog-eared page he abandoned earlier and settles deeper into the chair. every so often his attention drifts away from the words on the page to briefly look up at you, before catching himself and returning immediately to the paragraph in front of him.
another few pages.
you're sitting in the shallower water now while shoko stands nearby talking to suguru. satoru is attempting some idiotic handstand that ends with him collapsing sideways into an incoming wave. sukuna sighs and looks back down.
eventually, the noise of the outside world fades enough that he becomes properly absorbed. the sun has moved farther west but his large umbrella continued to offer enough shade that he hardly noticed and the passing breeze finally makes the temperature remotely tolerable.
sukuna first realizes something has changed because satoru has stopped screaming. he finishes the paragraph in front of him before looking toward the ocean to see satoru and suguru are nowhere to be found. shoko is still there at least, and so are you. okay, whatever.
that would have been perfectly fine if two unfamiliar men weren't currently walking straight toward you. they looked to be around your age, maybe slightly older or younger. one has positioned himself beside shoko while the other is facing you, smiling as he says something sukuna couldn't hear from this distance. you were shaking your head before briefly pointing toward the umbrellas. sukuna could infer that you mentioned him.
he watches your mouth flatten when the man glances down your body before saying something else. whatever it is makes you visibly recoil, your eyebrows pinching as you answer him with less politeness than before. the friend says something to shoko as well, and her expression turns positively frigid. it's clear you were done with the conversation, so you step away. shoko moves in tandem, her attention shifting toward you as you turn to leave. the stranger doesn't seem to catch a hint and grabs you by the waist, his hand landing directly above the edge of your bikini bottom.
alright, party's over. sukuna's already there to hear you by the time you've shoved the guy's hand away. "what the fuck is wrong with you? i told you i have a boyfriend."
"well i don't see him anywhere," the man scoffs. "walking around dressed like a slut then suddenly 'oooh, i have a boyfriend!' when somebody makes a move."
"oh, fuck you!" you snap, but another voice reaches him first.
"see him now?"
the stranger barely finishes turning before sukuna shoves him hard enough to send him stumbling backward. "what the fuck?" the guy exclaims in confusion, recovering his balance with his friend quickly moving beside him.
sukuna looks at him like the answer should be painfully obvious. "her fucking boyfriend, cumwipe."
the second man pipes up, albeit a little scared. "they were flirting with us five seconds ago, man! maybe keep your bitch on a tighter leash if you're jealous easy."
sukuna swings before you can blink, the first punch catching the friend by surprise and knocks him backward. the man who touched you immediately rushes sukuna in response. sukuna meets him without hesitation, getting another swing in, and so a messy fight starts between all three of them. it was more of your boyfriend beating them up, though.
"ryomen!" you shout, but shoko grabs your arm before you stepped too close.
"call her a bitch again," sukuna snaps, anger streaked across his face. "i dare you! one of you say another fucking thing about either of them."
neither man seems eager to accept the invitation anymore, but sukuna didn't seem to be satisfied until both were pooling blood and unconscious.
"ryomen, that's enough!" you rush forward once there is finally enough space between them, grabbing his arm with both hands before he can close the distance again. sukuna jerks his gaze toward you, chest rising heavily, but the anger in his face barely softens. "they're done, okay? look at them! they got the message." the both were already sporting purpling bruises and bloodied faces, the creep who touched you looked like he had a broken nose at minimum.
"should've thought about that before putting his fucking hands on you," he spits, looking straight past your shoulder. one of the men mutters something under his breath while helping his friend upright, and sukuna immediately tries stepping around you. "what'd you say, player?" you shove both palms against his chest. "no, you psycho, stop looking for another reason!"
shoko walks up, seemingly very annoyed. "for what it's worth, i wouldn't mind if you got some more licks in."
"never thought i'd say this, but we should listen to shoko." sukuna mutters, attempting to lean around you until your palms press harder into his chest.
"absolutely not! you've made your point and i'm not spending the rest of our vacation trying to figure out bail in a different country." you can barely keep the sternness in your voice when he looks down at you, still breathing hard and visibly irritated, because there is something insanely sexy about just how rabid he gets over you. objectively, punching two strangers was a terrible solution. unfortunately, watching your boyfriend immediately lose his mind because somebody disrespected you was also doing something deeply unhelpful to your ability to scold him.
sukuna scoffs, one arm curling around your waist as soon as you stop pushing him. "worth it."
"easy for you to say! what if those two go to a cop and file a report? god, i can't take you anywhere," despite your words, your hands slide up around his shoulders, checking him over before you can help yourself. "are you okay, at least?"
his brows pinch like the question was offensive. "they barely touched me."
"mhm, big scary man." your mouth betrays you with the beginning of a smile, and sukuna catches it immediately. the annoyance in his face shifts to smug suspicion as you try looking anywhere except directly at him.
"did you like me beating them up for you?"
"no, that's sadistic!"
"bullshit."
shoko folds her arms beside you, entirely too entertained. "she so liked it."
your head snaps toward her. "shoko!"
sukuna's expression changes into a full smirk. "oh?"
"don't start, i'm still mad at you." warmth crawls up your face as you turn back toward him, ruining your lousy attempt at authority. "i said you need to stop before you get arrested. i didn't say i was specifically upset about doing it."
shoko snorts. "she's right. poor judgment, but excellent boyfriend performance."
"thank you," sukuna says with a little surprise, as if she has just given him an award. high praise from the woman who usually couldn't care whether he lived or died.
"i cannot believe both of you." you shake your head, but your arm slips back around sukuna's exposed waist, keeping him close. you stand on your tiptoes and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "you're lucky i think your whole jealousy schtick is cute."
"cute?"
"fine. hot. happy?"
his smug grin returns so quickly you regret speaking. "very."
"don't let it get to your head."
"too late."
shoko makes a disgusted sound beside you. "you two are nauseating. also, for the record, i would've paid money to see him hit the blond one again. he told me he knew how to turn lesbians straight, eughhh." sukuna looks disgusted. "what a loser."
"why is there blood on the sand?"
you turn to find satoru and suguru walking back toward the group with a handful of colorful ice pops between them. suguru's eyes move from you, to sukuna, then toward the two battered strangers disappearing farther down the shoreline, and his expression immediately becomes one of exhausted understanding.
satoru, however, looks devastated. "no fucking way. did you guys get into a fight while we were gone?"
"not we," shoko corrects, reaching over to steal one a blue raspberry ice pop from suguru's arms. "sukuna beat up two creeps who wouldn't leave us alone."
satoru's jaw drops. "and nobody called me?!"
you stare at him incredulously. "why would we call you to come to a fight?"
"because we're friends! ride or die, haven't you heard?!" he answers like this is somehow obvious, immediately looking toward sukuna with genuine betrayal. "you couldn't stall for like, five more minutes?!"
sukuna scoffs. "i didn't need any help."
"that's not my point!" he's now fully pouting. "i wanted to hit them too…"
sukuna reaches over and steals an ice pop directly from satoru's hand. "should've walked faster."
"oh, fuck you! next creep is mine, okay?! i call dibs!"
"there will not be a next creep," you insist, pointing firmly between both of them. "actually, i am done with all of you for today. i want something relaxing tomorrow. no ocean, no random men, no fights, and preferably somewhere nobody can get arrested."
shoko perks up immediately. "we should have a spa day. the hotel has a really nice one i read about,"
satoru gasps. "oh my god, yes girls. massages, mud baths, those little cucumber water things!"
"you're not coming with us, toru. you can go to the men's sauna."
"wait, nooo! i wanted a facial…"
suguru sighs. "of course you do."
you shake your head before leaning back against sukuna, finally feeling some of the tension leave your neck. you feel his rough hands come up around your midriff, fingers splayed across your stomach. "i'm serious, though. tomorrow is a nice, peaceful spa day."
sukuna bends slightly toward your ear, lowering his voice enough that only you hear him. "you better not enjoy that massage too much… the real relaxation starts when i’m buried between your legs later.”
his palm slides down to openly cup your ass under the cover of his body and giving it a firm, possessive squeeze. the heat that shoots straight between your legs makes it very hard to keep pretending you’re still mad at him.
inspired by my beach vacation a couple weeks ago :3
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When Marquis Gojo Satoru goes missing after the bloody fight, the entire empire is in uproar! Until his loyal soldiers accidentally discover him living in a small village working as a... noodle seller? And he has a wife?!
prequel
pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader
content/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, inspired by drama, Gojo yearns to have a family, domestic life he deserves, pregnancy, marriage
WC: 5.5k
a/n: loosely inspired by Chinese drama Pursuit of Jade 逐玉！
idk who the artist is, pls help!
Two men walked through plains and meadows under the scorching, merciless sun. Their full armour weighed heavily on tired shoulders, and horses were getting more tired each day. They barely had any water, and milky buns long gone stale, with their usual soft dough crumpling under their touch.
They've been looking for their general for six months already, with the hunt being fruitless from the very start. Marquis Gojo Satoru fell on the battlefield alone, with all his other soldiers getting bowled like wild deer. Since that cursed night – no one has seen him. The most powerful general in the entire empire, with the emperor himself paying in pure silver just to find his most precious warrior.
