#jujutsu kaisen series

[starmapz]

what you know - ch6: intoxicated || 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. 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 ; 12.7k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

Brushing the snow from his jacket, Sukuna flips his hood down and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He’d gotten up early enough to work out before taking the kids to school, but in usual fashion, his overly-excitable little brother had been such a handful that Sukuna didn’t get a chance to finish getting ready. He opted for a shower and just threw on the first set of clothes he could find.

He blows a breath out through his nose, scanning the lunch hall. He hasn’t exactly worked out what the hell he’s planning on saying to you after last night, but a promise is a promise and he swore to join you for lunch. He’s failed you enough times.

He trudges up to your usual table with his hands in his pockets, his usual aloof expression plastered across his features, though it twists to confusion as he realizes you aren’t there.

Haibara’s the first to notice him as he pauses a small distance behind your blonde friend. Kento, Sukuna thinks?

“Hey, Sukuna!”

He grunts in reply, before inquiring about your whereabouts.

Shoko and Kento exchange a glance that Sukuna recognizes as cautionary. “She’s sick,” Shoko’s eyes twitch as she narrows her gaze on him suspiciously. “She is sick, right Sukuna?”

Although he doesn’t mind Shoko, he doesn’t like what she’s insinuating, even if she is right. Clenching his fists in his coat pockets, he scowls at her with a tense jaw. “How the hell should I know?”

Shoko’s gaze lingers a moment longer before she sighs, giving in. “She said she was studying at home today. She doesn’t want anyone getting sick before finals,” Shoko explains, swinging her fork around as she speaks.

“That’s nice of her,” Sukuna comments, shooting a pointed glance at Kento who won’t stop glaring at him, which only serves to piss him off further.

With a final nod of acknowledgement intended primarily for Shoko and Haibara, Sukuna turns on his heel and heads back out into the snow. He loathes the strange sensation lingering in the back of his mind that he’s retreating from Shoko and Kento’s scrutiny like a dog with its tail between its legs, but what other option does he have? He’s not about to fight with them. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he heads towards the library with the intention of sending you an email.

Once isolated in the cold again, he lets out a sigh as his breath billows into the freezing winter air. Contritefully, he watches as snowflakes fall slowly and dissolve on the sleeve of his coat.

Fuck.

Shoko had every right to drag him through the mud the way she had, he knows she’s right. You’re not sick. He would have believed it if you were still watching over his sick little brother, but that hasn’t been the case for a while. You’re avoiding him. Without classes, you chose to stay home and avoid the possibility of running into Sukuna.

Lightly kicking a rock as he steps through the snow, the burly man pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He should be studying in the small amount of spare time he has. He should take extra shifts. He should go Christmas shopping for his brothers. He should meal prep. He should be doing anything other than skulking around campus thinking about the things going wrong in his life.

The worst part? Aside from one very large and glaring issue, you’re the source of all of his problems. Well, no, that’s not fair to you. You just happen to be at the center of all of them, but if he’s honest with himself, he knows there’s more to it than that.

You may be the source of all of his problems, but Sukuna is the cause of each and every one of them.

Taking a step towards the rock he kicked earlier, he sends it flying into the brick of the library with a satisfying thunk before ducking into the building.

Settling quietly in the corner of the library, Sukuna pulls out his laptop and opens his email, doing his best not to think too hard about what he’s typing.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 12:11 PM heard youre sick. you okay?

After hitting send, he leans over the table, running his hands over his face to mentally reset himself before diving into his studies.

To Sukuna’s relief, you do reply to his email just over an hour into his studies. He knows he fucked up, but at least you’re still acknowledging him this time.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Friday, 1:34 PM Yeah, sorry. I forgot to tell you.

He frowns at the sight of your email. It’s an awfully dry response in comparison to your usual bright demeanor. His fingers rest idly over his keyboard as he contemplates his reply.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 1:38 PM right. need anything

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 1:38 PM ?

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Friday, 1:59 PM I’m not going to ask you for soup, Sukuna.

Okay, so you’re at least a little bit mad at him. He slumps back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

He could bring you soup.

He could. He remembers you liking the bowl from the cafe he took you to.

He clenches his hand into a fist while biting down hard enough on his lip to draw blood. What the fuck is he thinking? Finals are next week, he’s hardly studied, he has to pick up his brothers in an hour and he has work all weekend.

He doesn’t have time to chase after his frayed connection to you.

