#AND because BRUSHING YOUR TEETH FEELS BAD

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆. a lesson in possession ★ ˚ jealous!Ford x fem!reader

little bonus to this, nsfw under the cut

so, uh, I didn’t plan this piece at all?? but somehow it still came out and well, here it is!! a little gift from me to all of you

The water rushes around you, steaming hot against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heavy press of Ford’s chest against your back. Every inch of him is flush with you, his hands are everywhere at once. It’s the first time you feel Ford being that greedy, rough and possessive. And you love it.

His hands never stop as they cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. He didn't mean to, didn't want to lose himself like that. But he can’t help it, not when his twin had you first, not when he knows he got to feel and stretch you open before Ford could. He can’t stand it.

“You shouldn’t let me touch you like this,” his voice is hoarse, but thank god the water splattering against the tile drowns him out. His lips are at your ear as he breathes heavily. Yet his hands betray him, they slide up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before settling just beneath your breasts again.

“Then stop,” you whisper, but your words hold no weight, you just want to tease him a bit more.

“Don’t tempt me, darling. Holy multiverse, you’re perfect.”

“Ford,” you hiss, arching into his touch even as your hands press against the slick wall for balance. “S-Stan, he’ll wake up—”

“Okay, let him,” Ford says all confident, though his fingers tremble as they brush over your hardened nipples. He rolls one between his fingers, his other hand sliding back down to your thigh, holding you tight against him. “Let him see what he can’t give you, what only i can.”

His desperate hands roam because there's too many places at once. He can’t decide where to touch, where to hold, gripping your waist, cupping your soft breasts, smoothing up the curve of your arms before starting all over again. He drags his lips against the damp line of your wet neck, murmuring apologies that sounds less like regret and more like please “forgive me for wanting you this much”.

His hips shift forward and the hard, aching press of his cock against your ass makes you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder. “Ford,” his fingers find your nipple again, tugging, rolling it between calloused fingertips.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he soothes you, pressing soft, frantic kisses along your neck, his teeth nipping before his tongue smooths over the marks. “I'm sorry, so sorry, but i need you. I need you so bad.”

It’s fucking torture, Stan doesn’t love you the way Ford does. He can’t. Not like this.

Ford’s hand moves lower, dipping his long and thick fingers between your delicate folds, spreading you open as his needy cock nudges against your entrance. He doesn’t push in, not yet, but the teasing pressure alone has your thighs shaking.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Ford.”

“Just let me have you. Just for a little while. I’ll be gentle, i promise.” he mutters in disbelief because Ford knows he’s lying. Inside him rages a volcano of conflicting emotions, and this time, they eclipse reason. Of course, he’ll fuck you and not just once. He’ll have you as much as he needs, behind his brother’s back, while Stan remains oblivious, while he sleeps, or cooks, or swindles tourists.

Ford will make love to you as much as it takes, rough or gentle, fucking you with his cock or his fingers, worshipping you with his mouth or letting you ride his face until you can’t think straight. Right now, Ford couldn’t care less about anything else, he needs to be inside you.

And who knows, maybe he’ll even manage to fuck you right in front of his brother, just to show him how you deserve to be worshipped.

“Please, don’t te-tease me,” you sob when his fingers circle your clit and he catches the sound, cupping your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss his lovely girl. His tongue tangles with yours and when he pulls back, you whine loudly, arching your back into his chest as he rocks his hips forward, grinding the full weight of his cock between your thighs, feeling how soft you are.

Ford holds you by the hips, changing his pose to let his length rub through your folds now, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance, threatening to push inside. You bite your lip, oh sweet heavens, you just want him to take you, your poor pussy clenches around nothing as your chest rises and falls, your head tips back against his shoulder, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. His teeth nips there, sharper this time, and you gasp.

“Do you have any idea what it did to me? Watching him take you, knowing i couldn’t stop it? Knowing it should have been me filling you up first?”

“You’re, ah! you’re jealous.”

“Jealous doesn’t cover it. The thought of him putting his hands on you, of him spilling inside you—”

“He didn’t,” you interrupt softly. “he didn’t, Ford, you know that.”

