so when i said this would be done by easter i lied... but it's here now :))
Sukuna x female reader, Itadori Yuuji x female reader
w.c 4.7k
tw: yandere, noncon, smut, blood, gore & violence, abuse, minor character death, major character death, nsfw, extremely unhealthy vibes all around, grief & trauma
The call comes through a little after two in the morning, overriding the Do Not Disturb setting on your phone to vibrate noisily against your nightstand.
When you were younger, your parents used to drill it into you and your brother over and over again; nothing good ever happens after 2am. If you’re out, go home. If you’re home and in bed, stay there – you’ll be better for it.
There’s no one you want to hear from at two in the morning. Only three people have numbers that’ll ring through no matter what, and none of them would be calling so late (early?) unless it was important.
“… Can you come pick me up?”
You shouldn’t – god, anyone with a lick of common sense'd realise it's a terrible idea – but you’re already rolling out of bed and fumbling for your keys.
You find him sitting curbside down in the industrial district, hood up, knuckles busted and bleeding, a gym bag stuffed full beside him. He slides into the passenger seat without a word, all stiff and awkward, shooting you sidelong glances as you flip the indicator and pull out onto the deserted street like he’s expecting the interrogation to start any second.
His brother would’ve been laying into him by now–
That is, if he answered the call in the first place. If you were around to guilt him into going.
You’re here. In spite of the damage it’ll do, in spite of how deeply unhealthy it is, for both of you, you showed up – and you’re not his brother or his guardian. He’s nineteen and whatever messes he’s getting into, you’re not sure you want to know.
“Where do you want me to drop you?” you ask mildly. Not an accusation, and hardly an interrogation. The sort of tone you adopt making small talk with your co-worker in an elevator on Monday morning. “Still crashing with that friend up on the hills?”
He blinks at you. Hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“Things didn’t, uh… Can’t I stay with you?”
You heave a sigh, “Yuuji–”
“Just for tonight. Please? I don’t mind the couch.” His hoodie’s pushed back now, the glow of passing streetlights casting into relief the mottled red and purple along his cheekbone. The big, sad eyes that punch like a knife through your chest.
A colder, more cautious part of you wonders if he does it intentionally, tugging at the heartstrings he knows run deepest.
“One night,” he pleads. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning to make up for it!”
That earns a snort, an almost smile, the shadow of one, teasing at your mouth. “You can cook?” you ask.
He nods so earnestly it makes you ache all over again. “Yeah! Well, I mean, kinda? I’ve watched a million of those cooking chef shows, and it can’t be that hard, right?”
You laugh in spite of yourself and Yuuji beams.
If there was a moment to stand your ground and make the smart decision, it was probably an hour ago when you answered the phone. You already left your very warm, very cozy bed to drive out and help him, you’re hardly going to dump him at the next corner because letting him stay with you crosses about a thousand lines. That horse already bolted.
“One night,” you concede.
Yuuji sinks back into his seat, content.
You, meanwhile, can already hear your therapist’s voice in your ear, repeating things about transference and the importance of establishing and maintaining boundaries. Things she’s told you a thousand times. You tell yourself it’s the last time.
“Knew you’d come,” he mumbles. You glance over and his eyes are closed and his head tilted back, shifting a bit to find a slightly more comfortable position.
Your hands tighten on the steering wheel. Though the words burn on the tip of your tongue, you don’t say a thing.
—
“Do you want some ice for that?”
You should mind your own business. Your boss, if he were here, would probably tell you the same thing. If someone slips and falls in the restaurant, breaks a glass and slices through their hand, it’s your responsibility to help them out, but if it doesn’t happen within these four walls, and they don’t ask for help, it’s none of your concern. Or so he’d lecture.
Problem is, you have ice, and this pink haired, tattooed stranger, all six foot plus of him stuffed into one of your booths, has knuckles busted to hell, all reddened and split, not to mention a small cut across his eyebrow. Ice’ll help – the knuckles, if not the face. Can’t make it any worse, at least.
More to the point, you didn’t exactly think before the words came tumbling out, they just did. You saw a stupidly hot guy, your brain switched off, and now, he’s grinning at you. Baring his teeth might be more of an apt description, but there’s definitely an edge of amusement there. He obviously finds it funny, which you suppose is better than telling you to fuck off or something.
“Ice?” he drawls.
You swallow. “Yeah. For your,” you wave a hand in the general direction of his bruised knuckles, heat surging to your cheeks, “y’know. Might help.”
“I’ll take a beer. The udon curry with karaage. Two gyoza.”
No ice then. “A-anything else?” you ask.
The slow, lingering once over he gives you says plenty. “Nah, ‘m good for now. But stay close, just in case.”
“Y-yeah. ‘course.”
—
“Here.” You pass Yuuji the bundled sheets first, then one of the extra pillows from your bed, stuffed in a fresh pillowcase.
Gone is the slow blinking daze he’d shuffled up the stairs with. The second you’d unlocked the door for him he’d started wandering through your apartment, his attention flicking over every detail; the scuff marks on the floorboards, the beaten up two-seater that’ll serve as his bed for the night and the throw carelessly folded and dumped atop, the walls, in their egg-shell white, painfully bare of any kind of furnishings, the old fridge in the kitchen, humming noisily away.
Sure, it’s not the Ritz-Carlton, and it’s a whole smaller and, admittedly, rougher around the edges than where he lived with Sukuna, but it could be worse. You’ve heard nightmare stories from your Mina and her friends; at least here the airconditioning works and your super eventually responds to your texts.
Besides, this is temporary, so it’s fine. Steps, your therapist had stressed.
“There’s a towel in the closet over there if you–”
“I wanted to come live with you.”
The words come from nowhere, so unexpected, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s staring at the pile of blankets and sheets in his hands. Glaring at it, really.
“… After, y’know,” he shrugs. “They were gonna stick me in a foster home ‘til I aged out, but we basically already lived together. You were old enough, ‘cause he was, and nobody else–” he cuts himself off, risking a glance up.
“Yuuji…” You were barely functional in the weeks, months after. A living, breathing zombie, which is the first of about a thousand reasons why no one in their right mind would’ve handed you someone like Itadori Yuuji to take care of.
By all rights, he shouldn’t be here now.
“I know. I know, it’s just– you… you were all I had left. He fucked everything up.”
You sigh, ignoring the agonising twist in your chest, the pain that seeps into wounds that haven’t yet healed, and won’t ever. “Go to sleep, Yuuji. It’s late, and we both need it.”
—
“He’ll change his mind,” Tatsuya says, perched anxiously on your bed, watching you carefully stack another pile of folded shirts into your suitcase. “He’s just– I dunno. He doesn’t mean it. You don’t have to go.”
“He meant it.”
Every heartbreaking, cruel word.
Your father had taken one look at Sukuna through the window of his car, lost all colour in his face and before you knew it, you were standing in your living room while he ranted and raved, telling you what a bad influence he was, how he’d never allow his daughter to date street scum–
And then it got nasty.
Was it the tattoos? Sukuna never left his car, idling on the curb ‘til you reached the front door, you can’t fathom what else could’ve possibly triggered that kind of a reaction from your father. He had a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, sure, but, in spite of what your mom’s been led to believe, your dad hasn’t kicked the habit either.
You’d like to believe your younger brother’s right. That tomorrow, or the next day, or a few weeks from now, he’ll come to understand the weight of the wedge he’s driven between you, and regret it. You’d like to imagine that when the door swings shut behind you, your mom’ll wake up and defend you like she was supposed to.
The reality is, you’re not sure of either.
“It’s not like I’m leaving the country,” you tell him instead, softening the blow the only way you can. “I’m only a phone call away, alright? I’m always gonna be here when you need me, and you can come visit whenever.”
