✧˖° 18+ | Suguru being so sweet when you can only handle half his cock
Suguru is so patient with his sweet, shy girlfriend who still can't take all of him even after a few times together.
every single time, without fail, your small hands end up pressed flat against his abs, keeping him from sinking in all the way. and he never pushes it—just watches you with those dark, half-lidded eyes while you're already making such a mess on just half his cock, whimpering and clenching around him like you're trying so hard to be good for him.
"that's it, baby," he murmurs, one big hand covering both of yours on his stomach, holding them there. "take what you can. don't hurt yourself." but his voice is strained, jaw tight, because fuck—you're so wet and tight and he can feel you fluttering around him, and he wants nothing more than to just sink in deep and stay there.
you're babbling apologies, face hot with embarrassment because you can see how much of him is still outside, glistening and dripping with you. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, 'm trying—"
"shh, none of that," he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, so sweet it makes your chest ache. "you're doing so well, angel. look how good you're taking me already." his thumb finds your clit and you gasp, back arching, and he groans when you clench down hard. "there you go. just like that."
he starts moving in shallow thrusts, just working the half he can fit, and it's already so much—the stretch, the fullness, the way his tip keeps hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. you're soaking him, obscene wet sounds filling the room, and you want to die from how embarrassing it is.
"listen to that," he breathes, eyes dark and focused on where you're connected. "making such a pretty mess on my cock, baby. getting me all wet." his hand slides from your clit to your hip, gripping tight. "think you can take a little more for me? just a little?"
you nod frantically even though you're not sure, because you want to be good for him, want to give him everything. he pushes in another inch, slow and careful, watching your face the whole time. your hands scrabble against his abs but he's stronger, holding himself there while you adjust.
"breathe, sweetheart," he coaxes. "that's my girl. so fucking tight for me. you're perfect, you know that?"
and even though you still can't take all of him, even though your hands are still trying to keep him from going too deep, he looks at you like you've given him everything—like you're everything—and somehow that makes the embarrassment worth it.
── nobody is allowed to touch Suguru’s hair but you !!
Suguru hated when people touch his hair just because they find it beautiful, he doesn’t mind it when people tell him it’s beautiful because he doesn’t have to deal with their fingers. But, the second he sees their hand reach out— he’s already scooting away to avoid them.
However, he stopped when he realized he enjoyed your touch more than everyone else’s. It wasn’t meant to be nice at all, Suguru hasn’t even processed that your hand was tangled in his hair until you accidentally tugged on a few strands to harshly, “Sorry, Sugu. It got stuck in my fingers.”
Usually, he would tell people off for touching his hair without permission, but with you, all he could say was, “Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. You’re fine.”
And the both of you weren’t even official . . . yet.
The second he made it clear that he wanted to be your boyfriend, his head was always on your lap and he (quietly) demands your fingers to massage his head by sighing loudly and dramatically. You never got the clue but just love to play with his hair, all’s well ends well.
Then you started catching up on hairstyling. Watching videos made the urge bigger and you just popped the question, “Can I braid your hair? I don’t want to waste my money on a wig when I got my boyfriend.”
He made a deal, one hairstyle for a scalp massage session. Good deal I’d say.
“Ow.”
“Sorry, baby,” you whisper, tongue poking out in between your lips as your braid his hair, using the hair gel to tone down most of his baby hair, “okay. Look, my first client is going to be a friend who wants to cosplay. What do you think?”
Suguru was surprised that you managed to do all that in an hour. Of course, he had no say in this because when he told you it was great, he automatically became your test victim. Actually, not victim, he became your helping hand. Plus, he got head massages as a return.
You realized how he hates when people touch his hair during a day out. It was supposed to be a calm day for the both of you, a short trip to the ice cream parlor where you both went at the end of your first date. He suggested sitting outside since the weather was really nice.
Half an hour into your sweet treat, a girl came by and complimented his hair. Suguru thanked her with a small smile, but the moment her hand shoots out to touch it— he instinctively grabbed her hand to stop it, “Sorry, please don’t touch my hair,” he mumbled out.