That's why Suguru – his strategist – and Nanami – most devoted general – decided to walk the vast plains of the empire, just to find their Marquis. He wasn't dead, surely, as not many things could hurt his almost divine body. As if created by the Jade Emperor himself.
Built like a boar, with the strength of a thousand men, Gojo Satoru was the strongest one in the whole empire. Surely he must've been kept hidden, with hundreds of men trying to conceal the Marquis from the world and use him as a future leverage.
Could someone from a traitorous clan kidnap him?
Maybe his wounds after the fight were truly too severe, and he just wasn't strong enough to break free?
Whatever the reason was, Suguru and Nanami were dead-set on finishing their mission.
After a half day of walking, they stepped down the mountain, following a gentle brook that let their horses drink to the brim. Both men cleaned themselves up a bit and ate last, stale buns, dreaming of having even a simple bowl of noodles.
Thus, imagine how joyous they were upon seeing a little village, hidden deep between the mountains with nothing but tall trees and a wide river spinning through it. If Suguru didn't lift his head up while drinking from the brook, surely he wouldn't notice it. Low, wooden roofs were almost fully obscured by lush forest, and nothing but a gentle, white smoke curled around some dirty chimneys.
Food!
Both men almost run that way, with stomachs squirming in hunger and sweat dripping down their backs. Nanami dreamed of sitting down with a drink and meat, while Suguru foolishly wished that the villagers would know something about their Marquis.
After all, the battle was not that far away from here, and there was a chance that someone might've seen a wounded soldier wandering around the meadows.
When their horses passed the small, wooden gate, the little child immediately ran up to them.
"Can I pet, can I pet?" his small hand reached out towards the raven horse, brushing its massive leg gently before Suguru could even nod.
He got off the mare, squatting down to be on the same level as a kid.
"Tell me, boy, do you have any nice restaurants here in the village?" he asked, and the child hummed.
"Of course we have! The best noodles in the whole region, pretty lady!" he chirped, oogling Suguru's long hair smooching his cheeks.
Nanami scoffed, while Suguru only smiled gently. "Well, could you maybe take us there? You see, these two soldiers are very, very hungry."
The boy didn't seem to care about Suguru's pressure on the soldiers and simply nodded. He left the horse and pointed a finger at the small, two-level house, with multiple people sitting outside on little stools and grey smoke twisting around its roof.
"Thank you, dearest," Suguru said warmly, placing a sliver coin in the boy's hand.
Well, it should help his family last for at least a month.
"Do you think someone may've seen him?" Nanami asked while tying the horses to the fence outside the small restaurant.
"I hope so. But firstly, let's eat. I'm ready to collapse any second," Suguru mumbled, passing the wide-open doors.
The inside was rather simple but homely, with multiple families chirping joyfully over their noodles. The delicious smell of spices immediately hit Suguru's stomach, and long-withheld hunger suddenly became even worse.
They sat at the small table near the open window, enjoying the serene view of the slowly running river, with a few children playing at its crystalline water. Their laughter filled the stuffy air, and the gentle wind brushed Suguru's tired cheeks, bringing him a slight comfort. Birds chirped sweetly, and passing girls giggled under their noses, seeing two handsome, strange soldiers sitting politely in the restaurant.
And while they were waiting, with minds enjoying the peacefulness of this place, someone's voice suddenly brought them back.
"What can I get for you, gentlemen?"
Suguru turned his head, ready to order a bowl of spicy noodles and–
Oh.
Oh!
His knees went weak, and if not for the stool, he would surely fall miserably on the wooden floor. Blood immediately rushed to his head, fingers started to tremble, and if Nanami didn't grab his hand, it would surely curl around Gojo Satoru's neck.
Because why, dear heavens, the Marquis himself was standing before him perfectly fit and cheeky, with healthy rosiness blooming on his face and muscular body dressed in simple, commoner robes?
"M-Mar–" he stood up, but Satoru quickly pushed him back down.
The smile wasn't coming off his face, but his voice rolled out low and irritated. "Why are you here?"
"Why are we here?" Suguru almost burst. "Marquis, what do you mean by why are we here?!"
He couldn't quite believe it – the Marquis, man announced by the ministers themselves as surely dead, was, in fact, looking as if resurrected. His eyes, usually hued in deep ocean colour, looked rather... alive. Light and shiny, resembling the cyan paint spread over the canvas, soft and wet, glimmering under the warm beams of sunshine. His always so pale skin brimmed with healthy rosiness, usually suitable for most dearest birdies. Wet forehead was tied with milky cloth, keeping the snowy hair away from the brazen eyes.
Creamy robes hugged him loosely, with a few chilli oil stains bussing its grainy material.
He looked so... not noble. Not Marquis-like.
But much happier.
"Marquis, if we could talk–" Nanami started, but before he managed to finish, another voice chipped in.
Loud and angry, with a tired sigh and in the company of a fat finger knocking on the wooden table. "Hey, pretty boy! I ordered seconds a while ago!"
Suguru straightened up, jaw visibly tensed. He was ready to pull out his long sword and cut the man on the spot. "How dare you to talk to Ma–"
But before it, Satoru quickly smacked the back of his head.
"Sure thing, just give me a minute," he chirped politely, and Suguru almost fainted.
Never in the thirty years of his life has he ever heard the Marquis being polite to... anyone. Truly.
And so obedient at that, with a gentle smile curving his lips and a little nod of his head. The man, however, didn't seem to be satisfied, rambling under his breath and throwing a few curses every few seconds.
Six months ago, Suguru would see his head rolling on the wooden floor, with a Marquis slashing it off in a single, clean cut.
But now? Now his massive hand was keeping Suguru in place, not allowing him to stir up any trouble.
"You both eat first. I'm sure you must be hungry," he said warmly, patting the shoulders of his most reliable commanders. "We'll discuss it later."
"Marquis, but–" and, once again, before Nanami could finish, the rude customer decided to strike again.
"Pretty boy, I don't see you walking back to the kitchen for my seconds!"
Satoru sighed. His palms squeezed their shoulders, long fingers digging deep into the armour. Suguru, for a fleet moment, saw this familiar frown and blue veins popping on the Marquis's forehead, as if ready to burst with a merciless fury.
He's going to strike, Suguru thought. He won't let that bastard trash his good name.
Satoru rolled up the wide sleeves of his creamy robes, tying them with a thin rope around the elbows. Bulging muscles of his forearms glistened in sweat, with the sun cruelly smooching his pale skin.
And when he thought that Marquis, finally, finally, will deal with a man, another voice filled the heavy restaurant's air.
"Hey! Stop being rude to my husband unless you want to deal with me!"
It drove Suguru into the wooden stool, with its honeyed sweetness marked by an authoritative tone. Not many people were able to put someone into their place solely with a voice, but a fragile woman who came out from the kitchen, with a heavy chopper in her hand – could.
Husband?
Suguru's head started to spin. He looked up, seeing Marquis's lips curving in a gentle smile. Eyes cheeky, like two pale moons, while glancing back at the woman storming through the small restaurant.
"Think you can bully my husband while I'm here?"
Man's cheeks washed in embarrassment before he coughed. "My apologies, miss. If I knew he was your husband–"
"Even if he wasn't, you shouldn't be rude! He's too polite and won't harm a soul, but me?" she took a step, but Satoru quickly grabbed her. "Try me!"
She surrounded herself with an imposing aura, although standing next to Satoru, her head barely brushed his chest. Hair curled around the hearty face, with a light robe and dirty aproan hugging warmly plush hips.
"What a menace," she scoffed loudly, cleaning the chopper with a cloth, before glancing up at the Marquis. "And you should get more assertive. Must you always be so obedient?"
Obedient?
"Stop acting like a pushover, what if someone attacks you, hm? We have lots of bandits these days, and I won't always be there to protect you."
Pushover?
Protect Marquis?
Suguru sighed, grabbing his head. It pulsed with a malicious headache, and the more you talked, the more he felt like fainting.
"My dearest," Satoru smiled, looking down at your fuming cheeks. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look with this little crease on your forehead?" he lifted up a thumb, placing it right between your eyebrows.
He started massaging it in gentle circles, rolling a sweet giggle out of your lips and finally getting rid of the frown.
"There she is," he whispered, cupping your cheeks stained in reddish oil. "My beautiful, ferocious wife. You need to stop threatening everyone with a chopper. What if one day you come upon imperial soldiers?"
You tsked, nuzzling into his warm hands. "I'll chop them too, if they try to bully you."
Suguru just couldn't listen to it anymore. Not only the intimate tension between Marquis and... you... was unbearable, but he also simply couldn't comprehend the sudden change that bloomed inside the most ruthless, powerful general of the empire.
He coughed quietly, finally getting your attention.
"Oh," rolled politely, before you quickly hid the chopper behind. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, too many people like to bully my husband and, well, you know how it is..." your hand unconsciously waved with a chopper again, and Suguru barely dodged its sharp steel. "Sometimes the wife needs to step in. You see, my husband is a scholar, so he's, hm, the more compliant one in this marriage."