He doesn’t entirely look convinced, worrying at his bottom lip between his teeth.
“It’ll be fine, Tats. Pinky promise.”
“But you’re moving in with him?”
“Yeah,” you say. Another few shirts added to the growing pile in your suitcase. “Mina doesn’t have enough room for me to stay more than a few nights.” What you don’t say is that the thought of calling her never crossed your mind.
Sukuna was out with Uraume all afternoon. He told you he had business, he’d be out late – that’s why he dropped you home in the first place.
Even so–
“He’s good to me.”
He picked up. He’s coming. You don’t care that he has tattoos or drives a loud car, that his attitude’s kind of shitty, and he’s all sharp, jagged edges – that’s what matters to you.
Tatsuya rests his chin on his knee, saying nothing as more and more of your closet gets packed into bags. You’ll have to come back for the rest of it, eventually.
When you’re all done, suitcase bulging, the zipper fighting for its life, he offers to lift it downstairs for you. The mental image of your scrawny, twelve year old brother battling to lug the suitcase makes the corners of your lips twitch. You ruffle his hair. “I’ve got it. Stay up here for a while.” You spare him what you can.
The silence downstairs is heavy. Your mom sits rigidly on the couch, staring at the coffee table through vacant eyes, your dad stands by the kitchen, expression pinched as the rumbling of an engine cuts off and a car horn blows. You think you should be crying. Maybe you are, you don’t feel anything but numb.
And it’s bewildering in a sense. You were right there, part of the conversation, and you can’t wrap your head around how this happened. How you got from there to here – neither parent acknowledging you, a cold tension festering in the home you’re no longer welcome in.
Because he didn’t like that your boyfriend had tattoos?
There’s no point saying anything. You roll your suitcase out the door and let it swing shut behind you.
You don’t glance back over your shoulder, nothing so dramatic, but you feel the weight of his stare following you down the driveway, remaining as you wrangle the heavy suitcase into the trunk of Sukuna’s car.
Stubborn to the bitter end.
Sukuna doesn’t bother greeting you, asking if you’re okay. The second you’re settled in the passenger seat, he’s grabbing you by the jaw and leaning over the console to pull you into a kiss. Sukuna doesn’t do gentle. Definitely doesn’t do sweet. His tongue’s in the back of your mouth, teeth too sharp, and he growls into it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Likewise, you pretend not to notice the narrow eyed sneer he shoots over your shoulder when he eventually settles back, one hand splayed over your thigh, and switches the ignition back on.
“Fuck ‘em.”
He’d said as much on the phone. You nod, sniffling. “Yuuji won’t care?”
Sukuna scoffs, “Brat likes you more than he likes me. He’ll be fine.”
—
You never remember the nightmares.
You wake in the dead of night gasping for breath, heart pounding like you’ve been running for miles, cheeks wet with tears and your pj’s sticking to your damp skin, but the dreams themselves vanish into black. Tonight’s no different in that regard.
You don’t remember crying out, but your door cracks open anyway, a darkened figure appearing in the shadows, lit by the flashlight of his phone.
Yuuji.
He calls your name tentatively, though he must know you’re awake and you can see him.
“It’s fine, it’s– I’m fine,” you pant, collapsing back into your pillows, squeezing your eyes shut like it’ll rid you of this horrible feeling. “Sorry I woke you.”
The door closes, a softened thud in the dead stillness of the night, and you assume he trudged back to the couch, satisfied you weren’t being murdered in your sleep. The dip of the mattress behind you rips you back, and for a split second you panic all over again, the first touch a livewire to your poor, frantic heart.
“Yuuji–”
“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep. “‘m here. Just a dream. He’s gone, you’re safe with me. Go back to sleep.”
He nuzzles into your shoulder, the full length of his body pressed up behind yours, and it’s nothing – in the early days there was more than one night you spent curled up with Mina like this, the constant reminder of her presence the only thing holding you together while you ripped yourself apart in misery and grief – this is no different. Comfort from someone who understands. Maybe the only person who truly can.
Tears roll and dampen the pillow beneath your cheek.
You tell yourself it’s the nightmare that keeps you from slipping back to sleep.
—
Sukuna has plans.
You’d heard him on the phone earlier, names of people and places you don’t know and don’t care to. The fights – brawls – aren’t your thing, the clubs and bars he has business at far from your idea of a fun night out.
It’s fine, though. You’ve made your peace with it.
And tonight, it works in your favour.
The dress you picked is cute. Blush pink satin and swirling just above your knees, nothing super fancy or scandalous, but dolled up as you are, you feel pretty.
“Going somewhere, baby?”
A quick glance in the mirror finds Sukuna’s broad frame leaning across the open doorway behind you. You don’t respond right away. One more pass of mascara to your lower lashes and you lean back, satisfied with your efforts. Your hands aren’t quite steady when you slide the brush back into the bottle, twisting it shut.
You smile at him. An easy, guilt free, perfectly natural smile.
“Hanging with Mina and a few friends.” It’s been weeks– no, months now since the last time you saw her. Considering that night ended with her boyfriend nursing a broken nose, courtesy of yours, you’d say it’s no small miracle she’s willing to see you at all. “Girls’ night. Happy hour and a karaoke booth.”
When he doesn’t say anything, dark eyes trailing over your outfit, you add, “I’ll probably be home before you are.”
“You wanna go out?” His voice is mild, nothing in his expression hinting at dissatisfaction, but you aren’t stupid. There’s a fluttering in your belly that’s more than nerves.
“Well… yeah, but it’s only with the girls,” you laugh and it sounds off, too thin and pitched. “We’re not doing anything crazy, or–”
“Feelin’ a little cooped up, babe?”
“What? No, it’s just–”
“No one said you had to spend every night keepin’ the brat company.” He pushes off the doorframe and stalks into the room, “You want me to take you out and show you a good time, all ya had to do was say so.”
You back up a step, knocking into the vanity behind you. “You’re busy. Working, I didn’t think–”
“Didn’t think I’d care what my girl’s doing behind my back?” His canines catch the light, glinting as he bares them in a grins, “Didn’t think I’d be able to keep you entertained while I’m doing the shit I’ve gotta do?”
A cold pit settles in your stomach.
“C’mon. You’re all dressed up, baby. Be a damn shame to waste it on that whining cunt and her friends.”
—
By the time morning swings around, you feel like you haven’t slept a wink.
Dimly, you’re aware of Yuuji rousing behind you. He’s slow to rise, slow to extricate himself from you, Sunday morning laziness. You keep your eyes closed and your breathing as steady as you can while he yawns and stretches and gently shakes you by the shoulder to see if you’ll rouse. When you don’t, he chuckles to himself and yawns loudly again, finally, blessedly, padding out to the kitchen, leaving you alone. He did promise you breakfast.
Only then do you allow the weight of it to sink in.
Last night was a mistake. Clearly, unequivocally a mistake. Yuuji’s a sweet kid, he doesn’t deserve any of what’s happened, but you can’t pretend this is normal anymore. You’ll always be weak where he’s concerned, but this isn’t healthy for either one of you.
You need to be the adult here. You need to be the one to cut it off at the knees.
The smell of coffee slowly filters in, and your stomach churns in response.
His back’s to you when you finally muster the courage to venture out. Hunched over the stovetop shirtless, humming as he cracks eggs into a hot, sizzling pan. At the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet, announcing your arrival, he spins, his whole face lighting up.
“You’re up! Thought you’d sleep forever,” he laughs. “D’you want coffee? Breakfast’ll be another few minutes, but the coffee’s pretty much good to go.”