The girl apologized because it was in the heat of moment before leaving. You blinked, “You don’t like people touching your hair?”
“Not really.”
“I should buy a wig then!”
Suguru seemed alarmed by the thought of losing your hand in his hair, he shook his head, “I never said anything about you touching my hair though. I don’t mind if it’s you touching. I just don’t like it when it isn’t you . . .” He spoke shyly.
“Really?”
Suguru nods his hair, “When is the next session? I want my massage.”
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | dressmaker!suguru using his measuring tape to see how deep he is inside you
you don’t know how you ended up splayed over suguru’s desk with your legs thrown over his shoulders when minutes ago he was taking your measurements for a fashion event.
slutty little glasses sitting on his nose, measuring tape draped around his neck as he wrote in his notebook. pages strewn with sketches of outfit ideas, messy notes and reminders to himself, your name sometimes popping up here and there.
but somewhere in between talking about your dress, he tugged the measuring tape off and replaced it with your legs, your ankles locked behind him as he laid you back on his desk.
“stay-- hahh stay still for me, pretty girl,” he tries to sound commanding but his voice comes out breathy and shaky. his hands trembling slightly with pleasure as he holds the tape above your contracting stomach. “i just need to measure one more thing. fuck…”
with each deep stroke of his cock, he can see the thick head of it protrude through your stomach. he groans, soft and low, cursing something under his breath. it takes everything in him to not speed up the pace of his mind-numbing thrusts.
“but it’s… you’re so ngh d-deep, sugu,” you mewl, squirming against the hardness of the desk. you clench around him each time his bulbous tip drags against each and every sweet spot he somehow manages to find. you’re sure that he’s kissing your cervix at this point, fuzzy stars blurring your vision.
“i know, pretty, i know,” he coos, glasses sliding down his nose as he tries to read the numbers on the tape. “and you’re taking it so well for me. taking me so-- fuck, you’re so tight… taking me so well.”
a whimper slips past your lips in response to his depraved praise before it turns in a choked gasp when he presses his palm down on the bulge in your stomach. you quiver violently, fingers finding something to hold onto, grasping helplessly at the wooden surface under you.
the hand that was pushing down on your stomach slides down to grip your waist, pinning you down with a soft click of his tongue.
“stop moving so much,” he chides gently with a subtle, firm undertone.
“can’t, sugu… ‘s too much.” you’re panting, eyes barely half open, going limp against the desk as he drives into you so good that it almost hurts. you can’t decide between wanting more or for him to stop because it’s that much overwhelming.
he leans down, your thighs folding into your chest. his hair tickles your cheek, hot breath caressing your mouth, violet eyes locked onto yours.
“you can take it. i know you can. you always take it for me like my perfect girl,” he whispers, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your lips before he pulls back, straightening again.
his thrusts become torturously slow, taking the measuring tape back in his hands and stretching it over your stomach unsteadily. you try to steady your own breathing, trying to stay as still as you can despite the intimate smooches of his tip to your sweet spot, only making the puddle under your ass bigger.
then, his breath hitches, smirk faltering. cock throbbing against your plush walls. he has to bite back a groan.
8.6 sweet inches.
“god, look at that, pretty girl,” he breathes out, a raspy strain of his voice as he tries to hold back just how ruined he is at the mere sight. and you follow his gaze to the bulge in your stomach, clamping down on him like a vice which forces him to stutter out a curse. “f-fuck… you really do take me so deep. take me so fucking good.” and he sounds proud. almost tame compared to the frantic snap of his hips that follows soon after like he can’t help himself.
you cry out his name, throwing your arms around him to hold onto him as he drills into you like a man gone insane. he’s groaning, rough and low, tossing the tape aside to focus on you now.
the desk creaks weakly under you, protesting the force of his hips. though, it’s barely audible over the lewd squelching with each push of his hips and the smacking of skin against skin.
he leans back down again, dragging his teeth over the lobe of your ear, breathing heavily. “you know, i think i could get even deeper if i had you bent over this desk. wanna try?”