Nanami laughed, but Suguru quickly threw him a cold stare.
He brought back a polite smile to his face, still slowly massaging the buzzing temple. "Miss, my friend and I have travelled a long way to meet with Mar– your husband. I hope you don't mind, we'll take him away just for a moment."
Your eyes bulged in surprise, looking up at Satoru's warm gaze.
"I didn't know Satoru had... friends," you giggled, hearing a soft scoff coming from your husband. "Of course you can, but eat first, please. You sure must be tired. If you wish, you can stay a few nights in our house too. Right, darling?"
Satoru grimaced when you looked back at Suguru, and his eyes narrowed. "Sure, baby. If that's what you want. But aren't you rather busy, my dear friends?"
It sounded like he was giving Suguru a choice, but the coldness of his gaze and slowly shaking head were enough to convey that both of them were forbidden from agreeing with his wife's idea.
Suguru, however, was furious as it was, and if staying a day or two meant taking Marquis down to size – he would be more than happy to do it.
Before Nanami murmured that they are, in fact, rather busy, the strategist quickly chirped in.
"My precious friend, I would be more than happy to stay under your roof," he said, standing up and bending down politely your way. "Miss, we're grateful for your priceless hospitality."
You giggled, waving gently with a chopper. "There's no need for courtesy. Stay as long as you want," your eyes moved back to Satoru, his arm curling around your waist. "Darling, just remember to pick up the vegetables from Fang's restaurant. Oh, and Miss Hua needs to write a letter to the magistrate, help her with that too, hm?"
You chirped while Satoru was looking down at your rosy face with a bizarre caress behind his serene eyes. As if gazing on the most precious, loveliest little nymph. In fact, he looked as though he wasn't listening at all, with fingers climbing up to your plush cheek, and a thumb brushing over the red, oil stain.
"Right, and come back before supper. You know that at that time I usually–"
"I know, the little brat makes her mommy nauseous," he smiled softly, and Suguru suddenly lost his appetite.
Wait a moment.
"Little brat?" Nanami chipped in first, with brows almost brushing his hairline. "Mar– Satoru, do you mean that your wife is..."
You looked at them, then at Satoru, then back at them, with a little tsk and hand patting his shoulder. "Truly! You didn't even tell them that you're going to be a father? What a good friend you are."
There was a second of silence, with Satoru trying to coo you sweetly and Nanami standing there like a log. With a slightly hazy gaze and mind trying to comprehend how a Marquis – the strongest man in the whole empire – got himself entangled not solely in a marriage with a commoner, but also in parenthood. His bloodline was precious, and his family would surely not accept the child whose mother was a simple noodle shop owner.
But then the three of them heard a loud thud, and a dark shadow of a man slowly hit the wooden floor.
Suguru, finally, fainted.
❀ ❀ ❀
He woke up a mere hour later, with a wet compress on his forehead and skull buzzing from the heat. The air felt sticky, like honey, sliding down his coarse throat and cumulating somewhere deep in chest. His head felt heavy, and warm beams of sun slipped through an open window, brushing his slightly wet forehead.
He noticed that heavy armour was removed from his body and replaced with thin, navy robes, with wide sleeves and a narrow, open collar.
The smell of boiled meat went straight to his stomach, although he wasn't in a restaurant anymore.
No, this room was neat and brimming with warmth, although rather small. The soft bed dipped under his weight as he slowly stood up. The wooden floor was cold against his feet, and he noticed a small table right in front of him, with a bowl of cold noodles and a cup. His knees hit the floor, and when eyes looked inside, he noticed a weird, lush mixture of herbs – probably something to help with overheating.
He inhaled noodles in a few seconds, with salty soy sauce dripping gently down his throat and into stomach, finally filling it with a delicious, homemade meal.
Suguru felt like crying, tasting something carried as if straight from the heavens. Something worthy of an emperor himself, with a perfect seasoning and spongy texture bouncing under his teeth.
The herbal mixture followed next, and he saw a small milky candy wrapped in paper, right next to the cup. When the bitterness of a drink struck his mind, he immediately took the candy and chewed on its creamy sweetness.
Although the meal made him a bit lazy and he wanted nothing more than to return to bed and sleep like a baby – the case of Marquis still hasn't been closed.
So he stood up, dusting off his knees and quietly went outside, covering eyes from the sun. It seemed that the restaurant was right below, with a few customers pottering around and your sweet laughter once again filling his mind. Going down the wooden stairs, he noticed your small figure through the window – with half-pinned-up hair brushing your cheeks and a warm smile, when another customer hummed deliciously over your noodles.
Your eyes met his lavender gaze, and you gasped, quickly going outside to meet his pale face. "Are you alright–"
"Suguru."
"Right," your hand landed on his cheeks, squeezing it softly as if kneading a bun. "You look much better now. The travel must've been tiring."
You took him by surprise, but something warm spread in his chest, feeling your gentle caress and thumb brushing over the rosy skin. Not many people treated him kindly, with care, and he tried to suppress an urge to nuzzle into your hand.
"If you're looking for Satoru, he went with your friend that way," you pointed a finger towards the small hut on the other side of the river. "This village is not big, so surely you'll find him somewhere."
Suguru nodded, still tracing the softness of your hearty face, with the kindest eyes he had ever seen. Truly, no noblewoman could be compared to the loveliness you carried like a second skin.
He strolled around the sandy paths, kicking the little stones that rolled under his feet. Curious villagers oogled him shyly, and each time he nodded politely, sending humble smiles and greeting a few children on the way. They followed him around the village, with little heads sweating under the sun and chubby hands reaching out for long, raven hair brushing his hips.
The smell of jasmine flowers filled the air when he crossed the small bridge, and a few petals slipped away from the fragile branches. A young girl laughed cheerfully in the house next door, and two old men sat calmly near the river's bank, trying to catch the splashing fish.
The village truly was... calm. Serene, almost idyllic, as if painted by the gods themselves, with the peaceful faces of the villagers and their cooing voices greeting Suguru on every corner.
He finally noticed a flash of snowy hair and quickly moved its way.
Satoru sat in the garden with a young woman and a little boy snuggling on her lap, while Nanami... dearest. Nanami was fixing the roof.
Never in his life would he have thought of seeing the first army general nailing the wooden planks with such a focus.
"I also want at least two taels of silver," the woman sighed, and Satoru politely wrote down her request. "But one is also enough. If that bastard decided to leave me, then let him pay."
"Two taels may be too much, but I'll try to bargain for you. Let's see," Satoru muttered, placing neat characters one under another. Little brush scrubbed slowly against the delicate surface, and only Suguru knew how skilled a calligrapher the Marquis was.
Truly taught by the best masters in the whole empire!
But the woman couldn't care less, for she never learnt how to read, and small characters reminded her of nothing but cute little bushes. Bending and curving under Satoru's steady hand, before he finished the letter and left it to dry under the sun.
His light eyes noticed Suguru's figure, and their cheerfulness was immediately replaced by a stroke of irritation.
What a bastard!
"Thank you, Satoru, I truly don't know how to repay you," the woman said shyly, gripping the letter in her hands.
The boy wriggled on her thighs, tugging on his mother's loose hair. Satoru lifted up a hand and pinched his chubby cheek, rolling a little giggle out of his lips.
"No worries, it's nothing. Just come to me when they reply, and I'll read it for you."
Nanami finished his little job too, and all three of them strolled outside through the wooden gate. Suguru didn't say anything for a while, taking in the rosy cheeks of his Marquis and oogling with curiosity all his exchanges with the villagers. They strolled around, picking up side jobs Satoru supposedly did every day – placing an order for vegetables and getting freshly delivered ones, checking the assortment for a little pharmacy, or giving short reading lessons to the local children.
People greeted him with this kind glimmer in their eyes, and kids hugged his legs, placing little stones, flowers and candies in his hands. He thanked them each time, ruffing silky hair, pinching their chubby faces and hiding every little, dirty stone in the sleeves of his robes.
On their way back to Satoru's house, Suguru finally managed to ask.
"Marquis, are we going to discuss it or just ignore the fact that you faked your death for six months?"
Satoru slowed his pace before finally stopping. Three men stood near the bridge, with light petals of the jasmine tree falling down on Satoru's milky hair. With no villagers around, he finally sighed.
"I didn't fake my death," he murmured, sitting near the riverbank.
The sun was slowly setting over the tall mountains surrounding the village, with tender hues of purple and pink and orange brushing the evening sky. Birds were slowly preparing for sleep, and villagers coming back from work in the fields. Big ox strolled behind them, tugging a little cart loaded with fresh fruits.
Satoru's eyes glanced up, reflecting the last rays of tangerine beams.
"After that battle, I fell into the river. The water must have thrown my body on the bank, because she saved me and took me back to her house. When I woke up, she was already there – tending my wounds and trying to stuff me full with noodles," he laughed warmly, as if remembering the first days spent in your presence. "I really wanted to heal up a bit and go back, but..."
Nanami and Suguru sat next to him, looking up at the fragrant jasmine branches hanging over the river.
"But I couldn't. You both know I never wanted to marry and have a family, but back there, after hearing her laugh the first time, something panged in my chest."
