#jujutsu kaisen series
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what you know - r. sukuna [college au]
❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [ongoing series]
❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞
❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.
❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.
❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog. if you've already requested to be on the taglist, i've got you <3
❦ words ; 100k+? estimated.
main masterlist || ao3 || wattpad
⋆ ch1 || fallen angel ⋆ ch2 || prom queen ⋆ ch3 || grade a(sshole) ⋆ ch4 || served ⋆ ch5 || hero ⋆ ch6 || intoxicated ⋆ ch7 || yuletide ⋆ ch8 || hysteria ⋆ ch9 || coming soon!
writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight.
#dividers by @/adornedwithlight and art by @/3-aem#starmapz works#starmapz what you know#starmapz#masterlist#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna series#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen series#jjk smut#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryomen x reader
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Keep an eye out for my new Gojo series!!! Interact to be tagged <33
(a lil sneakpeak hehe)
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk#anime#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#satoru#jujustu kaisen#jjk series#jujutsu kaisen series#gojo series#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojou x reader#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere
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The Open Window Lets The Rain In
pt. 1 - next part
pairing: satoru x reader (semi suguru x reader)
synopsis: Your time at Jujutsu Tech was something of a sanctuary for you. The position you were born for did not allow you wishes of your own. Resigning yourself to your destiny, you savor the moments you have with your friends. And don't dare to wish for more.
tags/warnings -angst to eventual fluff, multi pov, canon compliant, series, mentions of child abuse, manipulation, malnutrition, violence, injuries, and smoking-
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
"We ought to start back, Satoru." The other boy urged, parroting the concerns of their teacher. But while Satoru pretended not to hear his dark-haired classmate, you truly hadn't. Your focus was all too consumed by the people in the distance. Laughing and enjoying their day together, oblivious to the fact that they carried with them every unspoken wish silently held within your heart comfortably in their grasp.
"Huh?" You murmured, looking back up to your classmates ahead of you, realizing they had been calling your name for some time.
"Get a move on! Unless you want Yaga to lecture us all again!" Satoru shouted back to your nodding face. The boys turn from you and you shake the thoughts from your head.
It was time to turn back.
--
You had been quite young when your cursed energy had presented, and you have been paying for it ever since.
--
It had barely been six months since you began classes at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. You had joined in your second year, having spent your first over in the Kyoto branch. Near the end of your third semester Gakuganji, the school's principal, seemed certain that your potential would be better utilized in Tokyo. With this news, you had left without complaint.
Back then, you hadn't been sure you would fit in with the group of second years, but by the end of April, the small class had accepted you with open arms.
Your education prior to high school had been selective and rigorous, not in the academic sense but rather, in the physical. This, paired with your immense cursed energy made it easy to catch up with your fellow special-grade classmates.
Satoru Gojo was not at all what you had been expecting. He was immature and flamboyant. He seemed not to have a care in the world. Just as you had anticipated, however, his strength was insurmountable.
Suguru Geto was lenient and sarcastic. Like you, his parents were non-sorcerers. Even so, he went home to live with them during breaks, and his family accepted him for what he was.
Shoko Ieiri was the most laid back among the three, she also had the most technical skill. She was easy to like and the two of you had been fast friends. You both often made fun of the boys behind their backs.
"Do we really have to do this tonight, Geto?" Shoko is sat on the dorm room sink, lighter in hand.
"Don't tell me you're getting squeamish Shoko, need to take a breather?" Satoru is making a falsely pouty face as Shoko twirls a sewing needle between her fingers.
You're standing before Geto marking his earlobes with a pen.
"If anyone is squeamish it's you Satoru. But Y/n's got a mission tomorrow, she should be in bed." Shoko jumps off the sink, throws a look at the white-haired man and tilted her face to look between the markings you've made on Suguru's ears. "That looks pretty even."
"Awe boo hoo, a mission with the first years, so tough." Satoru rolls his eyes. "Why does Yaga always send you, anyway?" The man looks at the back of your frame. Your school jacket was strewn across Sugurus desk, you're clad in your dark, high-necked top. You've pulled your hair away from your face.
"He sends me because I'm responsible" You murmur, rubbing alcohol on the back of Suguru's ears, turning finally to smirk, "Unlike you three." You take the needle from Shoko and do your best to sterilize it with the flame, you set the earrings Geto chose on the side table next to him.
"Don't lump me in with those two." Shoko looks at you, offended, but you just laugh.
"Now, it might hurt a bit after I shove the jewelry in, just so you know." You meet Suguru's eyes. He looks calm, a grin present on his lips.
Satoru comes in close on the other side of you two. Loudly proclaiming, "Oh, please, if that tiny thing hurts he might as well not be a sorcerer." The boy's glasses are solid black but you can tell he is rolling his eyes dramatically.
You make a face at him but Suguru draws your attention once more. "Ignore him" he laughs, and you join in because you know that it is the very thing Satoru cannot stand. Said boy huffs beside you both.
"Alright, count of three." You stand to the boys left and you can see Satoru swallow thickly. Such a child.
Shoko is watching intently, stowing her lighter back in her pocket, you're leaning your knee against the bedframe Suguru is sat upon and Satoru is trying his best to even his breathing.
"One," you hold the tip of Sugurus ear, "two," you pick up the small black stud and roll it in your other hand, "three." You put the needle head on the tiny marking you put there, and press.
Suguru does not even flinch. Satoru lets out a pathetic noise and aggressively swings around so as not to look.
You try not to laugh while focusing on getting the jewelry in your classmates ear without too much pain but Shoko is toppling over herself with laughter.
"S-Satoru!!" She guffaws. "You are so-" but she can't finish, the giggles escaping steal her words.
Satoru is shuttering, having dashed in the bathroom now, he kneels by the sink, continually making disgusted sounds, running his hands over his arms to ease the chills.
"That wasn't so bad." You say, ignoring Satoru's noises. Shoko brings out a small mirror to show Suguru and he makes a pleased sound.
"Not at all..." He murmurs, turning his neck to get a better look.
"Leave it at the one." Satoru is back now, quickly crossing his arms. "I'm not watching that again."
"I bought a pair, Satoru, I'm doing them both." Suguru gives the boy a deadpan look and you prep the next earring while Satoru makes an annoyed "Ughhh" sound.
The self-proclaimed strongest sorcerer bites his knuckles while looking at the two of you. And when it's done, you worry he might faint. After a closer look though, he might just be in search of attention.
"All done. You should probably keep them clean." You turn to wash your hands.
"Mhmm, probably." Shoko echos, giggling still.
"Thanks." Geto stood up to look in a bigger mirror.
"Ughhhh Yaga is gonna kill you." Shoko looks up at Suguru and smiles, a sort of "tattle-tale" "I told you so" air to her voice.
"That's fine, it was worth it." Suguru waves her off, you give his ears one last look before making to leave with Shoko to your hall.
"Ohhhh yeah, I forgot! Y/n's got a big day tomorrow. So tiering, monitoring those first years." Satoru teases to the other boy. You chuckle and Shoko turns.
"As if you would know." She sticks her tongue out before making to leave with you, kicking the door shut.
"He's so stupid." She rolls her eyes, flipping her phone open.
You just hum, turning the halls in the silence.
--
The weather had long since grown warm in the ending weeks of spring, consistent as you were, however, you pulled your near-black turtleneck past your abdomen while dressing that morning. In the past, Shoko has jovially claimed you always wear the same thing, even outside of school.
Your uniform, customized to your comfort, consists of straight-cut, dark blue pants, your uniform jacket, and a form-fitted turtleneck. It did when you were at the Kyoto branch, and you have no intention of changing it now.
You shut the door of your closet, the rack of muted high-collar shirts hung there. Each tag was removed. Though easy now to ignore, you cannot avoid the region of sensitive flesh permanently branded just below your neck.
The early morning air is crisp, and in the time you have before shadowing Nanami and Haibara's mission, you allow yourself to enjoy the dull peace it brings to your morning.
Satoru thinks the first years are weak. Or maybe he just says that, you can never quite tell if he means all that he says. Regardless, they are skilled enough to handle a mission on their own. Even so, Yaga insists on someone monitoring them, after this years exchange event, if all goes well, perhaps they will be allowed to handle missions themselves.
You were hoping that your thoughts weren't too wishful when you are pulled from them, Haibara, adrenaline-filled and curious, calling your name.
"I've never really seen you use your technique, I mean, I guess that's the point, but I think I probably know more about Gojo's cursed energy than yours! And I barely ever see him!" Nanami is trailing slightly behind his classmate, listening to him ramble.
"Well" you hum, "That's good, don't you think? Just means you never need me to intervene on a mission." You look over and smile.
"Awe c'mon! What is it that you do? I'm so interested! I hope I can be a special grade one day too! Though, I doubt I ever will at this rate..." He mumbles around his words, seemingly too focused on his thoughts to actually be worried about his placement as a sorcerer.
"You already know about my technique, Haibara. I create weapons with my cursed energy. That's about it... I'm pretty lucky though, since they're not physical items, most curses can't really see them which means they can't tell what it is I'm using."
You lift your arm in front of yourself, palm up, in an instant your short sword appears there, held at equilibrium, a few inches up the blade. As soon as it appeared, the weapon melts away in your grasp and you look up at the boy, knowing he couldn't have seen what you'd just done.
"Except Gojo, right?" Nanami is beside you now, trying to meet your eyes. You turn to him.
"Yes..." sighing, you look up at him, "Yes, that's right- Gojo, he's the exception to a lot of things."
Nanami shakes his head, seemingly annoyed by this and Haibara bounds ahead of you both.
You can't be sure, but after today you have every confidence that this years exchange event will end well. And by next spring, you won't need to monitor the first years. With all that time on your hands, you can't imagine what you'll get up to.
--
Utahime was a fourth year when you were finally given liberty to come to Jujutsu Tech, despite her seniority, she has always felt like something of a little sister to you. You'd never tell her that though.
This is her first year as a full time sorcerer and her presence marks the onset of the exchange event. Her voice carries across the grounds as you make your way to stand by your classmates at the school entrance. A smile comes to your face as you watch her throwing visceral insults at Gojo as this is the only way she can attack him.
It's not her fault. He is cruel to her.
When she spots you, her gasp only makes your smile grow. She shrieks out your name, "AH! How I missed you! I feel SO bad you have to be here with THEM." She throws an anguished look at your classmates and Shoko only grins, knowing Utahime would never associate her with the two boys.
"Now that's just mean, Utahime, you-" Gojo is cut off as Iori spins around, pointing a finger at the younger boy and shouting that he ought to be more like you.
"She's so polite!" Utahime gives you a big hug. Her arms wrap snuggly around your neck and you flinch at the contact, playing it off as a movement to pat her shoulder.
"Why would I want to be more like anyone?" Gojo swings himself off of the stoop that leads to the schools entrance, landing with his arms lifted, "I'm already perfect!" He pushes his glasses back into his hair, his gaze seems to tease Utahime, she looks as though she wants to stomp her foot, but contains the urge.
"You are insufferable." She spins to look at you once more, "I'm rooting for you," She turns one more time to glance at Gojo, "and only you," she clarifies, "in the event. I know you'll do well. Be kind to the Kyoto first years." She gives you a pleading look.
"I'll be gentle with them." You smile at her and she grips your hand once more before dashing off, likely to help coach the students from her alma mater.
In the time you've been in Tokyo, one could understand your forgetting that Gojo Satoru has eyes behind those pitch glasses he wears. Rarely removing them, you hardly see the famed six-eyes, but when he looks down at you just then, his look pierces you in a startling way.
"Don't go easy on anyone, that's so lameeee." He extends the words and droops his head too look at you, "Ugh what's even the point of this whole thing when everyone is so weak."
"Gojo, they'll never get stronger if you beat them down too much." You speak from experience, having witnessed this "invisible lid" phenomena before, but he couldn't possibly know that.
"They'll never get strong at all, lets be honest." He laughs to himself and somewhere behind you both you hear Suguru pestering him about being entitled.
But deep down, you know he's right. Any sorcerer can improve but there are few set apart. Born with intention, with purpose, and you have long since given up trying to evade the purpose of your existence.
As a child, days came and went the same as they do now, the one consistent aspect that remained true in those days was the dull ache, that- evidently eternal- buzzing on either side of your spine.
It was difficult to enjoy the exchange event when your mind was elsewhere. You simply could not tare your subconscious away from the dread that swam within you at the advent of summer break. It was clear at the grins of your classmates that you were the only one with wishes of staying at school for the summer holiday.
None of your classmates were familiar with the Residential Boarding for Children with Unattended Cursed Energy. They either came from sorcerer clans, or they had parents that couldn’t mind or know of their abilities. Gakuganji, the principal of the Kyoto school seemed well informed about the "goings-on" at the estate you were raised however.
You had been taken by the boarding school with little memory of your life prior. Cursed Energy rarely presented itself in children younger than five years old, however, your technique developed early, and was unexplainable to parents without knowledge of the Jujutsu world.
Allowed to be trained from a young age by competent sorcerers, it was easy to see how the boarding school might have been portrayed as a charity, or even a blessing to orphaned young. Gakuganji certainly made it out to be. Even so, what went untold were the secrets just below the surface of the dojos and dorm rooms seen by the public.
Nearly all forms of gambling or organized fights (outside of mixed martial arts competitions) were highly illegal in Japan. Having said that, you learned quickly that those drawn to violence and risk were often willing to go to the most extreme lengths to take part in the underground world hidden from the eyes of law abiding citizens.
And you, as well as many other children with unbridled cursed energy were forced to take place in the bloodthirsty entertainment so enjoyed by those that put little value in human life.
--
In your future years, you might be surprised to know, the scars etched into your back would hold little to no significance in your daily life, at this moment, however, as a child with no claim on your autonomy, the bar that was so neatly tailored to your neck dug its wired talons into your scapula, void of electricity, yet still unforgettably present.
Before you was a feast to your young eyes, fresh bread, marinated beef on rice, pork dumplings, roasted vegetables, and baked potatoes. This was the best meal you had received in your time as a ring fighter. It was fair to say that the motivation of a good meal was encouraging enough for you to take aim at whomever stood askance in the opposing corner of the ring.
Heads across the room shot to the door as soon as the entrance to the hall was slammed.
"Shame you couldn't get your act together." Came a deep voice in the hall, firm boots echoed up the stony floors.
As the adults approached the guarded off room you sat in, the noise of a struggle worked its way closer as well. A frustrated grunt came from one of the men who looked to be tugging a young boy by the arm into the space.
"Alright. That does it." A dull buzz was heard and most everyone in the room visibly turning away from the scene. Eyebrows pulled down, gazes averted, knowing exactly what the boy in the mans grasp was feeling.
"I swear they do it to themselves." The man who once held the boy removed his finger from the device on his hip. The boy collapsed in a heap on the floor. Barely-there breaths escaping him.
"If ya had behaved you could've eaten with the rest of the kids. See where making a fuss gets you?" The toe of the mans shoe was gently placed under the boys jaw, one might think the man about to kick the child but the next moment, his figure had turned and he was walking off. The opened door left behind as a mockery to the onlooking boys and girls.
You knew what the man had been saying, the boy could be eating right now with the rest of the kids, but each student was only allowed one meal per time block, and none of the children sat on the tables were willing to give up the little bit of stew allotted to them that night.
The boy on the floor looked far too weak still to get up and scan his bar for dinner. You had already felt slightly sickened by the abundance before you, but now, with the child laying a few feet from your spot by the wall, you had decided.
--
That was how you had met Kaito.
He had been far older than you when he was accepted by the program. In the later years, the mentors would come to learn he had little cursed energy. Not very strong. Not much good for entertainment.
Those who could not fight. Did not eat. Or at least, did not eat well.
You looked out for Kaito back then, sharing your meals with the boy. And he had looked out for you in other ways. Being one of the most known students among the crowd awarded you many good meals, and more experience training your technique, but did not grant you much time of study. Kaito excelled where you fell short, and frequently insisted on tutoring you, eventually, you both would find joy in the stories he would read to you while you massaged your limbs after fights.
Kaito was the only one you looked forward to seeing as you exited the station and made the trek back to your off-season boarding. He was eighteen now, and had not been used for entertainment training purposes since he was taken on by the grounds crew.
When you had first left for Kyoto, he had an established job as a groundskeeper. Now, his tenure at the estate might very well be coming to an end and you were unsure how you planned to move forward without him there.
It was already challenging enough, leaving Shoko, Geto, and Gojo with a smile, but at least you knew you would see them again. Was it selfish to wish Kaito could remember you, even as he inevitably goes on to pursue a normal life?
And then even worse, would it be wrong of you, to feel the weight of envy on your shoulders?
These questions swirl in your mind as you stand before the estate, it was clear that in the time you had been away, funding for the school had grown to new heights. Crossing the threshold, a hand on your duffel, you make your way to the communal dorms, picking an open bed, and sprawling across its length.
Unfortunately, this place smelled of home. Five weeks seemed too cruel a sentence for the turning of the season.
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#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#gojo comfort#satoru angst#gojo angst#suguru x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen comfort#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#satoru fluff#satoru imagine#gojo series#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satoru x oc#gojo x oc#satoru x reader fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x reader angst#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk series#jujutsu kaisen series
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“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „
SYNOPSIS: YOU, MEGUMI'S TEACHER AND ASSIGNED CARETAKER, THINK THE BOY'S BEING HELD HOSTAGE, BY GOJO? THE DUDE THAT LIKES YOU?
TAGS: 1st MEETING, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, BANTER BETWEEN MEGUMI AND GOJO, MISUNDERSTANDING (?), READER CALLS THE COPS ON GOJO.
series masterlist : go to next chapter
IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT — 𝐈
Megumi Fushiguro was put in a good kindergarten.
There were about fifteen kids in his class—and double the amount of teachers, each meant to help and nurse a student. And Megumi, after numerous tries to see which teacher fit him best, was comparatively more comfortable with you.
"Megumi! C'mere," Gojo squatted—a wide grin stretched on his face, holding his arms wide open. The black haired boy only furrowed his brows, whipping his head away as if embarrassed at Gojo's oh so public display of affection towards him.
Gojo feigned a frown, tutting playfully as he watched Megumi walk out of the kindergarten door, tiny fingers wrapped around..
His eyes travelled up. And he paused.
Wow. He stared at your face with awe.
The way hair fell on your face after dealing with children all day—yes, it was a disarray—but it framed your face wonderfully. And your face, well, he couldn't think straight at the moment. Only one work could describe it: Gorgeous. That's what you were.
You let go of Megumi's hand when the two of you reach Gojo. He slowly stood up, dusting off his knees. A smile was thrown to him and he caught it—as if it were nutrition and he, starving.
"Hello." He nodded at you. You greeted him back, smiling. "Hi."
You turned your head towards the black haired boy, and waved at him. "Bye, Megumi. Be good to your dad."
"Ha?" Gojo blinked several times before hurriedly blurting. "No—nonono, I'm not this kid's dad. I mean—do we even look alike?" He gestured wildly forth between himself and the boy.
You paused, surprised. Your eyes travelled back and forth between the two. "Err, well.. if you want my honest opinion.."
A loud, dramatic sigh made it's way out of Gojo's mouth, obviously trying to stop you from saying anything. "No thanks."
Shrugging your shoulders, you said once more. "Bye, then."
"...." Megumi was quiet for a while, but Gojo nudged the boy—gesturing towards you. "Come on," he told him. "Say it back."
Although he didn't speak—with an exasperated sigh, he returned the gesture, waving his little hand. Albeit for a short time.
"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" You said. And Megumi nodded.
On the way back home, Gojo was unusually quiet—quiet enough to earn a few questionable glances from Megumi. Well, he didn't mind it. Megumi supposed. Gojo was most likeable when silent.
"Hey, kid," Gojo said all of a sudden, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Megumi raised a questionable brow at the man. I can't catch a break. Megumi thought. Gojo had a blank expression on his face—as if dazed. "What's her name?"
"...who?" Oh, Megumi didn't like the way this was going.
No, not one bit.
He seemed somewhat flustered—it was disgusting. The black haired boy grimaced, making a retching sound, which earned a knuckle on the boy's head. Megumi yelped. "Ow! That hurt!"
"Good! Learn to respect your elders, ya brat!" Gojo scolded, although there was lightheartedness to it. Then paused. "You know..." He murmured. "...Your teacher. She's really pretty."
"Ugh!" Megumi scrunched his nose. "Stop it! You're gross!"
"Wha—?" Gojo scoffed, offended. "There's nothing gross about this. This is how all relationships start, alright? First, you ask for the name—" But Megumi wasn't listening, he ran ahead of Gojo.
"Leave her alone!" The boy shouted.
"Whaddya say?!" Gojo called out. "You're not her spokesperson!"
"Then go ask her yourself, you freak!"
Gojo scowled at the audacious boy. "Yeah? Well, maybe I will!" Then, under his breath—he cursed, "Dumb kid..."
“ 10 REASONS I'LL KEEP GOING BACK „
Megumi seemed to be more alert today—he would continue to tap his foot against the colourful carpet below, making a soft sound with his loafers every time he did. Your curiosity piqued eventually, and you crouched in front of him. You couldn't help but smile, wondering what could possibly be ailing such a boy?
"Megumi?" You rested a comforting hand on his arm. And he flinched, turning away from you grouchily. "What's wrong?"
"...nuffin'." The boy murmured, pouting.
You blinked, trying to suppress your smile. "It doesn't look like it."
He suddenly turned to look at you. "..Don't see me off today."
You tilted your head to the side. "Why? I love seeing you off."
"i don't want you to."
Silence. Screws turning in your head. Then, you answered him lightheartedly. "I see how it is. You don't like me anymore."
"What?" He blurted out, shaking his head. "It's not that."
"What is it, then?" You questioned. "You can tell me, y'know."
Megumi bit his lower lip, chewing down on it. Eventually, he muttered—voice down to a whisper. "It's not safe for you."
One beat. Two beats. You wanted to brush it off as a joke, but you knew Megumi was not one to do those. And on top of that, his expression spoke one of gravity. "Not safe..? For me?"