꒰brush꒱ bf!suguru helps you through a panic attack
꩜ cw: mental health struggles. hurt/comfort
꩜ requested by @plaguecxlt i hope you enjoy angel <3
"Just focus on me, can you do that?" your boyfriend Suguru asks, tone kind and reassuring despite the fact you feel like a mess right now.
He has never seen you cry like this before.
Crouched on the bathroom floor, holding on to yourself like you’ll fall apart if you don’t.
Just a hopeless, endless stream of tears streaking down your beautiful cheeks; your breath running away from you while you desperately try to catch up.
Suguru rushed in as soon as he heard. Kneeled right next to you on the cold tiles, calling out your name – a sound too far away to reach you right now, but he doesn’t stop trying.
Your hands are shaking, even though he has them safe between his. Squeezing your palms together gently, trying to ground you though all you can feel is how fast your heart is beating inside your chest.
"Baby" he calls again. "Just look at me, please?"
Despite the shame, and everything in you urging you to leave, you do as he asked.
Blink up to see his fox like eyes watching you, taking in the distress in your expression with his brows just a little furrowed – the only sign of worry he lets show in his serene face.
You always think Suguru is so good at keeping his composure, but in reality, your boyfriend is just great at pretending. He doesn't want to add you feeling bad for him to the pile of feelings you were already struggling through.
No, he held steady for you – but it was hard. Because every inch of his heart hurt seeing you hurt.
You shouldn't even know what it was like to hurt like this.
"There you are" Suguru exhales in relief, dragging a thumb under your eye before leaning forwards to kiss the tears away. "You're alright"
He pulls you into a hug then, letting your head fall to the crook of his neck. Almost on instinct you bring your hands around his back, clinging on to him in a way you had never clung to anyone before.
Suguru hums into your embrace, brushing your hair slowly, over and over, so soft and tender and intimate – like when he lets you brush his long strands.
Somehow it means more than words.
But he still speaks too, giving you another thing to hold on to. It's easy to let your head get swallowed by the dark thoughts, he knows that better than anyone.
So he'd rather you focus on his voice instead.
"Can you feel my hand here?" Suguru asks, still brushing your hair as his other hand lowers down to your ankle, rubbing tiny circles.
You nod.
"Good" his hand brushes your skin softly, just a ghost of a touch really, as it slides up your shins to just above your knee. "And here?"
You nod again, sinking into him just a little more.
"You're doing really well" he mutters. His touch moves up again; the outside of your thighs, lingering on your hip, letting the tips of his fingers sink a little more there. "Still with me?"
You nod again. Slowly Suguru helps you back into your body, and suddenly you start feeling more real.
You hate that he knows how to help, and you make a mental note to ask him about his own experiences later.
But right now, Suguru is completely focused on you.
His large palm splays on your lower back, letting you feel the heat of him against your skin. And then he moves up again.
"I got you" he whispers. "Can you try to breathe a little deeper?"
You focus on where his hand is, just above your ribs, inhaling deep as if you're trying to push it away. Smiling when he only holds you closer.
"That's it" he praises, hand moving up your back, stopping to squeeze your tense shlulders, before it meets the other one on your hair.
Suguru cups both your cheeks then, pulling you from him just to have a proper look at you. You're not crying anymore, good. Breathing steadily now too.
Good.
He smiles kindly, tucking your strands behind your ears.
"You don't have to tell me" he kisses the top of your head. "But if you want to, I'll listen"
You feel tears start to fall again, but for a completely different reason this time.
been working on some lengthy angst pieces lately so had to balance it out with some comfort. sending you so much love if you can relate to this <3
( 18 + ) ⤷ never turn your back on an enemy… unless he’s fucking you from behind
you’d never be able to forgive yourself for this. hell had to have frozen over, because there was no other conceivable explanation for why you were allowing your mortal enemy to do this to you right now. pressed faced down on his bed, your back arched so deep it ached, taking it from behind with only a pathetic whimper muffled by his sheets.
suguru geto ruts into you with a force that can only be described as brutal, slow-brewed from years worth of rivalry and short, bitter exchanges. it’s the sort of merciless venom that has you writhing and whining — because fuck, he’s bigger than you thought — every punishing thrust jolting your whole body forward into the bed.