"Maybe your wound has opened," Nanami mumbled, and Suguru pinched his arm.
Satoru laughed, eyes still tracing the changing sky. "After meeting her, I finally understood what it truly means to be happy. To seek the next day and live in peacefulness, with nothing but her touch waking me every single morning."
Suguru hummed, remembering how warm you felt when your hand pinched his cheek. So kind and lovely, as if you honestly cared about this stranger you've met just an hour ago.
"She was constantly worried about people gossiping about her marriage, so I decided to use this chance and marry her. She wanted a husband, and I wished for nothing but to stay with her as long as I could," he continued, taking a white jasmine petal off his head. "But she was constantly afraid I would leave her one day, so to prove my devotion..."
Oh dearest god.
Suguru almost fainted again. "You decided to trap her with a baby? Are you crazy?"
He was crazy. So, so miserably crazy, and Suguru could see it in his eyes. In his hands, grabbing your waist in an almost possessive manner, and his always oh so gentle gaze, as if nothing else but his dear wife mattered in this world.
"I didn't trap her... well. At least she doesn't feel that way," he coughed, smiling like a fool. "She always wanted to have a family, so I decided to give it to her. What's wrong with it?"
"Marquis, are you hearing yourself?" Suguru almost hissed. "Just a year ago, you declined the most beautiful women offered to you by an emperor himself. And now you're telling me you decided to marry a simple commoner after knowing her for a month?"
"Well, he never offered me her," Satoru giggled. "And it was a week. She asked me to marry her after a week."
"She asked you?"
"Yes."
"And you agreed? Just like that?"
"Of course, it was love at first sight."
Suguru looked at Nanami, as if trying to make sure he wasn't the crazy one here. That Marquis truly went mad, and he lost all his senses.
Maybe while falling down, he hit his head? Maybe you bewitched him and forced a marriage?
But no one in this world could possibly force a tyrannical Marquis to do anything. Well, at least that's what Suguru have thought.
"Marquis, does it mean that... she doesn't know who you are?" Nanami asked, and everyone suddenly held their breath.
Including Satoru, who scratched his head sheepishly.
Oh.
Oh!
"She doesn't. You didn't tell her?!" Suguru once again almost shouted, and Satoru quickly shushed him.
"How could I? She thinks I'm a simple scholar who can do nothing but sweet-talk and read," he brushed another jasmine petal, and Suguru noticed a bit of worry behind his ocean eyes. "If she knew my real rank... There's a chance she would leave me. She's alone in this world – no parents, no family. If revealing my situation would mean losing her, I'd rather live as a commoner."
Suguru couldn't simply comprehend the weight of his words. For living as a commoner was everything people of their sort feared. To lose a status that could save your head in turmoil times such as this one was almost like a death sentence.
And Marquis was ready to do it solely for a fleeting tenderness.
"Does it mean you're not planning to go back?" Nanami asked quietly. "Do you want to stay announced as dead?"
Satoru was silent for a few minutes, with rays of sunshine slowly leaving his face. The moon lurked shyly from between jasmine branches, reflecting his wandering gaze. Suguru has never seen Marquis so quiet, so calm. As if his soul truly healed up from all the bestiality he needed to suffer just to float above anyone else.
The cold, sharp Marquis was no longer here, replaced by a man who tasted love for the first time. He was like a child learning how to walk, but at the same time, constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother was watching over him.
And for Satoru – it was you.
You showed him the kindness of this world, and life deprived of the wrath he has felt for such a long time.
Marquis didn't say anything, but stood up instead and laughed under his breath. "It's almost supper time, let's go back. My wife always gets nauseous around this time, so I'll be the one cooking."
Suguru and Nanami simply nodded, following the Marquis back to the warm house.
They found you in a kitchen, humming softly and cutting the vegetables. The restaurant was already closed, and nothing but a soft beam of candles and a little buzz of crickets filled the small room.
Suguru has only now noticed your little bump, and he smiled when Satoru hugged you from behind.
"Sorry we took so long," he murmured, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. "There was simply too much to talk about."
You hummed, nodding head softly, till a few strands slipped away from your pinup. "It's okay, Satoru. Spend as much time as you need," you said, before looking up towards two men standing in the doors. "The room for you is ready. The supper will be, as soon as Satoru starts cutting the meat."
Marquis laughed, taking a heavy chopper and a fat piece of flesh. Suguru has never seen him in the kitchen, so he looked with pure curiosity at the way the iron blade slashed the tender meat.
What a bizzare sight, truly!
The supper wasn't anything special, but sitting together, talking and drinking – well, aside from you, of course – was the first time Suguru saw Marquis so relaxed.
Cheerful, free, with his head lying softly on your thighs and smooth locks caressed by your fingers. He was getting drunk faster than usual, babbling carelessly under his breath and peppering your little swell with kisses, till you flushed like the sweetest cherry and pushed him away. He joked and laughed, reminiscent of the days spent in royal academia with Suguru and Nanami (apparently, all of them met there, absolutely not on the battlefield) and delighted himself in stories about your first meeting.
About the moment he opened his eyes and saw an angel itself, to which you flushed feverishly and mumbled oh stop. Drunk Satoru was like a teenage boy boasting about his first love, and Suguru couldn't help but feel warmth spreading all over his chest every time Marquis peeked up at your lovely face.
When the night came, and it was time to part your ways, Suguru...
Dear heavens.
Suguru wished for nothing more than to be anywhere but right next to your room. For he heard everything.
Every sloppy kiss, every giggle, every shuddered breath of yours and silent Satoru, we can't, they're going to hear us. But Marquis, who was nothing if not madly in love, promised that don't worry baby, they won't, it will be fine, just let me taste you.
Fortunately, it seemed that you slapped his nosy hands away, because for the rest of the night, Marquis stayed silent.
Suguru and Nanami decided to stay for a few more nights, enjoying the idyllic charm of the village. Nanami would help in fixing the houses after the recent flood, and Suguru devoted his time to helping Satoru teach local kids. Marquis was the only person in the whole village who could read and write, thus local folks gladly attended his short, daily classes.
When Suguru came, the kids took a deep breath as if charmed by the gentleness and vigilance of his face. Satoru liked to fool around with little brats, but Suguru immediately put them in place, imposing a harsh, hour-long lesson as worthy of the most prominent strategist in the whole empire.
They sat with focused foreheads and beams of sweat glistening on their temples, while chubby fingers tried to draw clean, straight strokes.
Later that evening, Satoru told him that children liked the new pretty lady teacher, and you burst out in the most melodic laughter he's ever heard.
During the days, they fooled around, helped at the restaurant and did odd jobs for villagers, but the nights...
The nights were always reserved for you and Satoru.
And Suguru never dared to impose this gentle time between the two spouses, closing himself and Nanami off in the bedroom.
But he heard every little word rolled intimately between the two tender souls.
He heard the soft creak of the mattress as Satoru shifted closer to you, as if even sleep demanded less distance between your bodies.
He heard your quiet laughter, muffled into pillows, as though you didn't wish to disturb your guests.
He heard of your simple dreams and plans and all the worries you seemed to always have at the back of your mind.
He heard your quiet I love you and his trust me I love you more, followed by a silent kiss.
He heard the gentle splash of water shifting in the tub, followed by your quiet hum, almost absent-minded, while Satoru moved around you with careful hands.
He heard the faint press of lips against your temple.
The whispered goodnights that always sounded like promises.
And sometimes, he heard nothing at all.
Just silence.
But he knew that even during the most hushed nights, Satoru was always keeping you close – to his heart and soul and eyes. For he has never seen anything more precious than the peacefulness haunting his wife's forehead. And if a little, worried crease would appear between your brows, his thumb would gently massage it away. Lips would kiss it off, and you would snuggle up even closer, as if your body unconsciously yearned for your husband's touch.
There was a special kind of intimacy between the two lovers, whose odd fates and minds mixed in one lifeline. A bond most could be jealous of – in the way Satoru seemed to have you at his fingertips and you somehow always curled around them, floating near like a little goddess.
If Satoru was a believer, he would pray to nothing but the giggling eyes of his wife.
A few days later, when they were getting ready for the road, Suguru would look back at the young couple with a swelling heart.