He fiddled with his fingers awkwardly. His eyes shifted here and there—but everywhere except you. Why was he avoiding your gaze? "The guy that picks me up.. He's, um. Dangerous."
A pause. Your face fell. "Does he hurt you?"
The black haired boy instantaneously turned to look at you. "Huh? No— I'm fine, I—"
"Megumi?" A voice called out. "Where are you, kid?"
You slowly turned to look at him, hurrying the boy behind you. From what the caretakers before you said, Gojo often picked him up very late. To top it off, Gojo himself had stated he wasn't the boy's dad. That only fueled your imagination wild.
Was Megumi being held hostage?
"There you are." Gojo called out, approaching the two of you. Just like yesterday, he had a smile on his face that you could've described as charming and boyish. But now, it only creeped you out. "Seriously, I didn't see the two of you outside so I thought there was something up with the boy. Or maybe I was too late."
Your grip on Megumi only tightened, holding a protective stance in front of him. You glared at him, although there was fear and anxiousness imprinted on your face. If Megumi really was being held hostage by this man, he could do a lot of other things. "Stay back!"
Gojo paused, freezing in place. "Excuse me?"
Megumi winced, eyes switching from you to him every few seconds. Gojo stared at you for a while in silence, stunned, before explaining. "I'm here to pick up Megumi, miss."
You shook your head. "No." You stated. Your legs felt weak. Being Megumi's caretaker meant you had to stay back longer—and that meant there was barely any staff inside. Could you call out to the guards outside? Would they hear you? Would they get here in time before something... A chill ran down your spine.
"I'm calling the police! You stay there."
"What?" Gojo watched as you nervously scrambled for the phone in one of your pockets. He eyed you judgmentally, frowning. "Are you not alright in the head or something?"
But you weren't listening. Your hands trembled as you dialed the number on your phone. "Listen, miss—" Gojo stepped forwards but you shuffled backwards. What was happening? "....the fuck?"
Frustrated, Gojo gestures towards Megumi. "C'mere, boy."
But you stood your ground, shaking your head frantically. "He will not leave with you. I have reason to believe you're holding Megumi hostage—and I will not let you leave with him."
Gojo snorted. "Me?" He gestured to himself. Then Megumi. "Hold him hostage? Are you sure it's not the other way around? I don't even want to babysit this god damn brat—"
"See!" You shouted. "No one would talk about a kid like that!"
Gojo was about to answer, but then—click.
A voice called out from the phone in your shaky hands.
"110. What's your emergency?"
“ 10 REASONS I'LL KEEP GOING BACK „
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You couldn't look anywhere else except the floor. You were terribly embarrassed. And to add the cherry on top, you were feeling incredibly guilty. You weren't sure if you could come to work again tomorrow—with everything that just went down.
You didn't want to walk back in the room either. So you stood outside the door, leaning against a wall and questioning your life choices that led you all the way to here—your current situation.
The officers inquired Gojo some more before eventually leaving. As Gojo watched them make their way out of the door, his shoulders slumped—and once he made sure they had left the vicinity, Megumi—who was by his side—had his left ear twisted.
"Ow!" Megumi winced, but did not say more to refute. He knew he was in the wrong. He merely looked down at his shoes.
"You shouldn't have lied." Gojo stated, hands stuffed into his trousers. He didn't wear anything too fancy—just a simple white shirt and gray trousers. "Why the hell did you do that? I could've ended up in jail, ya know. Not that I would."
"I didn't want you to take her away either." Megumi mumbled under his breath. His little hands felt clammy.
"What?" Gojo's tone of voice was especially harsh right now. "What are you talking about?"
"You did the same thing to that— that man." He hesitated. Gojo stood there silently. Was Megumi talking about Toji Fushiguro?
Watching the uncomfortable expression on Megumi's face, he confirmed it. Yeah, thought so. Gojo ran an exasperated hand through his hair—letting out a deep sigh. "That won't happen."
Megumi looked at Gojo through his lashes. "I don't believe you."
Another sigh. A long, dragged, border-lining on irritated sigh.
Gojo crouched in front of the boy, holding out his pinky finger.
Megumi looked at the white haired teen oddly. "What?"
"I won't hurt her." Gojo said.
The dark haired boy stared at Gojo for a long while—as if he was some sort of extraterrestrial creature. "You're stupid as shit."
The teen flicked the boy's forehead. "Don't say that, brat."
Megumi rolled his eyes, but eventually reached out his pinky finger as well. The two of them interlaced it. "Pinky promise?"
Gojo nodded. "Pinky promise."
“ 10 REASONS I'LL KEEP GOING BACK „
Gojo didn't know how to approach you, and instead resorted to leaning against the same wall as you did in silence. Eventually, after a while, he cleared his throat—grabbing your attention.
"Ahem," He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry you got entangled in this mess. I think Megumi learned his lesson."
You shrugged your shoulders. "I guess."
Were you upset? Gojo pondered to himself. Well, if he were in your shoes and some kid lied about being held hostage—plus had to almost argue with a handsome dude like him and have the police involved... Yeah, he would be upset too.
"Hey, listen." He turned to look at you fully, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry for what the boy did, alright? I'll teach him a lesson,"
Silence pooled the hallway. Eventually, you exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "No.. you don't need to. Megumi's a good kid. I'm sure he understands the gravity of his actions, their consequences. He's probably reflecting on them." Your eyes fell onto Megumi, who definitely was doing just that.
Now it was Gojo's time to shrug. "If you say so." You really were a good fit for Megumi, Gojo decided. No wonder that boy went out of his way to lie like that. That kid really did like you.
"......Can I make up for the inconvenience somehow?"
You raised your eyebrows at Gojo. "Are you trying to..?"
Gojo shook his head wildly. "Nono, I'm not. I'm not trying to hit you up or anything like that. I'm not, I swear." He was fumbling with his words. "I just— I feel bad. I want to make up for it."
Silence filled the atmosphere again. Then, you looked down at your watch. "You have time for brunch?"
Gojo's eyes lit up. Gojo, who was only nervous and guilty a few seconds ago, instantaneously started grinning ear-to-ear.
"Yeah." He murmured happily. "I do."
"I know a good place," you told him quietly, as if you were letting him on a big secret. "I'm sure Megumi's hungry too."
"Okay, okay." He nodded enthusiastically, following you. "What's your name, though? I don't think I've catched it before."
"(Name) (Last Name)."
Gojo tasted the word on his tongue. He nodded once more, satisfied—recalling it's meaning. "Nice to meet you, (Name)."
"Nice to meet you, too." A smile creeped its way up on your lips.
@ELICYPHER — do not plagiarize, repost or retranslate.
#ten reasons i'll keep going back — elicypher#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk series#jujutsu kaisen series#gojo satoru series#jjk smut#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader smut#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo satory angst#satoru gojo angst
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𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 — part of the bewitched universe
"if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more"
as an arranged marriage to a woman he doesn’t want looms over him, gojo satoru resolves to seize control of his destiny by marrying the very first woman he sees—a disgraced aristocrat from an enemy family who happens to be mute. as political ties unravel, will this ruse succeed or ultimately cost him his life?
warnings: forced marriage, fake marriage, historical au, daimyo!gojo, disgraced princess!reader, mute!reader, trauma, a/buse, heavy tones of cheating, reader is coded to be feminine, HEAVY ANGST, political drama, mentions of war, canon typical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of alcohol, mentions of r/ape, non-con -> dub-con, repressed feelings, mentions of babies, mentions of war, explicit smut, breeding, enemies to lovers, slow burn, more tba....
i. PROLOGUE
ii. THE DISGRACED DAUGHTER
iii. HEIRLOOM
iv. THE BRIGHTEST BLUE
more tba ....
the daimyo and his disgraced one (playlist) | old entangled masterlist
©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.
#🦢 writes#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#daimyo!gojo satoru#gojo satoru angst#gojo angst#gojo smut#satoru gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen series#jjk series#series: entangled#rbs to boost are appreciated !! <3#mdni banner by anitalenia#gojo image by ryxgagfx on deviantart
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⛧°。 ⋆༺ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 ༻⋆。 °⛧
𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 (𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠)
𝐷𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 (𝐴𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑜��𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟)
༺ synopsis: during a seemingly idyllic weekend getaway with your fiancé, you find yourself irresistibly drawn to a mysterious lake of blood. As you plunge into its depths, you're rescued by a stranger whose presence is slightly unsettling but it marks the beginning of your new life.
༺ character: Choso
༺ reader: female | AFAB
༺ wc: 4757
༺ cw: implied hunting and blood drinking, description of drowning (but no one actually drowns)
༺ notes: I'm a little nervous posting this first chapter if we're being quite honest but here we go! I sincerely hope you guys enjoy this ride as much as I do - please let me know what you're thinking as well as theorize 🫶
MASTERLIST // -> Next chapter // Taglist
You've never experienced the feeling of coming home before setting foot onto the cobblestone ground of your weekend hideout, away from civilization - a beautiful small castle in the outskirts of a quiet village. Shaking the feeling off, you enter the bedroom with a small smile, the feeling now wrapping around you like a blanket and unable to ignore any longer.
"Is something wrong?" Your fiancé asked curiously, having seen the little shiver of your body upon crossing the threshold.
"A déjà vu, I think," you answered nonchalantly - perhaps a long forgotten childhood memory, you thought to yourself right after, but you've never been this far from home.
“A Déjà-vu?” Your lover questioned with one of his thin brows raised before his hand reached out to take your bag from you. It wasn't like your bag was heavy, but he couldn't bear to let the love of his life, his soon to be wife, carry anything more than the grace she emitted in every step.
“You know, I took it from you on the way up here for a reason, I don't need a man to do these things for me.” Your voice sounded playful, but your words were sharp, a small reminder of how he will share the rest of his life with a woman who is in no need of a man to provide for her, seeing a partner as not much more than a fun addition to her life. Yet this is what he wanted, to serve you, to make you happy and help you fulfill the dreams ahead of you in no regards to his own. You were simply the center of his universe, his own sun that he was circulating around.
“I know, love, but am I not allowed to spoil you rotten?” He asked and a coy smile formed on his lips, lashes batting as if he’s trying to convince you, that yes, this is indeed necessary. A small chuckle bubbled past your lips and you shook your head in defeat.
“I won't complain about getting spoiled a little,” you admitted and the smile lingered on your lips when you looked around the beautiful room like a curious cat.
“Is that a tree?!” You heard your fiancé exclaim excited, yet confused from the bathroom before you followed him into the tiny space to see what exactly he meant.
“Yeah, I think it is,” you mumbled as you looked at the huge branch of a tree that grew into the sturdy walls and out again on the other side of the corner. It looked like some of the stones had been removed to make this all possible and it made you smile some more before you went back to the bedroom of your little weekend suite. Plopping down on the bed, your face scrunched up upon hearing the unpleasant squeak of the mattress and were reminded of the luxury of your own bed back at home.
A little flyer on the bedside table caught your attention when you moved your head to the side on the scratchy pillow. With a curious expression, you picked up the piece of paper and flipped it around to get a quick look at it before starting to read about what this little castle has to offer. It was a typical tourist information, letting you know about the sights nearby as well as on the castle grounds.
“A botanical garden,” your fiancé's voice startled you out of your trance-like state.
“Hm?” You raised one eyebrow and turned the piece of paper in your hand to see what he was looking at - pictures of a tiny greenhouse next to a small lake caught your attention.
“Botanical garden?” You snorted amused, the greenhouse was barely big enough to fit more than four people, perhaps, but the lake was what's interesting - the water seemed to be blood red.
Rising up into a sitting position, you handed the paper to your fiancé, your eyes urgent as they found his.
“We need to go there!” You say almost serious, but the excitement was evident, which made him chuckle.
“Calm down. It's most likely just some bacteria that caused it to look red,” he tried to reason, not seeing why you're suddenly so invested in nature's goods.
“And? I could swim in blood!” You retort amused as you got up from the bed, the old mattress squeaking once again.
“You shouldn't. If it's a bacteria causing this, you might get sick or god knows - even worse,” he immediately said in a serious tone, the urgency ringing in every word of his, but you could only roll your eyes.
“Calm down. I'm not gonna swim in some random lake anyways,” your words came out defeated and you sat back down onto the bed, almost pouting like a little child.
“We can still look at it and the great botanical garden,” he offered with a silly smirk, his fingers forming quotation marks when he talked about the botanical garden. You only rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance at his words, but nodded before pulling him down to join you on the squeaking bed, a laugh erupting from you when he only winced at the noise.
“Is this bed trying to tell us to lose weight or what's the deal?” He asked amused, the old springs almost poking his spine.
“Not entirely sure, but I'll be using you as my makeshift bed while we're here,” you mused and jabbed his chest with a single finger of yours.
“Poke me any harder and one of these springs might impale me,” your fiancé joked as he caught your finger right before another poke hit his defined chest.
The both of you stayed like this for a moment longer, eyes slowly tracing along the length of the thin veil of tulle that covered the bed like a canopy. It made you wonder if the ceiling might crumble down dust and small rocks whenever someone on the ground above was walking over it, but you quickly moved over to marvel at the details in the ceiling, cracks and ridges made you sink deeper into the daydream of what life here must have been like many decades ago.
“We should head out to the lake soon if you want to spend some time there before dinner,” your fiancé suggested as he slowly rose into a sitting position, elbows holding up his weight. It was his voice that pulled you out of a daydream, your brain buffering for a moment to fully comprehend his words before giving him the smallest of nods.
As you rose up from the old mattress, you could hear your back crunch in protest but paid no further attention to it when you held your hand out to your fiancé to help him stand up - not that he needed it, but it was just a kind gesture.
As he reached for your hand, he suddenly pulled you back down and on top of him, both of you erupting in a fit of laughter that seemed to bounce off the cold castle walls, making it even harder for you two to stop. It took a kiss to finally cease the seemingly endless fit of giggles, but as the kiss deepened, you forced yourself to pull away and shake your head.
Fuck, he looks so beautiful like this, you thought to yourself. His black hair against the white sheets like a black halo and his cheeks the softest shade of pink as his chest rose at a fastened pace. It was moments like these that took your breath away - just everyday, small domestic moments with him that had you topple over and fall in love all over again. It felt like a trance when you simply stared down at him, and he looked up at you with these dark puppy eyes as if you were the only star in his entire universe… but his lips were moving.
“What?” you asked confused, your vision slowly focusing back to reality and shifting out of your thoughts. You sounded so lost and almost dorky with the way your little what was half slurred, half squeaked. Your lover shook his head with a smile, a small chuckle breaking through.
“I asked if you trust me, my little daydreamer,” he mused and gently moved to hold both your hands as you still sat on top of him, playing around with them.
“Of course I do, why do you even have to ask?” You were almost hurt by that question, but he discarded it and pushed you off of him in a gentle, yet playful manner that had you bouncing and the bed squeaking. He didn't deem it necessary to explain anything as he rose to stand on top of the squeaky mattress, pulling you up with him.
“What are you doing?” You asked, having a hard time holding back a laugh when he started bouncing on the bed like a little child, holding onto your hands in hopes it would animate you to join him in his shenanigans - and it did.
Both of you were giggling and bouncing on the bed to make it squeak when he suddenly started moaning obnoxiously loud and far too pretentious, but you couldn't help but join in. It felt good to just fool around like this, swearing to yourself that yes, you're an adult in this moment, but once you two were out of breath, he helped you get off the bed and made sure you were steady and standing properly before letting go of your hands.
“What was that for?” you asked amused as you still tried your best to catch your breath.
“People should know that we're here on our pre-honeymoon, don't you think?” He asked with a boyish grin and gently combed his fingers through his shoulder length hair in an effort to detangle it from your previous activities. An overly exaggerated gasp left you and you gently hit his chest.
“Hand holding and eye contact before our marriage? Scandalous!” You exclaimed in amusement and shook your head in disbelief as both of you moved to get dressed to go outside into the crisp fall air. Just as you left, one of the maids walked past you, unable to look any of you in the eyes as she blushed and giggled. You didn't want to know what exactly she was thinking, given your pretentious little show just mere minutes ago. It left you feeling a little guilty and you too could feel the heat creeping up your neck as your lover only smiled proudly at the poor elderly lady.
“I don't even want to know what she was thinking,” you mumble on your way out of the small castle as you hold onto the biceps of your lover, hiding your face in his arm for a second or two in a shy manner.
“Probably that we're two young lovers who enjoy love and showing it to each other on a rather�� physical level,” he explained with a grin, trying to sound nonchalant.
“You can just say - she was thinking that we just fucked - you know?” You retorted with a small jab to his ribs to make him laugh, which he did.
“But I would never simply fuck you. You deserve to be worshipped and made love to. Fucking is for wild animals,” he reflected and leaned into you so he could kiss your temple as you two slowly walked on the cobblestoned path away from the castle and towards the small, private forest area. You shouldn't think too much about his words, but it made you feel a certain way, the heat rising up inside of you as you thought back to all the times you were intimate with each other. He indeed never simply fucked you, he always made sure to put you before him and to make you feel valued, loved and well taken care of.
The path to the little greenhouse, or what they lovingly called it, the “botanical garden” was rather short and uneventful, cobblestones slowly turning into gravel until it was nothing but a mix of a few stray stones and packed mud.
“M'lady,” he exclaimed jokingly as he held open the glass door of the greenhouse so you may enter first. You smiled at him and gave him your best curtsy before ducking under his arm to enter the cramped space.
“Such a gentleman,” you teased him when he entered right after you, the air so moist it hit you like a wall. Both of you had to look around the colorful variety of flowers, herbs and greenery before actually walking around in the rather small space. As you marveled at the beautiful vines hanging down from the ceiling to your right, you were suddenly startled by a gasp and whipped your head around, clutching your chest in shock.
“I can't believe they have Kadupul flowers here!” Your lover exclaimed excitedly as he pointed at what looked to you like a bush of wavy, green leaves, which left you more confused than before.
“Kadu what flowers? It's just leaves?” You ask as you carefully walk over to where he was standing to get a closer look at the bush of leaves; perhaps the flowers were just so small you couldn't see them from five steps away. Yet, when you closed the small distance, there were still no flowers to be seen and you gave your fiancé a quizzical look, so he got his phone out.
“Kadupul flowers, Epiphyllum oxypetalum, also called Queen of the night,” he explained and showed you pictures of a beautiful white flower. The thin, white petals surrounding bigger petals that looked like they were forming a star in the middle looked quite dramatic but enchantingly beautiful to you. It made you take another look at the green bush in front of you.
“It's not in bloom right now. Actually, it's rare to ever witness the flower bloom,” he explained and marveled at the plant a while longer like a boy in a candy store.
“It only blooms at night and withers at dawn when the first rays of sunshine hit it,” he then continued and turned away from the plant with a heavy sigh that sounded more like he just went through heartbreak. Of course a flower this beautiful had such a dramatic blooming story, you thought to yourself and went to hold his hand, squeezing it a little.
“Maybe we could get one, then you can witness it in bloom,” you try to cheer him up with a small smile, but he only shook his head in return.
“It's one of the most expensive flowers to exist, it's almost priceless,” he mumbled and the sad look in his eyes signaled that he doesn't want to ponder on it much longer, so you let the topic go and slowly led him out of the possibly tiniest botanical garden you'll ever see.
“Let's go to the blood lake!” You quipped and dragged him towards where you assumed it would be, but he ripped his arm out of your grasp.
“Actually… it's that way,” he retorted and you simply stomped back and past him, grabbing his arm once again to drag him along, but in the right direction this time. After what seemed like an eternity due to your excitement, you finally arrived at a beautiful clearing. The grass was luscious with small daisies and clovers growing all over the clearing, and a small stone bench was perched up right next to the lake as well - it made you wonder if someone used to sit here and ponder over the world and what it had to offer.
“The statues look eerie,” your lover's voice ripped you out of your thoughts yet again and upon looking at the two statues at each side of the slim lakebed, you agreed to his conclusion.
Two huge gargoyle statues stood there, looking at each other as if they're making sure that those who dare to come close to, or go into the lake know that they're being watched.
“I feel a little bad… Who knows how long they've spent their days unloved and forgotten about?” You wonder out loud as you take a closer look at one of the two moss covered stone statues, your nose scrunching up at the amount of bird poop you discover once you were closer.
“You talk like these are graves… It's just statues, and I figure cleaning them in a forest isn't going to last long,” your fiancé tried to speak some sense into you, but you couldn't help the pang of guilt creeping up your heart. It simply felt wrong to see them neglected like this and you almost took offense to it. But he was right, you shouldn't get upset about these little things when you could instead bask in the beauty of the blood red lake right in front of you. The pictures truly weren't lying, the water looked dark red, as if hundreds of people had given their lives just to fill this pool for two bloodthirsty gargoyles.
“Do you think the gargoyles bled out humans to make the water look this red?” You turned around with a grin on your face as if you were telling a scary story at a campfire, which made the black haired man shake his head and laugh at your childish antics.
“I believe so, yes. Maybe you'll find their bones if you dive deep enough,” he mused back at you, encouraging your little storytelling, which made you gasp and giggle.
“I really want to look for them… but I'd probably end up as one of them. Who knows what bacteria lives in there,” you laughed softly and waved your hand in front of your face in a disgusted manner to get the air to freshen up. The water smelled horrendous, pungent and almost rotten - which only worked in favor of your little story. But as the old lanterns slowly flickered on, illuminating the gargoyles in a menacing glow that made you shiver, you decided it was time to head back inside, it was dinner time after all.
When you finally arrived at the dining hall of the little castle, you only ordered a small dish for yourself, the feeling of hunger ceasing more with every passing minute, a weird feeling of sadness spread inside of you and chased away any other feeling. It was a slow process, but you could feel it deep inside you like a small tree growing bigger and bigger - the seed of sadness was planted and should ruin your first evening here.
“Are you feeling sick?” Your fiancé asked concerned when you were only eating like a bird, picking around in your food and taking the smallest bites possible.
Not wanting to ruin his evening with the weird feeling that appeared out of nowhere, you simply nodded.
