I miss Suguru so much to the point I loathe Toji for ruining him. Idgaf abt y'all Toji fans. Y'all only like him cuz he got that compressed shirt with some muscles and shi. He literally killed a 14 year old girl and almost killed both Geto and Gojo. Mind you they were only 16.
And yes it is that deep, idc. In my mind Geto's actions are justified. Yk when they say villains are made through injustice. I'm not saying his actions are right, well Suguru is wrong in some ways but he had a much deeper reason unlike some homeless dude who abonded his kid and killed teenagers for money
CW: fluff, some suggestive stuff, a surprise at the end
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Megumi Fushiguro who reluctantly agreed to go on a date after you begged him, along with the help of Itadori and Kugisaki. In his head, he agreed so theyâd stop asking.
Megumi Fushiguro who barely speaks to you after that first date, and only when you sneak your way into his DMâs does he interact with you.
Megumi Fushiguro who slowly gets used to you hanging around him. You sitting beside him during training or lunch, or you being around Yuji and Kugisaki who are usually around him in turn. You became a constant in his life.
Megumi Fushiguro who is flabbergasted when his demon dogs refuse to be around anyone but you, and even some of his Rabbit Escape bunnies like to snuggle up in your arms. It makes his technique practically useless when sparring you, because all his shikigami want to do is cuddle you?
Megumi Fushiguro who begins looking for you wherever. In the dorms? Heâs making sure youâre here and safe. On a mission? He waits until you get back, foot tapping anxiously. Gojo has started to catch on and makes fun of him for finally getting attached.
Megumi Fushiguro who formally asks you out after weeks of grappling with the tightening in his chest every time he sees you. He takes you to a field near the old house where he grew up, to stargaze. He tells you about his sister, and how he plans to save her.
Megumi Fushiguro who is a bit touch aversive at first, but slowly learns to accept your constant affection and touch. He doesnât often reciprocate, but will occasionally wrap his arm around your waist when you hug him tightly after a mission.
Megumi Fushiguro who looks forward to waking up and training because he gets to see you working hard (and sweaty).
Megumi Fushiguro who is secretly a bit of a pervert, because he is a teenage boy, and happens to catch himself staring at your body, or snatching a pair of panties from your dorm (He returns them washed the day after).
Megumi Fushiguro who hates himself for caving when you asked to accompany him in Shibuya, and knows itâs his fault you didnât come back from floor B5. And nearly breaks down when Yuji tells him what happened.
Megumi Fushiguro who imagines how you mustâve felt when Mahito transfigured you, how your voice probably broke screaming his name as you were reanimated into a monster.
Megumi Fushiguro who spends his last few seconds in control of his body thinking of you. Who knows heâs lost when Sukuna speaks about how he wishes it was him who killed you instead of Mahito, and he falters for half a second.
Some women will never want children in their life in any meaningful capacity. They don't want to give birth. They don't want to adopt. They don't want to be the fun auntie. They don't want to be a godmother. They don't want to work in a field with children. They will never change a child's diaper and don't believe their lack of childcare skills is a problem that needs fixing, because childcare is not a crucial part of the human experience, with billions of people on the planet. They go about their day while only seeing kids out at the grocery store or at the park, and nothing is missing from their lives.
The refusal to accept this is driving a global right-wing backlash movement.
âïœĄđŠč°⧠if only you were taller. (satosugu angst)
TW: suicide, mentions of SH
notes:
hello hi and thank you for reading!! a bunch of my viewers on tiktok kept saying âwouldnât satoru be able to know what suguru did before he opened the door because of his six eyes?â and to that i say that this is not canon compliant! in this satoruâs six eyes just dont have the capability to see allat, so he basically got nerfed for the sake of this.. also, this is an old fic, so no judgement..
Sunday
Suguru:
âgoodnight satoru ilyâ
Satoru:
âily too man đââïžđââïž sleep well my broâ
Monday
Satoru:
âwhy u not at school??â
Satoru:
âhellooooâ
Tuesday
Satoru:
âman where r u??â
Satoru:
âbasketball tomorrow? :Pâ
Wednesday
Satoru:
âiâll be waiting in the court after classâ
Satoru:
âthis is me waitingâ
Satoru:
âsuguruuuuuuuâ
Satoru stares at the screen, toying with the hinges of his flip-phone. A pout adorned his usually relaxed face, soft white bangs cascading down his forehead. Heâs brought to attention instantly when he notices a presence approaching.
âWhatâre you doing in here alone?â Shokoâs drawled-out words penetrate the silence, bringing two fingers up to her mouth to remove the cigarette resting upon her lips.
Satoru- perched on the bench in the corner of the court- groans dramatically, cheek resting on the basketball he was holding. âThought Suguru mightâve come and played. We usually do on Wednesdays. Apparently not.â
He really wondered what Suguruâs problem was. Not only was he ignoring his texts, but he wasnât coming to class! He hadnât even come out of his dorm for food. Thinking of it, had he lost weight recently?..
âHe could be busy,â She counters.
Satoru barks out a humourless laugh, eyeing Shoko. âWhat, for three days straight?â
Shoko shrugs, making the decision to leave Gojo to wallow in his annoyance. She wasnât putting up with an irritable Satoru, no way.