For Marquis, who suffered enough in his short life, deserved nothing more than to gleam under the warm sun like a fair child, with his bright laughter forever carried through the mountains and meadows of the great empire.
in which an older pro hero katsuki finds himself fond of a certain teacher while training students at UA.
the teachers lounge at U.A high school is buzzing with machinery, the printers beeping softly and the florescent lights overhead. its early afternoon and school had just let out. it was a warm day outside, the soft sunshine casting over the outside of the school, filtering into the room where you sat at a table typing away on your computer.
you'd been teaching here for some years now and you had a habit of staying afterschool doing lesson plans until the sun went down. some teachers stopped by to pick things off of the printer, or brew their coffee but ultimately you were the only one in there.
footsteps echoed in the hallway, approaching. it was all might, or everyone around here calls him by his name, Yagi Toshinori, since he's mostly in his slender form when on school grounds. He enters while speaking to someone following behind him. "...students will benefit greatly from your wisdom!"
the man following him is none other than katsuki bakugou. he's without his gauntlets that are usually around his wrists, but is still in his hero costume, wearing a black sleeveless tank top with his signature orange "X" displayed across his chest. his pants are matching, with a baggy fit and a drank green belt. being one of the top heroes for so long meant keeping up appearances everywhere you go, you suppose. his ash blonde has stayed the same, still spiky and hanging over his forehead.
the hero was now in his mid fourties, and you swear he looked better than he did at the beginning of his career. his body honestly didn't look a day over 25, the only difference being he looked less angry than he was commonly known to be when he was younger.
you'd met him a few times, being because he's a pro hero at the top of the charts and because he's alumni. he attends most of the staff events at the school. what was even more interesting was that he was not too far from your age. you were nearing your mid thirties, and what's ten years, right?
you hear Yagi say your name, and then he walks over to you, with katsuki following. "bakugou! im sure you've met our brightest teacher, yes?" katsukis crimson eyes land on you, and he nods curtly.
"yeah. hey there" he says, his voice rougher than the last time you'd heard him speak.
you offer a small wave, unsure of what Yagi has up his sleeve. ever since he retired and dedicated his time to helping students, you guys have gotten along great. he's truly become a father figure to you and you always love discussing with him about students or even gossiping. recently Yagi had been bothering you about being single. its not that you couldn't find anyone if you wanted to, the issue is that you're picky. you'd had plenty trials with boyfriends and dating but nothing stuck.
"amazing!" all might beams with a grin. "bakugou here will be spending a lot of time here going forward with the students! after much convincing him that is."
oh yeah. you'd heard about principal Nezu wanting to bring in a pro hero. someone to be hands on with the students. all might speaks again, looking at katsuki. "you'd be smart to stick with this one! she knows the students well so im sure some collaborative work would benefit the both of you!"
katsuki catches on to the suggestive tone in yogis voice just as you do. Yagi continues yapping on about the students, training, and how good of a teacher you are. finally, "alright then! I've got a meeting, I'll leave you to it!” he speeds out of the room before you can say anything.
you're just left with katsuki, or, dynamight? you're not really sure what he would want you to call him. he stares at you and notices all of the papers you have sprawled over the area and your computer. "what're you workin' on? lesson plans?"
you nod. "yes! just getting a head start on things for next week."
he hums before speaking again. "good to see you. s' been a while." which is true, the last time you saw him being a month ago at an orientation.
"yeah! how are you?" you begin gathering all of your papers up off of the table, trying not to seem too nervous. "excited to start here?"
he gave a soft grunt. "eh. just trying to be more involved. givin' back to the community. you've been keeping the brats in shape?"
you laugh at that and nod. "of course. gotta keep busy somehow."
katsuki watched you clean up al of your belongings, and he started to get in his head a little.
here you were, a beautiful woman who always treats him and all of your students with such gracefulness. there's no way you weren't single, he thought. he tried not to glance at your hand too many times, trying to see if you had a ring around your finger, but he felt he was being too obvious.
he had wanted to ask you out a few times before, but he couldn't find the right words. that, and he's painfully inexperienced in the subject.
being busy with his career for so long has gotten in the way of katsuki having much of a life outside of work. outside of work, his days are spent training, visiting his family and friends, or talking about hero stuff even off of the clock. but he hadn't been on a real date, let alone touched a woman in years.
its not like he's insecure or anything but his growing age was becoming a concern for him. was he too old to be trying to flirt? the last thing he would want is to make you uncomfortable for acting like some creep.
you both stood up and began to walk out of the teachers lounge. "you got plans or somethin' after school?"
"ermm, nope! not really. why?"
"I could take you out for a drink?" his pulse picked up, hearing how that sounds. fuck. "not.. not alcohol. refreshments, I meant. there's this new cafe place down the street I like. if you're down?"
his eyes went bright and optimistic, waiting for you to say something.
it was cute. he had this boyish smile and his cheeks were dusted pink. "of course, katsuki."
you get there, and its a cozy kind of place, hidden away in a slower part of the city.
the smell of coffee beans wafted throughout the place, some sounds of chatter and cups clinking. its dimly lit, and very intimate looking. you both ordered your drinks off of a kiosk, and katsuki gave a quick, "I got it" and paid for the both of you.
sat at a little booth, your thigh pressed against his while you both held your drinks. "what'd you get?"
his drink looks bland compared to yours. its a plain brown, whereas yours, is a light brown with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle all over. "just tea. you got coffee?"
"yeah, a iced latte. you just got tea?"
he shot you a teasing look. "yeah? its four in the afternoon. why're you drinking caffeine this late in the day?"
biting back a grin, "maybe once you start working with the students, you'll get it then. can I try your drink?"
he nods and switches out your cup for his. you both take a sip at the same time, simultaneously pulling it away from your mouths and making a face.
it tasted like thin, lukewarm tea bag water.
your face twisted in disgust, "yuck! oh my god katsuki, that's gross! its so bitter?"
he was too busy making a face of his own at the taste of your drink to answer. leaning is elbows on the table, "that's not even coffee! that's fuckin' dessert."
you frown, "yours is like grass!"
a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. the rest of the afternoon is spent walking around town, visiting all of the little shops before you both had to head home.
over the next few weeks, he's spent most of his time with you afterschool in the teachers lounge. helping you carry papers you've just printed, stapling packets together, even giving his opinion on some essays you had to grade.
today, you're in your second period, the classroom quiet since you decided today would be dedicated towards letting everyone catch up on missing work. the bell rings, and all of your students grab their things and head out. as your last student left, katsuki walks in.
"hey. you busy?" he closes the door behind him.
you smile. "nope! what's up?" you gesture to another chair that's right next to yours behind your desk for him to sit.
he takes a seat, his knees bumping yours. "just checkin' on you."
"oh! im good!" you say. "how's it going with training the students?"
"little shits are driving me crazy. and I think they hate me, mostly. but s' good." he crosses his arms, relaxing into the chair more.
katsuki honestly cannot stop staring at you. not when he watches you teach, not when you pass by him in the hallways and not now. all he wants is to pull you into his lap and hold you.
"y'look good today." you're in your everyday teacher outfit, a black blouse and straight legged pants.
a warmth spread across your chest and you laughed. he blinked at you. "whats funny?"
"you're flirting." saying it felt like more of a question.
"..yeah." is chest tightened, and he shifted awkwardly. "can I take you out?"
he can't believe the words coming out of his mouth. he's panicking inside, and he's embarrassed to even think about how he feels like a teenager with a stupid crush.
you gave a breathless sort of laugh. the whole thing was silly, really, you could see how nervous he was and he'd been so painfully obvious over the past couple of weeks. "id love to kats," you said. "uh, give me your number?"
"oh, yeah. yeah, here." he grabs his phone from you and enters the digits of his number and adds a contact name for you.
when you see the name he gave himself, you snicker.
pairing: bf!Yuji Itadori x reader
synopsis: while helping your boyfriend dry his hair after his bath, you realize that maybe Sukuna was onto something...
cw: none, fluff, established relationship, Yuji being lovey-dovey and clingy, gn!reader
wc: 877
Yuji masterlist
Yuji had just finished taking a bath, and you were currently helping him dry his hair with a towel after having washed it for him. He just came back from a mission exhausted and sore so you suggested getting him in the bathtub to relax.
A large hand gripping the edge of the sink, he slouched forward a bit to help you reach the top of his head. His eyes were closed, and he let out the occasional hum as you continued to rub the soft fabric against his pink locks.
“You good? You look like you’re gonna fall asleep any second now.” you chuckle softly.
He keeps his eyes closed. “I might… it feels really nice when you do that.” A smile breaks out on his face.
When you’re done, you pull the towel away from him. The motion makes his still slightly damp hair stick back, and you freeze for a moment.
He notices how you stop moving, and opens his eyes. “Something wrong?”
You’re broken out of your daze at the sound of his voice. “Huh? Uh… oh, no. Nothing’s wrong.”
He eyes you skeptically and tilts his head to the side. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah! It’s just… how do I put it?”
A reassuring hand finds its way onto your waist and his thumb rubs small circles against it.
“Your hair,” you start, unsure of how to say this. “That’s how Sukuna does it when you switch with him.”
Yuji’s eyes darken slightly, as if the mere mention of that monster was enough to ruin his mood.
“Wait no— it’s not a bad thing!” You instantly spit out. “He’s kind of onto something, actually…” your words trail off.
His glare is replaced by a confused expression, and he waits for you to elaborate.
“You look good with your hair pushed back like that,” you mumble, a hand reaching up to run your fingers back through his scalp.
He lets out an involuntary and quiet groan, and a shiver travels down his spine. “I… do?”
“Mhm,” you nod and gently move him to face the mirror propped up above the sink he was holding onto.
He turns his body in compliance, and you lean your head against his shoulder, holding onto his hand. “See? You look so handsome.” you affirm, unable to contain your smile.