It occurs to you that you could give him this. Breakfast. Something normal and nice between you two before you break it clean. You could put it off, call him tomorrow–
You stop the thought in its tracks, biting back a sigh. You can’t even help yourself. This is the problem.
“Yuuji–”
He cuts you off, “I know what you’re gonna say.”
“You… do?”
He smiles again, that bright, sunny expression made garish by the ugly, deepening bruises on his cheek. “Yeah. Sit down, d’you take your coffee the same way?”
You must make some kind of an acknowledging sound because he nods, takes you by the shoulders and leads you over to your couch, where he should’ve slept last night, and pushes you down into it. Moments later, there’s a warm mug of coffee pressed into your hands.
There’s no dining table like there was back at the house. No space for it, no need when it’s just you. Yuuji, having either turned the burners off or decided the eggs and whatever else’ll be fine for a minute or two takes the seat next to you, turned on the cushion with his feet up so he’s facing you.
Are you supposed to talk now?
“I got a job,” he announces.
You blink at him, the late, sleepless night keeping the words, or more accurately, the intention behind them, from sinking in.
“Well, it’s not so much a job, but it’s money. Good money.”
“Oh,” you say, because that doesn’t clear it up at all. “Uh, that’s great, Yuuji. I’m happy for you.”
Were you freaking out over nothing? It might be wishful thinking to believe he’s trying to tell you he’s getting his shit together and you don’t have to worry about him, but you’re not sure where else he’d be going with this.
“Yeah, exactly,” he continues, nodding along. “And I mean, no offense but this place is barely a shoebox and kind of a dump, so it makes sense, right?”
You’re lost. Wholly and completely lost. Brushing aside the blatant (not necessarily untrue) criticism of your apartment, there’s a big chunk you’re not seeing and he’s not saying. Either that or you need to down this entire cup of coffee and wait ‘til the caffeine kicks in and reboots you. “… What makes sense?”
Yuuji’s smile becomes a bit sheepish. “Us, I mean. Moving in together, somewhere new, better than here. You won’t have to support us both because I’ll be able to. Not right off the bat, but soon. And I can take care of you, like last night. It’ll be good for us.”
The rug, pulled out from beneath your feet.
He’s staring at you, waiting for some kind of a reaction, a response. Your mouth opens and closes and nothing comes out. You try again.
“I… I can’t live with you, Yuuji.” The words tumble out faster than you can keep up, a river breaking its banks, flood waters swarming. “I can’t– this isn’t healthy. It needs to stop. Last night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have gone to pick you up, that’s on me, but you shouldn’t have called me in the first place! Being around you– it’s too much. I can’t do it, I can’t. Every time I see you it’s like I’m being dragged right back and I can’t keep killing myself to help you!” You stumble to your feet, coffee sloshing from the cup and spilling to the floor. Your hand shakes as you jab a finger at the door, your breathing too short, but your voice doesn’t waver. “You need to leave. Right now.”
—
‘Tell him… tell him you weren’t home. You didn’t see me, I was gone when you came back.’
“Do you need ice? I think there’s an icepack in the freezer,” Tatsuya offers.
You very nearly burst into tears all over again. The bruise looks worse than it is, and you aren’t about to tell your little brother it was the least of the damage dealt last night.
“No, it’s okay. I’m alright. C’mere,” you hold out your arms, and after a second of deliberation, Tatsuya crawls up onto the bed and into your arms.
“I missed you,” you tell him, blinking back the welling tears.
You shouldn’t have come home. You haven’t spoken to your dad in over a year, only a handful of texts with your mom, the last on your birthday a few months ago. You aren’t deluded enough to imagine you’re welcome here, the only reason you bothered to show up at all because you knew they’d both be busy at work, and being a school break, your brother would be home.
Mina… who knows. You aren’t sure she would’ve opened the door.
“Sorry I haven’t been around.”
Tatsuya hugs you tighter. “Don’t leave and I’ll forgive you.”
A knock at the door interrupts your reply, Tatsuya already scrambling to his feet before you can wipe away your tears, fix yourself up and do the same.
He waves you off, “I got it.”
It feels weird being back in your old room. You half expected it to be storage by now. A converted study slash office space. A tasteful but soulless guest bedroom. It’s not. Your things haven’t been touched. There’s no dust, and whatever open drawers or clothes you left behind have been put to rights, but the photos on the wall, your bedspread, your old desk and the shoe rack you left behind – it’s still your room, exactly as you left it.
You lean back on your arms, breathing deep and slow. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought it through. Hadn’t thought to grab anything other than the bare essentials before you fled – before your courage fled and you stayed. You don’t know what happens now, what comes next. What you’ll say to your parents when they come home and see living proof of their own misgivings.
If they throw you out again–
A bellowing shriek rips through the house and your blood runs cold. You’re on your feet and running before you register that you’ve moved, nearly toppling over the railing of the stairs in your haste to get downstairs.
“Hey, baby. Wanna tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing?”
The scene that greets you is one straight from your nightmares.
Sukuna, wifebeater flecked with blood, a steel bat loose in his grip, grinning up at you, and your brother, half his skull–
No. No–
A heart-wrenching noise rips from your lungs. It barely sounds human. Critical thought evades you, you move without thinking, without caring – right for your little brother. Right into the arms of your ex, who casts aside the bloodied steel to lunge forward and take you both to the floor.
And still, you don’t stop. Arms flailing, kicking back blindly to reach him. Tatsuya, wide eyed, glassy eyed, half his face caved in. Hand outstretched like he’s reaching to you, and you’re still screaming. Still crying, wailing like a banshee while the monster atop you wrestles you onto your back, straddling your waist.
“Thought we got this shit outta your system last night.”
Sukuna leans down, dragging his tongue up your jaw to your lash line, tasting the tears that spill hot, salty and unfettered, groaning like they’re a fucking delicacy. Lips at your ear, he warns you again, “You aren’t fucking leaving me. You’re mine.”
You beg. Plead. Scream and sob, cursing him and wailing your brother’s name. He laughs. When you try to claw at his face he yanks your wrist to his teeth and sinks them into the tender flesh. You shriek, but his grip’s too tight. He won’t give an inch. His teeth are bloody when he finally relents, and he doesn’t hide the way he licks it away, savours it as he swallows it down.
Your clothes get shoved out of the way. Torn. Split, sometimes so roughly there’s marks left in their wake. Sukuna likes the fight, but he enjoys grinding your resistance into the dirt even more. His mouth crashes to yours on the first thrust. You should be thankful he had the generosity to spit on your cunt before he split it open on his cock, but the pain is blinding. Agonizing. You can’t think at all.
And your brother is dead beside you.
He fucks you next to the corpse. On the living room floor, where the puddle of blood and brains beneath his mangled head slowly creeps towards you both.
At a certain point, you disconnect.
You aren’t there for the voices, the footsteps that swarm, barking orders and the snarled response. There’s only you, Sukuna inside of you, and your brother’s empty eyes staring back.
You feel it, though. The warm spray of blood, splattering over your face and chest, and the heavy weight of his body, slumping over you.
—
One hand over your mouth, the other tucked under you both, curled around your middle.
You’re laid face down on the couch. Or at least, that’s where you ended up. Yuuji presses soft, nuzzling kisses to the back of your neck, your hair, the tip of your ears, wherever he can reach, and his cock slides in and out of you at a languid, lazy pace. There’s no rush. You aren’t going anywhere and he’s got all morning. All day.
His skin’s feverish to the touch, sweat slicked, but the shivers that rack his body have nothing to do with the temperature. Yuuji’s heavier than he looks, draped over your back. All muscle as he presses you down and cages you in. Everywhere, in every breath. He moans like he can’t hear you crying, lost in the feeling of your pussy squelching around his cock.