Hearing the sound of her boots clack away, Satoru sighs loudly and bashes his head against the ball cupped in his hands in frustration.
After a little while of âbroodingâ, he decides to go investigate. He hops up and flings the ball somewhere into the corner of the room. Heâd go retrieve Suguru from his room, and then drag him out to play! Perfect.
Upon entering the dorm blocks, Satoru inserts the key into his own door, poking his head inside just enough to yank the spare key Suguruâd given him off of the counter. He closes his door, locking it behind him. Satoru begins to stroll towards Suguruâs door, yet his confident stride wavers at the smell that suddenly infiltrates his nostrils. It seeps out from the gap in Suguruâs door, crawling up into the air. Itâs a foul stench. Sweat, rot, tinged with a hint of metal. How had Satoru- or anyone in the dorm block- not noticed that odour? Satoru gags theatrically, taking a moment before finally sticking the key inside the lock.
âWow, Suguru..â He grumbles to himself. âSo much for hygiene.. your dorm smells like an anime convention..â
Finally turning the handle, Satoru steps inside, bending down to remove his shoes. âYoo, Suguââ
He shouldnât have looked up. He felt like his eyes trailed upwards in slow motion. Suguruâs limp feet. His bare legs. His dangling arms. His usually sharp and pretty face which Satoru loved so much, was now discoloured and lifeless, narrow eyes horribly unfocused. His whole body is flaccid. Satoruâs loud words are lost on his tongue, throat closing up like heâs swallowed superglue. In that moment, in that room, Satoruâs world narrows down to a singular, terrifying focal point. He feels like his chest is being crushed by some inexplicable pressure, and heâs suddenly all too aware of the cold sweat that materialised on his face.
Suguru. His best friend. His brother in all but blood, a loverâ
He shakes the dreadful thoughts from his mind for a moment, and his body is moving before his brain receives the signals. He bolts up on shaky legs, and heâs instantly at Suguruâs side, slender fingers fumbling with the knot at Suguruâs neck.
âSUGURU! Hey, hey manâ what the fuck?!â
He growls in frustration when he canât get his short nails under it to loosen it, whipping around to run to the kitchen. He snatches a sharp kitchen knife from Suguruâs knife block, taking note of the smaller one being missing. He noticed the little things. Always the little things. So why not this? Heâs back at Suguruâs side in no time, reaching up to saw at the rope. As he forces his arms to cooperate, forwards and backwards, thoughts race through his overwhelmed mind. âWhereâd he get the rope from?â, âWhy?â, âWhy didnât I notice?â, âWhy didnât he ask for help?â. The last threads of frayed rope finally give way, and Suguruâs lifeless body collapses down. Satoru catches him before he can hit the ground.
Satoru immediately drops to his knees with his best friendâs body, extending his pointer and middle finger to feel up Suguruâs neck for a pulse.
Thereâs nothing.
Of course thereâs nothing.
Why would there be? Itâs been three days, hadnât it? Three days Suguruâd been rotting. Three days Satoru hadnât noticed. Three days Satoru hadnât checked on him. What kind of a friend was he?
Despite knowing it wonât change a thing, Satoru slaps Suguruâs cheek. To stir him. To elicit a reaction, anything. The soft, warm skin now freezing to the touch. Satoru didnât even realise he was crying until he notices his tears splattering onto Suguruâs thin, dirty and off-white shirt. He desperately continues to feel for a pulse, hoping, praying, for some kind of miracle. He just wanted one thing. Heâd do anything, he just.. wanted his best friend. His Suguru.
He leans down to press a lingering kiss to Suguruâs now ice-cold forehead. Registering the unnatural temperature only serves to make his stream of tears come hotter and faster. He never cried, what the hell was this? His sharp, bright blue irises dart across Suguruâs limp body. Seeing him like this, in a tank top and boxers, he can take in everything. He thought he had Suguruâs body planned out already from hours of ogling him in their intimacy or in the shower blocks. But no. He notices more now. His vision is heavily blurred, but he notices. A mole on his right knee, a birthmark on his left index finger. And then he catches it.
Long, red lines littered on his thighs. Some of them deep and angry. Some like cat scratches. Some even white and risen, healed. Satoru feels his stomach drop to his ass, guilt crawling along his insides like an invasive parasite. How didnât he notice? They were so obvious. So many of them. He didnât think Suguru was suffering so much. Did he really feel the need to hurt himself..? No, no way, right?
Heâd tell Satoru. Heâd confide in him.
..Or would he?
He wasnât the best listener. Heâd butt in where his opinion wasnât needed, probably laugh at problems he found âminorâ. Suguru probably feared talking to him.
Satoru cradles his lifeless body tighter against his chest, mumbling sincere apologies into the now matted black locks. They used to be so soft. So silky, so shiny. He hadnât been taking care of himself. Hadnât even eaten right, from the looks of things. Satoru shouldâve questioned him more. Shouldâve noticed. Shouldâve.. been there for him.
He feels bile lurch up his throat, sour- leaving an awful aftertaste in his mouth. His stomach twists and churns horrifically with remorse.
âWhat was his breaking point?â, Satoru wonders. The thought makes him feel unwell. Was it his ideologies eating away at him? Toji? Riko? Or perhaps just a buildup of everything over years?
He looks up to the ceiling, blinking away more tears. Another sob begins to rise up his throat.