A small blush creeps onto his face and he looks away, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
You take a hold of his face and force him to look at his reflection. Your fingers trail down the bridge of his nose. “Prettiest nose,” your fingers then make their way to his lips “most kissable lips I’ve ever seen,” and they trace his jawline next “perfect jawline. Not too sharp, not too soft.” you finish with a kiss to his neck. You pull back to look at him, only to find him already staring at you.
His eyes were half-lidded and dimmed as he looked down at you. Or rather, at your lips.
“Did you hear a single word of what I just said?” you scoff.
His hand tightens on your waist as he pulls you closer. “I did.” he smiles against your lips before pressing a kiss to them.
You let out a small gasp at the suddenness of his affection, but quickly melt into it. His hand moves from the side of your waist to support the back of your head, while the other stays pressed against your lower back. Almost arching you up into him.
You pull back with a whine and shake your head. “Slow down—” you laugh.
“Where are you going? I’m not done yet—” he chuckles as well and chases your lips with his own.
Your hands come up to push his face away from yours. He only smiles against your palm like the fool in love he is, and makes exaggerated kissing noises while puckering his lips. “You said I had the most kissable lips, so I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
“You’re not kissing me, you’re slobbering all over me like a dog!”
A bark of a laugh escapes him. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Yuji!” you shout against him and smack his shoulder, although you know it doesn’t even tickle for him.
He pulls back with a sigh, but still keeps his hands on you. “Fine, fine.”
You regain your breath and finally look up at him.
A comfortable and familiar silence fell over you both. You remained staring at each other with a certain fondness you only reserved for the other, his arms still around your waist and yours on his chest.
“You’re way prettier than I am handsome, you know that right?”
You let out a scoff and roll your eyes. “We’re talking about you, not me.”
His eyes soften some more—if that was even possible. “I don’t care. I’ll always make it about you.”
You move a hand to cup the side of his face. “You should go to sleep now. Rest your muscles.”
He hums quietly and leans into your palm, closing his eyes. “Join me?” he mutters.
“You don’t even need to ask.” you reply with a kiss to his cheek, before guiding him out of the bathroom, and to the bed.
Yuji masterlist
a/n: yuji gives me cuteness aggression at least five different times a day. it's getting rlly bad send help sos...
you've been waiting for satoru to come home for what felt like forever. the moment he got home, you didn’t even give him time to hang his coat.
you hooked your hands around him and practically demanded, “sit down.”
satoru blinked. “whatcha’ up to now?”
before he could answer, you climbed onto his lap and made yourself comfortable like you belonged there. like you’d been waiting all day. he froze for a second—then his hands hovered awkwardly, unsure whether he was allowed to touch you yet.
“hey—why are you acting so—”
he didn’t get to finish.
you grabbed his blindfold and ripped it off his face, like it had personally wronged you. the movement was so fast satoru barely had time to react. his hair fell into place, and then—those bright blue eyes were there, fully uncovered.
for a moment, he looked almost startled.
then his expression softened, concern creeping in. “baby… did i do something?”
you didn’t answer right away. you just stared—steady, intense, like you were really inspecting him. like you were checking something important.
satoru swallowed. “uh… are you mad at me?”
“no,” you finally said, voice quiet but certain. you leaned closer, meeting his gaze like a promise. “have i told you how much i love your eyes?”
his shoulders loosened, and you could almost see him realize he wasn’t in trouble. he let out a small laugh, then tried to grin like everything was normal.
“yes,” he said gently, looking at you like he adored you. “you have, sweetheart.”
nerd!sukuna x ditzy!reader (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) [go to masterlist on pinned for other parts!]
nerd!sukuna who follows you around parties, because god only knows how you don’t understand the crude jokes people make about you, you need someone to defend you! that someone just happens to be him.
nerd!sukuna who acts like he doesn’t care, but everyone knows he’s bullshitting when he sees you getting chatted up by frat!gojo.
nerd!sukuna who literally almost punched the living shit out of frat!gojo when he walked over to you both, and then realized maybe he does care.
nerd!sukuna who after the party hangs around you like a puppy, but of course you don’t notice, just thinking “maybe he just needs a friend right now!”
nerd!sukuna who pays attention to what you’re talking about, if you talked about the newest series of sonny angels? best believe he already pre-ordered it for you. you need more of that vanilla perfume that makes him want to eat you? already on your dresser.
nerd!sukuna who despite doing all of this still is too cowardly to get into a relationship with you. of course it seems stupid that the smart, egotistical, loved by all ryomen sukuna is scared to get into a relationship, but its mainly because he’s scared of rejection from you.
nerd!sukuna who watches you while you give him a fashion show of all the clothes that he bought for you. you still think you guys are just friends, while sukuna is near a heart attack when you bend over in a skirt thats already too short. he covers himself up with a grin while inside hes heating up.
nerd!sukuna tells you to fix your outfit, while your confused on whats wrong with it! not knowing the same guy whos trying to help you, is the same one whos ogling you the most.
nerd!sukuna who tutors you for a class—for imagination, lets say linear algebra—because you’re failing but its needed for your major! during the first tutoring session you bring a tupperware filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, while wearing the shortest skirt sukuna has ever seen.
nerd!sukuna who you smile at, handing him the clear container, bending over to the point he can see the cleavage in the v neck long sleeve sweater your wearing!
nerd!sukuna who is straight to the point with the tutoring, not at all holding back on where you’ve fucked up during the semester. while all of this is happening you’re smiling at your phone at something that frat!gojo said.
nerd!sukuna sighs, knowing this would be a long next semester with you.
are u proud 🥹 my friend wouldnt play roblox with me so instead of doing that, i lowk just wrote again., anywho hope u enjoyed this one xx
(check masterlist on my pinned for the other parts x)
modern au ৻ꪆ soft bf!sukuna 𝔁 anxious gf!reader ৻ꪆ sfw oneshot!
warnings. suggestive comfort fluff, mdni. heavy mental health dialogue. viewer discretion. reader has anxiety/adhd. it's a bad day. he makes it okay. mentions of blood. making out.
note: this was VERY self indulgent, i apologize :,) had a bad day and wrote about it. hope it's still enjoyable to read.
masterlist | wc: 4.6k
you knew the day was going to be hard the moment you had woken up multiple times in the night. it wasn't new to you that you had bouts of anxiety from time to time, but this was something you hadn't shared with your boyfriend yet. to be honest, it was a point of fear for you on how he would react, which is why you've been keeping it from him.
when you finally got out of bed, you were desperately not rested. the brain fog from the day prior still lingered, and your stomach felt a little twisted with the growing unease. ryomen laid deep in slumber as it was still early enough for there to be no sun rays peeking through your blinds, and you choose to not bother him. it was best to try and get your act together before he could notice.
your first instinct was to go straight for the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as you could manage and clicking the lock slowly. the tiny orange bottle was right where you left it, tucked away behind unused skincare bottles behind the sink where it was innocuous enough that ryomen wouldn't stumble upon it. he never gave you a reason to hide the fact you took medication for your mental health, but it scared you deeply anyhow. what would he think if he knew his usually confident and loud girlfriend had crippling anxiety? your thoughts began to spiral once more, and before you could allow it to worsen you take it with a dry swallow. not ideal, but today was one of those days.
you sat on the toilet, knees pulled to your chin waiting for the feelings to subside. it seems that your brain was a different demon right now, so the usual ten-minute kick-up was not there. your thoughts continued running in circles without ever landing on a concrete issue to fix. there wasn't a problem you could solve or a conversation you could prepare for, just a mass-less loud certainty that something was wrong and you were somehow behind on remedying it.
eventually, you forced yourself to get up and distract yourself. if the thoughts won't leave, the least you could do is replace them, right? routine usually helped you regulate, or so you believed it did. washing your face, brushing your teeth. you tied your hair out of your face and marched quietly into the kitchen. by the time you heard ryomen emerge from the bedroom, you had half of the refrigerator on the counter, mid-deep clean.
he stopped in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, hair still disheveled from sleep. it would've looked cute to you if you didn't already have a week's worth of thoughts occupying your brain at the same time. he stared at you standing in front of an open refrigerator with three leftover containers balanced against your chest.
"babe, why are you cleaning the fridge before sunrise?"
"oh y'know, i was looking at it yesterday and realized there's a lot of old stuff and weird stains inside. no biggie, i just thought i'd be productive." he raises an eyebrow at you. was this the same girl who had to run three loads of laundry because she ran out of clothes to wear?
"did it have to be the first thing you do today?"
you shut the refrigerator harder than necessary. "yes, ryomen. it's not like you were going to do it."
his eyebrows rose slightly again, and you instantly wished you could eat the words back. it was a blatant lie and unnecessary dig, your boyfriend wasn't really much of a slob. maybe not a neat freak, but he did his part when needed. you feel the dark goo of emotions rise as the guilt trails you, but you stay quiet and keep working around him.
ryomen watched you as you placed the chilled miscellaneous condiments on the counter with considerably more force than you usually would. "good morning to you too, then."