“fuck,” he grits out, one hand pulling you up and against him by your throat. “is this all it took for you to finally shut up?” he doesn’t bother with calling you pathetic, because you’re a smart girl, and you both know that this is already humiliating enough. you’re a drooling, sobbing mess on his cock, and you can’t even name one thing you hate about him now, not with the way he’s splitting you open and dragging weak moans out of you.
you clench around him when he hits a little too deep, and the sharp, breathless laugh he lets out has you impulsively reaching back to dig into the hardened muscles of his forearms. unfortunately, you figure out too late that the last thing you should do around a masochistic bastard is get out your claws, because it only spurs him on further.
the next thrust that follows is cruel, and you choke on your spit when he repays your earlier actions with a palm that comes down hard upon your ass cheeks. “scratch me up all you want, baby” he groans, voice on the edge of breaking. “mark me up while i fucking ruin you.”
and ruin you, he does. or maybe you ruin each other, because by the time he’s done with you, your hair is a tangled mess and your thighs are drenched in your arousal. meanwhile, the length of suguru’s arms and shoulders are marked by angry red lines from your nails, from where you clawed at him without reservation.
you’ve ruined more than just his skin though — those are simply pretty surface wounds he’ll look at later like a hard-fought trophy. but your claws also seemed to have sunk straight into his heart, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way those marks looked when the edges start to blur.
just like the ones that exist between loathing you and wanting you.
i have a thing for men that moan especially the ones with deep voices .. mm makes my toes sweat 😛 ( NSFW )
whimpers came out as he tried his best to talk “ mmm fuck baby p-please,” his nail dug into your hips as he helped you bounce on his cock faster. he didn’t want you to stop — oh no, he doesn’t know what he would do with himself if you stopped .. maybe he would cry or beg on his knees. honestly, he would do anything for you to keep going. “ oh yeah … don’t stop — i w-want you to make a mess of m-me ” oh he looked so pretty under you … tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at you -sucking on your fingers .. he so nasty but you like it. LINK 1
he fucks you sooo good that he’s moaning too. “ o-oh my good girl .. my good fucking girl ” his plan is to slut you out doesn’t matter if it’s in the bed, living room, kitchen, or even the car. he wants you a moaning mess which slowly turns him into a moaning mess as well. “ yeahhh th-there you go .. mm you’re daddy’s good girl, taking my c-cock so fucking well ” It’s like a race ‘ who can tap out first ’ by the way he’s moans you would think it’s him with his heavy breathing but little do you know that this is just the beginning.. LINK 2
sensitive, dom, and a moaning mess … he is a three-in-one! gosh, you love it — the way he sharply breathes in when he strokes his cock into you, the way he moans in between words, and the way he talks dirty to you excites you. “ mm s-say it .. u-use your words, baby ” makes you wanna cum right then and there. he loves hearing you talk, even if it’s just babbling, it makes him smile, but not like you would know cause his face is pressed against your neck due to him leaving deep bite marks. LINK 3
( BOUNS )
no shame in his game . he enjoys making audios for you, especially in random places it’s his favorite thing to do and he ALWAYS sends them to you when you’re out and about. “ guess where i-i’m at baby — mm i’m in our parking g-garage ” things like this turns him on and he knows that you get to turn on hearing him slur and stutter on his words. “ i-i-i have our f-favorite toy .. fuck i wish y-you were here to use it on m-me” gosh why does he do this to you and when you come home he acts like nothing is wrong :/ LINK 4
prisoner!geto who gets sent to the infirmary after getting into a fist fight with another prisoner. His knuckles and lip are bruised and busted and he’s doing the walk of shame down the jail hall. But he doesn’t expect a pretty young woman to be running the infirmary, nearly drooling at the sight because it’s been almost 3 whole years since he last laid his eyes upon one. He’s eyeing you up and down look a piece of meat while you tend to his wounds, completely ignoring his advances because it’s unprofessional. Though, you do find him quite handsome with tattoos all over his arms, a muscular build and his long silky black hair, his smile adding the cherry on top.