“This’ll– f-uck– this’ll be good for us. You’ll see,” he vows. “‘m gonna take care of you. Do everything he couldn’t. I’ll do it better.”
He twitches deep inside of you, another full body shudder.
“I love you. Loved you from the start, but you never– shit, never saw.”
His arm draws your hips up, a slight change in angle that has you whining and whimpering into his hand.
“No more running. No more pretending. I love you, and ’m not going anywhere.”
It's very hard to come up with romantic yanderes but I've just got this idea:
Imagine Toji Fushiguro being betrothed to you, Y/n Gojo. Ever since he was a kid, he was told that he would marry the Gojo Saturo's older sister to make the clan stronger.
Now we all know that Toji hated being told what to do, so he swore to himself that he'd never marry you once he grows up. In fact, Toji grew up hating you because all the elders tried to drill it into him that he only existed to marry you and he's useless otherwise.
Alas, Zenin clan did end up forcing Toji to marry you. However, Toji remained defiant even after marrying you. He did not care that you were actually in love with him, he told you once that this was a "marriage of convenience" and that he'd never touch you with a 10 foot pole even if you were the last person on earth because you're a "manipulative bitch". Now reader is 100% confused because she didn't understand why Toji resents her, but decides to work on this marriage for the sake of her family.
Toji cheats on you, slept around with pretty much anyone and everyone, ended up having Megumi with someone and then forced the baby into your lap, wasn't home much because he'd much rather risk his life doing a bounty hunt than sleep in the same bed as you.
You on the other hand, continued to surprise him as you took it all with a smile. When he told you he was cheating on you, you just nodded and asked if he'd like you to run him a bath. When he dropped Megumi in your lap, telling you it's his son, you smiled and cooed at the baby, promising to take care of him. Whenever he tried to sneak out of the house early morning, you'd come out of the kitchen with his lunch, wishing him a safe journey.
He thought you were crazy. No one in their sane mind would react how you had.
Toji won't lie, he may have not fallen for you, but you had managed to soften up his heart and change his opinion of you from "I MF HATE HER-!" to "She's alright."
He doesn't remember what exactly it was that made him fall for you, but it mightve been the time when he found out how you lied to Zenin clan when they asked if Toji had been treating you well or not. You smiled gently and sang hsi praises, and he couldn't figure out why you did that. You had no reason to, your clan was superior to his, they would've protected you. Toji knows how respected and loved you are by your family.
Or maybe it was when he'd return home with injuries and you'd stay up all night taking care of him. There had been quite a few times when he was near death's door, and it was you who had brought him back.
Or maybe it was the fact that Naoya told him that it was you who paid the Zenin clan to give Megumi to Toji. You paid, out of your own pocket, not your family's money, but your own. For him. And you never told him.
It was selfless acts like these that made Toji realise he was in love with you.
You'd always been so selfless, haven't you?
Eventually, Toji began to show you affection, began being the husband you deserved. You didn't change much, responding the same way you always had, a smile and a submissive nod.
One day, you had off-handedly mentioned to him how you don't think its safe for Megumi to be left with the Zenin clan.
The next day, Toji had returned with the news that he and Megumi were no longer associated with the Zenin clan. An act of love.
However, this act of love turned out to be the worst decision he'd ever made because 6 months later, you'd handed him the divorce papers.
"What is this?" Toji asked, frowning at the contents of the paper.
"Divorce papers. Now, I've already packed my bags, Megumi is still at school with Gojo so you can talk to him later. Don't worry, I'll explain that I found someone else or you can say that it was you who dumped me- whatever story you wanna go with, Toji. I'm fine with it!" You said nonchalantly as you rolled out your suitcases.
"Y/n. I- what are you talking about? What is the need for this?!" Toji demanded, slamming the papers on the table. "Why are you leaving?!"
You looked confused. "Huh? I thought you'd be happy?" You shook your head. "Toji, we are not a real couple. Now, you'd be free to marry whoever you want, and I can move on with my life."
"What are you saying?"
"A marriage of convenience." You smiled. "That's what you said on our first night. Now, you're free."
"No- why? Why now?" Toji asked, blocking the doorway.
"Well, I was gonna leave you after the first month. But then I saw how Zenin clan treated you and I realised you were just a victim in this. If I'd left, I knew the repercussions would've been deadly for you. So I stayed. Then you brought Megumi, so more the reason to stay. But when you told me you'd left the clan, oh! I was so happy! I'd have left the same day, but I wanted to make sure they didn't come after you or Megumi later. So I waited for a few more months and now we're here!" You explained with glee. "Now, you can sign those papers and send them over whenever you feel like-"
"No."
"No?"
"No." Toji repeated, tears in his eyes. "No. You- you're not leaving. You can't. I still- I need you. I love you."
"Is this about money? Because I can still send you some even after we're separated." You sighed and tried to move past him. "Toji~ don't make this harder than it needs to be. Move aside, please." But Toji shook his head and hugged you, his large form completely engulfing yours, and he sneakily threw your bags to the side.
"No. You can't do this to me." He said, hugging you tighter when you tried to wriggle out of his arms. "I love you, Y/n. I fucking love you!"
"Toji, just sign-" Toji pulled away from you, grabbing your chin gently before slamming his lips against yours.
"We can leave, huh? We can go somewhere you like, spend away some time, hm?" He kissed you again when you tried to turn him down. "Just the two of us! I can show you how good I can be. I- I promise, I won't ever hurt you again, I'll be the best husband! I'd do anything for you!"
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Then sign the goddamn papers, Toji." You pushed him off, but he fell to his knees, once again blocking the door.
"Please don't do this." He begged, on his knees, hugging your torso. "I was made for you. Don't do this."
"Stop this, Toji. You're acting like a child. You don't need me anymore, so stop being so selfish." You said, throwing away your bags and hopping over him to get to the door.
"I'll kill myself." That stopped you dead in your tracks. Toji walked up behind you. "If you step outside of this house, Y/n, I swear to God, I'll kill myself." This was his last resort, blackmailing you to stay. You're too selfless, you care too much.
You turned around, with tears in your eyes. Toji felt guilty for pulling on your heartstrings like this but he'd cross any line to make you stay.
"Y/n-"
You slapped him across the face.
"How dare you?" You asked. "How dare you use that against me?" You raised your hands to slap him again but Toji caught your wrist.
"I'm sorry, but it's true. I'll kill myself if you leave. I'll have no purpose in life, nothing to look forward to if you're not here." Toji said, kissing your palm.
"Fine then." You pulled you hand away as Toji smiled. "I'll make sure to bring flowers over to your grave. Or would you like me to spread your ashes instead?" Toji's face never fell so fast. "If you wanna die, then so be it. I'm done feeling guilty for stuff I didn't do." You turned around to leave, only for Toji to grab you from behind and pull you to the basement (that he kept locked because its where he worked). You were freaking out as Toji dragged you down to the room he'd forbade you from ever entering. In a matter of seconds, Toji had grabbed something from the shelf and injected you with it.
Toji cooed sweetly as you fell limp in his arms. "Shh, go to sleep. You'll feel much better when you wake up." He stoked your hair for a few minuets before pulling out some cuffs and chaining you to the bed.
You think you dont have a reason to stay? Fine, Toji will remove that IUD device and give you a reason to stay.
Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see is him sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap. His head tilts slightly as he sings, eyes half-lidded like he’s lost in the sound of his own voice.
It’s beautiful.
That’s the worst part.
You’re still tied. Wrists bound with silk ribbons that look too pretty to be used like this. Your body is sore from staying in one place too long, but you don’t move. You never do when he’s like this.
His voice rises and falls like a lullaby meant for children.