"yeah. morning."
you pulled open a cabinet and began rearranging mugs that did not need rearranging in the slightest, mostly because him studying you right now was raising your heart rate in a very non-romantic way. ryomen had always been annoyingly observant when he wanted to be, and today you couldn't tolerate it. "can you just make your coffee and go? you're loitering," you snap.
you yank another mug from the cabinet and immediately realize there is nowhere else for it to go. the shelf is already organized, and now you're standing there holding the stupid thing. "well? you're hovering. it's annoying."
the man wordlessly takes the mug out of your hand with a gentle motion, not irritated. that surprised you— you would rather he get annoyed by your dramatics, tell you that you're the one being weird and start an argument you could sink your teeth into. at least anger could give you an outlet for the boiling pressure in your mind. it was toxic, you knew this, and it hurt that that's where your heart went instead of just being normal.
why couldn't you just be normal?
he doesn't say anything at all as he starts the coffee machine.
it hums noisily between the two of you while you busy yourself with the rest of the fridge, fighting the urge to look over your shoulder. you can feel him moving around behind you, hear the quiet clink of his spoon against ceramic. every ordinary sound felt amplified enough to crawl beneath your skin. when you feel him reach around you to grab something from the fridge, you jerk away so abruptly that your hip bumps into the counter edge. okay, ow.
he looks a little concerned, but you play it off as if it didn't hurt like hell. "… jus' grabbing the milk."
you simply give him a short nod, unwilling to open your mouth. you couldn't trust yourself to not be more mean to him for no fault of his own. the minutes stretch painfully as he sips from his mug without a single remark to you or your behavior, which bothered you even more. shouldn't he reprimand you for being so horrible? at least then you could feel some relief from the voice yelling in your own head, and it instead be his.
you spent the first half of the day trying to outrun yourself.
you got laundry into the machine, as you were definitely many loads behind as usual. you couldn't muster the courage to answer the number of emails pending in your inbox so you resorted to vacuuming at seven in the morning, which you were sure your downstairs neighbors did not appreciate. you made breakfast and lost your appetite halfway through, abandoned it, then became upset with yourself because wasting food made you feel guilty. every task seemed like it should have provided some sense of accomplishment, but instead each one became another thing you could somehow do incorrectly.
ryomen mostly stayed out of your way the whole time. ideally, that should have made things easier for you to focus. but since your brain loves to be incompetent, you became painfully aware of his absence. you had snapped at him twice already, declined breakfast when he offered to finish your leftovers, and pulled away harshly when he placed his hand against your lower back while passing behind you. every action made you feel worse than the last.
by noon, the anxiety had somehow transformed into the overwhelming conviction that you were ruining everything. you stood in the laundry room once more, staring at the washing machine because you couldn't remember whether you had added detergent to the load that just finished.
"fuck…"
you opened the machine and stared inside as though the answer might suddenly appear among the wet clothes.
a voice comes close by your right ear. "what are you doing?"
you jumped so violently that your elbow struck the drying rack behind you on your funny bone. avoidable injury number two for the day. yay.
"cheese and fucking crackers, ryo!"
his face tightened, you couldn't tell whether he was mad at you or worried. "i called your name three times, i didn't mean to scare you."
"obviously i couldn't hear you!"
you stand up straight and pressed both hands against the edge of the washing machine, trying to slow your breath without making it dead obvious. despite your icky internal desire to ignore him, you ask.
"… did i put detergent in here?"
a pause.
"yeah, you did."
you looked at him, accusatory. "how do you know?"
" 'cause i watched you do it."
"when?"
"about forty minutes ago."
forty minutes? it felt like this load took two hours. your throat tightened. "oh, right."
ryomen leaned against the doorway, his brows knitted. "come sit down on the couch with me."
"i don't need to do that, i have to finish cleaning."
"you've been cleaning since five in the morning. you should sit."
"i said i'm fine, i got this."
his jaw shifted slightly. "i didn't ask if you weren't capable of doing it."
that irritated you because it frightened you. were you even capable of doing ordinary tasks if this was already too much to manage?
"stop acting like something is wrong with me!"
there it was. the second the sentence left your mouth, you knew you had given yourself away. ryomen's expression changed completely, soft and more caring. you immediately turned from him.
"forget what i said, just leave me alone."
"baby, stop. c'mere."
you stiffen as he gets closer to you. "no."
you pushed past him before he could stop you, walking quickly toward the kitchen because you needed something to keep your hands busy, anything that would keep you from having that conversation. you were on a thin line already, the rope of your restraint fraying with the tension. you grabbed the abandoned breakfast dishes from earlier and turned on the faucet.
behind you, ryomen sighed. "seriously, you don't have to keep doing this."
"i don't know what you're talking about."
"you pretend to get busy every time you start getting overwhelmed, babe."
your hand stopped scrubbing the glass cup beneath the running water. the feelings in your stomach start to sink disgustingly. you slowly turned your head. "what?" he looked like he regretted the phrasing, but there was no taking it back now.
"no, nothing. nevermind."
you walk away from the sink, the slippery soaped-up glass still in your mildly trembling hand. "no, what did you just say?"
"i said you don't have to—"
suddenly, the glass in your hand slipped. it falls on the wooden floor with a loud shatter, pieces scattering and a few small shards nick your feet. your chest seized so abruptly that you stumbled backward until your hip struck the counter. the room felt too bright even though you only had the windows with natural light open. your hands were shaking hard and balled into fists. your fingers refused to open and stop digging your nails into your palms. you could hear a dying animal somewhere, it was god awful really. until you realize that noise was coming from you.
"shit."
ryomen was beside you immediately, walking as carefully as he could to reach you without stepping on a piece himself.
"p-please don't..!" you tried to sob out, although you weren't entirely certain understandable words were coming out. tears were fully streaming down your face as your vision blurred and you were too weak to fight him when he lifts you up in a princess carry to your bedroom. you press your balled hands to your eyes until colors burst behind your eyelids. every muscle in your body felt painfully wound up, and the embarrassment of being carried through your own apartment while sobbing uncontrollably was somewhere in the back of your mind.
"ryo, put me down, please, i can't— i don't know what's happening, i can't—"
"i know, baby. i know." there wasn't an ounce of teasing in his voice, he was unjustly soft and soothing with you. ryomen nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and brought you toward the bed, but instead of immediately setting you beneath the covers and leaving like you expected, he lowered you carefully onto the edge of the mattress. he crouched in front of you afterward, putting himself below your eye level rather than towering over you. "you're right here with me. don't worry about nothin' else."
you couldn't even properly process what he was saying. your entire body felt foreign, like somebody had turned every organ in your body into a tightrope. your heart was pounding hard enough to make your chest ache, your face felt unbearably hot, and every breath you attempted became another loud gasp that convinced you there wasn't enough oxygen in the room.
"i-i can't breathe, it hurts—"
"you're taking shallow breaths, lovely." ryomen's response came steady and calm. "you're going to make yourself dizzy. just follow me." he exaggerated his breathing enough for you to see it, slow and deep with his hands motioning up and down. you tried to match him as best as you could, with a lot of shakiness. the first attempt failed, followed by the second.
"i can't do it!"
"then we'll do it badly."
that broke through the panic for split second, but ryomen continued. "there's no prize for doing this correctly. breathe wrong, shake, cry. i don't care. i'm staying right here with you until this passes." you take a couple more breaths and you finally begin to slow down.
your tear streaked face looks properly hurt by just how sweet your boyfriend was. i don't deserve such an accommodating partner, you thought.
"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."
"you don't have anything to be sorry for right now."
"what?! i've been so horrible to you all morning!"
"you've been a bit of a priss-fest, but i signed up for that when i started dating you."
a strangled noise escaped you somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
his mouth twitched into a small smile. "there she is."
you covered your face again, unwilling to meet his eyes for what you wanted to say next. your shoulders shake as everything you had been holding back since sometime during the night finally spilled over.
"i know it's stupid," you began, voice wavering with the tears. "i know people have certain problems and it not be some enormous secret, but i didn't want you looking at me differently. i didn't want you thinking you were obligated to deal with this every time i got bad, or feeling like you have to babysit me, and i especially didn't want you see me when i get these episodes."
ryomen stared at you for several seconds. "you think i didn't know?"
your face grows warmer. "what?.."
"you chew the inside of your cheek until it's bitten raw, i can feel it when we make out. when you're really paranoid you have me check if the front door is locked. you reread texts out loud before you send them, then reread them in your head after you send them as if the words would've changed."
your lips slowly part. god, were you this easy to figure out?
"when we go somewhere new, you look up the parking situation before we leave because not knowing where we're supposed to park makes you nervous. when somebody's tone changes around you, you spend all night trying to figure out if they're mad at you." his thumb brushes absentmindedly against your knee.
"and when it gets bad, you stop eating. don't you think i'd guess something was up with my girl who loves to cook and eat good meals?"
"but that's just..." you struggle for something to say that could make his list of observations less mortifying. "people do those things."
"some people do, yeah. and you do them when you're anxious."
you scowl weakly at him, but there wasn't anger behind it to be real. "i hate you."
"you'll recover."
you sniff, dragging the sleeve of your shirt beneath your nose before another realization makes your entire body tense. "wait, i never said anything about having anxiety." for the first time since this conversation began, ryomen hesitates. it lasts maybe half a second but unfortunately, you know his face too well.
your eyes widen. "ryo."