“I think it's the smell of that lake, my stomach feels funny,” you lie convincingly as you gently shove your plate across the table and towards him. Barely any food was missing and you gave him a sad smile.
“I'll excuse myself and go up already, yes? You asked and didn't wait for an answer before you rose to your feet and kissed his temple before almost speedwalking out of the dining hall and into your room, where you brushed your teeth and took a shower in hopes of shaking this feeling off.
The water was almost boiling hot, yet not hot enough as you aggressively lathered the soap on your body with the fresh loofah the hotel provided. Get clean. Get rid of this feeling. The urge to step outside of your skin grew as the water slowly lost its temperature, causing a string of curses to leave your lips while you shut it off entirely. Disgust, pain and homesickness. You were able to name the emotions blooming inside of you, which no longer felt like a seed, more like vines growing over your rib cage and making it harder to breathe every time your lungs let go of oxygen.
By the time you left the bathroom, your fiancé was back in the room and sat on the bed, a cloud of steam leaving the bathroom with you.
“You really don't look too well. Come here,” he offered lovingly and patted the mattress right next to where he sat.
“I'll play with your hair until you fall asleep, how does that sound?” He asked and sat further up on the bed so he could rest his back against the headboard while you got comfortable next to him, your head resting on his lap.
A small “thank you” left your lips when you wrapped one arm around his waist, holding onto his soft sweater as if he'd disappear any moment. With a sigh you finally closed your eyes, allowing yourself to rest with the hope of waking up in the morning and this weird feeling disappearing magically overnight.
However, waking up wasn't as peaceful as you hoped, suddenly raising yourself into a sitting position with a gasp of pure shock. Your heart was beating like a war drum, your ears blocking out almost all the noise except for the steady thumping of our heartbeat, your vision pulsating with every beat. The adrenaline fueled your body as memories of your restless dream appeared, the gargoyles watching your every move, and even now you couldn't shake this feeling.
Shaking hands reached for your lover, who fell asleep in his sitting position, but no amount of shaking got him to wake up, light snores assuring you that he is alive but sleeping far too deeply to help you calm down.
“Get a damn grip on yourself,” you mumbled more to yourself than anything else as you pulled his soft sweater over your head. The smell was intoxicating and grounded you, drowning you in the feeling of safety and home, but you needed to clear your head from the nightmare that woke you up.
You weren't even thinking as your feet walked you outside, no path in mind, perhaps rounding the tiny castle once or twice to let the cool air deep into your system to clear your mind from all these horrid images flooding your brain from the previous dream.
“What? Who's there?” You were scared when you heard your name getting called, hoping it was your lover who woke up in your absence and went looking for you, but you found absolutely no one.
The feeling of paranoia wouldn't shake, feeling like someone is watching over your shoulder and there it was again - your name. It sounded like someone was longing for you, needing you to come help them, to save them from whatever misery they felt. Bare feet now padded over the cobblestone path and then the gravel, which slowly turned to a muddy path as your speed picked up. Were you running towards the voice or away from it? You weren't sure since it sounded like it came from everywhere at once, its desperation growing with each call.
You didn't feel real in the moment, your body as light as a feather, yet your head seemed to weigh a hundred pounds when your heart beat drowned out everything - everything but that damn call of your name, which now turned into a luring whisper, one that dragged you closer and closer. It wasn't fear coursing through you, it felt hot instead, like you were getting closer to something you longed for ever since you remembered and your body seemed to move out of muscle memory, following a path you've walked a thousand times.
Wet. Was it the grass that felt cold against your feet, or was the morning dew kissing your skin? It couldn't be. It didn't make sense that the feeling spread through your body as if the sky decided to pour over you, drenching you to your bones in ice cold water… until breathing became harder, the feeling of vines growing over your rib cage returned once again, but this time the oxygen was leaving your lungs with no way of returning there.
It was water that replaced the air in your lungs with each breath and your vision unblurred, seeing seaweed sway gently next to your body, a single skull to your right on the sandy ground…
“I was right about the lake… There are bodies on the ground." Your thought almost amused you, feeling no threat despite your vision turning black when all oxygen disappeared from your lungs…
“What do we have here?” Your eyes fluttered open when you heard a familiar voice, yet it sounded foreign.
The full moon was bright, your eyes slowly looking at the man who held you at arm's length, a death grip on both your upper arms as he looked at you with hunger.
“Don't you know that swimming at night can be quite dangerous? Just floating in my lake,” he mused and his eyes raked over your body.
In the state of confusion, you didn't even notice how miserable you must have looked, your clothes soaked thoroughly with pungent lake water, yet he looked like he was about to take a bite out of you should you move too fast.
“Your lake?” you asked with a meek voice, croaking the words out, which amused him.
“Silly little girl, you don't even know what danger you put yourself in… I give you one chance to run,” he mused and let go of your arms, which only toppled you over.
The dew of the grass felt almost warm compared to the clothes you were wearing while you sat on the ground after falling so graciously onto your ass, trying to understand his words. The stranger spoke your language, but it felt like he was speaking an alien language. Run from what? I have a room in the castle just a few walking minutes from here. Your brain was racing through many scenarios in a split second until the sense of danger caught up to your tired brain. This man wasn't joking, he will hurt you. RUN!
Your legs felt like jelly, the effects of almost drowning you thought as you ran as fast as these unsteady legs would carry you. “HELP!” you screamed from the top of your lungs despite your throat straining, hoping someone would hear you and help you, but when you looked back to where the man stood, he was gone.
*Thump!* You got knocked back onto the ground after colliding with what you thought was a tree until you looked up, the fear spreading through every fiber upon gazing at this eerie smile.
“Got you,” the man hummed and pulled you back to your feet, causing you to freeze, paralyzing you entirely as you braced for whatever was about to happen.
He only chuckled as he moved one hand into your hair to grab a fist full, yanking your head to the side with force that felt like he was about to break your neck.
“Has no one told you that it's not safe out in the woods for pretty little women like you?” His voice was smooth like honey as he leaned in, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, and he inhaled your scent.
His pupils dilated when your scent hit his nostrils, it was familiar, something he knew from a long time ago, so he hesitated. Sharp fangs rested on your skin instead of piercing it to drain you from your life essence.
With your eyes shut tight, you balled your hands into fists, mentally preparing yourself to get bitten by what you assumed to be either a weird pervert or a cannibal - nothing good either way, but that stinging feeling never came. Instead, his looming presence disappeared and once you opened your eyes, the sight was almost comical, if the situation wouldn't have been this dangerous.
A blonde man, much taller than the creep who wanted to take a bite out of you, held him by the neck like a soggy kitten before the blonde man threw him against a tree, causing the tree to fall over…what? You were perplexed upon seeing the other man stand up like he didn't just get thrown against a tree so hard, the huge tree trunk snapped.
“What are you waiting for? Run!” The blonde man called out to you quite angrily, snapping you out of the shell shock, but your legs barely carried you, letting you stumble away from the scene…
Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum
#-ˋˏ ༻luma's musings#blood sport#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jjk series#choso x reader#choso fluff#choso angst#choso series#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen series#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk choso#choso kamo#💫sweet like cotton candy💫
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( DON’T ) PLAY ✦ HER, BOY !
born in Japan on December 7th, Satoru Gojo arrived in F1 on a tidal wave of expectation and a swarming fanbase. yet, the Jujutsu heart-throb finds himself stuck between his morales and his best friends sister—you.
contents. fem reader, fluff, angst, suggestive, f1 racer au ( very poorly executed ) : fanart creds.
note. thank you all so much for 300+ followers 😭💕 i can’t believe ive grown so much in such a short time, all thanks to you guys! i hope you guys enjoy this series ;D. please comment if you wanna be added to the taglist <3 ( OPEN ! )
☆. INDEX !
SO DIFFERENT ‘BOUT YOU.. wow, he never knew his best friends sister was hot—he never knew he had a sister in the first place, a feisty one at that. he’s not one to turn down a challenge, though.
plotting in motion…
☆★. TREAT SECTION !
still processing.. come back next time?
F1 RACER GOJO SATORU !
#fay 3:16AM 🧸ྀི#★彡 🏁 ( 𝐅𝟏 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐒 ) ! ⟢#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jjk x reader#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jujutsu kaisen series#jjk series#satoru gojo series
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pretty please. PROLOGUE
— dad!gojo satoru x fem!reader
cw. implied one night stand (if you squint) but no explicit detail, reader is not present
note. giving another go with writing, and first time writing for the chosen man himself. not proofread
word count. 1.4k
series masterlist | next
His pure white locks of snow, blue hues like a diamond under the sun, anatomy sculpted like marble statues of mythologies. With just a snap of his fingers, he can manifest whatever he wanted on the very palm of his hand. He just had to utter it: A woman's name, unreleased line clothings of his favorite brand, rare pairs and pairs of jewelries, and any private island can be his to take.
Being on a very high position in society as an actor, with millions of loving fans from in and out of Japan, has immensely inflated his ego that it has reached heights heigher than any penthouse he could purchase.
He loves the attention. He loves that he could pull one or more arm from the many women that clings to him on to his bed and they'd say thank you. He loves that on every party he attends or host, he'll always be the life of the night.
When he enters the room, he loves that everyone howls and cheers.
He is the all and mighty Gojo Satoru.
-
Grogginess was what first filled all of Satoru's senses when he awoke on his expensive king sized bed.
Turning his head away from the glare of the sun sipping through his curtains, a groan rumbles from his throat, a low octave of tone that women go crazy for. He scratches his bare chest before finally blinking his eyelids open, welcoming the soft morning hues throughout his bedroom.
He contemplates to stay in bed before inevitably standing up. Satoru darts his eyes around his room whilst looking for his shirt that he discarded last night.
As he descended the stairs, he pulled the piece of clothing over his head when he saw his maid, a middle-aged woman, was ready to leave for the day. Heading towards the door with her bag in hand.
"Keiko. Going home?"
The said woman turns in small shock before smiling kindly at her boss. "Oh, Mr. Gojo. I didn't know you were already awake. But yes, I've done your laundry and some cleaning. Apologies if I disturbed you because of the vacuum."
Satoru hums, stepping off the last bit of stairs. "Nope, you didn't." he scratches his head, looking around.
"Anyways, have you seen..?"
Keiko seems to squint before coming to a realization. "You mean Ms. Hanna?"
"Yeah, her." He scratches his neck, not showing much interest as he heads to the kitchen. "I sent her home earlier when she woke up, as you normally instruct me to do." Keiko replies, watching as he tastes the breakfast she prepared, then seeing him nod in acknowledgment to her cooking and statement.
"Good. You can go now. Oh, and you don't need to come back here tonight." The woman simply bowed with a smile, uttering a quiet 'thank you' before heading out.
Finally he was really alone, stretching his limbs as he heard the cracks of his joints in pure satisfaction.
This was how his days normally went. Whenever his schedule was clear of agendas, he's able to party and mingle at night, then do what he liked the next day. Recently, he just finished filming an action movie that lasted almost two years of production and was set to release next year. And since promotion doesn't start until then, he had all the free time in the world as of this moment. He's particularly not active in social media, but he has his own team that does the advertising of his soon-to-be released film for him.
He looks around his lavish home. It was a penthouse at one of the top floors of the establishment. Stationed at Japan's richest district, overlooking the busy city and with the most perfect view of the famous red structure, Tokyo Tower.
This is Gojo Satoru's life. Content and satisfied. Tough choices and sacrifices were made to be where he's at, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to meditate the past and regret. He is where he is now, after all.
A ding resonates from his phone, indicating that someone has texted him. Opening his messages, he sees his trusted manager, that has been with him since the very beginning of his career, has sent him a text.
Mr. Yamada: How was the party last night? Anyways, any plans for your 8th anniversary? It's pretty soon.
8 years ago, was the moment fame was introduced to Satoru. Almost 8 years ago was when his life completely flipped and ascended into great glory. It was a golden day for Satoru, and he has made it that he would celebrate this every single year.
Satoru respects Mr. Yamada, and he rarely does to anyone. He has led Satoru towards his first stepping stone in his journey, and now he's here living the glamour dream with Mr. Yamada still following him with support. In a way, Satoru feels indebted to him. He has pushed Satoru into choosing the right decisions when he himself couldn't.
His career would be cripple and dust without this man.
Despite that, Satoru places down his device, deciding to send a response later as he felt that it was still to early and because he was hungry.
And just as he was about to take a bite of his meal, his doorbell went off. He raised a brow, his jaw slacked and chop sticks halfway toward his mouth. Satoru let it settle, waiting to see if the person out his door would activate the sound again.
When they didn't, he proceeded with his food, chewing away.
But he drops his utensil when his phone suddenly let out a sound, alerting him that someone was at his door. He clicks his tongue, irritated as he pressed the notification to check his intercom. 'People, I swear.'
He expected it to be a fan, or more like a stalker, that discovered his address. He was ready to turn on the mic of his phone that connected to the devices that was out his front door, call off the person to go away when he only saw a blob of hair below the screen.
"What the.." Satoru furrowed his brows at the scene, wondering if the person was kneeling or something. However his thought was dismissed when a tiny face of a little girl pops up, seemingly on her tippy toes as she clicks the button that turns on the mic.
And just as she did that, a young, high-pitched greeting resonates from the speaker of his device. "Helloooo!!"
Now this was odd. He scrunches his nose in confusion. A random child was just outside his property. Satoru was then further confused when the child says something about if her Father was here.
"Excuse me? Father? Me?" he utters in disbelief. Placing his phone down, he decided to ignore her, shaking his head in dismissal as he thought that the address was most likely mistaken. Satoru chuckles at the thought of him having a child, continuing with his meal. "Kids are crazy these days." he says with a playful grin, shaking his head.
But then the little girl added something. With her high pitched voice, she said:
"Uhm, Mr. Gojo!!! It's your daughter!!!"
Now that's just insane. Satoru chokes on his food, violently coughing as he ran to his fridge to grab himself a bottle of water. Downing the liquid to ease his throat, he exhales loudly before his eyes went full-blown wide.
"My daughter??" Not only did she say that, she also knew his name.
Something was up. It was too unbelievable for Satoru. No kid should just walts to some stranger's door and claim to be their child.
He speed walked towards his front door to confront the child to say that she was mistaken and that she needs to check his neighbors that was two floors downstairs. "You gotta be kidding me."
Turning the lock before he pushed the door open, he looks down to see the little girl, maybe 3 feet in height, in her arms was a little bunny plush, her eyes eerily too similar to his. But what caught his attention more are the tiny suitcase and bag that was accompanied with her.
Gojo Satoru, with just a snap of his fingers, can manifest whatever he wanted on the very palm of his hand. He just had to utter it. He can get anything, and has everything. Satoru is well aware of that, which is why his ego was higher than any penthouse he could buy. So imagine his surprise when he does in fact have everything,
Including a child.
"Hi, mister. I'm Saori."
#☆ maeijie#gojo saturo#gojou satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojou x reader#gojo satoru x yn#gojou satoru x yn#gojo x yn#gojou x yn#x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#series#jujutsu kaisen series#jjk series#gojo satoru x reader series#gojou satoru x reader series#gojo x reader series#gojou x reader series#gojo satoru series#gojou satoru series#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x yn
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SILENT TIES
pairing: megumi x fem reader, hints of naoya x reader
tags/warnings: edo period japan, former samurai! megumi, former soon-to-be-empress! reader, reincarnation, angst, fluff, smut, major character death, blood, gore, self harm, romance, cheating, lying, ooc megumi (?), alcohol consumption, tragic past, forbidden love, fated pairs, sexual harassment, classism, no curses au, everyone is in their 20s-40s
synopsis: being born in the edo period, you took what you had for granted. your selfish desires for a normal life blinded you, ultimately leading to the death of you and your lover. till death do you part, you promised you'd find each other again. so, why doesn't he remember you?
chapter count: tbd
dividers by @/cafekitsune
still in the very early stages of mapping out and bringing this work to life so please be patient (meaning i’m literally only 1k words in for the first chapter) but if you would like to be on taglist, please comment :)
reblogs welcome!
small sneak peek below cut
He touched you with delicacy.
Handled you with care.
Kissed you like it was his air to breathe.
His love for you grew stronger and stronger each day, eating away at him until he was nothing but a man who craved your touch and your touch only.
You were his, he was yours. Even if society deemed it wrong.
In reality, you can almost feel the soft, lingering touches of his fingers on your skin just by looking at him. You smile, but he doesn’t smile back.
This should be a relief, but instead dread pools in your stomach.
“Please, don’t touch me. I don’t know you.”
Pft, and you thought dying hurt, well this was ten times worse. And the icing on top,
The woman clinging to his side, intertwining her fingers with a hand that should only be yours to hold. Her look, one of disgust and anger.
She looked at you like you were the intruder, like you are in the wrong, like you could never compare to her. And to be honest, so was he.
Yeah, you wish you could go back in time right about now.
#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x you#megumi x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen series#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro x reader
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GOLDEN CHILD | Gojo Satoru
SYNOPSIS: Born from the rage you held, your Cursed technique made you a valuable but dangerous asset to the Jujutsu world. Even with your death hanging above your head, Gojo Satoru began to realize just how valuable you were as a human to him.
READER: female!with a name, but written in second PoV
WARNING: This series contains mature themes.
STATUS: ongoing
First Arc: A Sinner
CHAPTER ONE: FEAR AND LOVE
CHAPTER TWO: UNFAIR CIRCUMSTANCES
CHAPTER THREE: PRESENT THOUGHTS
CHAPTER FOUR: NAKED WOLF
CHAPTER FIVE: WRATH
CHAPTER SIX: ENVY
CHAPTER SEVEN: SLOTH
CHAPTER EIGHT: GLUTTONY
CHAPTER NINE: GREED
CHAPTER TEN: PRIDE
CHAPTER ELEVEN: LUST
CHAPTER TWELVE: BORN OF SIN
Second Arc: Lady Death
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: coming soon
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu Kaisen series#gojou satoru x reader#gojo Satoru x reader#Satoru gojo x reader
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Gojo Satoru 's appearance
[Jujutsu Kaisen S2 Bluray-Disc Vol.3] EP8 Part 1/3
EP8 8/1 : 8/2 : 8/3
Jujutsu Kaisen Blu-ray Disc Recap [All LINKS]
OP1 // OP2:: ED1 // ED2 /COVER /Feral Gojo : Gifs
EP1 : EP2 : EP3 : EP4 ; EP5 : EP8 : EP9 : EP12 : EP13
EP14 : EP15 : EP16 : EP17 : EP18: EP19: EP20: EP21: EP22
EP23
#Jujutsu Kaisen S2#Jujutsu Kaisen#jujutsu kaisen season 2#jjk series#jjk#jujutsu#anime recap#anime#anime cap#gojo satoru#gojo#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen series#jjk pic#jjk bd#jjk gojo#jjk s2#gojou
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what you know - ch8: hysteria || r. sukuna
❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]
❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞
❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety (attacks). tags will be updated as series continues.
❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.
❦ words ; 17.7k (oops).
❦ a/n ; please note the tags have been updated.
main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon
Although not particularly cold throughout the holidays, a frigid air settles over the city shortly after the date turns to the new year. As usual, Gojo held his annual frat party that you’re required to be at by virtue of being his friend, though you end up being one of many single party-goers who dips into a corner as the clock strikes midnight. The idea of a stranger’s lips wandering to yours doesn’t sit well in your stomach and although you asked if he would attend, Sukuna had promised his little brothers a celebration, just the three of them. Not that you would kiss Sukuna anyway, of course-
Yuji had apparently never celebrated the new year, too young to understand previously, though based on the photo in your email inbox, he didn’t get to celebrate this one either. A blurry photo taken from the camera on Sukuna’s laptop, pointed down at Yuji sound asleep in his lap while he and Choso had MarioKart running in the background had been the telltale sign.
You can’t blame him for not having a phone, but sometimes you do wish you could text rather than email. Especially with your friendship seeming to blossom as of late. It took a bit of nurturing to get to this point, but Sukuna seems to recognize his faults and actively tries to work on and better himself. Regardless of his often-irritable demeanor, you appreciate the effort on his part.
Snowflakes settle in your palm as you hold it out in front of you on the walk to the lunch hall. Settling back into the flow of having classes early in the mornings brings with it a dreary haze that hangs over the student body, yourself included. Not a single soul seems to be well-rested, apart from one person.
“Good morning,” Kento greets you with a warm smile, running a hand through his golden locks.
“Morning, Kento,” you greet him in return, your attention trained on the snowflakes melting on the warmth of your skin. “How was it, going back home?”
“It was relaxing,” he replies, a frown pulling at his lips as he takes in your dazed expression. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to join us.”
“That’s alright! I really did appreciate your offer to pay for my tickets, but it didn’t feel right,” you shoot him a smile, though quickly return your attention to your hand.
Auburn irises flicker down to your palm, trying to figure out what’s holding your interest so adamantly. “I understand, although it really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”
“Really, it’s fine, Nanamin. Satoru, Suguru, and Sukuna all had me over and I talked to my parents a bunch,” you assure him, finally dropping your hand and wiping the condensation on the front of your coat.
“Sukuna?” He asks, his brows raising, though it’s more of a rhetorical question as he’s already aware he’ll be doing Sukuna a favor at some point in the new year.
“He’s put in a lot of effort to make up for what happened.” Your tone is somewhat clipped, coming out unintentionally defensive.
Nanami’s gaze flickers to your face, catching the minute knit of your brows and tension in your shoulders. “I should hope so. Either way, I wasn’t making any accusations. Simply an observation.”
You sigh. “I know, sorry. I think I’m just a bit exhausted,” you chuckle, shooting him an apologetic smile. “I can’t believe we’re already back to it. The break felt so short.”
“I agree,” he hums as he opens the door to the lunch hall for you. With a grateful smile, you slip past him and head towards your regular table. Looks like you won’t be the first to arrive this semester. You and Kento are the last to arrive, taking your seats and beginning to pull out your lunches as you get back into the swing of lunches on campus.
Just as you pull out some leftover pasta, Sukuna takes a seat beside you. He looks worse for wear, even more exhausted than you. His sleep schedule is always atrocious, so you can only imagine what it would look like without classes.