“It doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, love, because now i’m the one filling you. Now i’m the one who’ll— never mind.” he takes a deep breath, trying to come back to his senses as he changes the intonation of his voice. “Open your mouth for me, love. Just like this, good girl.”

You do, parting your lips as his fingers slip into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. He growls at the beautiful sight, his lovely girl, so needy and pretty, begging to be used and filled, only by him. His eyes darken as he watches you suck on them, your lashes fluttering, saliva pooling at the corner of your lips.

“You’re still so wet,” and now, holy moses, all of this is just for him, only him. Fantastic. Ford presses his forehead against the damp curve of your shoulder. His hips stuttering as he eases inside, his girth stretching you. The angle has you gasping, your hands scrambling for purchase against the wet wall, but he’s there, holding you tight, enveloping your body with his. Your pussy feels so good and Ford is almost sorry for being jealous, for being this selfish, for wanting you so much it hurts. Almost. But he can’t stop, can’t let this go.

“Don’t stop, don’t want you to stop,” you confess, but the words sound unintelligible because of his fingers. Your hand find his and you thread your fingers together as he drives into you with a growing urgency. “i want—”

Ford knows that if he lets you continue, you will say such dirty things he's afraid he wont be able to stop himself from cumming inside. But he can’t risk, not right now. So he cuts you off with a messy kiss as his pace quickens, the sound of water, skin slapping and your muffled moans filling the small space. “Then take it,” he groans into your mouth. “take everything i have, sweetheart, because it’s all yours.”

His fingers press deeper in your mouth and you gag softly, drool slipping down your chin, but the sound only spurs him on. His other hand moves to your swollen clit again, rubbing in slow circles that have you whining, your knees nearly giving out.

“Gonna make you cum. Wanna feel you squeeze me, feel you fall apart on my cock.”

“Please, ple. . . please, please, more, more, fuuck mee,” you beg. Oh you sound so broken, poor girl, so overstimulated and desperate.

“I know, sweetheart, i know,” he coos, his fingers leaving your mouth to trail down your body, gripping your hips as he moves inside you. But he changes the rhythm, thrusting slowly this time, stretching your pussy as you drip down on his cock.

“So tight, my love,” he rests his forehead against the back of your head. Then he pauses for a moment and his hands slide to your stomach, pressing lightly. “right here. I’d fill you right here, honey. Fill you so full you’d carry my kids. . . our kids.”

Surprised, your breath catches and you twist to look at him, wide-eyed. “Ford, what—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts. “don’t worry, i know. Not tonight, not like this.” but the thought of you, round and glowing, carrying his child makes his cock throb inside of you, ready to paint your walls white. His hand splays across your stomach as if imagining what his smart girl would look like, round and full with his child. You’ll look so gorgeous, so damn beautiful and cute, carrying his baby.

Ford shudders at the thought, fucking you slow but deep, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You’re mine right now, just mine. Let me love you.”

His tender pace didn’t last long though. The jealousy simmering beneath the surface bubbled over, and his thrusts turn sharper, meanier and needier. Ford drags his hot cock against your walls in a way that makes your knees buckle and you swear you're ready to pass out, because he's so deep, so deep you feel him in your tummy. He never stops worshipping you, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, anywhere he could reach.

“Mine, my darling, m-my love,” he can't stop touching you too, gripping your hip while the other six-fingered hand palms your breast, caressing the stiff peak with his thumb.

“That’s it,” but of course, of corse he wants to make you feel so good you'll forget your own name and hopefully Stan's too, so his fingers find your clit again, working you with a ferocity that leaves you choking on your own sobs and moans. ”that’s my good girl, so good for me.” oh, that praise does something to you, especially coming from someone so smart and cool like Stanford Pines so you just melt.

“Close, 'm close!” your body shakes against his, and he holds you close, feeling your pussy clench around him, trying to milk him dry and he tries to control himself, gritting his teeth. You cry out as you finish, while Ford kisses your shoulder, showing you he’s here for his lovely girl. Some seconds later, he pulls out and wraps his hand around his aching cock, groaning your name and spilling on your skin.