His eyes trail across the speckled library ceiling. There’s a water stain just to the left of where he sits. He remembers thinking those sorts of marks were coffee when he was a kid. In retrospect, that makes no sense.

Hell, it makes about as much sense as Sukuna’s obsession with you as of late. He doesn’t have the time, nor the mental capacity to be sitting here stewing over an email that he could be reading too much into.

Leaning forward over the table with a huff, his fingers run across the keys on his laptop as he formulates a reply that’s painfully him.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 2:09 PM feel better

It doesn’t shock him that you don’t reply this time.

–

For the better part of the week, a feeling of unease seems to follow Sukuna like a fly he can’t seem to swat away. Even through finals, he finds himself wanting nothing more than to slam his head against his desk in hopes that thoughts of his fuck up might finally leave.

Yet the taste of you always remains on his tongue.

Bittersweet, like the sweetest memory tainted with the reminder that it never should have happened.

It was a mistake.

Throwing his hood up over his head, he leaves the school with one thing in mind.

Your fratboy friend is throwing his end of finals party tonight and Sukuna has every intention to drink to forget. To forget about the lawsuit, to forget about the ways he’s failed his little brothers, and most importantly: to forget about you.

He knows the feeling won’t last forever, but shit, it’ll be worth the way that he pleaded with Choso’s friend’s mother to take Yuji for the night too for a sleepover.

He just needs to escape for the night. He can worry about mentally resetting himself tomorrow morning when he wakes up with a killer hangover on some disgusting couch in Gojo’s ridiculous and over-decorated house.

Until then, he’ll continue on with his day as usual, picking up his brothers from school and cooking something to eat.

“Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna-”

“What?”

“- Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna-”

“Brat! What do you want?” He shoots a look of irritation at his little brother as the youngest Itadori bounds up to him with some sort of craft in his hand.

Sukuna sets his spatula down, leaning down to get a better view of the beaded creation in Yuji’s hand. There’s a yellow lizard dappled in black spots proudly seated atop his outstretched hand as though he’s a mad scientist showing off his greatest creation.

“It’s a lizard.”

“It’s a gecko,” the little boy proudly corrects him.

Sukuna’s nose wrinkles in exasperation. “Same thing.”

“No. They’re not.” This, of course, launches into a five minute explanation of the difference between lizards and geckos, which Sukuna hums along to as he rises back to his full height to continue cooking dinner.

“- so geckos are lizards but they’re not the same as lizards,” Yuji finishes his explanation, tugging at his older brother’s hoodie to hold out his gecko again. “This one’s a leopard gecko.”

“Didn’t know you liked lizards so much, Yu.” Sukuna’s tone is mild, a calm expression plastered on his face. Yuji’s interests change by the day, the only constant seeming to be pokemon and sports, though he’s gone from basketball to tennis to hockey over the course of the last year. Not that Sukuna can afford his interest in hockey, and cautiously pushed him back towards basketball.

Turns out when you’re five, all you need is for your cool older brother to install a basketball net on the back of your door and lift you up to do a slam dunk to be enthralled with the sport again. Sukuna thanks god for that.

“I love lizards!” He beams.

Sukuna hums, a rare smile pulling at his lips. “It’s a nice bead gecko.”

“Leopard gecko. Thanks Kuna! Guess who showed us how to make them?”

The corner of his lip twitches as he stares down at the spotted bead lizard. There’s no shock when Yuji says your name. The shock comes from the dreadful feeling that sits like a stone in the base of his stomach at just the sound of your name.

Fuck, he needs a drink.

“Can I show her?”

“No, Yu.”

“Please?”

“No-”

“Please? Pleeeeeeeaaaaaase?”

This has been a repeating situation practically all week. Yuji seemed to want to show every little thing to you and won’t relent until Sukuna sends an email. He would demand to know what you replied each and every time, and while there’s a part of Sukuna that’s grateful it gave him an excuse to reach out and hold onto your tense relationship, it equally caused him to relive his guilty conscience.

Sukuna sighs, giving in to the relentless pleading of his youngest brother.

“Fine. Let me finish dinner.”

With a cheer, Yuji runs off excitedly to inform Choso to prepare his best lizard to send a photo.

Sukuna’s shoulders rise and fall heavily as he lets out a breath. He stares down at the pan in front of him, the sizzling of gnocchi and tomato sauce offering little distraction from his wandering thoughts.

It seemed no matter what he did, you were so ingrained in his life that he couldn’t escape you.