“You new here? I’ve never seen you around before.” He watches you put some gloves on, grabbing a roll of small bandages. “Pretty brave of you to be working in all male prison, don’t you think?”
“You must end up in here quite a lot if you know everyone who works here,” you sigh, grabbing his hand and wiping down the dried blood from his knuckles. “I transferred from another prison. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”
He smirks, narrowing his eyes at you. “Oh, yeah? Must be used to all the flirting then.”
“Wow! How could you tell?” You say sarcastically and toss the dirty wipe into the trash beside you. You wrap his hand up with the bandage and toss your gloves into the trash. “You’re all set.”
“Did I mention my head is killing me?” He winced.
“If you’re trying to get pain killers prescribed to you, it’s a whole different process. So I suggest you stop lying and wasting both of our time.” You place your hands on your hips, staring at him.
“Fine.” He stands to his feet, tall stature shadowing over you. You step back a little the more he steps closer to you. “I’ll cut to the chase. I haven’t properly fucked someone in nearly three years, and I’m dying…dying to get a feel of your sweet, sweet pussy.” He backs you into a corner, neck craning down as he whispers in your ear. “Think you can help me with that, doctor?”
You blink at him, your throat feels dry and your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “That is very, very unprofessional.” No matter what words come out your mouth, your body is feeling the complete opposite. “I’ll call the guards right now—”
“C’mon, pretty please?” The corner of his lips tweak slightly. “I know you want to. I seen it on your pretty face since the moment I walked in.” He raises his bandaged hand and runs his thumb over your plump bottom lip.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sternly say. Oh, but he does. He’s reading you like a book right now and that smug look on his face knows it all.
“Okay,” he chuckles, stepping away from you. “Just know I’ll see you around.” He turns to walk out the infirmary and let the guard know he’s all set, but he suddenly turns back around. His eyes look at the name tag pinned to your shirt. “Such a beautiful name.” He teases. “Bye, doctor.”
you were both highschool sweethearts more like jujutsu high sweethearts but undoubtedly lovers for the longest time.
a couple that people would look at and think ‘they’d last forever.’ you believed it too, i mean why would you break up with the best boyfriend in the world?
he was so lovely, an attractive man, your personalities merged like cotton candy creating something beautiful which was your relationship.
he took care of you, loved you, until it wasn’t enough.
when gojo came to discover the full extent of his powers and became the strongest sorcerer in jujutsu you couldn’t have been happier.
he deserved it, he was the best after all!
but in all the commotion it seemed you were left behind somewhere.. you understood of course. you tried your best to be there, planning dates, events, showing up where it mattered even if he couldn’t.
but then it started to bleed into important moments in your life, anniversaries, birthdays, the positive pregnancy test clutched in your hand.
you stayed up all night waiting for him to show, with all his beautiful blue eyed glory and he didn’t.
you awoke in an awkward position on the bed, gojo collapsed next to you blind fold still on. worried, you scrambled up to him checking his face.
he was okay..
you cupped his cheek, a tear rolling down yours, you had to try, one more attempt at this..just one last time.
gojo opened his eyes feeling your touch on his skin, his velvety skin furrowing on his forehead.
“what’s wrong?” he croaked out, voice still raspy from sleep yet surprisingly tender.
you shook your head breathing out a soft nothing, and wiped your tear that had landed on his cheek its pearlescent path glowing in the soft morning light.
you couldn’t wait to tell him! he’d be so happy! you opened your mouth to speak but—
suddenly, gojo rose up quick to his feet, “shit!” he gathered his things half-hazardly, “i had a mission, fuck! it was scheduled for this morning, sorry baby i have to go” he leant down quick to press a kiss on the side of your head.
he was out the door before you could even speak.
huh..
you swallowed. it was over then.