You both come down, the water still streaming around you. The only sound is your labored breathing. Ford slumps against you.

“I’m sorry, i— i don’t know what came over me.”

You turn your head, tangling your fingers with his again where they rest on your waist. “It’s okay. Just. . . let's not let Stan find out, okay?”

Ford chuckles weakly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close despite the awkward angle. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Not really.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Idea - tom and the reader being all cutesy and domestic after a party or date night and doing their night time routine to together, idk I just think that's so cute

Hello! Thank you for your request! I loved writing this one. Hope you enjoy!

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿  ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Parings → Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → fluff

Summary → Tom and you unwind after a party, enjoying a sweet, playful nighttime routine filled with love, laughter, and relaxation.

(gif not mine)

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you brought a collective sigh of relief from both you and Tom. The party had been wonderful—a mix of laughter, dancing, and catching up with friends—but it had left you both utterly drained. Tom, always the gentleman, carried your heels in one hand while his other arm draped over your shoulders.

"You looked incredible tonight, love," he murmured, dropping a kiss to your temple as you made your way down the hallway toward the bedroom.

"You didn’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Holland," you teased, poking him lightly in the ribs.

He grinned, opening the door to your shared room and flipping on the lights. You sighed in relief, immediately padding over to the bed and flopping down.

Tom placed your heels neatly by the closet, watching you with an amused grin. "Not even gonna make it to your pajamas, are you?"

"Give me a second," you replied, rolling onto your side to look at him. "Those things were torture."

"Understandable," he said, grabbing your feet gently and massaging them for a moment. "I swear these heels are designed by someone who hates women."

You laughed, watching him as he pressed his thumbs into the arches of your feet. "You’re lucky you’re cute, Holland. Otherwise, I’d still be mad at you for making me dance so much."

"Hey, don’t blame me," he replied with a smirk, "you’re the one who dragged me onto the floor in the first place."

"That feels nice."

"Let’s get out of these clothes before you fall asleep."

You nodded in agreement, getting up and fumbling with the zipper of your dress. "Can you help?"

"Of course," he replied, stepping behind you. His fingers gently tugged at the zipper, and he leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your neck as he slid it down.

"Tom," you giggled, swatting at him.

"Can’t help it," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. "You’re too irresistible."

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. He helped you step out of the dress, hangering it neatly and placing it on a chair. Then, he started unbuttoning his own shirt, shrugging it off to reveal his toned chest.

"Eyes up here," he teased, catching you staring.

You stuck your tongue out at him. "Please, you love it."

Once both of you had changed—Tom in his usual gray sweatpants and you in his oversized T-shirt and a pair of comfy sleep shorts—you headed to the bathroom together.

As you reached for your makeup remover, Tom grabbed his face cleanser.

"You know, you’re way too good at this," he teased, watching as you expertly wiped away your makeup. "It’s like a little magic trick."

"That’s because I’ve had years of practice," you said with a laugh. "You, on the other hand, still manage to get soap in your eyes every time."

"Not true!" He protested, though his sheepish grin gave him away.

You both moved to the sink to brush your teeth, standing side by side. Tom’s elbow bumped into yours as you both reached for the faucet at the same time.

"Hey, move over, you’re hogging the sink!" You complained, nudging him with your hip.

"Me? Hogging?" He feigned indignation. "You’re the one with a million products lined up here."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your laugh as he gently bumped you back. Toothbrushes in hand, you started brushing, occasionally making exaggerated faces at each other in the mirror.

"Stop that, or I’ll laugh and spit toothpaste everywhere," you warned, trying to keep a straight face.

Tom chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he rinsed his mouth. "You’re no fun."

Once you were both done, you patted your face dry with a towel, turning to see Tom leaning casually against the counter, watching you.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just thinking how lucky I am," he said softly.

Your cheeks warmed, and you tossed the towel at him. "Sap."

He caught it with a grin and tossed it back.

The two of you finally climbed into bed, the soft sheets welcoming your tired bodies. Tom immediately pulled you into his arms, his chest warm and firm against your back.

"Good night, love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Good night, Tommy," you replied, your voice heavy with contentment.