“Ah… you’re awake,” he says softly when he notices your eyes open. “Did I wake you, angel?”
You swallow. “No…”
Your voice comes out small. He smiles at that.
He leans closer. Too close. His fingers brush your cheek with disturbing tenderness. “Good. I like it when you listen to me.”
He hums again as he stands and walks across the room. You follow him with your eyes.
The room is a mess.
Shelves full of broken dolls. Cracked porcelain faces. Torn stuffed animals stitched back together badly. Jars with ribbons, dried flowers, little notes with your handwriting on them. A lock of your hair sits in a glass bottle like a trophy.
Your stomach twists.
He notices your stare.
“Oh… you’re looking at my collection again.” He sounds shy about it. Almost embarrassed.
“They’re all things that were thrown away,” he continues. “Just like people do to me.”
He turns back to you suddenly. “But you won’t throw me away, right?”
Your heart pounds. “I— I wouldn’t.”
His eyes light up.
He crosses the room in three steps and kneels in front of you, gripping your hands a little too tight. “Say it again.”
“I won’t leave you,” you whisper.
For a second, he looks… relieved.
Then his expression twists.
“You say that now,” he snaps. “But everyone lies. Everyone gets tired. Everyone looks at someone else eventually!”
His grip tightens. Your breath catches.
“I’m not— I’m not lying,” you say quickly. “I just want to help you.”
He stares at you. Long. Intense.
Then—
He laughs. A shaky, broken giggle.
“You’re so cute when you’re scared,” he says softly. “It makes me want to keep you forever.”
He suddenly pulls you into his arms. Your face presses into his chest. You can hear his heartbeat—fast, uneven.
“Don’t go,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at anyone else. Don’t think about a world without me.”
His fingers slide into your hair, stroking it almost lovingly. “I’ll sing for you whenever you’re sad. I’ll protect you from everyone. I’ll even break the whole world if it tries to take you away.”
Summary: Oikawa takes advantage of a devoted fan for some stress relief after a bad match. [Part 1]
A/N: Finally, the much-requested second part to Fanatic. There’ll be 1 more part!
By the way, thanks for 2.5k followers!! Like damn wtf???? When did that happen? Welcome everyone new!
Tags/warnings: yandere-ish, mentions & consequences of everything that happened in pt. 1, Oikawa regrets shit but is still very bad haha, manipulation, shy reader, canon inaccuracies probably, no smut but it’s coming, all characters are adults
In the bus on the way back from the volleyball match where Oikawa Tōru lost to Shiratorizawa and then proceeded to take his frustrations out on you so roughly that it now hurts for you to talk, you sit in the window seat. Oikawa sits in the aisle seat.
It’s cute that you sat there. When he pushes you in front of him down the aisle, you fold yourself into the seat with your eyes trained on the scuffed-up floor, doing everything you can to avoid meeting any of the other team members’ curious stares. You’re hunched in on yourself like that’ll make the stain on your shirt disappear, but everyone sees it. You chose the window seat. You chose to be trapped between Oikawa and the side of the bus with no way to get away from him rather than exposing yourself to his teammates. Already so humiliated. You probably can’t take much more.
It’s early evening when the bus stops at Aobajohsai to drop the team off. Oikawa looks up—the sky is streaked with autumn reds—and when he takes a deep breath in the air smells clean and earthy and cold…cold, like the fingers of your hand trapped inside his. He had to pull you up to get you off the bus, and his fingers are locked around yours, holding you in easy reach.
He twists his grip around and draws your hand up to his face so he can breathe a cloud of hot air onto your skin and rub your hand between his. “(Y/N), are you cold? Your hands are freezing.”
“…N-No, I’m fine.” You don’t look at him.
“Are you sure?” Your hands are shaking, your whole body is shaking. It’s not cold enough for her to be shivering, Oikawa thinks with a frown, and he reaches down to give the same treatment to warm up your other hand and you flinch like you think he’s going to hit you—and it clicks.
Oh. Of course. You’re not shaking because of the cold. You’re scared.
satoru freezes mid–lego stack, the bright blue block dangling between his fingers. his six–eyed gaze snaps to the tiny girl sitting cross–legged beside him, happily bouncing her doll around like she hasn’t just detonated a bomb.
“you— you what?”
“i kissed a boy.” she repeats innocently, blinking up at him with the exact same mischievous spark that used to get him in trouble. “i like him. he always shares his crayons with me. and his cookies.”
satoru’s jaw drops. “cookies— you mean my little girl kissed some… crumb–bribing hooligan?”
“daddy,” she sighs, annoyance already coloring her tone. “he’s nice. he said my pigtails are pretty.”
satoru dramatically clutches his chest. “so what, now you’re in love? do i need to transfer you to a new kindergarten? change your name? fake our deaths—”
“satoru,” you cut in from the couch, laughter bubbling in your voice, “she’s four.”
“she’s mine!” he whines, scooping the giggling girl into his lap and smothering her with kisses of his own. “no boys allowed. ever. you hear me, princess?”
his daughter glares at him with all the sass a preschooler can muster. "daddy, you can’t tell me what to do. i like him. he shares."
satoru gasps like she just betrayed him personally. "you like me too, don’t you? i share my candy with you all the time!"
"but you eat half of it first," she shoots back instantly, folding her little arms.
satoru freezes again, staring at her like she’s cursed him. then he turns to you, pleading. “sweetheart. my love. the light of my life, please tell her she’s not allowed to like him.”
but you only smirk, enjoying the show. “i think she inherited the stubborn gene from someone i know. it's a losing battle.”
defeated by your logic, satoru crawls closer to his daughter, lowering his voice like he’s letting her in on state secrets. “sweetheart, listen to me. boys don’t just share cookies without ulterior motives. he’s trying to steal you from me.”
but she just rolls her eyes again, an annoyed huff spilling through her tiny lips. “daddy, you’re being dramatic. he’s my friend. i like him.”
satoru gasps like she just stabbed him in the heart. “i’m your friend! your best friend!”
“no,” she says firmly, adjusting her bunny’s ears. “you’re just daddy.”
satoru groans, burying his face in his daughter’s hair. “why is the universe punishing me?”
you lose it, laughter spilling out as satoru flops onto the floor like he’s been mortally wounded. he mutters something about betrayal and needing to “transfer her to an all-girls kindergarten,” while his daughter happily hums and keeps playing.
he likes the quiet ones || satoru gojo x f!reader, jjk drabbles, pure fluff, 401 words (◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
so we all know how clingy satoru is... but imagine him having a crush on the quiet student—who he swears is the girl of his dreams.
you're the complete opposite of him; calm, composed, and rarely speaking unless necessary. you intrigued him. he just didn't know when that curiosity turned into something more intimate.
"ah—there you are!" he grins, shamelessly wrapping his arms around you from behind, chin resting against your shoulder—clinging to you like some sort of leech, "did you just return from a mission? you should've taken me along! i wanted to see my cutie in action~"
you quietly hum, unfazed by his touchy nature, "hi gojo-san..."
he immediately pouts, "i thought i told ya' to drop the 'san' part—it's too frickin' formal! matter of fact, just call me satoru!"
you slowly nod. he smiles, hesitantly letting go, but only to walk in front of you, continuing to chat your ear off, all while walking backwards, "you should've saw me today—i'm this close to perfecting my technique! maybe now we can finally do a mission together! oh and why don't we stop for some boba tea after?! don't worry your pretty little head, my treat!"
the boy leans closer, icy blue orbs boring into your own. he smirks, now acting more coy, "are you swooning for me yet—" he halts, the words getting caught in his throat as he notices the sympathetic look in your eyes.
his breath hitches as you slowly reach out, in a rare turn of events, gently patting his head, fingers combing through his white locks of hair to offer him some comfort.
a feeling he never knew he craved... up til now that is.
you smile softly, shockingly enough to him, "you must be tired then—just don't overdo it... satoru."
his eyes briefly widened, heart rate spiking up at his name exiting your mouth. god damn it. he was the one who suggested it—so why does he always get so tongue tied when it comes to you? how lame...
he's blushing, ivory skin tinted with pink as he slowly leans into your touch, embarrassingly avoiding your gaze; only yearning for more, more and more of your affection, "yeah... i know."
he peeks at you from behind his glasses, taking your kind gesture as a green light to continue, "so about that date..."
you slowly blink, tilting your head with confusion—what’s this about a date?
