⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)
⚝wc: 3.5k
Satoru Gojo
“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.
No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.
It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.
“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Mhmm!” You nod.
He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.
You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”
“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”
You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”
“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”
The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.
“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”
You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”
He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”
Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.
“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”
You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.
“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”
Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”
“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"
You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”
Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.
“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”
He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”
“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.
As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.
“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”
His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.
“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"
“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.
Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”
Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.
“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”
Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”
His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.
You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.
But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.
And that’s when you know.
Suguru Geto
You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four?
The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead.
And not even a text.
You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.
You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.
Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?
Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.
“Angel?”
That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.
It was
“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.
“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”
He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.
How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?
Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life?
“It’s me, (Y/N).” he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.
The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.
“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.
He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.
His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.
You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.
He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.
You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.
He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.
You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.
Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.
His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.
He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.
Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.
You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.
Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”
His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.
“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.
“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”
The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.
You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.
“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.
You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.
This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.
“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”
He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”
You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”
He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”
Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.
But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.
You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”
For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.
But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.
“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”
His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.
Nanami Kento
Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.
So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.
You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.
“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.
“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”
The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.
“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”
Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.
“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”
The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.
Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”
“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”
At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”
Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”
“And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”
The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.
“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”
Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”
You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”
The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.
He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”
You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”
There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.
“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”
He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."
His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.
He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.
He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.
“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.
Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.
“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”
You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.
synopsis: Amaryllis (/ˌæməˈrɪlɪs/)[1] is the only genus in the subtribe Amaryllidinae (tribe Amaryllideae). A vibrant bloom that symbolizes new beginnings and fresh starts. They are often associated with winter and the holiday season.
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⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f!reader, angst, slowburn
⚝wc: 3k
⚝a/n: I've been really slacking on updating this series, gonna try harder I swear.
Sorry.
Even the thought of the word sounded wrong to him. He was a king–ruthless and commanding. His subjects kissed the ground he walked on. There was never a choice he made, that was up for debate. Every criticizing eye was swiftly plucked out, questioning tongue severed.
But, you—seemed to be a point of contention. Ever since your arrival that was the trend you followed. It was vexing, sure and yet he wouldn’t dream of changing the dynamic.
Why did the sight of you crying so affect him? Why was it that you, a mere servant, could disturb his centuries of carefully maintained control? It wasn’t just your fear that unsettled him; it was the realization that you had managed to penetrate his defenses in a way no one else had.
With a frustrated growl, Sukuna stopped pacing and stared at the reflection in his ornate mirror. The king he saw there was every bit as formidable as he’d always been, but the reflection now held a hint of something else—something vulnerable that he could barely recognize.
His eyes drifted to the door, hoping for any sign of your arrival. He replayed the conversation from earlier, the way you had looked at him, shrunk under his yelling.
As night fell, the emptiness of his bed became a stark reminder of your absence. The usual solace of his grand chambers turned oppressive, and no matter how much he tossed and turned, sleep eluded him. The silence was deafening, only filled with thoughts of you.
He turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, his frustration mounting. For the first time in hundreds of years–the king of curses could not sleep.
Every creak of the palace, every distant sound seemed magnified in the quiet of his chambers. His usual patience frayed, replaced by an unsettling anxiety. He clenched his jaw and stared at the ceiling, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him.
The minutes turned to hours.
As the hours dragged on and the first light of dawn began to seep through the heavy curtains, Sukuna finally acknowledged the truth he had been fighting: your presence—or the lack of it—affected him more than he was willing to admit. He needed to find you.
Throwing off the covers, he rose from bed with a determined stride.
He navigated through the labyrinth of his palace. Looking through every room, his irritation growing each second he failed to locate you.
Finally, he encountered Uraume, who was in the midst of their morning duties. Sukuna’s usual composure was replaced by a rare edge of desperation. “Uraume.” he barked, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Where is she?”
Uraume’s eyes widened in surprise. “My lord, I—”
“Do not play games with me,” Sukuna interrupted, his frustration palpable. “I demand to know where she is.”
Uraume, taken aback by the king’s sudden intensity, struggled to maintain their usual calm demeanor. “I do not know, my lord. I have not seen her this morning.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. “Find her.” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Inform me immediately when you do.”
After what felt like hours of searching, Sukuna’s relentless pursuit led him to the library—a place he rarely visited.
As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, his gaze swept over the vast array of bookshelves and reading nooks. His sharp eyes scanned the room with a mixture of hope and irritation.