“Hey, Kuna!” You grin as you greet him.
In usual Sukuna fashion, he leans over the table on his elbow, resting his chin against his palm. “Princess.” He yawns quietly, his eyes briefly fluttering shut.
“Long day?” You ask, amused but sympathetic.
“Long fuckin’ day,” he agrees, his chest rumbling in faint laughter. “Y’know, you usually don’t look as tired as I-”
“Hey hotshot, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Gojo blurts out suddenly, interrupting Sukuna.
With a deadpan expression, the tattooed man’s jaw clenches in barely-masked irritation. Of all days, Sukuna could only have hoped Gojo would keep his mouth shut today, unable to deal with his bullshit in this state. “The hell did I do?” He rolls his shoulders, as though prepping for a fight.
Can’t these two get along just for once?
“You were on my balcony at the end of finals party, and let some couple fuck on my bed!” He points an accusatory finger at Sukuna’s chest, his nose scrunching in disgust at the mere thought.
Slowly, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth in realization. As you glance at Sukuna, you’re surprised to see his expression has relaxed somewhat, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “What, you think I broke in to let some other couple fuck?” Sukuna sneers, practically reveling in the way Gojo scoffs. “I didn’t do it on purpose, asshole.” He tilts his head towards you, crimson eyes filled with amusement. “Why don’t you tell him?”
You can tell from his tone he’s enjoying this way too much. “Um- well-” you wince as Satoru’s expression falls, dramatic betrayal written across his face in bolded marker. “I may have unlocked your room to get some air and… kinda didn’t lock the door behind me.” You mutter the last portion into your hand, a sheepish shrug the best you can offer him.
“It was you?” He whines, lip curled in utter disbelief.
“And to think he blamed Sukuna this whole time,” Suguru butts in, amused.
“I saw him leave the balcony!” The frat boy counters, turning his attention back to you. “I had to stay on Suguru’s floor while my mattress got cleaned,” he gripes.
“I can’t even imagine my floor was that much cleaner,” Suguru quips teasingly, a mischievous glimmer in his golden eyes.
Satoru jabs him in the side before turning his attention to you. “You owe me. No, you double owe me because I had you over for Christmas dinner too!” He waggles his spoon at you, before dropping it in his soup with all the dramatic flair he can muster.
“I’m so sorry, Satoru! I promise it was an accident.” You offer your best apologetic smile.
He shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing. “It’s fiiiine. Just… buy me drinks next time we go out or something.”
“I’d like to think I should be compensated for dealing with Satoru’s whining,” Suguru chimes in, entertained by the whole ordeal.
Shaking your head at the raven-haired man’s blatant teasing, you giggle quietly, your elbow lightly brushing Sukuna. He’s still leaning over the table, close enough to feel his breath fan your arm with each rise and fall of his chest.
“After consulting my bank account, I can get Suguru one drink, and Satoru two,” you offer.
“Deal!”
“Deal.”
Sukuna shakes his head, shooting a final glance at Satoru that doesn’t hold the amusement he regarded you with before his full attention shifts back to you. “Just gonna throw me under the bus like that, huh?” He gruffs. Beyond the tired glaze that paints his eyes is a mirthful gleam, reserved only for you as he observes the way you sheepishly chuckle.
“My bad,” you scratch at the back of your neck, your cheeks heating up as his arm brushes yours. “I was gonna jump in, I swear!”
“Mhm.” Sukuna lets out a long breath, leaning back comfortably over the table and putting some distance between you. Just as he begins to zone out, lost in thought over the lawsuit, he sits up straight, his attention drawn to Kento. “Did you find a time to meet with- uh- Kento?”
“Oh!” You gently nudge Kento at Sukuna’s reminder. “Can you and your friend meet up on…” you glance back at Sukuna to fill in the blank as his schedule is much more packed than yours usually is.
“Friday. After four.”
Kento spins to face you, his watchful gaze doing a once-over of Sukuna. “I can get back to you on that. It should work for me, but I’ll need to speak with him.”
You grin. “Great! If that works, can we meet at the cafe across from the Science building?”
Kento nods. “I’ll let you know this afternoon. I believe I share a class with him.”
The two men on either side of you exchange another tense glance, letting the uneasy atmosphere dissolve as they mutually redirect their attention elsewhere. Sukuna leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his crossed arms, his eyes watching with mild interest as you take a bite of your leftover pasta.
Just as you’re about to offer him a bite, your lips purse in surprise as two men you don’t recognize take seats in front of Sukuna. It only clicks who they must be when Uraume takes a seat on Sukuna’s opposite side. You shoot them a warm smile as the salmon-haired man’s head lifts.
You can’t tell what’s going through Sukuna’s mind as he grunts out a “what are you doin’ here?”
The man sitting on Gojo’s left, who’s currently receiving a deeply displeased glare from your snowy-haired friend, has black hair that falls straight over his forehead and a scar on his lip. Beside him is a man with spiked brown hair and a toothpick between his teeth. His lips seem to be drawn in a perpetual frown. He speaks up first. “We haven’t seen you since the party.”
The man with the scarred lip smirks. “That, and Uraume was mentionin’ your girl wanted to meet us.”
Sukuna’s lip curls in frustration, a deathly glare burning his friend for calling you his girl. He introduces you, making a point of calling you his friend, before pointing out Toji, with the scar, and Atsuya.
With a grin and deeply warmed cheeks, you point out each of the members of your friend group. Haibara and Shoko are as sweet as ever, while Geto and Nanami are kind. Gojo, on the other hand, seems frustrated with the arrival of the group, in particular Toji, which you suppose makes sense if the man’s got a penchant for being a pain even by Sukuna’s standards from what you’ve heard.
In spite of Toji’s immediate overbearing teasing, he seems nice enough, and with their arrival, Sukuna becomes slightly more talkative. He’s slowly coming out of his shell around you, which you’re grateful for.
“So,” Toji begins, mischief dancing across his emerald irises, “how in the world did ya manage to get through to this asshole?” He questions you, jabbing a thumb towards Sukuna at your side.
You giggle, not missing the way Sukuna’s jaw clenches. “Not easily.”
“I’ll say. I’ve known ‘im since we were kids and I’m still not part of his Christmases,” he scoffs.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick, I’d invite you,” Sukuna scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“You could always invite Sukuna, could you not?” Uraume points out to Toji, who scoffs, his expression deadpan.
“Oh yeah, who wants t’ come to the Zenin Family Dinner? Drop on by, we got my fuckass uncle, my asshole grandparents and Naoya. Who wouldn’t wanna join?” He jeers, sarcasm dripping from each and every word.
“Is that the ‘Naoya’ you punched?” You ask, keeping your voice low for only Sukuna to hear as you lean towards him.
“Mhm.”
“‘Sides,” Toji begins, “your dad used to invite me every year, dunno what I did to get uninvited.”
Oh.
Oh.
He doesn’t know.
Sukuna’s leg bounces absentmindedly under the table at the mention of his father, his gaze averting to a nearby wall in an effort to keep his reaction neutral.
“You know, I could host something next year,” you offer in an effort to divert attention away from the topic of Sukuna’s father. To your horror, the table goes silent. The tension coming off of Satoru and Toji in waves is palpable, and you’re beyond grateful for Shoko, Kento, and Uraume, the first three at the table to chime in.
“Sounds like fun.”
“I would join.”
“That sounds lovely.”
You let out a sigh of relief as gradually, the rest of the table begins to agree, even the two men who seem to continually be at odds with one another. You have half a mind to wonder how that even happened given that Satoru’s usually the one to get under others’ skin, not vice versa.
As conversation begins to return, Sukuna quietly mutters a “thanks” in your ear that sends a shiver straight down your spine before burying his face in his arms as you finish your meal. The tension in the air doesn’t fully dissolve but at the very least, Satoru and Toji choose to simply not acknowledge one another.
With a glance at the time on your phone, you begin packing up once you finish your lunch. A couple of others at the table check the time as they take notice of your actions, using the opportunity to pack up as no one wants to be late on the first day of class. With nothing to pack up himself, Sukuna swings his bag over his shoulder and mumbles a “see ya,” heading for the door before you can stop him.
Even with how far your friendship has come, it seems some things never change.
With a sigh, you turn back to the table. “It was nice to meet you, Toji and Atsuya,” you smile politely.
“Likewise,” Atsuya agrees with a tired smile.
“‘Course. Had to meet the woman Sukuna’s been ditchin’ us for.” Toji shoots you a shit-eating grin, something you don’t dare read into as your face warms at the mere thought of being the person Sukuna seems to always choose.
“See you all later,” you call out to the broader table, met with a chorus of goodbyes. “Text me, Sho!”
Hurrying out the door to your next class, you zip up your coat as you make your way through the frozen wasteland that separates you from Literature History. At least the weather had relented somewhat from the beginning of December, offering a more mild bite that didn’t seem to seep into the very fiber of your being.
Still, it’s a hell of a lot colder than it was before the new year.
With a huff as you cross the barrier into the building where your next class is, you let the warmth envelop you, grateful for the shelter from the bitter wind outside. Winter had only really begun to settle over the city in the last month, but you’re ready for spring to arrive. Even if it means more finals.
Sighing at the thought of starting the entire dance over again- class, studying, finals, not to mention your required internship- you push through the door to the lecture hall, briefly pausing at the bottom of the class to search for a familiar face.
And god fucking damn it, the way your eyes light up when you spot Sukuna could practically make him dizzy. He’s careful that his crimson stare doesn’t give away the strange way his chest tightens at the mere sight of your beaming smile, keeping his expression indifferent as his gaze trails your path.
You jog up the stairs until you find a place beside him, grinning as you slide into the seat. “I was gonna ask what your next class was, but you left so fast,” you comment, getting settled as you pull out your laptop.
“Mm,” Sukuna watches your movements, his eyes trailing your manicured nails. Pink. They almost match his hair.
Why is he even thinking about this?
“Didn’t wanna be late,” he excuses his actions, finally meeting your eyes.
Your bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout. “At least walk with me when we have class together.”
He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Yeah, alright, princess,” he teases, unable to help his smirk as he settles back into familiar territory with you and the strange flutter in his chest eases.
The professor walks in, writing her name in large font across the whiteboard at the front of the room as she begins her introduction to the class.
“Y’know,” Sukuna leans closer, his voice lowering so as not to disturb the other students. “Apparently the prof’s a huge conspiracy theorist.”
“Really?” You ask, interest gleaming behind narrowed eyes.
“Mhm. Supposedly she believes Shakespeare never existed.”
“Like, she believes the anti-Stratfordian theory?” You ask, tilting your head. That’s not an unreasonable theory, to believe that many of the plays typically associated with Shakespeare were perhaps written by another famous playwright or author under a pseudonym that happened to match the name of a living man.
“Nah. ‘Parently she believes he never existed,” Sukuna shrugs.
“But- he did. Maybe not the one we know, but there’s proof of his birth and death records. He has a grave,” you point out.
“I know that,” he smirks. “I heard she rambled about that theory and Dickens’ death for an hour last semester.”
You blink twice. “You’re kidding.” Groaning as quietly as you can muster, you drag your hands down your face. “I can’t afford to have another history professor who rambles. And the Dickens theory isn’t even interesting,” you tack on in a grumble.
“You’ll be fine,” Sukuna chuckles, amused at your reaction. “Literature’s your thing, ain’t it?”
“Well… yeah, but you know how I am with names, dates and faces.”
“And you know how to study for that,” he points out, nudging your shoulder. “‘Sides, you’ll have-”
“If something is so interesting that you feel the need to interrupt, Mr. Sukuna,” the professor’s voice booms around the lecture hall as all eyes land on the pair of you. Sukuna keeps his cool, which you’re thankful for as you pale and shrink into your seat. “Then I would suggest you come up here and share with the class.”
He doesn’t bother to reply, simply giving a wave of his hand for her to continue. It’s not exactly the polite response you would have given, but with a final glance between you both, she turns back to the broader class to continue the lecture.
Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals as you slowly relax back into your seat when you’re no longer the center of attention. If you bristled so much from just being called out, he can only imagine the pain you went through when he left you hanging last semester. He frowns to himself at the thought, his attention never fully given to the professor as much as he tries.
His mind wanders between the introduction to Elizabethean and Jacobean literature and the way your nails tap against your keyboard as you type up notes. As the class drags on and his mind drifts further and further from the lecture, he leans back in his seat and roughly drags his hands over his face.
He’s exhausted beyond belief, frustrated with his schedule for this semester, frustrated with Toji for sticking his nose in Sukuna’s business, irritated with himself for not paying attention for something he’s paying a lot of money to attend, and to top it all off, he knows he has a long day ahead of him.
It’s not like it’s a first, most days are long in his world, but today he’s all the more frustrated and it’s wearing him thin.
So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t even realize the room is shuffling until your laptop shuts beside him, the dull snap bringing him back to reality. As you slip your laptop into a sleeve and delicately place it in your bag, he follows suit, tucking his laptop into his backpack and throwing his coat on.
He even supposes he’ll wait for you this time around, given that he has some time before picking up his brothers for once.
You pause in front of him, zipping your jacket up as you type out a message on your phone. “Looks like Friday works for Kento’s friend.”
Sukuna nods, his brow knit. “I’ll need to bring Cho and Yu. Uraume’s got late classes this semester and our neighbor’s away this week.”
You pause for a moment as you consider what that means. “You’ll need to tell them.” Your tone is somber, your voice quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you over the bustling of students exiting the lecture hall.
He nods slowly, a muscle in his jaw ticking. One might even argue he’s too aware of that fact. You can physically see gears turning in his mind, a question sitting atop his tongue that he doesn’t want to voice.
“What’s wrong, Kuna?” You query gently, tilting your head to look up at him. The tattoo along the length of his jaw stretches along his skin as he grimaces.
“D’you have another class?”
You shake your head.
“Don’t wanna talk about it here.” With a large hand on the small of your back, he directs you out of the hall and back into the cold, his palm lifting from your warmth to run through his tousled locks.
If only he knew the way your stomach flipped from such a simple touch.
Regardless, he probably should have asked if you had any plans for the afternoon, rather than simply dragging you off campus and towards his brothers’ school, but the thought is lost on him. Luckily for him, you might be a little too understanding of the man who unknowingly holds your heart, so you don’t say a word as he silently leads you in a direction that you recognize.
Really, you could have at least gotten your car instead of trudging through the cold.
Before you can protest, Sukuna finally finds the words to voice his thoughts.
“What if I’m lookin’ at this the wrong way?” He gruffs, tense and raw with emotion that isn’t often something you associate with him.
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but you can’t quite tell where his meaning lies. “What way is that?”
“Been thinkin’. I mean, she’s their mother, right? What if they’re better off with her? What if they wanna go with her and I’m puttin’ up a fight they don’t want me to win?”
It hits you like a ton of bricks. The impact nearly pushes the breath from your lungs and causes your stride to falter. If Sukuna notices, he doesn’t slow down and it takes you a moment to catch up, his words still sinking in.
“Wait- What?” You splutter, grappling with the severity of his grievance. He keeps his pace up, not even sparing you a glance. “Sukuna, wait-” You tug on his forearm, tearing his arm from his pocket as he pauses to look at you finally.
Distant. He didn’t hear you.
Blinking twice, you pull him to the edge of the sidewalk to keep his attention on you and away from the noise of the city around you. The lights, the people, the cars, it all seems to encroach on you and muddle your thoughts, you can only imagine the mileage his mind is currently making.
Certain that you have his focus now, you repeat yourself. “What are you talking about? You know they need you.”
He sighs, an air of irritation settling over him as he stares at the brick to your left. “They need a guardian, doesn’t mean they need me. Been thinkin’ maybe they’d want to go with her. With their mother.”
You pause, considering the question for yourself for a moment. You can sympathise with wanting what’s best for them, but it doesn’t sit well with you that he doubts himself so much when you can see what he means to those kids.
“You need to tell them what’s going on anyway, so I think it’s worth asking,” you agree. It’s the right thing to do regardless of the outcome. “But,” you add in a gentler tone, offering a kind smile, “they’ll choose you.”
His eyes snap to you, a tense set to his musculature. “What makes you so sure?” He almost sounds offended.
“They love you, Sukuna.” His brow twitches, his mouth opening to protest, but you continue. “You told me you couldn’t get a hold of their mom when your dad passed, right?”
He nods tensely.
“What kind of mother does that?” You point out. “Imagine how that would make Choso feel.”
You pause, letting the thought sink in. Sukuna doesn’t reply, absently cracking a knuckle.
He’d been so caught up all those years ago in the loss of their father and his own grief that he’d hardly considered that Choso’s grief had likely been twofold. The child had lost his father just like Sukuna, but he’d also had to deal with the loss of his mother. Not only that, but it was more like the active rejection of his mother, because the reality is that Sukuna tried hard to get a hold of her. Looking back, he knows he was in no way ready to parent his brothers and it was rocky at the start. He should never have let Choso sit at his side in tears as he tried every method he could to reach her.
Sukuna had always accepted that Choso got quieter as simply a part of his grief. The little boy had always teetered on the shy side of things, but Sukuna wonders now if there’s more to that. If his silence is a result of sitting alongside his frustrated and grief-stricken older brother as his mother chose not to reply.
When Sukuna’s silence extends, you do your best to guide him from the dark recesses that his mind attempts to take him to. “Would Yuji even remember her?”
Shit. Sukuna’s all Yuji’s ever known. If he doesn’t remember their father, there’s no way in hell he remembers his mother.
Sukuna drags a hand down his face. Coming to terms with the gravity of his own mistakes is one thing, but they don’t even begin to match up to the rejection of their mother.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, taking a step back to pace in front of the wall. Giving him the space and time he needs, you simply watch as he huffs and sighs. Fiddling with your neatly manicured nails, you wait patiently for him to organize his thoughts, only to frown when he shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. In one smooth motion, he flips his lighter open and smoke trails like rippling water up into the cold air. He leans against the wall, leaning his head back against the brick as he exhales smoke into the overcast sky.
The nicotine calms his jittery mind enough to allow him the space to function within the claustrophobia of his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he pushes off the wall and returns to you finally, looking up to exhale smoke away from you.
“Uraume’s right, you know.”
Any other time, Sukuna would have let that slide, knowing it was meant to be a cheeky little quip about his vice.
But today’s a bad fucking day for him.
“So I’ve been told.” There’s enough bite to his words that you’re actually a bit surprised at his choice of tone, but even looking back on that drunk night fumbling through apologies, this is the most stressed you’ve ever seen him. His face is gaunt, pale with dark shadows beneath his eyes, and as you take in his outfit, you realize he’s wearing the hoodie he usually throws on after his showers.
If you were to wager a guess, he’s probably wearing last night’s clothes. He doesn’t attempt to hide the tension that grips his muscles and claws at his brow, either.
It’s clear that the thoughts he’s been sharing with you are ones that have been plaguing him as of late. He’s likely been grappling with the idea of telling his brothers about the lawsuit since you last saw him at Christmas. But that’s the thing about Sukuna, he would never ask for help. It’s a miracle he wanted to talk at all.
You let his snappy tone slide, giving him the benefit of the doubt that it’s not intentional. After all, he did ask you to come out here in the cold with him to talk.
Well, maybe ‘asked’ is the wrong word, but he made it clear he wanted you here to talk.
Still, the tension that hangs between you isn’t the usual alluring tension that draws you to him. It’s not uncomfortable, but you would certainly prefer the usual silence with him. It hangs between you in the delicate balance of Sukuna’s startlingly fragile tenacity, which only serves to sympathize you to him in spite of his loose temper.
Sukuna taps a finger on the edge of his cigarette. The ember tip falls to the ground in a pile of ash, melting a small crater of snow at his feet. Choosing not to acknowledge the rigidity that strains the quiet air, he casts a glance at his watch and nods in the direction of his brothers’ school.
“Don’t wanna be late,” he grunts, smoke escaping from the corners of his lips. With one final inhalation, he tosses the cigarette on the ground and stomps it out, turning on his heel to lead the way to the school.
You chew absently on your lip, trailing slowly after him.
The snow crunches beneath your feet, your mind grasping at the conversations of the people passing you by in an effort to fill the dead air. It’s suffocating being in Sukuna’s presence when he’s made a point of having you near, while simultaneously being bull-headed as he holds you at arms’ length.
“They ask for you a lot.”
You take a couple of long strides to catch up with him, thankful that he breaks the ice. Fiddling with the woven bracelets that are still tied to your wrist, you smile. “That’s really sweet. They’re good kids.”
Sukuna casts you a glance. He can see uncertainty in your eyes. He’s not stupid, he knows it’s his fault. But some stubborn part of him holds something akin to a grudge against you for pointing out something he knows is bad for him.
He’s got bigger problems than his nicotine addiction.
When Sukuna doesn’t reply, you swallow nervously. “You’ve raised them well, Kuna.”
Piercing irises snap towards you, flitting between your eyes. “‘M not so sure about that.”
“Aren’t you proud of them?” You push, tilting your head.
Sukuna’s chest clenches. He averts his gaze, grimacing. “‘Course.”
“Then why wouldn’t you think you raised them well?”
“I’m not what they need,” he replies simply.
Your gaze narrows, lips pursing in confusion. “They need a roof over their heads and food on the table. You’re good to them, Sukuna.”
He sighs heavily. “They need someone more attentive. Someone who can be home and dote over them.”
“Dote?” You parrot, the corner of your lip twitching up. “I’ve seen you dote.”
He scoffs. “As if.”
“What do you call your gifts to them?”
A crease forms between his brows. “That wasn’t doting. It hardly meant anything.”
“I don’t believe that for a second, and I don’t think you do either,” you tease, prodding his shoulder and chancing his patience with you.
He scowls down at you, huffing.
You giggle quietly, your breath visible in the air before you. Quieting down, you nudge him gently. “You know just how much those gifts meant to them. You’re exactly what they need, Sukuna. And I think you’re what they want, too.”