ཐིཋྀ toji fushiguro
as unexpected as a meet cute it was, you’d first met toji when he appeared at your workplace..as your patient.
having picked up the night-shift as a nurse you’d fallen into the rhythm of work until toji started to flirt with you.
he’d show up unannounced sometimes with no injury at all, you’d inquire after the repetitive nature of his appearances and he’d blame it on his career as a boxer.
he was..a boxer alright, you just found out the real truth when you both got together. he was a jujutsu sorcerer always involved in some shady fights.
you scolded him, got angry, fought with him and finally understood, this was the way of his life that you’d just have to accept and you loved him too much to leave him.
other than the side gigs he was a lovely boyfriend, a brute of a man with a surprisingly soft, caring nature. life with him was easier you loved who you were when you were with him.
it scared you to patch him up, now frequently at home. but the days where he’d stay at home while he healed and cook for you, you’d teasingly call him your house husband and toji would take it in stride, owning up to the title.
his hugs, his kisses, his warmth, his love it was a whirlwind of happiness you’d never felt before with anyone else.
this particular night toji was meant to return back from one of his missions, it’d been a long wait and he was looking forward to seeing you again.
two taps a pause and then another tap.
a little code the two of you had made so you’d only open the door for him.. just in case.
the door however was unlocked, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, toji knew immediately that something was wrong.
walking down the hallway, he noted that it’s silent, too silent.
his footsteps fell heavy as he approached your room, he didn’t want to spook you if you were in there so he made his presence known.
he couldn’t help the fast pattering of his own heart and his mind wandering in every direction, maybe you were just asleep?
he opens the door to you sitting on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands. his hands reach out as if to hold you but you glance up at him before he could.
the look in your eyes is devastating, your pretty brows furrowed and the lips he loved so much scrunched into a frown.
“baby, what’s wrong?” toji breathes, his worried eyes raking over your entire form.
“i can’t do this anymore.”
what were you saying..
“do what anymore?”
“we’re breaking up”
“what the fuck, why?” he cringes at his tone, his desperation apparent through it but it’s what he truly feels.
he is desperate for you, he does not want you to leave, his mind is taking too long to catch up to his current situation.
“they showed up at my work” you curl your fists tight in your lap, boring holes into the ground from your glare.
“what..”
“your people! the shady people who work with you showed up at my fucking hospital and they threatened me!” you speak, your anger and the heat in the room rising with every word.
“who the fuck? who’s they!?” toji runs a sharp hand through his hair.
“i don’t know!!!” you shout, breathing heavy. you start to pace a bit in the room. the adrenaline and sheer anxiety you felt aching for an escape,
“i don’t know who it was ‘ji” he winced from your use of his nickname, said usually in a much lighter an lovable tone.
“hospital security had to be called, it was a whole fiasco, i couldn’t—“ your voice breaks, “i couldn’t do anything, my poor patients were freaked out and my hands they just.. wouldn’t stop shaking”
your pacing pauses with toji as he walks up to you and pulls both your hands close to his chest.
“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry this shouldn’t have happened” he bends down trying to come eye level to you but you drop your head down further trying to prevent the hot tears from escaping
“hey,” toji pulls you in for a soft hug, his scent so comforting, just like home, you wanted to melt into his embrace, “it’s okay” he whispers rubbing your back.
you shake your head.
it was over then, your relationship couldn’t continue, not like this, not until he quit.
but he couldn’t quit that life, you knew that, so you left first.