As you drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that moments like these—simple, domestic, and full of love—were what made life with Tom so special.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[t3ddyd0ll]

Yandere!Cult Leader x reader pt 2

now that you're a member of the cult, what does this mean for you?

it means you have a greater purpose in this society! you were given a job that reflects your best abilities and wants, something you enjoy and look forward to doing!

it means you're able to help others and push them to do good, as others do for you :)

it means you're able to rest and enjoy yourself MUCH more than you were able to before coming here! oh, how did you even survive in the terrible outside world?? you'll never go back!

it means more attention from Viktor. it means he's checking up on you through the day, making sure you eat your meals with him, having a room for you at his house because you're very special to him.

it means you get much more brainwashing therapy than the other townies. it's for your own good! and you feel so much happier after your sessions!

even if you're starting to forget your old life. even if you can't really remember your best friend's name, or your childhood hometown, or your favorite spot you used to go to after school when you were little...

even if things are starting to become fuzzy in your day- to- day. hm. what did you eat for breakfast? what did you do yesterday afternoon? wait, where did you put your glasses ? you just had them?

oh, dear. you forgot how to brush your teeth. you forgot how to count to ten. how could you be so stupid? so forgetful??

things don't feel quite right, but Viktor always makes you feel better. he's the answer to all your problems. you'll just ask him for help, and he'll help. he'll help. he'll help.

he says you're destined to be here, with him. his poor lost lamb, finally found. and he never minds guiding you on the right path, even if you think you don't need it sometimes <3

being in this cult Town means you're happier than ever! and you never have to worry about bad things happening to you ever, ever again :)

[nerves-nebula]

*has been trying to brush my teeth regularly and been semi-succeeding for the first time in my adult life*

ayo why is everything mint flavored. that shit tastes like being poisoned. mint is literally just the presence of an uncomfortable feeling/smell in the mouth. and it fucking hurts too. you freaks do this for fun? why is all the best toothpaste that 11 outta 12 doctors recommend mint by default. im going to kill you.

[hakumizu]

Ugh how do I live in this house ＼(_ _)

Rant in the tags ignore me :3

[lemonbeemon]

Not to be sappy on main, but I will forever be a hater to people who say video games can't be a productive use of your time.

[featherymainffins]

Why does taking care of teeth have to be so fucking hard man. I seem to be doing it wrong no matter how many times they explain it to me and I hate how they treat me like an idiot because of it. I always go to the dentist and they're like "Boooo your dental hygiene fucking sucks, also you're stupid." And then they give me the vaguest instructions ever.

[mars-ipan]

so fucking annoying having a “common” disorder sometimes i’m sick of being fucking dismissed

[beehop]

i dislike the dentist for so many reasons but what is it about them that can just make you feel like a berated small child who has done something wrong but doesn't quite understand why they are getting scolded

[leefi]

itchy tooth all day. constant runny nose & cough continuing on 5 days after I recovered from my cold. ears feeling plugged/high-pressure and popping (then getting replugged again) over the past week. haven’t heard things around me properly in days. I’m about to bite into someone

[blujayonthewing]

fucking around with makeup for nerd reasons at my desk and pointing bright LEDs right at my own face and looking at it kinda close up gave me an exceptionally clear look at my teeth and anyway I wanna die

[dovedrangeas]

i dont care if either of my parents have adhd too because it doesnt matter.

however. if i had to pick which one of them i got it from it would undeniably be my dad because that man has something divergent in his neuros for sure

[platinum-horizons]

4

edit: 4 was NOT supposed to be there i dont know how it happened

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[chron0ph0bia]

you parents constantly telling u the shit that you've been trying to unlearn surely is smth

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[suksatoru]

sukuna and you got into a fight after you had a near death experience. when you're in need of comfort—he's hostile and enraged. you're hurt tenfold and overcome with sadness after his outburst. going to bed after fighting with sukuna is a war all in itself–but one day, you'll be able to see just how hard he works to be a good lover to you. pairing: sukunaxfem!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Sukuna is silent as he changes, save for the quiet grunts and sighs that leave his lips every now and then. The dim lamp lit on his side of the bed creates shards of gold that glisten and shine in his eyes, and he regards you quietly as he slips out of his formal robes and into a simple pair of pants.