"sweetheart, please don't work yourself up again."
"ryomen. you know about my meds?!"
".. you're already having a shitty day, don't make it worse—"
your humiliation reaches levels you genuinely hadn't known were achievable.
"oh my god. oh my god!"
you cover your face with both hands again, wishing with every part of yourself that the mattress would somehow open and consume you whole. "you've seen it? bu—how? when?!"
"it doesn't matter when." his voice turns slightly stiff. "you left the cabinet open one morning, and i went in there looking for toothpaste and saw an orange bottle shoved behind enough skincare products to supply a fucking sephora."
"hey—you buy those for me!" you retort. "freakin' enabler…" you mutter under your breath.
"what i spend my money on is not the topic at hand."
you drop your hands into your lap again. "i'm sure you read the label, then."
ryomen looks down at your hands, watching the way your fingers continue rapidly knotting themselves together before gently separating them.
"yes, by accident. but i figured you would tell me when you wanted me to know."
you stare at him. "that's it?"
"baby—what else was i supposed to do?"
"i dunno, ask me?"
"and put you on the spot about something you were clearly hiding because you were uncomfortable talking about it?" he scoffs quietly. "yeah, that would've gone fantastic."
your eyes fall to your joint hands. he was right. even now, after being forced into the conversation by circumstances entirely outside your control, you wanted to crawl into a hole. if he'd approached you months ago holding that bottle and asking for an explanation, you would've probably combusted on the spot.
"i thought i was hiding it well."
"i know that."
somehow that makes your eyes burn with tears again. ryomen notices, cooing at you. "heeeyy, hey, why're you cryin' again?"
"because that's embarrassing! i was just making a fool of myself sneaking around!"
"you can't even hide my birthday presents well, s'okay."
you gasp. "you already saw the ninja creami?!" you shove weakly at his shoulder, but he barely moves. you sniffle loudly before you speak again.
"i've been hiding my meds in my own bathroom and trying to act normal around you this entire time, and you've just been watching me do it like an idiot."
"i wasn't watchin' you hide pills, you psycho. you're not a drug addict."
"you know what i mean!"
the corner of his mouth twitches, but it fades when he sees another tear spill down your cheek. his hand reaches up, thumb catching it before it can trail farther.
"you're not gettin' what i'm tryin' to tell you. sweetheart, none of this is news to me." your expression falters.
"today was new," he clarifies. "i haven't seen it hit you this hard before, and i didn't know exactly what was going on in your head because you never mentioned it. but none of this suddenly turns you into some cursed version of my girlfriend."
you stare down at your lap. "but it feels different now that you've seen it."
"to you, sure it does."
you swallow and nod. "yeah."
"but not to me."
that pulls your eyes back toward him. ryomen shifts from his crouched position and sits beside you on the mattress instead, close enough that your knees brush. he pulls you onto his lap, noticing the cuts on your feet from the glass. the adrenaline from your anxiety attack is probably keeping you from feeling the pain, so he doesn't pipe up about it yet.
"i didn't want you to think i was..." you trail off.
"was what?"
you hesitate, ashamed of the word even before you say it. "difficult."
his face scrunches immediately. "you are difficult."
you gape at him. ryomen continues before you can summon the strength to strangle him. "you're stubborn, mouthy, and somehow lose every phone charger we own. you start arguments when you're hungry and make me guess what you want to eat as if i can read your damn mind. you're extremely fucking difficult."
"this is possibly the worst comfort speech i've ever heard, babe."
"can you be fuckin' patient? i'm getting there."
despite everything, a tiny smile pulls at your mouth. his expression relaxes when he sees.
"you're difficult sometimes because you're a human. so am i! if you wanted to break up every time i was difficult with you, we woulda been done for a long time ago. and if you honestly think i only want the parts of you that are convenient for me, then i've done a pretty shitty job being your boyfriend."
"that's not what i think."
"you just told me you've been hiding your anxiety because you thought i'd feel obligated to babysit you." you wince at him mention the word again. "you basically decided it for me that this would be too much."
"…i didn't mean it like thaaaat."
"but that's what you've been doing."
you don't have anything to say to that. ryomen leans forward slightly, trying to catch your eyes when you look away. "baby, i'm not saying you have to tell me everything. if there are things you want private, they're yours. i'm not entitled to every thought in your head just because we're together." his hand brushes a stray hair out of your face before cupping your cheek.
"but i want you to be able to tell me when you're having a bad day." you lean into his hand, brows upturned. "what would i even say?"
"you could always start with 'i'm having a bad day.'"
"but what are you supposed to do with that?"
"hmm, whatever you need."
"that's the problem, ryo. i don't know what i need when i get like this." you finally slip your hand into his, clasping it firmly. his fingers curl around yours immediately.
"you don't have to show up with fucking instructions. you can tell me, 'i feel awful and i don't know what i need,' and we'll figure it out."
your lips tremble again. "and what if nothing helps?"
"then nothing helps. you have a shitty day." he shrugs one shoulder, thumb moving slowly across your knuckles. "maybe i can't fix it. maybe you can't fix it. that doesn't mean you failed."
you blink. the elementary idea felt almost offensive after the entire morning you'd spent desperately trying to outrun the feeling. you'd cleaned, moved, organized, distracted, scolded yourself and practically begged your own brain to cooperate, because surely anxiety was something you were supposed to defeat before you were allowed to continue with your day.
"i don't like feeling like a chud."
"hah, i know."
"i want it to go away."
"i know that too."
"so how am i supposed to just accept that i might feel bad all day?"
"you don't have to like it." ryomen squeezes your hand. "just quit punishing yourself because you couldn't make it disappear on command." your eyes lower again, pouting.
"and quit punishing me while you're at it. god damn."
you wail. "i said i was sorry!"
"and i'm allowed to give you shit for telling me i was loitering in my own kitchen. you know i had to hold back my sassy comments all day? that's real hell if you ask me," he scoffs with an eyeroll.
a real belly laugh finally breaks through, and you drop your forehead against his. "i really am sorry, though."
"it's okay. i survived even though you were being a little shit."
"that extra comment wasn't needed."
"i don't lie to my baby."
you pinch his side without lifting your head. "ow! fuck, haven't i suffered enough for one day?"
"clearly not."
"violent little thing."
his arms finally pull you closer, loosely enough that you have freedom to pull away if you wanted to. ryomen tilts his head the smallest fraction, nose brushing yours as if to ask permission. you lean in without a doubt.
the kiss starts tender and loving, the way he does when you ask him for it slow. your lips part against his with a soft, wet sound, and the second his tongue slips past your teeth the resolve in both of you uncoils.
you make a needy noise into his mouth and fist your hands in the loose fabric of his sweatpants at his hips. ryomen answers with a low rumble that vibrates through your chest, one rough hand sliding up your back to cradle the nape of your neck while the other grips on your waist, thumb stroking the plushy skin just under the hem of your shirt.
the heat of your kisses builds up fast. his mouth turns more hungry as his tongue links yours deeper, tasting the salt still clinging to your lips. you shift in his lap without thinking, straddling one of his thick thighs so you can feel him more. the movement drags the tops of your feet across the mattress—and straight over one of the shallow cuts left by the broken glass.
a sharp sting flares white-hot and you break the kiss with a startled hiss, body jerking. he stops groping your body instantly. his eyes open, pupils blown and heavy-lidded, but the fog of lust clears the second he sees the wince on your face.
“fuck, i forgot.” his voice is raspy and still thick from the kiss, but his concern cuts through it.
he lifts you off his lap like a feather and sets you carefully on the edge of the bed again, already sliding to his knees in front of you. “don’t try to get the glass out with your hands, wait here.”
he disappears into the bathroom and you hear drawers opening. the rattle of the first-aid kit, water running. when he comes back he’s carrying the kit, a clean towel, and a shallow bowl of warm water.
he kneels again, settling your injured feet gently in his lap. tiny shards still glitter in a couple of the nicks. he curses under his breath and starts picking them out with tweezers, his movements precise as he could be. you flinch, but he steadies your ankles with a firm hand.
“easy, babe… just a couple little pieces. nothin' deep.” his tone is clinical, but the way his thumb keeps stroking the uninjured skin along your ankle is pure, raw affection. once the glass is gone he cleans the cuts with the damp cloth, then dabs on antiseptic that stings and makes you suck in a breath. band-aids follow with two on the right foot, one on the left and pressed carefully over the tops of your feet with surprising tenderness for such large hands.
when he’s finished he presses a soft kiss to the top of each foot, right above the bandages, then looks up at you with a sly little smirk that doesn’t hide the playfulness still lingering in his eyes at all. "there, you're all patched up.”
he rises from the floor, crowding back into your space until you’re forced to tip your head to meet his gaze. one hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip that's still kiss-swollen.
“we’re finishing what we started,” he murmurs, voice dropping into that tone that always makes your stomach flip, “but only after i'm sure you aren't gonna faint or hurt yourself. lemme get you some water and somethin' to eat, and then—” his mouth curves against your ear, “—i’m gonna pick up right where we left off. deal?”
finally a little hurt WITH comfort ehe
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