There, nestled in a quiet corner of the library, he finally found you. You were lying on a velvet sofa, the soft light filtering through the high windows casting a gentle glow over you. Your breathing was steady, but the sight of you so unexpectedly calm, yet so isolated, struck him with a fresh wave of frustration.
Sukuna stood still for a moment, the weight of his anger still mingling in his chest. He had expected to find you hiding, but the sight of you resting so peacefully, despite the turmoil from the previous day, left him momentarily speechless.
“Why are you here?” His voice was sharp. He tried to suppress the concern in his tone, but it seeped through nonetheless.
You stirred at the sound of his voice, slowly opening your eyes. Seeing him standing over you, the mixture of his commanding presence and the faint softness in his gaze was almost disorienting.
“I... slept here.” you murmured, as you sat up.
Sukuna’s expression softened slightly, though his frustration remained evident. “Do not think that you can simply evade me. I was looking for you.”
You looked up at him, trying to find the right words to explain. “I..needed a moment away.”
Sukuna’s brow furrowed, a flicker of hurt flashing across his face. Away? Away… from him?
His anger seemed ready to boil over. He clenched his fists at his sides, visibly struggling to keep his composure.
He started to say something more, but the words choked in his throat. He paused, his face contorting as he wrestled with his emotions. “Come with me.” he said abruptly, his voice strained.
Without waiting for a response, Sukuna turned on his heel, and you watched as his broad shoulders shifted, tension coiling beneath his skin. The silence that followed felt like an unspoken command, so you rose quietly, trailing behind him as he led the way out of the library and through the grand halls of the palace.
Each turn felt more hidden, the winding path narrowing until the towering palace walls faded behind you. Sukuna moved with purpose, leading you through a barely visible trail as if he had walked it countless times before. The air grew cooler, more secluded, and with every step, the tension between you deepened, thickening the silence.
When the path opened into the garden, your breath caught in your throat. You had never seen this place before—none of the servants had even whispered of its existence. A private sanctuary, tucked away from the rest of the palace. The delicate rustling of leaves, the vibrant flowers, and the gentle trickle of a fountain made it feel like stepping into a dream, so unlike the cold, imposing grandeur of the palace.
You glanced around in awe, but Sukuna remained still, his back to you, as if the beauty of the garden was inconsequential to him. He stopped near the center, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath, barely holding back the storm of emotions that brewed within. You hesitated, waiting for him to break the silence.
"This place..." He paused, as if the words were unfamiliar to him, his jaw tightening with the effort to continue. "No one but Uraume knows of it." His crimson gaze finally meets yours, studying your reaction. You look up at him, caution etched on your face.
“My Lord… why did you bring me here?” You finally find your voice.
His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides as if he were holding back words he didn’t know how to express. For a moment, he said nothing, his piercing stare taking in every detail of your face.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, the usual edge softened just slightly. “Because...”
He hesitated, his expression hardening once more, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. “Because you needed to see this. Needed to understand that..." He stopped himself again, frustration flaring briefly in his gaze.
He tore his eyes away from yours, staring instead at the quiet garden around you, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze as if mocking his struggle. "I could not sleep."
“You… couldn’t sleep.” you repeat.
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as if he regretted saying it aloud. "No," he growled, his tone sharper than intended. He shifted his weight, clearly battling with himself. "I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t where you should be." His fists tightened briefly at his sides, and for a moment, you thought his temper might snap again, but he held back. He took a deep breath, looking back at the garden.
“Where I should be…” you echoed, the weight of the words sinking in. Bitterness filled your mouth at the thought.
You had never had a place to belong, passing from one household to the next—no family truly wanting you. Being taught to serve, be invisible, to follow orders without question. “Belonging” was a luxury that other people had, you had only known obligations, expectations, and silence.
You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "My Lord… I’ve never had a place where I was meant to be." Your voice quiet. You kept your eyes low, avoiding his gaze, afraid of what you might see in it. Afraid of what he might see in it. "I’ve only ever been where I was told… where I was needed. There’s never been a place that was… mine."
“I see,” Sukuna said softly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you.
“Your absence… is felt.” His voice was a low murmur, almost introspective.
The admission hung in the air, delicate and uncharacteristic of him. Sukuna’s usual command was replaced with a rare, raw honesty, his battle with his own emotions evident in the tightness of his jaw and the uncertainty in his eyes.