ཐིཋྀ suguru geto
you’d joined his cult ofcourse! the man was just so persuasive, he had that inherent luring quality in him.
one word from him and you’d do anything, anything he asked of you.
which included being his bunny.
atleast, that’s what he called you, not your name but bunny.
always perched on his lap in cult meetings, making out behind the curtains, laid up nude, a feast for him and him only in the back of his car.
geto bought you expensive gifts, took you on luxury trips, kissed you like you meant the world to him and you believed it too.
so, “why?” you croaked, clutching onto his robe.
why wouldn’t he look at you anymore, not the way he used to, why was he pushing you away?
you couldn’t make sense of it!
“it’s nothing personal” he brushed your hands off his robe straightening the delicately ironed cloth.
“b-but you loved me! for two years, i gave you everything, you wanted devotion, i was— am devoted, i swear on it geto-sama” your lips trembled.
he clicked his tongue, off-put by your desperation.
pathetic.
“i’m just bored, bun” he smiled weakly failing to sound apologetic whatsoever, the vacant look in his gaze made him seem as if he were somewhere faraway from the conversation.
bored?
you shook your head, you refused to believe it “you love me, that’s why you’re pushing me away, you don’t want any inhibitions. i know you, i know exactly how you think” you spoke with unexpected confidence.
geto looked stricken, as if this entire ordeal pained him.
“you need to leave” he bit out, “now” his words were stern, unbeknownst to you he dug half-moons into his palms.
you looked up towards the ceiling, took a deep breath and without another look walked away, out of his life.
you, his only salvation, now gone.
ཐིཋྀ ryomen sukuna
you had been beside sukuna so long that people stopped remembering a time you weren’t.
servants changed, eras passed, entire villages vanished and rebuilt elsewhere. yet you remained beside him like something permanent.
something his.
when you were younger, you thought it to be romantic. the way he called for you first upon returning, the way he pulled you against him absentmindedly while speaking to others.
the way the entire world feared him, yet some nights he rested his head in your lap and let you play with his hair in silence.
it felt special then.
being loved by ryomen sukuna felt like being chosen by something ancient and terrible yet so tender.
maybe that was why you stayed so long.
even as time slowly settled into your body…
your hands ached in winter, silver thread through your hair, exhaustion sunk deep into your bones.
sukuna didn’t understand it at first.
“you sleep too much lately,” he muttered one evening after finding you dozing off waiting for him.
you smiled weakly, “i’m old”
he clicked his tongue, “how human”
you laughed softly because of course he would say that. time had never touched him properly.
but your body remembered every year.
still, he loved you. maybe not gently, maybe not correctly but completely. his devotion to you had no end.
that is what worried you.
sukuna never spoke of love directly. but the truth of your existence was it’s end.
which was why this hurt so much.
because one evening, sitting beside him beneath the engawa while snow fell beyond the gardens, you realized you did not want to be preserved anymore.
you were tired.
not to be mistaken for unhappiness, you were so happy so loved but time eroded all.
you rested your head against his shoulder, his warm hand covering yours.
“sukuna..” you spoke quietly.
he hummed.
“when i die…”
his grip tightened instantly.
“you won’t.”
you smiled sadly.
“everyone does eventually.”
“not if i decide otherwise” your chest ached at how simple he made it sound, as though your life was just another thing he could force into submission.
after a long silence, you whispered:
“i think i want to rest” sukuna pushed to speak but you stopped him with a light squeeze on his arm “and i want you to let me go”
sukuna finally looked at you then, really looked.
at the tiredness beneath your smile, the years written softly across your face, at the falling snow so akin to your beauty.
and his denial of it all.
something unreadable crossed his expression, anger perhaps or grief. with him they often looked the same.
then his fingers tightened around yours hard enough to almost hurt. and somehow that hurt worse than if he had shouted.
because ryomen sukuna did not beg.
he did not cling.
yet here he was holding your hand like loosening his grip would make you disappear.
“please” you whispered, begging him to not make this so hard on you.
he nodded curtly.
this goodbye was inevitable.
firefly; i lowk really love the concept in sukuna’s and want to write a whole separate fic on it TT (we yes WE love angst) ❀ུ͏