KUROO was pretty sure he was about to lose his job.
but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
just like clockwork at 5:30 PM, he walked up to your best friend’s apartment with a single flower—your favorite, not just the typical ‘apology roses’ he picked out in the past—along with his work phone. while you never told him where you went, he knew you ended up here, far across town from him.
he stood face-to-face with the cheap mahogany of the door, debating if he should knock. how would you react? would you even answer?
nevertheless, he left his things in a little bag, turning off his work phone that already had four missed calls from coworkers. it wasn’t much, but it was proof. it was evidence that he was trying, trying to show you he could do it.
he could separate work and his life—for you.
the heels of his shoes clicked on the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked back to the elevator, back to his high-rise that had never felt so dark and empty as it had since you left.
the late-night autumn air was cold, and kuroo saw his breath as he walked, the brisk chill cutting through his coat. but he’ll freeze if it means he could prove to you he could change—that he could be the man you deserved.
and that was what he did, every morning and evening.
as days passed, kuroo brought more upon his visits: your favorite sweets when he dropped his phone off, a book that he remembered was on your TBR, a little note saying he hoped you were well and drinking enough water. you always were bad about that.
one morning, he left your favorite coffee since he knew you had an important presentation that had been marked in your shared calendar in the kitchen. he gave the door a soft knock—not because he wanted you to see him (even though he definitely did) but because he knew you didn’t like your coffee to get cold—and he quickly walked off.
one morning, he came rounding the corner at 8:30 AM on the dot to pick up his work phone, another flower in-hand, when he saw you standing at the front door, and he swore he could’ve fallen to his knees at the sight of you.
you were wearing comfier clothes—must be your day off—and he opened his mouth to say something, anything.
“hi,” is all his voice uttered. is that all you’re gonna say to the love of your life, who you haven’t seen in weeks?? good job, you fu—
“what’re you doing, tetsu?” you softly asked, skepticism lining your gaze as you gave his work suit a once over. his tie is slightly lopsided.
his brain short circuited at the sound of your voice, a balm to his soul. “what do you mean?” he prompted, his brows furrowing in confusion.
“all of this,“ you motioned around you and to him standing before you, “what are you doing?”
kuroo’s eyes followed her, glancing at his hands, which held another one of your favorite flowers, the little bag that was now conveniently missing the chocolates he left for you yesterday, his turned-off work phone that probably had dozens of missed calls—not that he cared about that anyway.
you were here; he wasn’t about to ruin his chance to talk to you.
“you know what i’m trying to prove here, angel,” he reasoned, taking a hesitant step forward, “and i’ll do this for as long as it takes—”
“for what?”
“for you to come home,” he said, his eyes zeroing in on your finger, the beautiful engagement ring he gave you months ago still sparkling, even in the shitty apartment hallway lighting.
she still wore it, after all this time.
he had to remind himself to breathe, and he added a soft, “angel, please come home soon.”
he knew she can see right through him, she can see how this man has stripped himself bare before her, all the way to the marrow of his bones. all his cards were on the table. no games, no bullshit.
he knew it wouldn’t be that day, the next, or maybe even in another long week before you’d come home, but he hoped that one day, you’d trust him to give him your heart once more.
he won’t lose you.
PART ONE
a/n: TADAAA part two! i lowk was not expecting so many people to like angsty kuroo but here we are
*HUGE thank you to the anon for the help with an idea; you’re wonderful, and i hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight
he had crinkles around his eyes, little crow’s feet that ran deep. his smile wasn’t large; it was more a twitch of lips that hid a certain air of playfulness he kept in wraps around you, but even the bangs falling into his face couldn’t shadow the radiance of warmth pooling in the hazel of his eyes. he looked at you like he knew something, something big, something that he had fun and guilt both keeping from you.
“i don’t know what you mean.”
“i feel like you’re not being honest, kuroo.”
“tetsurou. besides, me? not being honest? is that what you think of me? that i’m in the habit of lying?”
“you think you aren’t?”
his chin was supported on his hands, and his eyes half lidded as his gaze roamed your face. there was an air of desperation around him like he tried hard to seem like something he wasn’t, like that something brewing in his chest both hurt and delighted him. kuroo tetsurou lied, he did, but mostly to himself.
“you hurt my feelings.”
“i was going to say ‘you and feelings?’ but you do. you’re the sappiest person i know, so i can’t even insult you in that way.”
“i do. feelings, i mean. i do have them.”
the mirth disappeared from his eyes slowly but surely, replaced with something you can’t name. that something you don’t dare name. he sighed and the crow’s feet reappeared, slightly, but without the mischievousness, without the teasing; something vulnerable and protected. hidden behind pestering moments and snorted jokes, something he was scared of sharing.
Modern Boyfie!Sukuna x Reader (female)
1.2k words. Lots of fluff because I am yearning like crazy for soft moments with Kuna. Kissing, mentions of cigarettes. Minors don't interact. Divider @./chaefilms
You love waking up before Sukuna. You love it because it means you can just lie here and enjoy the comforting sensation of Sukuna's buff body wrapped around you. The slow rise and fall of his broad chest against your back. And the occasional soft snore that fills your bedroom, sounding far too cute for a guy like Sukuna, making it only more endearing to you.
And you love it because it also means you can watch Sukuna's sleeping face. You slowly turn around in your boyfriend's strong arms, careful not to wake him, and take in the sight before you:
Ruffled pastel pink hair, black lines tattooed onto smooth tan skin, dark lashes fluttering lightly from time to time. Sukuna looks so peaceful. Angelic somehow when his lips aren't lifted in the usual smirk, and when his eyes aren't filled with the typical arrogant expression.
A soft smile tugs at your lips. Sukuna always looks outrageously attractive, and now that he is asleep, you have all the time in the world to admire his beautiful face.
The high cheekbones and angular jaw, accentuated beautifully by Sukuna's tattoos. The pretty pink hair that looks just as soft as it feels. The black lashes, the elegant nose, the light pink lips, which can talk the biggest shit, but are now relaxed and slightly parted as Sukuna breathes slowly in his sleep. He's beautiful. Like a work of art.
My man.
Your heart constricts at the thought, overflowing with affection for the bad boy in your bed, who doesn't act like a bad boy at all when he's sleeping in your arms. You sigh as butterflies dance in your stomach, and you snuggle closer to Sukuna's buff, tattooed body. He never wears a shirt to bed, and his naked chest feels pleasantly warm.
You smile as you place a hand on Sukuna's defined pecs, still unable to take your eyes off him, marvelling at how lucky you are that he is yours. You can feel Sukuna's strong heartbeat under your palm as you begin to pepper sweet kisses over his beautiful face. You are currently leaving a trail of tender kisses on Sukuna's jaw when he begins to stir.
Your smile grows bigger and your heart beats faster when Sukuna makes a sleepy noise, a low, soft growl followed by a raspy,
"Hmm, princess... what are you doing?"
He sounds so cute like that, and sexy at the same time with that deep, sleepy voice. You press another tender kiss to Sukuna's jaw, murmuring against his skin,
"Kissing you, of course. What else, baby?"