He could be so mean sometimes. You were never one to take his insults to heart, they were always empty words he muttered out to mask his true feelings. You know Sukuna is bad at communication, you are all he's had and ever will have. There was no one before you, and there will be no one after you. So, Sukuna has to learn to go through all the hard stages that come packaged with a relationship alongside you.

Your back is turned to him as you lay in bed, your body tense and shoved so far towards the edge of the bed, he's sure you'll fall off if you shift even just the slightest bit. You're so desperate to stay away from him, and a small part of Sukuna's chest squeezes painfully at the sight.

He doesn't know how the argument started—you were always so level headed. He could come to you fuming, enraged from his duties and the stress he has to endure everyday—but your fingers raking through the pink tufts of his hair never failed to calm him.

Except today.

Because today—today he was mad at you.

You didn't mean to upset him, those were the words that tumbled from your lips as you weeped into his lap—begging for forgiveness. Your lashes clumped together with glistening tears, and all you wanted was to be comforted by him. But Sukuna scolded you instead, berating and belittling you with the cruelest of words that only made you cry harder by the end of the entire ordeal. He wasn't mad, he was fucking furious.

He told you to stay away from his estate's river whenever it's raining. But you ventured outside anyways, mindlessly and stupidly and almost died. He warned you how strong the currents were, told you how he'd lost so many idiot servants to the river's ruthlessness.

He thought you had died. It was the single, most terrifying moment of his entire life. Because when he pulled you out of the water, you were shaking like a leaf and your pulse was barely there. And when they took you to the medical wing, the doctors were brought to near tears as they tried to keep you alive. Because if you died, if they couldn't bring you back to consciousness safely—then Sukuna would probably kill everyone in a mile radius just from pure rage.

But you're here. Stubborn and alive, arms crossed over your chest as you curl up into a little ball. He slides under the blanket eventually, turning off the lamp as darkness finally envelops his room. The rain still goes on quietly outside, pitter pattering against his window softly.

He presses his lips onto your shoulder blades, pulling your back against his chest and frowning a little once he feels how stiff you are in his grasp. He doesn't want to speak the words—doesn't even want to acknowledge them, but he knows he has to. Or your tear stricken face was sure to haunt him and keep him awake the entire night

His lips are rough against your skin, and you let out a huff—before elbowing him, the King of Curses, in the gut.

He sucks in a hiss from between his teeth, before biting down on your shoulder in retaliation as you yelp

"You bast–"

You're turning around to tell him off, brows scrunched together and lips pulled back in a wobbly scowl, and he takes the opportunity to shut you up when his lips collide with yours

You would have expected the kiss to be rough—angry and hard and mean. But his lips brush yours gently as you pause, before his warm mouth presses softly onto yours

Sorry. He mumbles the word quietly against your lips as he wraps a single arm around your waist, turning you around and over him before securing you on top of his chest with a deep sigh. His irises are lined with a ring of ruby, and you watch him gaze at you through half lidded eyes.

The moonlight barely illuminates his face, but you can see the sheen in his gaze as he peers up at you

Thought I lost you. He murmurs when you suck in a cry, and he rubs your back whispering I know, I know.

Ryomen Sukuna wasn't gentle, no one would describe him as gentle. But the manner he's rubbing your back in has you sinking into his skin as you soak up all the comfort he offered—the one you so desperately craved.

"It was so scary. I-I was just—" And you hiccup on a sob as he coos quietly, curling his large palm around the back of your head as he presses your face into his chest, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair as his hand rubs up and down the slope of your spine

" 'm here now. Rest, you're safe with me. You know that, don't you?" He questions, and you nod, sniffling as your small hands wrap around his neck, legs locking around his waist as you breathe him in.

No, he wasn't the best at managing his emotions. He was quick to anger, and, simply put, the biggest asshole to walk the earth. But he feels. He loves and he hurts and he knows that there is only one person who can accept him and his broken heart as it is—you.