Sukuna falters, catching himself quickly enough to play it off like he tripped. Somehow, that’s the less embarrassing option here, he thinks.
“Maybe.” It comes out weaker than intended, and he’s grateful that the steps up to the front of the school offer an escape from the conversation. He may have started it, but like most other difficult conversations he dragged you into, he usually finds himself reluctant to continue them.
Something about how well you know his brothers, how well you know him, shakes him to his very core and he’s not willing to touch that thought with a ten foot pole.
To his relief, the bell rings and a teacher guides a class of young, bright-eyed children out of the school to reunite them each with those meant to pick them up. As Yuji crosses the school’s barrier, she points the two of you out and the little boy goes barreling towards you both.
“Kunaaaaa!” He cries out excitedly, attaching himself like a koala to his older brother’s leg. Sukuna grunts, lifting him into the air as he easily keeps his balance. The little boy giggles, his eyes opening to look at his brother, when he spots you.
Hopping from his brother’s arms with wide, excited eyes, he leaps into your arms as you extend them to him. “You’re here!” He cheers, arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug.
You giggle, doing your best to hold the boy up as he clings tightly to you. “How was school, Yu?”
“It was great! We’re learning about the oceans and sharks, and-”
As Yuji excitedly tells you about his day, Choso dips through the doorway, his eyes scanning the steps for Sukuna. As he spots both of you, a small smile makes its way to his lips and he jogs over with his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack.
Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair, who smooths it down in response, a gleam in his eyes as he waves at the sight of you beside his brother. You smile back at him, unable to wave with the youngest Itadori in your arms. Sukuna begins leading the way back towards his apartment, listening to Yuji’s ramblings.
“- did you know that seals eat penguins? I could never eat a penguin, they’re so cute. I think seals should eat something else.”
“You think so?” You giggle at Yuji’s adamant statement.
“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head. “They should just eat fish and get along with the penguins. Like you and Kuna.”
Your brow raises and you cast a glance at Sukuna, who’s also now staring at the pink-haired boy with mild interest.
“What do you mean ‘like me and Sukuna’, sweetheart?” You ask curiously, your heart doing a flip.
“You’re like a penguin because you’re really cool and nice and Kuna’s like a seal because he’s a meanie but he’s also cool. I think if seals were more like my big brother, they’d get along with penguins. Like you guys.”
Kids are wild.
You laugh as Yuji explains himself, your tone sitting somewhere between genuine chortles and something to fill a silence that might otherwise be awkward. “Tell me more about your brother being like a seal,” you urge, knowing it’ll ruffle Sukuna’s carefully preened feathers.
Yuji stares up at the clouds in thought. Your arms are beginning to tire, but you’ll hold him as long as you can, even if you know you’re holding up the walking pace. “Ummmm… well, some seals have spots and Sukuna has some on his shoulders, but he’s more stripey, like a tiger-”
“They’re not stripes, brat,” Sukuna hisses, but Yuji continues on without a care in the world.
“- and seals eat a lot and so does Kuna-”
“Alright, I’ve heard enough.”
Undeterred, the little boy continues. “- and apparently seals are really good parents, just like Kuna. I know he’s our brother, but he’s the best parent ever.”
It hits Sukuna like a shot through the chest, piercing clean straight through his heart and leaving behind a bloody hole. His jaw is heavy set as he does what he can to mask the way his little brother’s words affected him. The last thing he needs is a worried twelve-year-old and an ‘i told you so’ from you.
Because it’s then that it strikes him that you’re right.
Time and time again, you prove to him just how much he means to his brothers and each and every time he’s left balancing precariously on a cliff as he does what he can to hide the way his feet damn near betray him at the edge. It’s not like he has any reason to be upset with you over this, but to be known is to be seen, and that’s not something Sukuna’s accustomed to.
He has no issue with being the campus’ mysterious and hot ‘bad boy’, as much as the title serves to make him roll his eyes. It’s little more than a generic title given to him for surface-level facts and rumors.
To have you call him out so clearly, to be so utterly correct time after time when it comes to him and his family… He’s not sure how he feels about that. It stirs something deep within and he grits his teeth as he shoves his hands in his pockets.
Sukuna’s brow is deeply furrowed, his steps falling heavily on the snow-clad sidewalk. Ever observant, of course you caught the way his jaw trembled subtly when he heard his brother, but the moment was gone before you had a chance to consider it. Now, he just looks frustrated, even more so than usual.
It seems the new year brought with it the realization of just how close the court date is, and how horribly underprepared he is.
“Is that so?” You question Yuji, although your gaze never leaves Sukuna, brow knit in concern for him.
“Yeah! He’s the coolest!”
“He is, isn’t he?” You reply softly, shooting a look at Sukuna, who scowls at you both with an expression you can’t place.
You have to set Yuji on the ground fairly soon after, and ask Choso how his day was. The walk is spent listening to both brothers chat about their days as Sukuna is otherwise silent. Arriving at Sukuna’s front door, he tells the kids to head inside and wait for him in the lobby, waiting until they’re two doors away to talk to you.
“Will you be alright?”
Something akin to offense passes over his eyes. It’s clear that no matter what you do, everything is getting under his skin today, so you think it’s best to leave. Besides, this is something he needs to do on his own.
“I’ll be fine,” he grits, continuing to scowl down at you. Even as frustrated as he is, his gaze softens as he stares past you and realizes you’ll need to walk back to your car on campus. “Email me when you get home,” he mutters, turning on his heel and leaving you standing out in the cold without another word.
Before he can shut the door behind him, you hesitantly take a step forward, catching the edge of the door. “Let me know if you want to talk.”
He stares at you for a split-second, contempt burning behind red irises that has you frowning at him, hurt that he’s been so short with you today. As though he realizes the same, the furrow to his brow lessens and he hums, nodding.
If that’s the most you’ll get out of him, so be it.
He turns back towards the lobby, passing through the second set of doors and following the kids as they lead the way up to the apartment. Choso reaches for Sukuna’s keys and unlocks the door, pushing through the barrier into their home. Yuji immediately goes running off to drop his bag in their room.
“Hey! Once you’re done I need you both back on the couch,” he calls after his little brother, his shoulders so tense it physically pains him to roll them back.
He can see Choso’s unease immediately, eyes wide and worried. Fuck.
Choso timidly sets his bag down in front of the couch and takes a seat at the edge of the cushion, fiddling with his fingers, the nails chewed raw. Sukuna had never noticed his brother developed that habit.
Yuji bounds excitedly to the couch, oblivious to the weighty air in the room. Choso bounces slightly as his little brother hops on the couch and plops down.
With a deep breath, Sukuna kneels down to the boys’ level, glancing between them.
“I heard from your mother,” he starts. Excitement overtakes Yuji’s expression, while Choso stiffens, his gaze anywhere but on Sukuna. “She’ll be in town soon.” He’s beating around the bush, he knows that. But how the hell do you tell two children about a lawsuit?
“Can we see her?” Yuji asks in awe.
“Lemme finish, Yu.” Sukuna takes a seat on the coffee table as his knees begin to get sore. The old wood creaks beneath his weight, not intended to support him, but it does nonetheless. “She wants ya both back.”
Sukuna pauses, letting both boys process his words.
Choso’s lips are pursed, his hands fiddling uncertainly in his lap.
“Like, we’ll all go live with her?” Yuji asks, his head tilting curiously.
Sukuna shudders at the question. If only it were so simple. “No. Just you and Choso.”
“She’s not Kuna’s mom,” Choso mutters.
In truth, Sukuna’s done a bad job of explaining their family to Yuji, making the assumption he’s too young to understand. Maybe he’s right, but it seems Choso’s willing to tell him the portions that Sukuna doesn’t want to touch.
“But… Kuna’s our brother too,” Yuji protests, frowning.
Sukuna sighs, a pang in his heart. “Listen,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “if she takes you, I won’t get to be a part of your life. If that’s what you want-”
“No!” Yuji cries out, interrupting Sukuna’s question. Choso’s fidgeting hasn’t stopped, but he has yet to say a word.
“Gimme a moment, Yu. If that’s what you want, that’s fine. I’ll let her take ya-”
“Kuna? Why do you keep saying ‘take’?” Choso finally finds his voice, eyes teary as though he already understands.
Sukuna’s lips press into a thin line, his leg bouncing as he contemplates his reply. The coffee table creaks relentlessly beneath him.
“Your mother doesn’t think I’m fit to take care of you. She’s-” he cuts himself off, running his tongue over his teeth in his mouth. “She’s tryna take you back, legally.”
“Legally?” Yuji parrots, his lips pursed.
Sukuna averts his gaze, looking for answers anywhere within the apartment, but he’s met only with a dull silence and Choso’s quiet sniffles. It’s clear he understands, and Sukuna wants nothing more than to assure him that he can win the legal battle, but the bitter truth is that Sukuna doesn’t want to lie to them.
And he’s not so confident that he can win.
“Yu, d’you remember when we watched Mrs. Doubtfire?”
Slowly, the little boy nods.
“D’you remember the part where the mom and dad are in a big room with a judge and he takes away the dad’s custody?”
Yuji blanks, nodding, although it’s clear he still doesn't fully understand.
“Well, custody is who gets to take care of kids. Right now that’s me. She wants it to be her, and neither of us get to decide that. It’s up to the judge,” Sukuna explains, trying as best as he can to offer an unbiased explanation.
“Tell her no!” Yuji cries out.
Sukuna bites down on his cheek, his brow furrowed. “I don’t get to, Yu. She’s forcing me to show up in front of the judge.”
Ever so slowly, Choso stands up off the couch, trailing closer and closer to his older brother until he’s leaning into Sukuna’s side, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and soaking into Sukuna’s shirt. Yuji seems to be starting to understand, now standing at the edge of the couch as he adamantly stands his ground as though the lawsuit is a personal attack to him.
“No! No, I don’t wanna go without you!” He proclaims loudly, his eyes beginning to water.
Sukuna can only frown as he watches the boy grapple with something he doesn’t understand.
“I don’t-” sniffle, “- I don’t wanna!” His tears now freely fall as he barrels at full force into Sukuna as well, crying into his side. He pulls both brothers closer, his exhausted gaze set straight ahead. “Please, Kuna, please!”
The apartment is filled with Yuji’s bawls and babbles, while Choso silently clings to him. The coffee table creaks beneath the three of them with every movement, threatening to give out at any moment.
“I won’t,” sniffle, “go, p- please don’t make me go! I don’t want to,” he sobs, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”
Denial after denial, it’s all that fills the apartment for longer than Sukuna knows what to do about.
“I don’t-” a sob wracks Yuji’s tiny body, “- even know her. I don’t remember her,” he bawls. Sukuna squeezes him as an acknowledgement, though he’s not sure what comfort he can offer. “Why can’t you come with us?”
Sukuna bites down harder than intended on his lower lip. “Your mother doesn’t like me, Yu.”
“But you-” he gasps for air between sobs, “- you’re the best.”
The taste of iron fills Sukuna’s mouth as he swipes his tongue over his lips. His chest feels as though it could implode as he tugs his two brothers tighter against him. Yuji tightly grips Sukuna’s hoodie, his little hands tugging with the full force of a five-year-old.
“I’m gonna fight for you both, okay?” He assures.
Choso sniffles, pulling back just enough to look up at his brother. “You want us?”
If Yuji saying he was the best parent earlier was a shot through the heart, this took out whatever was left. The question barreled straight through him like a train, leaving nothing behind but pieces for Sukuna to pick up. Each piece serving as a mistake in the way he’d raised the boys.
He knows all too well that this question comes from a place of insecurity, and while Choso’s mother may have laid the seed, Sukuna watered it.
It was never intentional, he would never want Choso to feel that way, but Sukuna remembers the moment he likely solidified Choso’s insecurities all-too-well.
Three letters. Seven emails. Forty eight calls.
Make it forty nine.
“Fuck!” Sukuna slams his phone down on the table that was once his father’s.
The house that surrounds them feels foreign without his life.
Choso stares at the wood grain of the table, his eyes tracing the way it swirls. He’s long grown numb to Sukuna’s anger, especially over the past couple of weeks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word.
He sat alongside Sukuna through each call. Through all fifty nine attempts to reach his mother, each one further solidifying Sukuna’s fate.
Sukuna, barely able to be considered an adult, is a guardian. By all accounts, he’s a parent.
Sukuna, who works for a cannabis dispensary. Sukuna, who never wanted a second family to begin with, who never wanted this responsibility, who never even wanted brothers, let alone kids, now bears the burden of fatherhood.
The legs of his chair scrape the wooden floor as he stands abruptly, running a hand over his face as he paces a small distance from the table.
He makes his way to the sink, turning the faucet to cold water and splashing it over his face. With dripping hands, he grips the edge of the counter and leans over the sink and his stomach churns and bile threatens to upend.
It wouldn’t be the first time since his father had passed away that his stomach had decided to empty itself.
With his jaw slightly ajar and his chest heaving, he pushes a wet hand through his hair, pushing himself back to his full height.
He wipes the water from his face on his sleeve, shaking his head in an effort to free his vision from his hair. His father had been so sick that Sukuna hadn’t had the time, nor the money, to bother with a haircut, or even shaving. His stubble, that of a boy barely considered an adult, is still uneven and leaves him looking as disheveled as he feels.
His eyes trail the length of the kitchen, which morphs into the living and dining room area, until they land on Choso.
The healthcare system had taken every last penny his father had left behind, and without the support of Choso and Yuji’s mother, he’s at a loss of where to go from here. Even disregarding money, he had to look up how to change a diaper. How sad is that? Looking up Youtube tutorials on what to do?
It’s not like he hadn’t looked after his brothers before, but his father never left him alone long enough to need to worry about that sort of thing. Now it seemed that changing a diaper was the least of his problems.
He teetered constantly somewhere between pissed off and lost and had no one to fall back on, something that became painfully obvious when he’d contemplated going to the hospital when his chest tightened so much that breathing was a forced effort. In the end, he’d been able to do little more than clutch desperately at his chest as he laid on the floor of the bathroom, the cool tile the only reprieve from his lonely agony.
He could reach out to Toji. Hell, he should. But when his father got sick, Sukuna pushed him away. He pushed everyone away. He thinks he’s more comfortable alone now, even if that leaves him staring at his little brother without a clue of what to do.
Choso hasn’t said a word to him since the whole ordeal occurred. The grief had taken its toll on Sukuna’s body and attitude, but it had completely silenced his brother. Although he still stuck around Sukuna, somehow still wanting to be around the grief and anger-stricken man, he never said a word.
The oldest brother cares. He cares a whole lot about his two siblings. Even if this isn’t what he ever wanted, even if he wasn’t prepared to handle the burden of two young kids. Even if he didn’t want siblings to begin with, Sukuna grew to care.
It doesn’t change the fact that he’s filled with contempt towards their mother for shoving the two boys onto him like this.
As he stares at Choso, a stark contrast to himself and their baby brother who both resemble their father, he sees her staring back at him. Choso and Yuji’s mother.
He shouldn’t have done what he did next.
He should have thought about his reactions.
He would change everything about how he acted towards his little brother in a heartbeat if he could.
But Sukuna, mentally, was on another plane as his lip curled in disdain. “Won’t fuckin’ answer,” he mutters, more to himself although he looks straight at his brother. “Some fuckin’ mother you’ve got, kid.”
As if on cue, Yuji begins crying from another room.
“Fuck!” Sukuna cries out again, trudging angrily across the kitchen to the toddler’s room.
Just in time to make sure he doesn’t see Choso’s tears.
Sukuna’s sure that moment replays in the boy’s head constantly. He sees it every once in a while, the seed of doubt that Sukuna watered that day, along with every other day before and following. He would give anything to take back how he acted. But what the hell does one expect from your stereotypical troubled teen who doesn’t know how to cook, hardly cleans, and has no one to talk to?
What the hell was Sukuna meant to do when he’d thrown up the previous night’s dinner and laid on the floor until he woke up in a sickening daze early the next morning to Yuji crying?
He hopes, prays, to whatever god on earth will listen, that he can make up for it. Make up for all the mistakes, all the problems. Make up for the ways he’d failed his brothers.
“I do, Cho,” he answers, the first certain thing he’s managed to say since they’d arrived home. “Promise.”
Choso’s grip tightens as his face collides with Sukuna’s side so hard he thinks the poor kid’s gonna bruise his nose.
“I love you, Kuna.” Choso’s voice is so quiet that Sukuna hardly makes out what he said over his little brother’s sobs.
Yuji parrots the middle brother, though his words come out a choppy mess behind his tears. “I- love-” sniffle, “- y- you, Kunaaa.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he gruffs, grimacing. He stares at the couch, his eyes flickering between the three indentations that have formed over the last three years. The material is significantly more worn on his side of the couch, the least worn in the center where Yuji likes to sit. In the back of his mind, something akin to guilt rears its ugly head and he continues his thought before he says something he regrets.
Or, more specifically, before he doesn’t say something and regrets it.
“Love ya both too.”
–
It takes a long time, but Sukuna manages to quiet both brothers down. As a treat, he buys them chicken from Strip Joint, which they were about as thrilled as two devastated young kids could be.
He’s not sure exactly how soundly they’ll manage to sleep, but he’s thankful when Yuji passes out fairly easily after a long afternoon of relentless tears.
Shutting his door behind him, Sukuna sighs as he’s finally able to catch his breath for what feels like the first time today.
He collapses onto his bed against the headboard, running his hands over his face.
Pulling his hands back, he stares at his palms, warm and wet.
Tears.
Is he so worn thin that he can’t even feel his own tears?
Shit.
He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his poor hoodie, which is covered in Yuji’s tears, snot, and spit, Choso’s tears, and now Sukuna’s too.
He pulls it up over his head, pushing his hair back out of his face. It’s getting long again, but Sukuna doesn’t have the time to deal with it.
He hopes to god that his previous transgressions from all those years ago don’t repeat themselves simply because Sukuna’s at wit’s end.
He scratches uncomfortably at his chest, desperate for a shower, anything to take his mind off of the shitty day he’s had. Undressing, he wraps a towel around his waist and walks down the hall to climb into the shower, splaying his hands on the tiles as hot water runs over his body, cleaning him of the dirt and grime that plagues his body, alongside some of the tension in his muscles.
He blinks his eyes open as water trails down his hair, falling in a steady stream down his chin.
The day feels like a blur.
His chest tightens as his muscles relax, a familiar feeling that he fears will leave him laying on the bathroom floor again.
It hasn’t been that bad in years. He didn’t think it would ever be that bad again.
Pushing himself up, he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and wiping water from his eyes as he finishes showering. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he slips back into his room, inhaling sharply as his chest seems to compress against his lungs.
Too tired to bother with the outside world, he slips under the covers without a second thought. He doesn’t bother to check if you made it home safe. He doesn’t bother to set out his clothing for tomorrow. He doesn’t even bother to set an alarm. He simply shuts his eyes and hopes to god that he can get a full night’s rest.
Unfortunately, that’s not in the books for Sukuna.
–
Much to your dismay, you don’t see Sukuna again until Friday, four days later. It took him nearly twenty four hours to get back to your message about being home, or the subsequent one the following day upon realizing he wasn’t at lunch, nor in class.
[email protected] - Tuesday, 5:29 PM im fine. cho didnt sleep. been a long day
You had grimaced and offered condolences, but at the end of the day, you suppose there isn’t much more you can do when he’s not looking for help.
That doesn’t mean Shoko didn’t have to drag you out to the mall and convince you not to show up at his door regardless. Thankful for her distraction, you indulged in getting yourself a new sweater and celebrated the fact that oh my god, your history prof from last semester was suspended for his (terrible) teaching methods?? If only the school had done that one semester earlier.
Then again, maybe you wouldn’t be nearly as close with Sukuna if that were the case.
Maybe that would have been for the best.
But the tightness in your heart tells you otherwise as you sit alone in your Literature History class.
It’s funny, that without Sukuna’s distraction beside you, you’re somehow finding it harder to focus without him in the chair beside you. Absently typing at your keyboard, you stare at the screen, your eyes trailing the notes you’ve been taking. They mostly make sense, but your brain must be working on autopilot, because you haven’t processed a single word the professor said.
Rubbing the crease between your brows, you do your best to tune in, chewing on your lower lip and narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do you any good.
The door at the front of the class loudly swings open and Sukuna barges in without a word, trudging straight up to your seat with his hoodie up.
“Class started twenty minutes ago, Ryomen.”
From your angle, you see the snarl on his face, you see the way he practically whips towards her with a world of stress in his eyes and the anger to match. But whether he chooses to take the high road, or simply decides it isn’t worth it, he manages only a measly “yeah. Whatever.”
He should consider himself lucky he isn’t sent away for that, but with only a disappointed grimace, the professor chooses to carry on.
“You’re here,” you whisper, as quietly as you can manage so as not to get him in further trouble.
He sighs. “Finally managed to get them to class today.”
“They haven’t been going to school?”
“Couldn’t get ‘em to,” he mutters, keeping his head low behind his laptop screen as he slumps back in his seat.
You glance at him, a sympathetic frown adorning your lips, but you keep quiet to avoid getting called out by the professor again. Sukuna keeps unusually quiet and withdrawn throughout the entirety of class, packing up as quickly as he came.
He’s on his feet and charging down the stairs before you have so much as a moment to with him.
“Ryomen! A word.”
You watch with dismay as Sukuna whips around angrily to the professor, grumbling out a less-than-thrilled “what?” as he reaches the last step near the door. “Make it quick. I got somewhere to be.”
You grit your teeth, watching with horror as the professor’s brow raises in disbelief at Sukuna’s attitude.
“Mr. Sukuna, if you don’t want to be here, you’re more than welcome to drop my class. You’ve made it very clear that this is not your priority, and-”
Sukuna drops his bag to the ground with a thud, as the students who haven’t already slipped out, including yourself, all watch the interaction in trepidation. “Yeah, you could say it’s not,” he growls. “I got other shit going on.”
“I can sympathize with that,” the professor replies. You have to applaud her patience with the man. “However, I have a class to teach. Whether you choose to show up or not is on you, however I’ll ask that you please don’t distract other students by arriving late.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenches, visibly biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. “Yeah. Sure,” he dismisses, turning to grab his bag. He slings it over his shoulder and slams the door ajar with his shoulder, barging out without another word.