Sukuna laughs softly, and his muscular tattooed arms come up to wrap around your body.
"And why are you kissing me when I am asleep?"
"Because you looked extremely kissable. Do you have any idea how pretty you look?"
Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, amusement filling his maroon eyes as a lazy grin spreads over his face.
"Yeah, of course I know how pretty I am."
"Oh, Kuna!"
You roll your eyes in mock exasperation, and Sukuna laughs loudly while one of his large hands slowly runs up and down your back, caressing you absentmindedly, proof of how natural it has become to this rough guy to be gentle with you.
That small gesture is enough to make your heart overflow with affection once again, and you smile and tilt your head to continue your mission.
Your next kiss lands on the side of Sukuna's neck. It's a slow, lingering kiss, one where you breathe in the scent of his skin, his warmth, the fresh, masculine smell of his shower gel from last night before he hopped into bed, the faint traces of cigarette smoke, the light smell of cherries that always seems to surround Sukuna due to his haircare products.
Sukuna makes a content noise, a little, raspy sigh, almost like a purr, and cranes his neck to encourage you to kiss him more. You smile and happily oblige, trailing more tender kisses up Sukuna's neck and then over the underside of his jaw, making sure to put all your love into those small, soft kisses.
Sukuna is a good boy for you, not even trying to take control, but just lying there, letting you pepper those sweet little kisses all over his tattooed face, while he pets your hair with his large hand and hums happily, clearly basking in all the affection you shower him with.
You leave loving pecks on his tattooed cheeks, following the black lines on them all the way up, paying extra attention to the tattoos under Sukuna's eyes, kissing them slowly, tenderly before you continue further upwards, breathing the softest kisses onto the symbols tattooed onto Sukuna's forehead.
Finally, you trail little kisses down the bridge of Sukuna's nose and over the black line tattooed there, before you place one last kiss on the tip of his nose. And then you stop right there, letting your forehead rest lightly against Sukuna's, and gaze down into his eyes.
You are so close that everything looks blurry, but you can still see the tenderness in those beautiful maroon pupils. The same tenderness that is in your eyes, too.
"Sukuna."
You whisper his name right when he whispers "Princess" in that raspy, low voice still laced with sleep. Both of you laugh softly, your eyes closing at the same time, murmuring matching "I love you"s, and then you finally kiss the one place you haven't yet.
Your lips brush lightly over Sukuna's mouth, just the whisper of a touch, and you smile at the noise Sukuna makes in the back of his throat, a soft growl, almost a whine. He tilts his head, bumping his chin lightly against yours, and you finally capture his lips in a slow, tender kiss.
Sukuna kisses you back just as sweetly. His large hands are on your waist, thumbs gently caressing your sides, slipping lightly under the oversized t-shirt you are wearing (his) while he kisses you much more tenderly than you ever expected a guy like Sukuna to be able to before you truly got to know him.
The kiss stays sweet, even when Sukuna's tongue slips into your mouth and you feel the warm metal of his tongue piercing gliding over your tongue. There is no rush, no hurry, no need to turn this into something sexual.
You both are happy with just this: Slow kisses and soft sighs. Basking in the intimacy of being so close to each other. Just the two of you. Just Sukuna and you in your small apartment in the middle of this huge city. All you ever need.
You feel Sukuna's buff arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you closer to his warm, strong body, making sure you won't get up anytime soon.
And you know you will spend the rest of the morning just like this: In bed with Sukuna, kissing and cuddling. Sharing these sweet moments, where your bad boy can allow himself to be so much softer than he could ever be outside of these four walls.
OH I AM GOING CRAZY!!! I am so in love with him 😭😭 Imagining those kinds of cuddles and kisses with him makes me yearn so bad AAAAAAAAAAAHH 😭💗
I had to write this so I could sit here with a stupid dreamy smile on my face, swooning and sighing the whole time. But I hope some of my fellow Sukuna lovers understand how I feel 💗
I hope you enjoyed this little story! Reblogs and comments would be very sweet 💗
the chopsticks in your hand freeze mid-air, soy sauce drips onto the tablecloth. you glance across the table at nobara, who’s staring at you like you just said you were moving to mars.
you nod. “yeah.”
“since when?”
megumi doesn’t look up from his drink. he reaches for another piece of gyoza and says, evenly, “four months and sixteen days.”
“four MONTHS?” she repeats shrilly, accusingly. “you’ve been dating for four whole months and didn’t tell anyone?!”
“we didn’t hide it,”
“you absolutely did.”
“i told itadori,” megumi adds, still not looking up.
yuji inhales a piece of rice and starts coughing.
“when?!” he splutters. megumi slams a fist on yuji’s back.
“you asked why i was smiling at my phone. i said it was y/n.”
“that doesn’t count!”
gojo leans back in his chair, dramatically winded. “i’m your sensei, fushiguro. how could you betray me like this? i would’ve made a cake!”
“exactly why we didn’t tell you,” megumi says flatly.
you laugh into your tea. “what did you expect? a powerpoint presentation?”
“yes!” nobara snaps, slamming a fist on the table. “or something! there wasn’t even a soft launch!”
“what the hell is a soft launch?” megumi grouses. you reach under the table, brush your knuckles against his. he catches your hand without looking; muscle memory.
“you guys don’t do anything couple-y,” yuji says, baffled. “you don’t even touch each other in public!”
“we do sometimes,” you protest.
“yeah, that one time you sneezed and he passed you a tissue,” nobara deadpans.
“that’s affection,” megumi says, serious.
“affection from a librarian,” she shoots back.
you smile. “i like that he doesn’t show off.”
without looking at you, he squeezes your hand.
“that’s disgusting,” gojo announces without looking up from his phone, already texting nanami about it. nobara stares at you. then at megumi. then sighs and drops her head onto the table.
“i feel gaslit,” she says into the wood. “honestly.”
yuji leans over to nobara, whispering behind his hand.
“do you think they’ve kissed?”
“oh my god,” nobara gasps. “they’ve probably kissed a lot.”
face slack, megumi calmly reaches over and smacks the side of yuji’s head—the classic anime-style thud echoes off the booth divider. yuji slumps dramatically.
“ow,” he groans, clutching his skull. “i was just asking—”
kuroo’s college is twenty minutes away from yours, and apparently, neither of you have twenty minutes to spare.
he’s already made it perfectly clear that the college he’s going to is set in stone, and as much as he loves you, or as much as you love him, neither of you are willing to switch schools to be closer to one another.
it’s the afternoon now, the two of you just got back from school, and normally, if you were spending time at his house, in his room, the last thing you two’d be doing is fighting.
but it seems lately, with college just around the corner, fighting is the only thing the two of you could do.
his room feels darker than it is.
“i don’t want to argue anymore.” you say, defeated, burying your face in your hands.
and kuroo sighs, standing in front of you, and he takes your hands away from your face to have them in his.
he tells you, “we have to figure things out.”
“i’m tired.” you say back, refusing to look at him anyways.
“‘me too.” kuroo nods, keeping you close, and his voice is softer than before, “but i don’t want to go to college unsure if i still have you or not.”
your shoulders drop, and you find it so hard to look him in the eye.
“i don’t want to go long distance.” you look at your feet as you say this, and your heart drops when kuroo lets go of your hands.
it seems as if lately every topic has been icy between the two of you, and if you didn’t know any better — or maybe if you did — you’d have thought that maybe it’s a sign that it’s just time to finally break up.
it’s the glaring option — breaking up.
it’s better than arguing, better than racking your brain for a solution to this problem, better than wasting your time fighting and yelling — but no matter how easy that option is, neither of you are ready to call it quits.