For a moment, you looked up, meeting his gaze. The depth of his words, the way he had fought to express them, was both startling and unsettling. You had never imagined that your presence—or absence—could affect him so deeply.
“I’m… sorry,” you said finally, the words escaping before you could second-guess them. “I didn’t mean to cause such distress.”
“No.” he said eventually, his tone laced with frustration and reluctance. “It’s not just… about distress.” He took a deep breath, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. “Yesterday, I... I lost my temper.”
The awkwardness of his apology was palpable as if each word was a battle against his own nature. The struggle was evident in the way his shoulders tensed and his fingers clenched into fists before relaxing. He was trying to bridge a gap that his usual demeanor couldn’t easily cross.
You looked at him, your mouth agape in shock, maybe the night of no sleep had cause hallucinations. Had you heard him? Were you mistaken?
The usual commanding presence that inspired fear and respect was now tempered by an uncharacteristic hesitation and softness. It was as though you were seeing him for the first time, not just as a king, but as a man grappling with his own emotions.
You quickly caught yourself, regaining composure as you took in the full scope of his vulnerability. The stark contrast between the imposing figure of Sukuna and the genuine, albeit awkward, sincerity he had just displayed was striking. His powerful frame, usually so unyielding, seemed momentarily diminished in the garden’s serene atmosphere.
He turned away briefly, running a hand through his pink hair in a rare show of agitation. He turned his back to you again, but the tension in his posture spoke volumes. “It is… difficult for me, to express… what I mean.”
He cast a quick, almost helpless glance over his shoulder. “You’re... you’re allowed in this garden. Whenever you want. It’s not meant to be hidden from you.”
Slowly, you took a step forward, the shock giving way to a tentative understanding. "Thank you, my Lord," you said quietly,. "For… sharing this with me. And for allowing me a place here."
“You… are welcome.”
Your gaze shifted to a nearby flower, its vibrant petals standing out against the verdant backdrop. Curious, you asked, “What’s this one?”
Sukuna’s eyes followed your gaze, and for a moment, he seemed to find solace in the change of focus. “That’s an amaryllis” he said, his voice regaining a touch of its usual authority.
“Amaryllis..” you practice, tasting the name on your tongue.
“Yes,” he continues, “It symbolizes strength and new beginnings. It thrives even in harsh conditions.” He shifted his gaze back to you, eyes tracing the lines of your face with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
You reached out for him, your hand trembling slightly. Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, and he hesitated for a moment before he slowly took your hand in his. He guided it firmly to his chest, where his robe parted to reveal the warmth of his skin,a stark contrast to the cool garden air. You could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your palm—a heartbeat that seemed to resonate with the depth of his emotions.
He stared intently into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of sincerity and trepidation. “You have…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have… affected me. More than you know.”
The air between you grew heavier, your breath catching in your throat as his hand trailed over your face, gentle and calculated. Tracing the soft skin of your cheek, to your jaw—brushing against your bottom lip. As his fingers lingered on your lips, the world outside the garden seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment.
“My lord—” you began, your voice wavering with a question that never fully formed.
For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Your hand still resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. The garden around you seemed to quiet, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets fading into the background as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then, with a slow exhale, Sukuna guided you to a softer patch of grass further within the garden, a place hidden beneath a canopy of trees, where the light filtered through the leaves in soft, fragmented patterns.
"I meditate here," he said quietly, sharing a secret. He lowered himself gracefully onto the grass, his movements deliberate, leaving just enough space beside him for you to join.
"You… meditate?" you asked, almost without thinking, your tone laced with disbelief.
He turned to look at you, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. "Did you think me incapable of silence and thought?" His voice was tinged with sarcasm, though it didn’t sting. "That I am so detached, so unfeeling?"
The embarrassment crept up your neck, your eyes darting away as you bit your lip. "I didn’t mean—" you began, but the words felt clumsy, an apology for something you hadn't meant to assume.
Sukuna’s gaze softened, and he let out a quiet breath, his amusement fading into something more genuine. "It is…easy to believe," he murmured, "given how I appear." His hand reached out, beckoning you closer. "Come.”
Slowly, you settled beside him, the grass cool beneath your skin as the quiet of the garden enveloped you both. Sukuna reclined, two arms propped behind his head, allowing the stillness of the space to calm his unease. You glanced at him, the formidable king of curses suddenly appearing more human in the soft light of the garden.
An awkward silence stretched between you. Sukuna, clearly uncomfortable with the quiet, cleared his throat and tried to make conversation. "What of your family?" he asked.