You traverse down the stairs and chase after him, jogging to catch up to his long strides.
“Sukuna!” You call just before falling into step with him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he hisses, shooting you a glare. He falters when your expression recoils appropriately to his prickly reply. Sighing, he runs a hand down his face. “I’m fine,” he repeats, less edge to his tone this time.
“Oh. Okay. Um, are you still good to meet with Kento and his friend?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, clipped.
“That’s good,” you agree, nodding as you search for common ground, something Sukuna might be a bit more receptive to. “Did you want company while you pick up Choso and Yuji?”
He casts you a glance, his expression unreadable. “Up to you.”
He’s not making this easy.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing how they’re doing.”
He doesn’t even bother with a reply this time, he simply shrugs.
“Okay, um, I’ll come with you then,” you mumble hesitantly, gauging his reaction, but he remains silent, pulling ahead to walk in front of you as he heads for the doors and turns in the direction of his brothers’ school.
The silence no longer carries a familiar warmth, or even the relative discomfort from earlier in the week. It hangs over you like a fog now, uncertainty tucked within its blanket. Sukuna hardly seems to notice you’re there, never turning to acknowledge you nor straying off his path. Each time you contemplate talking, the words die in your throat at the sight of his tense jaw.
At least it’s warmer today than it was on Monday.
Standing at Sukuna’s side as you arrive at the school, you quietly examine his face. His eyes are sunken and heavy and his shoulders hunched as though the weight of his burdens are hardly being held up anymore. His eyes are glazed in a way that tells you his dismissive attitude towards you is because he isn’t all there, not present even within his own body.
Clearly the talk with his brothers has had adverse effects not only on them, but him as well.
Hesitantly, you reach out in hopes to ground him, setting a hand near his wrist, where the tips of your fingers graze his skin as they breach the edge of his sleeve. His eyes sharpen as he stares down at the contact of your hand.
Sukuna is accustomed to the way that your skin always seems to sear him. He’s chalked it up all this time to lust, but as the contact of your skin, so soft and gentle, just barely brushes his, he second-guesses himself for a split-second. As if on auto-pilot, he can only watch as he pulls his hand from his coat pocket, flipping it to brush the tips of his fingers against yours. Offering a comfort he isn’t familiar with, one that keeps him present, he fiddles with your fingers as you simply observe his face.
“Are you okay, Kuna?” You keep your voice low, your tone gentle as you take a step towards him, letting him run his thumb over your knuckles as he pleases.
It takes a moment, but he meets your gaze, really meets your gaze, for the first time today. His eyes fall again to your hand as he avoids your question. “They didn’t take it well.”
You nod slowly. “I didn’t think they would,” you admit with a tight-lipped smile. “The nightmares…?”
“None of us have slept.”
“I…” You grimace. “Can tell.” You gently squeeze the tips of his fingers that continue to fiddle with yours.
His chest rumbles in something akin to a laugh, though it lacks humor. “I figured goin’ back to school would do ‘em good, maybe help with sleeping. Cho wasn’t thrilled.”
“He’ll be alright,” you assure Sukuna, the school bell sounding from behind you. His fingers pause for a moment, before he drops his hand back to his side.
Yuji is one of the first kids out the door. He seems to be managing, although his usual energy is certainly dulled. He runs at full force straight into Sukuna, who picks him up with ease as the child clings to him.
“Missed you, Kuna.”
Sukuna hums, gently nudging the boy with his shoulder. “Look who’s here.”
Yuji lifts his head, flipping it around until his gaze finds you. He calls your name happily, though it’s still dulled from the usual excitement that surrounds him. His arms reach for you and Sukuna plops him down on the snow to let him run straight for you.
“Hey sweetheart,” you greet, kneeling before him to let him hug you. Reeling back, you gently brush his hair from his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” He pouts, shaking his head. His hair falls back over his forehead again, so you brush the stray pink strands from his eyes once more. “I miss my brother.”
“Hey,” you coo softly. “He’s not letting you go, honey. We’re going to meet one of my friends for some advice, okay?”
Yuji’s head tilts. “Huh? Advice for Cho?”
You mirror him, brow furrowed. “What’s going on with Cho?”
“He doesn’t wanna play anymore,” Yuji pouts, staring down at the snow under his little feet as he rocks side to side. His little cheeks are red, whether from the cold or unshed tears, you aren’t sure.
With a grunt of effort, you pull the little boy into your arms. He clings to you, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you turn to his older brother. “Is Choso okay?” You query, concerned.
“I’ll let you judge for yourself.”
You turn to the door where Choso emerges, his appearance ghostly. His movements are mechanical as he makes his way up to you and Sukuna. He shoots a glance up to you, but doesn’t acknowledge you otherwise, staring blankly off to the side as he waits for Sukuna to lead the way.
“Hey, Choso.”
Silence.
You frown, precariously balancing Yuji in one arm to reach down and gently run a hand over Choso’s hair. He blinks a few times, meeting your gaze. Although the boy traditionally looks tired, his eyes are devoid of warmth. He’s running on empty, completely gassed, and you can understand suddenly why all three of them had no desire to show up to classes.
“You know what I think this day calls for?” You shouldn’t be shocked to find that none of the three brothers reply, but Sukuna at the very least gives you his attention. “How do you three like cinnamon buns?”
“I like them,” Yuji mumbles into your shoulder, gripping your coat.
Well, at least one of them will give you an answer. If that’s the best you can get, you’ll take it.
“Great! You can get whatever treats you’d like, alright?”
Your enthusiasm is met with silence. This is one of those moments where it becomes glaringly obvious who raised the two boys.
Simply to fill the silence, you inquire with Yuji how his day went, plopping him onto the ground when he becomes too heavy to carry. He gingerly reaches for your hand, squeezing it as he talks about his day and a book his class has begun to read.
Yuji begins to drag your hand, falling further and further behind as he grows tired, practically trying to clamber onto your back as you stop to wait for a crosswalk.
Taking notice, Sukuna reaches down to pick up his little brother. “C’mere,” he mumbles as he lifts the child over his head until he’s sitting soundly on the man’s shoulders. You smile softly at the sight. They may not share a mother, but you’d hardly believe it. They’re like twins, only born several years apart.
Yuji idly tugs at Sukuna’s hair as he sits atop the man’s shoulders, a good six feet taller than where he usually stands. His older brother swats at his hands with a grimace, staring ahead as the boy settles and leans his torso on the back of Sukuna’s head.
You keep an eye on Choso, who begins to trail behind the closer you get to the cafe. You’re a good thirty minutes early, but you don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to have the kids listening into the legal discussion either way, so this will give you a chance to grab a table just for them.
Sukuna ducks as he walks into the cafe, ensuring he doesn’t smack his brother’s head on the doorframe, while you trail behind to wait for Choso. When his eyes meet your feet in front of him, they slowly trail up until he finds your gaze. It twists your heart, to see how blankly he stares at you.
“Hey honey. If you don’t want to talk, that’s totally fine, but I just want you to know I’m here.”
His eyes flicker between yours.
Kneeling down to his height, you smile softly. “Do you remember when you found that paperwork and I told you that your brother would talk to me if he needed help?”
Choso blinks a couple of times, and for a moment, you think that’s the most you’ll get from him, but he finds it in himself to nod.
“Well, he did come to me for help. We’re gonna meet my friends at the cafe in a bit and they’re gonna help your brother. He’s fighting for you. We’ll figure things out, okay?”
He nods again, taking a meager step forward before finding his way into your arms. You hug him back tightly and rub his back.
“Thank you.” It’s quiet and hoarse, you can tell he hasn’t spoken in a while. But it’s a step forward, and you’ll take it.
A knock on the glass grabs your attention and you pull back a bit to look up at the cafe window above you. The picture of stoicism, Sukuna stares down at you from within, pointing behind him with his thumb.
‘Got us a table,’ he mouths through the glass, before turning back towards the interior. You don’t catch a word he says, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out what he’s trying to tell you.
“He got a table.” Choso mumbles, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as you turn back to him.
“Is he, like- really bad at that?” You ask, smirking as you point a thumb in the direction where Sukuna was moments ago.
Choso nods, his smile turning up sliiiiightly more.
“And here I thought it was just me,” you grin, standing back up and leading the way to the back of the cafe where Sukuna’s got two tables reserved, one with four seats, and a smaller one with two. He must be on the same wavelength as you, having deliberately chosen a table with enough distance to keep the conversation private, while still having the kids nearby.
He pulls a stack of very ripped and wrinkled papers from his bag, setting them face down on the table as Choso crawls into a tall chair beside his brother. With an arched brow, you set your hand on the paperwork as you take a seat beside him, asking a silent question.
“You can read ‘em if you want.”
Flipping them, your eyes first skim the tape that holds each page together, then the contents themselves.
“What happened to them?”
“I was pissed.”
Clearly. But you keep that thought to yourself. You skim the contents of the legal documents, nails tapping against the faux wood grain table rhythmically.
Case No. 2493
Social File No. 34785-98
Next Court Date: March 23rd.
In The Matter of Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori.
Turns out, it only takes four sentences before you’re frowning at the page, the legal jargon a little bit beyond you. Of course, it’s not entirely illegible and you’re thankful you’re an English literature major, but the jurisdiction codes and notes are a bit beyond any English diploma.
“This is… a lot.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” Sukuna mumbles, glancing at his watch. “We got some time, you want anything?”
“I’m okay, thanks Kuna.” Keeping your head buried in the paperwork as you try to dissect an ounce of what the documents say, you chew on your lip as Sukuna drags his brothers to the counter before stepping off to the side to await his order.
With your head down and brow furrowed in documents, you don’t notice Kento standing opposite you with a decently sized box from your parents.
“Good afternoon,” Kento greets you, punctuating the sentence with your name. Your head whips up with a smile as you greet the two men. Standing beside Kento is another tall man with tousled short brown hair, sunken eyes, and a prominent nose. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with a blazer over top, which is about what you would imagine a law student wears. “This is Higuruma,” he introduces the man.
“Hiromi is fine,” he chuckles, surprisingly informal for someone leaning in to extend his hand to you.
Shaking his hand, you flash him a grin. “Nice to meet you,” you greet him, imparting your name. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s not a problem,” Hiromi chuckles kindly, taking a seat kitty cornered from you while Kento sits across from you. Hiromi has an air of tiredness about him that’s not entirely dissimilar to that of Sukuna.
Sukuna returns just in time, a tray of cups held high above the ground to prevent a certain young boy from dangling off his arm and spilling them.
That same young boy happens to be dangling off his other arm, though it hardly seems to weigh the man down as he easily holds both the boy and the bag of treats up. He mumbles something to Choso as he sets the tray down, making a motion for the boy to look in his backpack.
Kento and Hiromi watch in barely-masked shock as Sukuna gently directs the kids to a smaller table in the corner, handing them the bag of sweets and a cup of hot chocolate each. Choso tucks a couple of coloring books and markers beneath his elbow as well as they leisurely make their way to the little table in the corner.
With a heavy, tired, sigh, Sukuna takes a seat beside you, pulling the last two cups out and setting one in front of himself and one in front of you.
“Oh, I don’t-”
Ignoring you outright, Sukuna speaks up. “Woulda gotten you both somethin’ but I don’t know your orders,” he gruffs to the two men opposite him, his jaw tightening at the painfully obvious shock and hint of guilt that gleams in Kento’s eyes.
“That’s… Quite alright,” Kento clears his throat, introducing Hiromi and Sukuna to one another before passing you the box of belongings your parents had sent with him. Hiromi extends his hand again, though Sukuna’s not so eager to take it. It’s all a bit formal for him.
“So, I assume this has to do with legal questions,” Hiromi chuckles wryly as you take a sip of your drink.
Your exact order.
Sukuna remembered.
Sukuna hums, sliding the papers across the table without a word. Hiromi coughs once at the sight of the ripped papers, stifling a laugh at the unsightly state of them. It fades almost immediately as his eyes trace the Times New Roman that litters the page.
With a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning over the table.
“Right. Before we start, I need to make something clear. What I’m doing right now is illegal as a student, so you can’t breathe a word that I was here,” he states firmly, hollowed eyes flickering between the both of you.
“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Sukuna mumbles, amusement pricking the edge of his tone.
Hiromi glances back at the kids, catching his meaning. “They’re yours, then? Legally, I mean?”
“Yeah.”
Hiromi sighs again, nodding. “I see. Give me a moment to read these.”
“In the meantime, can I get you both something to drink?” You ask politely.
“Coffee, black, please,” Hiromi replies, leaning over the table on his elbow as he tilts the first page read over a rip, casting the glare on the tape elsewhere.
“That will be fine for myself as well, thank you,” Kento smiles kindly. He waits until you’re out of earshot to speak to Sukuna while Hiromi reads. “She cares about you a great deal, you know.”
A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw ticks. He had a feeling this was coming, though he’d hoped you simply wouldn’t leave his side. He can only avoid his mistakes so long, it seems.
“She’s a good friend.”
Kento’s reaction gives nothing away, his observant expression looking for a break in Sukuna’s aloof features, any sign that he’s the shallow asshole Kento had taken him for. When he doesn’t find it, he nods slowly.
“She is. She deserves that same treatment back.”
Sukuna’s lip twitches, bordering on a snarl that he only holds back out of courtesy of the blonde doing him a favor. “I’m aware.”
Kento sighs, his posture relaxing in his seat as Sukuna bites his tongue, matching Kento’s sigh with a striking glare. “Listen, I believe that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and given how close she is to both of us, I’d prefer to be on friendly terms.”
“Mm.”
Gathering that Sukuna isn’t one for words, Kento continues. “I see now that there are…” he pauses, his eyes sliding to the right where the two kids are quietly coloring. “Extenuating circumstances behind what happened and I may have misdirected my anger. So, I apologize.”
Sukuna quietly observes Kento’s surprisingly sincere apology, nodding slowly. “I appreciate you lookin’ out for her.”
Sukuna doesn’t exactly verbally accept the apology, but that’s not uncharacteristic of him. Besides, he can’t exactly hold a grudge against the man who’s helping him in a legal battle.
“Of course. Let it be known, however, that if you hurt her again, I will not take it so lightly.” Kento adds grimly.
Sukuna huffs. “‘Course.”
“Great.” Kento extends a hand as an act of good will.
“Can we cut the formalities? They aren’t really my deal.”
Kento cracks a smile, nodding. “Sure, Sukuna.”
The sounds of the cafe make for a relatively comfortable silence in spite of Hiromi’s obvious discomfort of the conversation happening over his head. The sounds of the coffee machines, clinking of glasses, and slamming of fridges help to make the environment a little easier on the three men.
“Alright,” you plop down in your chair once more, “two black coffees.”
Both men thank you as you settle beside Sukuna.
“How are the kids?” You quietly ask, leaning back to glance at them.
Sukuna shrugs. “Coloring Spider-Man probably. They seem fine.”
“Alright,” Hiromi taps the stack of unkempt papers against the table, grabbing a pen from the pocket of his blazer and a stack of sticky notes from his pocket. Somehow that’s just so law student that you find yourself with a lopsided smile as you watch. “I’ll need a bit of extra info, can I ask some questions?”
Sukuna slides back in his chair, grimacing to hide his disdain for needing to share his personal life. “Shoot.”
“Right. So, I’ll need the relationships of everyone involved in their lives. Parents, grandparents, and siblings.” He positions his pen to take notes.
Sukuna, begrudgingly as ever, sighs. “Kaori and Jin Itadori are their parents, Jin passed away three or so years ago,” he begins, his leg tapping beneath the table. You’ve noticed he seems to do that whenever the subject of his father comes up around people he isn’t comfortable with. “I’m their half-brother. Father’s side.”
Hiromi nods, writing away with his pen.
“No family remaining on the father’s side apart from myself. They got an uncle and aunt on the mother’s side, as well as a grandfather, I got no contact or names for any of ‘em.”
Hiromi glances up, his eyes sliding towards you. “And your girlfri-”
“We’re friends. She looks after ‘em sometimes,” Sukuna interrupts, keeping his gaze straight ahead. You’re grateful he does, your cheeks absolutely alight with heat. Pulling your hands politely into your lap, you fiddle with your fingers.
Sensing he may have hit a sore subject, Hiromi scratches the back of his neck. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, returning to his notes. “Right. How’d you end up with custody to begin with?”
“Their mother moved for a job before Yuji turned one. When I reached out when our father passed away, she didn’t respond.” Sukuna keeps his replies short and simple, only divulging what he needs to.
Hiromi pauses for a brief moment to stare at Sukuna, as if in disbelief. Kento’s expression matches, but he quickly clears his throat to keep the conversation going. “And the contact with their uncle and aunt? Grandfather?”
“They ain’t my family. I don’t have contact. Lawyers tried, no answer.” He shrugs.
Hiromi jots down more notes, pointing the back of his pen towards Sukuna. “That’s good for you, by the way.”
Sukuna nods slowly, though he’s unable to let his guard down regardless.
“What methods of contact did you use?”
Hiromi clicks his pen a number of times and Sukuna crosses his arms over his chest. “Email, mail, and phone.”
“Was she in communication before Jin passed?” Hiromi queries, leaning over his notes.
Sukuna pauses, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I think so. I don’t have Jin’s phone anymore.”
Hiromi hums, scratching his jaw as he takes down notes. “I see. Are the kids…” he pauses, swinging the end of his pen in the direction of their table, “aware of this?”
Sukuna visibly tenses. “Yeah.”
Gingerly, you slide your leg closer until it’s sidled next to him. Although he doesn’t react, his bouncing leg slows to a halt, as does the subtle shaking of the table. You smile to yourself that you’re able to bring him the comfort he stubbornly refuses to ask for.
“Did she come to you first before sending these over?” Hiromi asks, making a motion towards the legal documents.
Sukuna shakes his head.
“Right. That should do it for the petitioner’s side,” Hiromi hums, tapping the back of his pen against his notes. “Let’s talk about you and your brothers.”
“My favorite subject,” Sukuna grumbles.
Hiromi offers a sympathetic smile. “I get it, believe me. I’m a pretty private person, too. Now, what’s your major?”
“History.”
Hiromi’s brow raises. He seems somewhat surprised, though he doesn’t voice it. “Got anything lined up for when you graduate?”
“No.”
“I assume you’re working as well.”
Sukuna grits his teeth, fed up with the overly personal questions. “Yeah. I’m a mechanic and I stock shelves.”
Hiromi leans on his arm as he jots that down. “You’re a busy guy,” he mumbles, met with Sukuna’s glare at the unhelpful commentary. Hiromi seems unphased, chuckling. “Sorry, my bad. Do you own or rent?”
“I rent an apartment.”
“Three bedroom?”
“Two.”
“Got it. Alright,” he sighs, running both hands through his hair and leaning back in his chair until it’s precariously balancing on the back two legs. With a thud, the chair slams down onto the floor. “Sounds like a fairly standard case. There’s a number of things here that’ll work in your favor, but-” he pauses, wording his statement carefully. “Trying to win a guardianship case against their biological mother isn’t something I would call easy.”
Sukuna nods.
“Let’s go over the basics. She’s trying to claim them as her right as their mother, but she’s also claiming you’re unfit for guardianship on two counts, lack of funds and irresponsibility. That means you’ll need to prove otherwise on both counts, while also convincing them that the right place for the kids is with you,” Hiromi states, shuffling the opening page aside to briskly scan the second page. “At the end of the day, the judge will choose what’s right for the kids. The mother will have a bit of a leg up on you since she won’t have to fight any claims of ill-doing.”
Sukuna frowns. That doesn’t exactly bode well for him.
“You’ve got some good things going for you, though. You should have a record or be able to pull a record of your contact with her. Having two jobs, although not ideal, has its merits as well. Your brothers are clearly both healthy and I assume you’ve kept them in school as well and you’ve had them for three years now, that’s a strong argument.”
“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere here,” Sukuna frowns.
“There… is,” Hiromi agrees, running another hand through his tousled hair and disheveling it further. He leans forward, picking up the stack of legal papers. “I’m assuming the reason she took a job overseas in the first place is for money. She’s paying for a good lawyer,” he points out, setting the paper back down on the table and sliding towards Sukuna. “They’re expensive for a reason, and they’re not just the best in the city. They have national renown.”
Your heart sinks at the sound of that. “So, pro-bono…?”
“It’s certainly an option,” Hiromi avoids your gaze as he replies, something that doesn’t sit well with you. “Legal clinics and pro-bono are meant more for standard cases-”
“You said this was standard,” Sukuna contains his growl, his voice strained. His leg presses hard against yours, his anger contained with all the strength of a bottle cap.
“It is, on paper. The problem here that I’m concerned about is her choice of lawyers.” He taps his pen on his notes as Sukuna drags his hands over his face in exasperation. “They aren’t… exactly known for losing.”
“Fucking... Just fucking great,” Sukuna gripes, leaning over the table on heavy shoulders. He downs what’s left of his coffee, pressing a thumb into the crease between his brows.
“I would be willing to bet that she purposely chose to spring this on you before the kids are old enough to testify.”
“Choso isn’t old enough…?” You query with a frown.
Hiromi slides the legal papers back towards himself, looking over the listed birth date. “No, he’s one year off, and even if he was, you would still need to convince them he’s mature enough.”
“Fuck,” Sukuna sighs, his chest tight. “So my odds aren’t good then, are they?”
Hiromi watches his words as he scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, they’re not ideal. I’d say two to one, but not impossible. You do have a lot going for you.”
“What do you think he should do?” You ask softly.
Hiromi sighs. “Your best bet will be to really lean in on the fact that you’ve had them for three years because she never replied. Call your cell carrier and get phone logs if they’ve kept them, grab any copies of letters sent, pull up emails, anything you can to prove you reached out.” Hiromi pauses, setting his pen on the table as he takes a sip of coffee. “Pull up every record you have that proves the kids are in good health. Things like vaccination records will go a long way. If you can get your employers to write letters detailing your work ethic, that’s worthwhile too. Anything to prove you’re fit.”