“you really had to choose a college twenty minutes away from mine?” he laughs lightly, swaying it as a joke, and his bed dips when he sits on the edge of it.
you stand before him, “that’s barely anything.”
“yeah,” he looks at you, his voice coaxing his words out as humor, “you couldn’t just come to mine?”
and you frown, scoffing, “i’m sorry that my dream school isn’t yours.”
his eyebrows furrow, “that’s wasn’t my point.”
“it’s not?” you cross your arms, “you’re basically blaming me for not going to your school.”
and he stares at you for a second, knowing that his words didn’t come out right, and it’s just one more thing that he can’t seem to get right.
before this week, this month, you two barely ever fought nonetheless argued, so it’s odd to be so out of terms with you, odd to disagree.
“i didn’t mean that.” kuroo looks at you again, even though he knows you’re ignoring his glance.
his voice softens, “i’m just upset.”
and you finally look at him, “well, i’m upset too.”
the colleges the two of you are going to are twenty minutes apart, and it’s not much, but with his ambition and your dreams, it’s hard to prioritize your relationship over school.
it’s hard to spare twenty minutes only for him to leave again and miss you as you’re so far away.
kuroo knows how hard it is to be away from you, and the only thing that hurts more than that; is that he knows that you’ll eventually get tired of it too.
his room is dark now, the sun has set, and you’ll be having to go home soon.
your voice is soft, “do you want to break up?”
he blinks, and he finally realizes how glossy his eyes are getting.
“no.” kuroo tells you almost immediately, his head shaking, “i don’t want to ever do that.”
and you love him for it, but now it really feels like the conversation is approaching a dead end.
“school starts in a few days,” you tell him, your heart beating out of your chest, “and we’re both not okay with going separate ways.”
you feel defeated, “and i don’t want to fight anymore.”
and he scoffs, “you think i want to fight?”
“you keep getting upset with me!” you almost raise your voice, looking at him, you try not to yell, so your voice softens, “i don’t know what to do, i can’t change colleges, i can’t match your schedule, i can’t change these things.”
he looks back at you.
“i don’t know what to do.” your eyebrows furrow, “just tell me what to do, and i will do it.”
he doesn’t say anything.
your voice is threatening to break, but you hold against it, “just tell me what to do.”
for a minute, he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at you. his own hand tangled in his mess of a hair as if he’s racking his brain to figure things out.
kuroo doesn’t want to break up with you. he’s known this since he first kissed you, and ever since then, he’s sure — if he can’t be with you, he would rather be alone.
his eyes snap back up to you, like he’s just had a sudden idea, and a trail of sweat falls down his temple.
there’s a small smile forming on his lips, and he’s kind of sure of what to say next.
you look at him, and he looks back at you, with his soft — unsure — eyes that brims with nervousness and certainty all at once.
his voice is small, “marry me.”
and you laugh lightly, “don’t joke.”
“i’m serious.” he looks up to you from the dip of his bed, his smile unwavering, and he runs his fingers through his hair again.
he continues, “we find an apartment that’s close enough to both our schools, come home to each other, be together even if we’re mostly apart.”
“kuroo.” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, and you’re so unsure of what to say, it makes you laugh, “this isn’t funny.”
“i mean it.” he looks at you so intently, it makes you take a breath.
he says this so easily as if he isn’t 19, as if he isn’t going off into college twenty minutes away from yours, as if he’s sure that you’re the only person he ever wants to be with.
kuroo offers you a small smile (and his entire, nervous heart), “marry me.”
some Toji domesticity hehe hoho. not proofread!!!!!!
CW: TSUMIKI AND MEGUMI ARE YOUR CHILDREN, TSUMIKI IS LIKE 11 AND MEGUMI LIKE 5, HUSBAND TOJI, FAMILY DRABBLE AND STUFF U KNOW, SUGGESTIVE AT SOME PARTS BC TOJI IS A PERV WITH ZERO SELF CONTROL, TECHNICALLY HE'S A ZENIN BC HE NEVER BECAME FUSHIGURO IDK.
“Toji, you’re not a child. Either hold the cart or fuck off.” You grumble at him. Trips to the grocery store are always an adventure with your little family. Between Tsumiki starting her pre teen years and Megumi’s attitude you already have enough on your plate, but with Toji clinging to your waist like an overgrown baby you feel about to boil and explode.
“I’m telling you, I will get lost, ma. So lost, and I’ll die of hunger,” He tries to make you pity him, voice muffled in the crook of your neck as he nuzzles you. Your eye twitches. “That’s why I have to hold you.” You take a deep breath, and take note of little Megumi glaring at his father. Possessive little bastards.
“Are you sure it isn’t because there’s other people at the store? And you feel the need to mark territory like a fucking dog?” You ask, your grip on the shopping cart tightening as you try to walk towards the fruit aisle. And he grins, hand snaking down to grope at your ass. “Toji!” You scold him, and he lets go of you for a moment. Hands in the air as a sign of surrender.
“Fine, fine. I thought I was being subtle.” He excuses himself, and walks alongside you, still wrapping an arm around your waist.
For the first fifteen minutes, everything is fine. Toji manages to control himself, Megumi is behaving inside his little cart-seat, and Tsumiki is in a strangely good mood. You think today will be a normal day, a normal trip, a normal everything. Tsumiki asks if she can buy thirteen thousand flavors of a sugary mess that attempts to call itself a drink, Megumi tries to grab things at the toy aisle, and Toji continues to cling to you like a leech. Everything is manageable for the most part.
“Only three things, baby. I already told you that’s all you can get.” You say to your daughter when she asks for some nail polish, still focused on choosing some cleaning products, doing math inside your head for discounts. “That goes to you too, Toji…” You whisper, and he grins. His hands leaving your waist to cup your tits.
“I’ll take these two melons and a peach then—” He licks his lips, and you smack his hands away with a big blush covering your face. He howls in laughter, and kisses your temple before stretching to lower some cleaner you mentioned you needed earlier. “Has a discount, ma. Want me to put it there?” He asks, trying to be innocent, kissing little Megumi on the cheek too as he walks closer to the shopping cart. And you give him a glare.
Naoya has laid his head in your lap and is hugging your torso, trying his best to apologise because he accidentally yelled at you when you invited him for tea. He was just frustrated by Gojo killing his men to find you and when you came in all bubbly and flowery and asked him to join you for tea, he all but yelled at you to knock before barging in. The instant tears welled up in your eyes and your lips wobbled, he knew he'd fucked up.
Now he's hugging you and trying to get you to talk to him again, heart feeling heavier with guilt the more he hears you hiccup and sniffle.
"Stop crying... please." He said, as softly as he could. "You didn't do anything wrong, I did. So stop crying or else you'll make yourself sick." When you still didn't stop, he pulled away and looked at you angrily. "I'm ordering you to stop crying!"
"Shut- shut up!" You finally yelled. "I am so sick of you, Naoya! I- I spend all day, everyday in this godforsaken house with no one to talk to! You know why? Because you told them not to! They're all afraid of you! And I stay in my room like you tell me to, do everything you ask me to, and all I wanted was to have some tea and talk to you for a bit?!" You sniffled. "You may not love me as you claim to, but I do! But if this is how you're gonna treat me, then you might as well let me go back to Gojo! At least he gave me his undivided attention whenever he was around!"
"What did you say?"
"Are you deaf-"
"You said you loved me."
Your face flushed. "I did not-"
"Yes, you did." Naoya grinned. "But you're wrong."
"Huh?"
Naoya suddenly grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. "I do love you." He said, pulling away and breathing heavily, a happy glint in his eyes.
He wiped your tears before standing up, giving you his hand. "Come on up, now. We have to go."
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