The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, the pain of your past surfacing briefly. "My family… they died when I was young," you said quietly, your voice betraying a hint of the sorrow you felt. "I was left alone after that."
Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "I see," he said awkwardly, trying to find the right words. "I didn’t mean to… to bring up something so... personal."
You looked at him, noticing his genuine discomfort and the uncharacteristic hesitation in his gaze. "It’s alright," you reassured him. "It’s been a long time."
Sukuna let out a frustrated breath, closing his eyes briefly. "This…isn't exactly my strength." he admitted, almost begrudgingly.
"And here I thought you were all-powerful in every aspect." a small smirk tugs your lips as you chuckle. Sukuna’s cheeks flushed slightly, avoiding your gaze.
Before you could react, Sukuna moved with surprising swiftness, crawling on top of you and trapping you gently between the grass and his strong arms. His gaze was intense, crimson eyes piercing, boreing holes into your own.
"Do you find this amusing?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you.
The sudden shift in position left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. The distance between you was minimal, the warmth of his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. "I’m not accustomed to this. It is… difficult. You make it difficult.”
He hovered just above you, his breath mingling with yours, “You have a way of unraveling me. It’s... unsettling.”
The warmth between you grew. Every subtle movement of his body against yours sent a shiver through you, making your skin tingle.
Sukuna’s gaze fell to your lips, the tension between you crackling with an electric anticipation. He hesitated, his expression a mix of determination and longing. “What is it you do to me?” he asked, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the stillness.
The man who had always been a figure of strength and control was now entirely absorbed by you, and the realization made your heart race even faster.
His nearness was intoxicating, every touch and glance fueling the fire that had been kindling between you. With a sudden, almost desperate movement, his lips descended on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was both rough and dizzying.
His grip on you tightened, his hands framing your face with a desperate intensity. The moment felt like it stretched endlessly, the world outside forgotten as his tongue entered your mouth with an urgency that bordered on frantic. He explored every inch of you, his taste mingling with yours. The kiss was a maelstrom of sensation, his passion overwhelming in its depth.
Your hands roamed the expanse of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the silk of his robe on your fingertips. Sukuna’s groan vibrated through you, He pressed more of his weight into you, his two lower arms gripping your waist with a possessive force, his nails digging into your flesh as if to anchor himself to you.
As he finally pulled away from your lips, you were met with the sight of him—his pupils dilated, breathing ragged, and his heartbeat quicker now. Sukuna’s chest heaved with every breath, his expression pure hunger.
He wanted to consume you. And you were more than ready to let him.
HELLO? I JUST READ DEVOTION?? GIVE ME 14 OF THEM RIGHT NOW🙏🙏 omg can uraume PLEASE get in on the action IM BEGGING YOU RAAAAAAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
You sneeze again, rubbing your nose, you feel absolutely.
Terrible.
All day, you’ve barely been able to do anything but blow your nose and lie down for five minutes before your head starts spinning. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, you hear the doorknob click.
Shit.
You promised to make dinner tonight.
“I’m home.” his deep voice fills the air, sending you into a mild panic as you scramble toward the kitchen, hoping to whip something up in time.
He steps in, towering figure leaning against the doorframe, eyebrow quirked up in confusion.
“Sorry Ryo! I’ll get you something to eat soon.”
He doesn’t respond at first, just watches you with narrowed eyes. Then, he moves closer, his steps slow and deliberate. Before you know it, he’s right in front of you, staring down.
He stretches a hand out, touching the back of his hand to your forehead.
“You… are ill.” He states, furrowing his brow.
“It’s just a cold—“
He grunts, clearly annoyed. “Why would you try to cook in this condition?”
“Because I promised… and I didn’t want you to get mad.” you say looking down at your feet.
Sukuna lets out a low, irritated growl, turning on his heel and stalking toward the kitchen.
"Sit down."
You blink, watching him in surprise as he opens the fridge and starts pulling out ingredients, his movements efficient and swift. He spares you a glance, and you hesitate before shuffling over to the couch.
"You shouldn’t be doing this for me." your voice laced with guilt, watching his broad back as he chops vegetables.
Sukuna grunts, his eyes flicking toward you, sharp and unyielding. "I am not that idiot you dated before.” he says flatly, the disgust in his voice unmistakable. "You’re sick. I’m not letting you do anything."