Great. His employers get to know about his brothers. Everyone gets to see into Sukuna’s personal life.
Just fucking great.
Sukuna leans hard against his hand, roughly rubbing his eyes. “Sure,” he huffs, swinging a hand through the air. “Why the fuck would she be doing this in the first place?” He leans back suddenly, whipping his hand through the air in exasperation. “Three years ago it wasn’t her fuckin’ problem, so what changed?”
Hiromi flips to the third page of the documents. “If I were to guess, she wants the government grants for childcare.” His eyes skim the second paragraph on the page, pausing as he thinks over what legal code the paperwork is recalling. “I assume you get that right now with two dependents.”
“Yeah, it pays my fuckin’ rent. She’s got money, though, what the fuck changed?”
Sukuna’s clearly running out of patience, to no fault of Hiromi’s, but he’s completely unphased by him. Whatever type of law he’s going into, he must be accustomed to this kind of behavior.
With a tight-lipped smile, Hiromi shrugs. “All I can do is guess. I don’t know.”
Sukuna rakes a hand through his hair. “So, what the hell do I do about the pro-bono thing?”
“I have some contacts that I can recommend that might give you a break on the cash side, but yeah. I’d recommend against going the free route. I really don’t think you’ll have a foot to stand on if you do that.”
Sukuna stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the tile flooring. It echoes loudly around the little cafe, pulling all attention towards him, but he pays it no mind. His brow twitches, crimson eyes filled with distress. “How expensive are we talkin’?”
Hiromi frowns sympathetically. “Two months’ rent I’d guess, though they may cut you a break but it’ll depend on how long you spend with them.”
Looking between the kids and Sukuna, you can see the questions rising from them as their brother holds the cafe’s attention. In an effort to keep everyone calm, you brush your fingers gently against Sukuna’s wrist, your nails dragging softly over his wrist tattoo. “Take a seat,” you urge him, pointedly tilting your head towards his little brothers, who are both staring at him with wide eyes.
Sukuna inhales sharply, taking his seat again. “Is that the high or low end of your guess?”
“High,” Hiromi tries to assure him.
“Great,” Sukuna growls, his anger directed at no one in particular.
“Is there anything else we should know?” You query quietly in an effort to keep the conversation from Choso and Yuji.
Hiromi taps his fingers on the table in thought. “I get it, Sukuna, I really do, but you need to have the patience of a god in court.” Sukuna’s teeth grit on instinct. “A judge won’t take kindly to a mouthy defense. Only speak when spoken to. Got that?”
Sukuna scoffs with all the dramatism of a man falling apart at the seams. “Yeah. Whatever.”
“Thank you, Hiromi. This is a huge help, really.”
He offers a kind smile. “It’s no problem, really. But remember, you got this info online or something,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll have Kento send you some of my contacts.”
“Thank you. And no problem, this was nothing more than a helpful websearch,” you giggle, checking on Sukuna in your peripherals. He’s staring at his little brothers, the sound of clinking metal muffled by his pocket as he opens and shuts his lighter.
You give him a nudge, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. “Mm. Thanks, Hiromi.”
Hiromi, clearly sympathetic to what Sukuna’s going through, smiles. “Happy to help. Thanks for the coffee.”
You say your goodbyes and gather the kids’ belongings and the box from your parents, offering Sukuna a ride home. It’s chilly and getting dark, and the last thing you need is for a man not in his right mind to try to walk two scared kids home.
Fuck, what a situation he’s in.
He accepts your offer with a nod, letting you lead the way and chat with the kids as he trails behind.
The ride is quiet. Even by Yuji’s standards, it’s painfully quiet. He points out some street art of a monster with a crown that he likes, but it seems to be the most even the five-year-old can manage. Their whole family is emotionally drained.
Even by your standards, you’re running on empty at this point. There’s only so much emotional strain you can handle and between the concern that had distracted you all week and a long day of walking on eggshells around Sukuna, your social battery is running low too. There’s only so much you can handle when the man in your passenger seat has nestled his way into your heart and left an irreparable hole in which only he could fit.
Your heart can only handle so much distant love.
It became increasingly clear over the past week that his absence was making your heart grow fonder. Although you were apart for a while after Christmas, his continual emails sated the part of you that craved him so desperately. Without that, a chasm opened and swallowed you whole, unable to fight it for even a moment.
Still, even in the bone-weary silence of your car, being surrounded by Sukuna and his sweet little family holds a temporary bandage around the pieces of your heart. It’s flimsy at best, fleeting as it begins to unravel with each disheartening snap and gripe that comes from Sukuna, but you can’t blame him when his entire world is caving in around him.
Hell, you can’t even begin to worry about the pain the squeezes your heart when he’s barely holding it together beside you. Usually the face of stoicism, yet his well-put-together seams are cracking, revealing his facade not just to you, but to everyone.
Sukuna’s door swings open the moment you park as he stumbles on his feet as though your vehicle had been claustrophobic. He sets a large palm on the hood of your car to steady himself, dazed.
Pushing down the uneasy feeling building in your chest, you keep calm as you lift Yuji out of the back seat and watch him run over to Choso, getting on the tips of his toes to whisper something into Choso’s ear.
Rounding the car, you try to grab Sukuna’s attention, the look of helplessness on his face catching you off guard as he makes a point of hiding from his brothers. His grip on your car is unyielding, his knuckles white from the effort of holding himself upright.
“Keys?” You whisper quietly. He blinks a couple of times, his chest rising and falling startlingly quickly as he fumbles in his jacket pocket with his spare hand. “I got it.” Gingerly reaching out, you slip your hand into his pocket, careful to pull out only his keys and not his lighter.
Jogging up to Choso, you smile reassuringly. “I just need to talk to your brother. You two go upstairs for me, okay? Lock the door behind you.”
Choso nods, pausing to peek past you at his older brother. There’s a silent question in his eyes that he won’t voice. Whether that’s a trauma response or that he knows you understand, you can’t say for sure.
“He’s okay, don’t worry sweetheart,” you reassure him, ruffling his hair.
He puts his trust in you with a half-hearted attempt at a smile and grabs Yuji’s hand to lead the way into the building.
The sun has mostly set over the horizon at this point, casting dark purple hues over Sukuna’s tattooed cheeks. He hunches over the hood of your car, leaning his body so heavily over the vehicle that it dips under his weight. He exhales shakily, dragging his hands down his face.
In your best effort to comfort him, you gently rub his back. His muscles are taut beneath the down of his winter coat, his back rising and falling just a bit too quickly for your comfort.
“Sukuna?”
He forces himself upright, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Fuck!” He barks, taking a step away from you to pace along the side of your car. His mind is a jumbled mess and he doesn’t know how to make sense of the thoughts that seem to relentlessly batter him, leaving him with a heaving, tight chest, searing anger, and something he can’t put a name to.
Anxiety.
“Sukuna?” You try again as his pacing grows erratic.
“Fuck, I don’t fucking-” he stammers, fists balling at his sides as he struggles not to launch the closest thing to his hand into the wall. Again. He doesn’t need to break his lighter twice in only a couple of months.
You take a step towards him in an attempt to disrupt his pacing course, but he simply turns on his heel in the other direction.
“That fucking-”
“Sukuna!” You jog around to face him, gripping the open front of his black coat and stopping him abruptly.
“What?” He snarls breathlessly, pulling back against your grip.
You don’t relent, keeping him in place although you know he has the strength to tear himself from you if he wanted.
“Can you breathe, Kuna?”
He tugs against you once more, gripping the top of your vehicle. It’s cold on the pads of his fingers, a sharp contrast to the blazing heat his body is overproducing. He doesn’t, can’t, reply to you, but you don’t need him to, the answer is written plain as day for all to see.
He’s panicking.
He’s spiraling downwards harshly and his anxiety is taking along with it the strong front that Sukuna has worked relentlessly to maintain. His own body is forcibly breaking down the walls he built not only to keep himself safe, but also his brothers.
His body is begging you for the help he’d never ask for, lest he suffer alone.
“It’s okay if you can’t,” you soothe, your voice low and gentle as he leans against your car. “Sit down in the back of my car,” you urge sternly, attempting to tug him towards the back door.
He forcefully pulls back out of your grip. “I’m not my fuckin’ kid brothers, don’t fucking treat me like them,” he hisses, fire swirling beneath the surface of his eyes. It’s a meager attempt to mask his distress.
You frown, unmoving as you contemplate how to help someone who doesn’t want your help. Someone who doesn’t want pity or sympathy, who wants only respect and nothing less.
It doesn’t matter how much respect for him you have when looking back at him he sees only sympathy in your eyes.
“Please, can we talk? It’s cold out here, just sit in the back of my-”
“For fuck’s sake, what the fuck is there to talk about?” He yells, whipping his hand through the air. He reels back, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I can fucking handle things, stop sticking your nose in my damn business,” he hisses in a strained tone, rubbing at his chest in discomfort.
Your eyes trail down to watch the way he clutches at his shirt and pulls the collar from his neck as though it’s choking him, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to breathe. “Sukuna, I know you can handle things. Just listen to me, okay?” His eyes snap to you. “Have you had a panic attack before?”
“I’m not havin’ a fucking panic attack, christ, just- gimme some fuckin’ space,” he backs away from you, walking over to his apartment building’s exterior and rummaging through his jacket pockets in search of cigarettes. He pulls out a small cardboard box, flipping it open with shaky hands and muttering a curse under his breath as he comes up empty. He tosses it at full force into the building, leaning his head against the wall a moment later as his vision grows white at the edges.
“Sukuna,” your tone is firm as you come up behind him. “Please sit.”
By some miracle, he flips until his back can slide down the wall and he’s finally sitting, his gaze fixed nowhere in particular behind you.
Letting out a sigh of relief, you lower yourself down to your knees to sit in front of him. Thank god. Even as the cold snow melts beneath you and seeps into the warmth of your pants, chilling the skin of your knees, you push through. Setting your hands on his forearms, you rub soothing circles into them.
“Here, are your hands cold?” Sliding the tips of your fingers along his arm and raising goosebumps with your touch even through the barrier of his jacket, you gauge the temperature of his hands, nodding to yourself. “They are cold… here-” you lift his hand up to cool the back of his neck, which is overheating even in the below freezing weather. “I think that should feel good.”
It shouldn’t piss him off as much as it does that you’re right. It does help, leaving him completely at your mercy, as Sukuna himself doesn’t understand how to quell this feeling.
“Breathe with me, okay?”
He doesn’t react, but his crimson gaze falls to your chest, studying the rise and fall. You direct him by repeating a gentle “in… and out,” moving your thumb along his arm in time with your own breaths and instructions. He closes his eyes as the pain in his chest eases and he’s able to catch his breath.
Continuing to soothingly run your thumb along his arm, you carefully reach up to brush his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead. He stiffens briefly, but quickly relaxes without bothering to open his eyes.
Your heart twists at the intimacy of the situation, but it’s neither the time nor place to concern yourself with your own emotions.
You can handle the way your own chest tightens as Sukuna’s finger twitches and brushes your wrist, settling against the warmth of your skin.
You don’t dare interrupt the peace, giving him the time he needs to find his grounding. It takes him a few moments, but he moves his hand from the back of his neck, settling it on his knee. His gaze fixes on something in the distance as he takes a long, exhausted breath.
To your surprise, his arm that you’re still rubbing circles into flips and his thumb and fingers wrap around the circumference of your forearm. With a lopsided smile, you squeeze his arm back.
“Talk to me.”
With the sun completely set over the horizon, the only light that illuminates Sukuna’s face is that of the light over his apartment building. It glows faintly, flickering every so often with a golden hue that paints the broken expression on his face in such a way that even in this dire situation, he looks ethereal.
His gaze travels upwards as the light flickers again, the golden hue glimmering against the packed snow beneath your (very cold) knees. “I can’t afford a lawyer,” he mutters shamefully, his brow furrowed.
You contemplate your next words very carefully given Sukuna’s nature. “What can I do?” To help?
“Nothing,” he scoffs, his eyes not leaving the point where his hand connects with your arm. Even with a jacket between you, your presence brings him comfort. “I’ll figure shit out like I always do.”
“You don’t need to do this alone, Kuna.”
The glare he shoots you is sharp. “I can manage.”
“Manage until- until what? You have another panic attack?” Although your tone is still gentle, there’s a prickle to your words.
“I didn’t have a fuckin’-”
“Bullshit!”
Sukuna blinks. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard a curse leave your lips. There’s a fiery determination lit beneath you that he won’t quench with his distilled anger.
“You’re allowed to need help, Sukuna. It doesn’t make you weak.”
His grip on your arm tightens, almost uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to take your words and his vexation is only growing. “I’ll need to take more shifts,” he mumbles.
“I’m here. If you need someone to watch the kids,” you offer.
His chest rises and falls heavily as he exhales slowly. As if coming to some sort of conclusion, he frowns. “You’re too kind, princess.” His tone is uncharacteristically weak and painfully distant. He squeezes your arm once, before dropping it to pull himself up off the ground. He brushes snow from his pants and coat and picks up the empty cigarette box crumpled on the ground. “I’m gonna head inside.” His gaze turns down to your knees as you follow suit and stand before him. “Go warm up and dry off.”
“Are you sure you don’t need-”
“I’m fine.” He assures you, turning towards the door without so much as a goodbye, but he thinks twice on this and pauses before he can enter his building. He examines your frown as he fights an internal debate. His sharp gaze traces your movements as you swipe your tongue over your lower lip and bite down on it.
He’s caught up on a strange inkling in his mind that doesn’t really make sense to him, but he gives pause to it.
Your lips look like a goddamn invitation. He’s not thinking about your body, or the way your skin sears him when you brush his hand. It’s something entirely else that he wants to act on, and all you’re doing is standing there, the picture of uncertainty as you fiddle with your fingers and chew on your lips.
Your god forsaken lips.
“Sukuna?” You meekly question, tilting your head.
He swears you could have the world if you truly wanted with just a tilt of your head.
It’s a shame Sukuna knows he doesn’t belong in your world. You’re too kind, you always have been. You’re like the syrup they drizzle over cheesecake, or the decorative sprinkles that top that shitty whipped cream that bakeries love to use. The sugar-free kind that doesn’t quite taste right and you’re not sure why they even bother with it, so they add the sweetest sprinkles to compensate.
Once again, Sukuna thinks about how you’re the sun, and he’s nothing more than a distant star sputtering out on the horizon. He doesn’t consider that every star is a sun to someone else.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Was just thinkin’. Thanks for organizing today, gave me a lot to work with.”
And with that, he’s pushing through the door before you can even tell him that he’s welcome.
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❦ a/n ; OOPS ALMOST 18K CHAPTER. honestly it just didn't feel right to end it before the discussion with higuruma and sukuna's reaction to it, so here we are. forgive me for the angst :((( i love these babies sm and it physically hurt to put them through this 😭 the support for this series has been so overwhelmingly lovely and heartwarming, i really can't thank you all enough. seriously, y'all are the sweetest and the comments and asks i've received about this series brighten my day every single time 🫶 anyway, ily all and i'm sorry 😭
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The Open Window Lets The Rain In
pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part
pairing: satoru x reader (semi suguru x reader)
synopsis: Your time at Jujutsu Tech was something of a sanctuary for you. The position you were born for did not allow you wishes of your own. Resigning yourself to your destiny, you savor the moments you have with your friends. And don't dare to wish for more.
tags/warnings -angst to eventual fluff, multi pov, canon compliant, series, mentions of child abuse, manipulation, malnutrition, violence, injuries, and smoking-
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
In your younger, and more venerable years, you would have never left the estate unattended. Maybe that is why, after everything that unraveled today, the lingering thought on your mind was how strange it felt to not fear solitude unchained.
"Do you ever feel like...she's not fully there?" Suguru murmured, filing through his bag, unpacking into his dorm once again. The boys had just made it back from the bullet train to Tokyo.
The summer break had been a nice respite for the two strongest, but there was nothing they enjoyed more than being in school, cracking jokes, and wasting time together.
"Huhh? Suguru, you seriously think too much." Satoru rolled his eyes beneath his glasses. He was splayed across Geto's bed, staring at the ceiling. "What does that even mean?" He giggles.
"Just-" Suguru sighs, "I don't know." He shakes his head in a 'never mind' type of way, and pulled out his uniform jacket, going to hang it up in the closet.
"Ughhhhh don't do that Suguru, you know you get in your head, right? Just say what you mean." Satoru pulled himself up and took off his shades, watching as Geto stretched his jacket onto a hanger.
Geto pauses to think, "You remember when Shoko was talking about marriage and stuff?" He began.
It had been in the middle of second year, the group had just been getting to know you. You had been starting to feel at home in Tokyo. One warm day, you and Shoko were laying out in the school yard, sunbathing and giggling about nonsense.
"They're trying to pull me away from missions, ya know? Totally sucks, I feel like I'm gonna be missing out." Shoko sighed, her eyes closed.
You both were on your backs, you turn to face her and grin, "You're just too important Ieiri, can't be loosing our precious healer!" But Shoko doesn't laugh.
"I just hate all this 'duty stuff'. I don't want to be...I don't know..." She runs a hand down her face. "Holed up in a lab all my life while my classmates eliminate curses and- and save people."
You continue to stare in her direction, hoping she'll meet your eyes. "You are saving people E, you must know that. Don't let the fomo get to you."
"I do, of course, but... I don't want to be valuable like this. I want... ugh" She cuts herself off as the two boys in your class make there way into the courtyard. Satoru takes gaping steps in the grass.
"What do you want Shoko? Hmm??" He squats down and hides her face from the sun. She attempts to shove him back but infinity gets in her way and she grimaces. "I want you to mind your own business, Gojo."
"Awe you're no fun." Gojo pouts. Plopping himself to your left. "What are you girls whining about anyway. It's so somber out here."
Neither of you said anything, you didn't want to speak about something Shoko didn't want to share. "Are we discussing our dreams, ladies?" He turned to look at you but you just roll your eyes. "Suguru?" He calls in a high pitch voice, "Suguru, have you got a dream?"
"Screw off, Gojo." Shoko sat up and threw Satoru a dirty look.
"Just askin'. I'll have you know I dream about my Digimon trading collection all the time."
The four of you sat in silence for awhile. It was strange, being amongst a group friends and not feeling left out. Eventually Shoko turned to look at Geto. He was always kinder.
"Have you got a dream?" She asked.
Gojo made a puking noise, "Oh my goooooshh not this again, I was kidding you know."
Suguru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I do, if you're talking about outside of the Jujutsu world."
"Do share with the class." She smiled. Satoru threw a silent tantrum, pulling up a chunk of grass at your side.
"It's pretty typical. Get married, fall in love, the normal stuff."
That really sent Satoru over the edge. "You've GOT to be kidding me." He wheezed. Suguru just raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Oh, you are soooo cringy." He plopped himself back on the grass and made one of the blades into a kazoo.
"Don't listen to him Geto, he's immature."
"AM NOT!"
You all chuckle. Eventually Shoko nods, "Yeah. That sounds nice." The two of them share a moment of ease before she finishes, "Sounds...normal."
You can hear Gojo mentally plugging his ears at this discussion. But eventually Shoko looks down at you. "What about you," she calls your name. "Do you want a family and all that?"
You were hoping she wouldn't have said anything. You were content to hear them speak about their perfectly attainable dreams. But you weren't sure if you were comfortable enough to bear your true feelings out in the open like this.
"Ummm..." You mumble. Having also taken up anxiously pulling at the weeds in the lawn, you fiddle with some between your fingers. "Meh, ya know?"
You shrug, twisting your lips. Shoko does look at you this time, "Meh? Really? I would have though you would be a total romantic!" She pushes at your shoulder and you smile.
"Well, I don't know..." You wish the boys weren't there to hear about all this, but they had gone silent. Listening intently. Even Gojo appeared to have his eyes closed, not interrupting this time.
Shoko pokes at your side, "What do you mean you don't know.... oh my gosh don't tell me-" She gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, "did you get your heart broken over in Kyoto?!" She leans in closer to grasp your shoulders, shaking you violantly. You break out in giggles at the thought.
"No! N-no, Shoko!" You laugh.
"Well what is it? Even the big guy over here got all cheesy." She pulls back and smacks Geto in the chest.
In the moment of light humor, you puff out a breath, "It's not that, its just..." You try to find the words. Knowing they wouldn't understand but hoping they might. "That type of stuff isn't really in the cards for me."
It took a moment but it seemed as though time stopped. It got quiet and Shoko hesitated before laughing. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The sun suddenly feels too bright behind your eyelids, you lift yourself up, crossing your arms over your knees, grateful Satoru is still laying prone on the grass below you. "I'm not really..." you hesitate, trying to be nice, "The same at you guys."
Shoko laughs again but it's clear she's confused. She yanks at your ear, and you pretend to smile while tugging her hand away. "I have a...I don't know...I have a life laid out for me, right?" You turn to your right and see Shoko and Geto staring at you now, brows furrowed.
"No, no, no, its not- ugh this is coming out wrong..." You giggle, adjusting your hair, suddenly flustered by their avid attention. "I just... hate the idea of loving someone and then...dying, right? That would be pretty bad..." You mumble off.
There's silence and it's starting to feel awkward again, just as you're about to break it and apologize, Suguru speaks up.
"You can still marry though. I mean...your life isn't just Jujutsu."
You smile at him. "Right..." You agree, but you know he's wrong. They would never understand. The only person who might is Satoru, and he wouldn't talk about it, even if he wanted to.
Because, Suguru is wrong, your life IS Jujutsu, it was what you were born and bred to do. The scars on your neck stand as proof. You were nothing more than a weapon.
And wishing for more would give you nothing but unnecessary hope to eventually be crushed under the weight of reality.
--
That had been almost a year ago now, Satoru couldn't believe Suguru was still thinking about that time. Gojo hates thinking about it, actually. And he certainly didn't want to be talking about it right now.
"Yeah. I remember, why are you bringing that up?"