The words hit harder than you expect, and you feel a warmth settle in your chest. As he seasons the food with the same precision he brings to everything, you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.
The soft clink of the spoon against the pot is the only sound for a moment before his voice cuts through again, harsher this time.
"If you ever push yourself like that again, especially for me, I’ll make sure you regret it."
Your smile fades, but there's comfort in his rough concern. "I won’t." you promise.
A short silence follows, broken only by the bubbling of the soup. When he finally brings the bowl over, he sets it down with a firm thud, crimson eyes watching you closely. "Eat."
You pick up the spoon, feeling overwhelmed by how cared for you are. "Thank you."
His eyes narrow slightly, lips curling in disdain.
"Tch. The bar's in hell if you think I wouldn’t take care of you."
synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.
⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it
⚝ wc: 1.9k
“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”
Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.
Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”
Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.
“Twice a week, I suppose…”
Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.
“What about you, Higuruma?”
“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.
Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.
“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”
But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”
Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.
It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.
But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.
“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.
“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.
The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.
“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”
Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”
“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”
Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”
“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.
Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”
“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.
“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.
“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”
Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”
Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.
“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”
“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”
Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.
“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.
Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.
The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.
You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?
You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.
“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.
“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.
“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.
Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.
“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”
A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.
Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.
His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”
“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.
Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.
“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.
“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.
He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.
“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.
“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”
He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.
He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.
You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.
“g-gonna cum!”
“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.
“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.
You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.
Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.
You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.
“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.
Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.
His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.
Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
“I won’t make that mistake again.”
Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.
He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.
“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”
“Y/N. How much have you had to drink?” His phone resting between his cheek and shoulder as he slips on his shoes.
“Not that much~” He can hear your pout through the phone.
Kento Nanami was a pretty serious guy, so how he got saddled with such a troublesome best friend was beyond him.
Maybe it was the fact that they’d known each other since high school.
Maybe it was the fact that despite your aloofness, you were a good sorcerer.
But maybe (definitely) it was the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the ache in his chest when you were near.
He got in his car, placing his phone into the holder as he tracked your location. Pulling up to the bar–he found you standing outside with some guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.
“I’m fine~ I swear.” You try to wave him off, but he really wasn’t getting the hint.
“C’mon baby, why don’t we keep the party goin–”
“(Y/N). Get in the car.” Kento yelled from the rolled-down passenger window. You eyes lit up as you saw your knight in shining armor.
“Ken!” You beam skipping over to his Mercedes.
“Hey! What’s the big idea?” The guy leaning against the brick wall of the bar sneered.
“She isn’t interested.” Kento remarks as he looks him up and down before driving off.
Kento opens the door to his apartment, holding onto you as your steps become more unsteady. You plop down onto his bed, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.
He opens the bottom drawer of his nightstand, pulling out the makeup wipes he bought after your last sleepover.
“Here. Let me help.” he murmurs softly, kneeling in front of you. With delicate care, he begins wiping away the remnants of your makeup, his touch feather-light.
You hum as your eyes close, feeling the cool wipe glide across your face.
“Thank you Ken.” You mumble tiredly.
He only hums in response, focusing in as he removes your eyeliner.
“Kento? You’re such a good guy.”
“Thank you (Y/N).”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?”
He pauses, his hand stilling as he looks at your peaceful face. Taking a deep breath, he brushes a thumb gently over your cheek. If only you knew…
“I’m… just waiting for the right one I guess.” he said, the same answer he always gave you.
You roll your eyes huffing, head hitting the plush of his pillow.
Kento can’t help the smile that graces his lips as he watches your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion finally taking over. He gently tucks the blanket around you, making sure you’re warm and comfortable. As he smooths the covers, you mumble a sleepy, “G’night, Ken.”
“Goodnight, (Y/N).” he whispers, brushing a final thumb over your cheek before standing, he grabs the pillow on your left side.
With a quiet sigh, Kento grabs a blanket from the closet and exits the room, leaving you to rest peacefully in his bed. As he makes his way to the couch, he glances back one last time, content to be the perfect gentleman, even if it means spending another night alone—as long as you were safe.
+18 Boxer Sukuna x physiotherapist reader. Basically, Sukuna loves to flirt shamelessly with his physiotherapist and see how she becomes extremely embarrassed
English is not my native language, I apologize if it seems confusing, thank you
I loved this idea, here's my twist on it!
synopsis: Ryomen Sukuna, heavyweight champion and your ex-boyfriend gets a wake up call when he is injured for the first time during a fight
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