Suguru puts his clothing into the closet and kicks a pair of shoes under a desk on his way back to his duffle. "Just that, I don't think she really confides in us. I feel like she's being used by the higher-ups."
Gojo stops flipping his sunglasses around in his hands and shoves them up on top of his head. "Really, Suguru." His voice is lower than usual. He's looking directly at the boy before him, and he shoves himself off the bed as he proclaims, "You're an idiot if you think she's the only one."
--
While you're classmates were unpacking at school, you still had to wait the full deration of break before returning to your sanctuary. You had spent the day meticulously preparing your few items for the return journey. Moseying throughout the establishment you had been raised in.
Today you would be seeing your one and only friend that knew you fully.
You had always felt comfortable in the silence with Kaito. In your first year back from school, the boy wanted nothing more than to hear of your adventures learning your technique, of your daily life, of the friends you had made.
It was not uncommon for the pair of you to fantasize of a life beyond the boarding you grew up within, but as your naivety fled from you, so too fled the wishful dreams you carried in your youth.
You had always assumed Kaito felt the same...
It started the night before summer breaks end. Kaito told you to meet him in the far gardens that next morning. Him, unwatched as an unskilled member of the staff, you, now too important to be enslaved to the ring. You were thrilled to be able to have a moment alone. To feel normal, to feel like friends... like kids.
Kaito seemed off even then. Asking you with a far away look about your time in Tokyo. About the sorcerers you met, about your new life.
Hours later, you would sit, alone in the garden playing back the words you had shared.
"They work us to the bone, Kai, sometimes I wish I was still here with you." You had said.
You hadn't meant it. Every day you were at Jujutsu Tech was an insurmountable gratitude. There was almost nothing you would give it up for. But Kaito was still stuck at the estate, only a few months left in his contract, and you didn't want to flaunt the joy he had yet to experience away from the place.
"Can't be that bad..." He gave you a faraway smile.
"I'm serious" you fibbed, "It's like I'm always on a mission, and when I'm not, I'm stressing over all the homework they give us." You roll your eyes, not looking back to the boy fiddling with his hands.
He looked so much like a man now. "You would probably do well there, Kai, you were always smarter than me." You make to look at him but notice he's fallen behind, focused on a patch of weeds growing behind a fence.
You make to call for him but he beats you, muttering your name, and some unintelligible phrase.
"What?" You turn fully now, taking a step towards him.
He swallows. "You don't have to go back." He says with more finality.
And you don't know what to say.
He can't be serious. You were well past pretending to have a life of your own. You chuckle, thinking he must be joking. "Why, should we run off and join the circus?"
There is nothing but humor in your words, but his eyes are more serious then you've ever seen them. And suddenly you know what was coming. Perhaps it had always been there, but you simply could not allow him to say it. You're filled with panic at the thought.
Later you would sit on a stepping stone, pulling up grass like Satoru once had, knowing that there had been nothing you could have said to have prevented it from happening, but at the time, you couldn't help but try.
He says nothing. Looking at you with intensity.
"No." You want to turn away from him. Shut the whole discussion in a box and never think about it again. But you stare at him with might. Begging him to see the severity of your expression. "No. Kai, no."
"Please." And then he's begging you. Just like he used to when you would tell him to not patch up your wounds. Like he used to when you would give him too much of your food. Like he used to when the teachers would torture you for something so trivial. He says your name again.
"Please." He calls to you, "Don't you see, it's always been you. You're all there is for me, you're all I want." And though you hear his words, you have already deigned to ignore them. Still, he does not stop.
"You have to know." He keeps calling your name, hoping you would soften, "I would do anything." "Stop." You've chosen a new tactic. Perhaps if you are mean. Mean to him and he won't say it.
But he says it anyway.
"You're all I have ever loved."
And there it is.
"Kai." You close your eyes. Hoping this is a nightmare.
"I've already thought about it!" He's known you long enough to tell you are attempting to block him out, "We could do it. I've saved up, and I'm of age now, listen-" He smiles painfully "-you don't have to go..."
He's coming closer to you but you're stumbling back. Refusing to allow yourself any comfort.
You have to try, "You don't... get it." You whisper.
"I do. I do!" He raises his hands. "I promise you, we could do it. Come with me! Let me...let me show you." He reaches for your hand but you spin from him, stumbling.
"Please stop... I can't- I can never- you don't see." You are unsure of how to say it. This has all come as a shock.
But then he's grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around. He's looking you dead in the face. Those words coming from him like a dam you cannot contain. "I love you. I am in love with you. Please. Please don't go back. You don't have to fulfill-" He laughs, feeling enlightened, "Sorcery. You don't have to do it."
Even through his laughter though, you know. He knows. You both do. That there might have been something there. Maybe because you shared each other's struggles. Maybe it was strung in after all those hours together in that hell... but you both also know it would never work.
Because your destiny has already been chosen for you. And you were not made to love, or be loved.
"We could be married. And be done with it." He looks so certain and there is a tiny, muted part of you that wants to believe him. "Don't go back..."
And despite your knowledge of that muted space in your heart, the overwhelming response has been waiting for him to finish.
"We can't." And a stupid part of you wants that to be enough. For him to turn from you and never speak of it again.
But Kai has always been resilient in his own way.
"We can! I love you.... do you hear me? We can-"
"No. Kai. Stop." You pull your hand to put distance between you two.
And after years with the boy, you can see the emotions raise in him. "Is there someone else?" His gaze falls, "Someone... at that school?"
And this being his reply draws out the most ridiculous laugh from you. Does he think that is why you're turning him down? That you've fallen for some other man?
"No! Kai, please. No." But the humor is far from your voice.
The silence that follows is painful.
"This is so-ugh...Kaito. Don't you get it?" You're looking at him, gently now, but he just seems incredulous.
"Don't you see I can never marry?" There.
And oddly enough, though you were certain you had come to terms with it, it feels good to say it out loud.
"I have a path laid out before me." Before he can interrupt you shove out your hand, "And I care too deeply for you to put you in a position like that."
You're resolved. And maybe he's finally seeing it now.
"I'll never be able to live that way. God, Kai, I thought you knew!" You roll your eyes. Hoping to play the whole garden fiasco off but he won't turn from you.
"No." He's shaking his head. And suddenly he looks more like a boy than he has in years.
"Yes. Kaito. You will find some girl and love her, and live long lives together, and be happy. I am certain. But that life... we are different in this way." He hasn't stopped shaking his head.
"You're wrong. You don't see it now... but you will." And for the first time this evening he isn't making sense to you, "You will find it...and live that way. I'm sure."
"Kaito..." You sigh. But he's done now. And it has ended poorly for both of you it seems.
He's turned from you.
"You're leaving. Today, aren't you, on the train?"
You swallow thickly. Nod, and finally say, "Yes." Instead of 'I have to".
"There's nothing." His shoulders shake. And he hiccups. "There isn't anything I could say. To change your mind, is there?"
Everything in you is saying to follow him now. To wrap your arms around him like you did when he was a small child. To say something about your duty to make this a little better.
But if you are kind now, perhaps he will never let this go... and that, that is more cruel than anything you could say. So instead of being kind, all you say is,
"No. There's nothing."
And then he's gone. And he's left you alone in the garden.
It takes hours for your first tears to fall.
And you miss your train.
--
Four and a half hours away in Tokyo your friends eat dinner.
As they eat, they wonder where you are and why you haven't come.
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
taglist @giyuuuuuu4ever
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#gojo comfort#satoru angst#gojo angst#suguru x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen comfort#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#satoru fluff#satoru imagine#gojo series#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satoru x reader fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x reader angst#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk series#jujutsu kaisen series#suguru x you#geto x you#suguru angst
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“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „
֢ 𓂃 A 10 CHAPTER GOJO X F!READER SERIES ࣪˖ ִֶָ ★
SYNOPSIS — WHEN YOU, MEGUMI'S TEACHER, FOUND YOURSELF IN A SITUATIONSHIP WITH SATORU GOJO—YOU EXPECTED TO KEEP IT LIGHT, NO TIES, BUT THE WORST OCCURED WHEN FEELINGS CAME INTO THE MIX.
TAGS: YEARNING GOJO, TEACHER!READER, SITUATIONSHIP WITH GOJO, SLICE OF LIFE, NON SORCERER AU, ANGST, ONE-SIDED & CONFLICTED FEELINGS, FOUND FAMILY ASPECTS WITH MEGUMI, JEALOUSY, EVENTUAL SMUT, SLOW BURN, PICK YOUR OWN ENDING!
𝐈 — IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
𝐈𝐈 — SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR EYES.
𝐈𝐈𝐈 — MY LITTLE LIBERTY
𝐈𝐕 — AT THE END OF EVERY LOVE SONG.
𝐕 — TO BE ADDED.
@ELICYPHER — do not plagiarize, repost or retranslate.
#ten reasons i'll keep going back — elicypher#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru goko smut#jjk series#jujutsu kaisen series#gojo satoru series#satoru gojo series#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo satoru angst#satoru gojo angst
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i. PROLOGUE
as an arranged marriage to a woman he doesn’t want looms over him, gojo satoru resolves to seize control of his destiny by marrying the very first woman he sees—a disgraced aristocrat from an enemy family who happens to be mute. as political ties unravel, will this ruse succeed or ultimately cost him his life?
warnings: mentions of injuries, war, captives, mentions of alcohol, o/ral s/ex, mentions of death, misogyny, forced marriage, p/rostitution, MDNI
masterlist 🧵 playlist
Gojo Satoru was a Lord not in need of a wife.
Arrogant and hubristic, he led life as a fool—simple, filled with pleasure and lacking no responsibility.
As such, brothels, handmaids and ruining aristocratic ladies were all his favorite pastimes.
In this very moment, his vices were no different.
The scion to the Gojo clan, a man with white hair and cerulean blue eyes the exact hue of the sea from which his family’s sustenance derives from, flickered them onto the woman poised between his thighs.
She was a whore or some other, hired for pleasure and a respite from the thoughts whirling in his mind. He barely paid her lewd suckling and theatric moans any mind, sensing that it was done with the intent to gleam a bigger tip by the end of the night.
Rather, he sank back into the paltry futon, gaze towards the ceiling while she tongued his balls.
A question bubbled in the back of his mind, tiptoeing to the edge of his tongue where he exhales it with little fanfare.
“Do you believe in true love?”
The woman paused, and he almost laughed at the glimmer of uncertainty coruscating in her gaze. “I beg your pardon, my Lord?”
He recognized that barely-there look on her face, that one sliver of determination mingling with the throes of forced lust she made herself believe she carried for him, if not to ease her suffering for one night.
“I asked if you believed in true love?”
A beat of silence that was louder than the schlicking of her mouth bobbing up and down his length. He discovers a second too late that she wasn’t as pretty as the lighting made her out to be and waves her away. Recognizing that she was being dismissed, the whore stands and tightens her obi, bowing low to him.
“Shall I anticipate you for next week as well, Master Gojo?”
Reverent and demure. He senses it was not due to his status but the clanking of coins in his pouch which caught her attention like the darting of silverfish in a foggy lake. He removes a golden piece and tosses it to her, narrowly missing her eye as she scrambles to catch it clumsily with both hands.
“Same time,” he drawls and stands up, making himself decent once more. The whore bows low and he pulls back the den’s curtain, making his way to the front. He does not have to wander far to encounter the stench of disapproval that mingles with the heady curls of opium smoke in the air.
Right at the door, wearing a frown that gleamed as brightly as his ebony robes, was his right-hand man.
Geto Suguru eyes him with open disdain and Satoru grins, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You found me, Sugu.” Not appreciating his tone or the abbreviation of his name, Suguru snorted and motioned towards the front door.
“This is the last time I am saving you behind from your councilmen, Satoru,” he starts on his churlish tirade, one that the young lord had heard many, many times. “The gathering is in full swing. What will people say when their great Lord is missing?”
Satoru’s snort pierced through a drizzle that clung to the tips of his brilliant white locks. “Now you sound exactly like General Nanami, Sugu.” At the mention of the stoic, aloof, and often unsmiling samurai who had retired from his life of serving the Gojo clan to live safely in the hills, Suguru physically bristled.
“At least Nanami was paid to handle your foolish ass.” Geto sighs, pinching his brow with his thumb and forefinger. “Come on. Let us go or else we will be late.”
Satoru strides to his great white steed, hauling himself over the stallion’s back.
“Now, Sugu. You are being quite the downer tonight.”
Suguru sighs. “I cannot help it. Tonight is when the great Lord Kozume will sign over his district to be under the Gojo rule, is it not?”
Despite his reckless approach to life, Satoru remains aware of his fief’s happenings, and this is an unprecedented event which marks a new chapter into his rule.
Kicking Mumu into a trot, Satoru sighs.
“Yes. And uncle will be there, too. No doubt trying to force my hand into taking a wife tonight.”
At the mention of the great, stoic Michizane Gojo with his blustering white beard and piercing blue eyes trying to force his nephew to marry, Suguru chuckles.
“If there’s one thing your uncle is, it is consistent.”
“And annoying,” Satoru quips, already wishing he had not stopped that whore from making him cum. Maybe he would feel more relaxed by now.
His mind drifts, and he recalls everything that has happened to make today one for the history annals.
A messenger stumbles in, covered head to toe in blood.
He’s unannounced, and Gojo has his katana out, ready for the first sign of danger and betrayal from any man.
But, the grisly older warrior does not flourish his sword; he sinks to his knees, holding his bleeding abdomen and a crumpled piece of paper in his trembling hand.
“My Lord,” he gasps and flourishes the scroll for his liege to take it.
Gojo immediately stands, any trace of his defensiveness melting off like frost when he unravels the scroll with shaky hands. His eyes widened. The enemy camps from beyond his threshold suddenly become like toys in his hands; easy to grasp and smash.
“They have surrendered,” he breathes out. The messenger curls his forehead to the floor, nearly sobbing.
“Long live your rule, Gojo-sama,” he tolls, loudly enough for his generals to come rushing into his war camp. Suguru is the first to grab the scroll from Satoru’s hand, and he too, is rendered silent from the sudden shift in their fates.
“Unbelievable,” the dark-haired general swears.
His second peers over the Lord’s great shoulders and gasps.
“Nagamachi has fallen,” Satoru announces through trembling lips. He turns to his men, his most loyal followers and who never once doubted his ability to expand the Gojo empire.
“We can all go home.”
Puddles of liquor and puke scatter on the tatami floors, and Satoru wrinkles his nose in disgust when he approaches the dais.
The men of his army could celebrate as well as they held a fight; brazenly crying out his name in exuberance and clinking their sake glasses together.
To Satoru! They cried. May his reign be ever long and prosperous!
Gojo takes his position on the dais, and reclines, accepting a cup of sake from one of his generals.
The man wears a smile so big, Gojo wonders how it doesn’t split his face.
“Your uncle is not yet here,” Suguru informs, taking a seat next to him and picking up a cup of the sweet, fermented alcohol to sip on. The fumes burn his nose and he frowns, not liking the taste.
Suguru has always been the more uptight between the two of them; where Satoru indulges, his friend restrains. Satoru reacts, Suguru observes.
Tonight, Suguru is his eyes and ears, peeling his attention around the room. Though merry men were no threat, the danger has not yet subsided.
These Nagamachi warriors could turn on them anytime; the frail peace treaty ending in blood.
Satoru leans back, and pretends to look interested in this turn of events. However, the second he hears the drums announcing his uncle’s arrival, he straightens.
Michizane Gojo is a man with a love for theatrics. His torture methods insane, his court a fester of troublemakers and violent men. Though he disagrees with his uncle’s rule, he cannot overturn it—Michizane holds an army of men three times his own and could destroy his part of the fief with a flick of his finger.
Tall, and with an imposing air that would make the harshest samurai tremble, Michizane strides into the drawing room. And he is not alone.
Head down, hand in cuffs and trudging behind him, the leader of the Nagamachi warriors wears a blackened eye and bruised cheeks. The gathering is free of women and children, so the men could indulge in cruelty till the morning sun rose. However, a slighter figure behind the man catches his eye, and Gojo feels a curdling disgust rising inside of his chest.
Gojo understands that in this world of wars and conquering, one has to respect whoever is at the top. But, if it were not for the fact that this man was his uncle, Satoru would have ordered his men to drag him out, respect for the elderly be damned.
Because there is nothing respectable about what he sees right in front of him now.
A young lady with her wrists bound follows behind the man, and unlike the other captive, her head is high, features turned obstinately to the light so every man could witness her disdain. She’s the sole woman here in this room, and the sight of her rouses every man—bloodhounds seeking to tear an injured bird apart.
Satoru stands and feels Geto stiffening beside him.
“Monster,” his friend whispers under his breath. Gojo has to agree.
The woman is shoved to her knees while the men remain standing. Her yukata, once a sign of her wealth and prosperity, is torn and with mud at the hem. If he looks closer, he can see her clenching her trembling hands, turning them to fists in front of her.
“Nephew,” Michizane stretches out his arms and Gojo reluctantly steps forward, receiving his uncle with a tight hug. “You are alive and have conquered the mountains. How proud I am of you.”
Gojo grits his teeth, finding the smell of opium and sake wafting off his uncle repulsive.
Masking on a smile, he nods. “Thank you, uncle. Your support means everything to me under these circumstances.”
Standing at close to six feet, the old, wizened man was no different from his whorehound of a brother—Satoru’s father. Women of all ages were not exempted from his list of atrocious taste, lending to his fearsome reputation.
Michizane bellows a laugh and gestures to the captives. “Why, I had a great time speaking to Lord Kozume. Or, shall I call him Kozume from now on.” Laughing at his own joke, the rest of the room chuckles, taking a leaf from his exuberance. Following suit, Gojo exhales a small laugh.
“It seems you have done so, uncle.”
The great lord slaps a hand to his fat belly, chuckling to himself. “Well, what shall it be tonight? An execution? A wedding? A fight?”
Always prepared for the worst, Gojo tries to steer the situation back into safer waters. There will be no more bloodshed for the foreseeable future; he was done smelling like the rusted tang for days on end.
“Perhaps, a discussion,” he entreats. His uncle snorts, but indulges in his nephew’s whims, signalling for his men to cut through the ropes binding Lord Kozume and the woman. She curls into a ball the second her hands are free, forehead pressed to the floor, begging for mercy.
Kozume is far more prouder than her, and sits rigid, shaking his head when a cup is offered to him.
“No. I wish to be level-headed.” His voice is deep and low; commanding yet kind. The voice of a leader.
Gojo blinks and remembers Suguru is beside him. He gestures to the girl and his general needs no more cues. Going to her side, Geto snaps his fingers for a cup of water and receives it from a servant; pushes it into her quivering hands. She straightens, and it disturbs him how red-rimmed her eyes are, and yet, she sheds no tears.
Kozume does not wait for his cue. He continues. “The Nagamachi lands are yours. The fiefs are now part of the great Gojo house and I humbly ask you to spare the lives of my daughter and mine.”
Satoru slides his gaze to the girl again.
The old man winces, as if he’s in pain, and reaches for his daughter, grabbing her by the shoulders. This close, Gojo can see the fear in her eyes, how the corners of her lips tremble.
By no means was he a naive man to the horrors of war, but he never had to witness an innocent’s expression up close. Satoru almost feels like the walls are closing in on him, and he tries to look away. But, something about her draws his attention back and back again—like a red splash of paint on a white cloth he cannot possibly ignore.
“Fine,” Michizane seats himself on the dais, looking down on the father and daughter. “Let us resume our discussion now with the eyes of every Gojo ancestor looking down upon us.”
At his words, the girl glances up, gazing upon the tapestries depicting the heroes of his boyhood, splashing across the ceiling as they continue on their bloody conquest to raise the emperor’s mark across the southern lands. She sees the blood, the mangled bodies, and drops her gaze; too close to the truth for comfort.
“My nephew, Satoru, as you know, is the head of the Gojo clan after his father’s death two years ago. He is in need of a wife and I have picked one out for him. The great Lady Ayako from a noble family under our flag.” Michizane glances at the girl. “Though you promised me your daughter is fair of face and from great blood, that blood now comes at a cost and I will not be at peace if she is under our roof. Hence, I have decided to wed her off to Lieutenant Luaya, who is one of the most fiercely loyal men I know.”
Gojo has to stop himself from physically recoiling. Luaya is a brute and a devil. He catches sight of the mentioned man puffing his chest out, looking pleased to be bestowed a blessing by the great Lord Michizane. She will never survive a night with him, Satoru thinks. In fact, none of his wives had ever survived for long.
His uncle was sending her right to her early grave.
As if sensing the change in the room, the young woman raises her head, and sees Luaya who’s smiling at her; the glint of his canine teeth bouncing off the light from the sconces overhead reminds him of a wolf scenting fresh meat.
Satoru does not know what overcomes him—he is barely a kind or empathetic man. But, the punishment for Lord Kozume’s rebellion is far too much.
He would have to watch by the sidelines as his daughter gets murdered in cold blood and that is no fair compensation for a man who readily surrendered to their forces. This inhumane treatment of their subjects had to come to a stop—Gojo would no longer stand for such cruelty his father and uncle perpetuated.
“Luaya will do no such thing.” Every eye in the room is on him as Satoru stands, crossing his arms right in front of him. The cup of sake hovering close to his uncle’s lips stops in mid-motion.
Whatever trick Michizane expects his nephew to pull, it was not this.
“I shall wed her—Lord Kozume’s daughter.”
Those piercing blue eyes land right on your shocked face, unwavering and resolute.
“We will be wed tonight.”
a/n: 👀 i hope u guys loved this new revamp of entangled !! it came to me as inspo from my recent trip to kyoto and i had to continue the bewitched universe for my sanity's sake lol
also if u didn't know, this series was previously discontinued due to low interaction and feedback, so if u want to see how gojo and y/n's story play out, please do consider dropping some feedback or a reblog to help keep the inspo going <3
©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own. do not take elements from my story without prior permission.
#🦢writes#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#daimyo!gojo satoru#gojo satoru angst#gojo angst#jujutsu kaisen series#jjk series#jujutsu kaisen#series: entangled
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