To say that’s what he wanted in the first place would be a lie. No, he never wanted to escape. He still doesn’t. He just wants things to go back to the way they were before he let his dick do all the thinking and kissed you.

If he wanted to escape, he wouldn’t have searched for you in the crowds during finals. He wouldn’t have frustratedly tossed his textbook on his desk with a thump that made Choso jump and come check on him. Your words echoed in his mind as he feigned a smirk and sent the boy away.

He’s worried about you.

Choso’s too smart for his age. He should be playing games with his friends, begging to see a PG-13 rated movie, anything but worrying about his own guardian.

The pop of tomato sauce brings him back to the present, and he hisses at the feeling of the boiling liquid hitting his forearm. He sets the spatula aside, shutting off the stove and wiping the sauce off with his thumb, popping it into his mouth with a pop!

He needs to get his shit together.

He calls the kids into the dining area for dinner, and before long he’s sitting in front of his laptop, the screen pointed at his brothers, waiting for Choso and Yuji to position themselves in front of the camera with big smiles. In Yuji’s hand is the leopard gecko that he figures you must have told him about, proudly displayed with a toothy smile. Choso’s lizard is a dark purple with a white stripe, his smile more reserved but his eyes shine just as bright.

Sukuna snaps the photo, pulling his laptop back towards him. Yuji clambers onto Sukuna’s lap, met with a grunt and a mildly irritated “enough, Yu.” Choso peers at the laptop screen quietly, watching as Sukuna opens his email chain with you. The last few emails between you both are almost the same as this one, typing out that the kids wanted to show you their lizards.

Your replies to his brothers’ antics have been more positive than your replies to him. He wonders if you knew they were constantly asking about your responses or if the rift between you was healing, but he assumes the former. You’re good with his brothers. They adore you, and you seem to feel the same towards them.

“Tell her my new favorite lizard is um-” Yuji pauses to think, pulling Sukuna back to the present. It seems he’s lost in thought a lot lately. “A frilled lizard!”

“Mm.” He glances at Choso, urging the young boy to choose one as well.

“I like… iguanas.”

Sukuna nods, typing out the boys’ message to you before hitting send. “There. Now go get ready for your sleepover.”

He lets out a sigh as his brothers restlessly go bursting out the door back to their rooms to pack a bag, ensuring they bring just about every unnecessary toy and game and no toothbrush or toothpaste to be found. Exhausted from his finals, he drags himself along after them, packing jackets, gloves, extra socks and toiletries in their stead with a lazy scolding to be more careful.

He’s beyond burnt out and while he usually resents the mother of Choso’s friend for her obviously pitious comments towards Sukuna’s situation, for once he’s glad for her sympathy. If it means he gets just one full night to himself where he can fuck off and forget about all his problems, then he’ll take it. He’ll run with it and he won’t look back.

Once he’s loaded their backpacks into the lady’s car and provided his neighbor’s number in case of emergencies, he finds himself slumping back in his bed in relief. Despite his solace, the silence carries with it an eerie sense of foreboding. He doesn’t think he’s been alone in the comfort of his own home in almost three years now, and it should be a freeing feeling, yet he’s filled with trepidation in place of relaxation.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, dragging his hands down his face. He’s never been early to a party before but fuck it, he needs to dull the sharp edges of worry and doubt with alcohol. Grabbing his keys, he opens his locked bedside table drawer, violently shoving aside ripped legal papers to grab a few blunts and a shooter of Jack Daniels. His hand hovers over a small bottle of Everclear, but he opts to keep it for a later date, certain he’ll need the hard liquor another time.

Shutting and locking the drawer, he languidly begins getting ready, moving at a sluggish pace as he runs gel through his hair in order to get it spiked just how he prefers. He grabs a Danzig shirt, the sleeves chopped at the sides with arm holes deep enough that anyone could get a peek at his abs and chest. Topping it off with a black denim long sleeve and a pair of gray joggers, he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and throws on some cologne.

He pauses before heading out the door, his laptop seeming to loom over him like a ghost, begging him to check his email.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Friday, 7:51 PM Yuji!! Choso!! Those both look amazing!! You’re both so creative, it looks like it runs in the family :) Iguanas and frilled lizards are great choices. Maybe if you can steal your big brother’s laptop for a bit, you can find a bead frog tutorial. My favorite is the desert rain frog! They kind of remind me of your brother. ;)

It reminds you of him? A frog?

A quick google search has him scowling at his screen, an equally grumpy looking frog staring back at him.

Stupid. It’s stupid. He shouldn’t have looked.

Shutting the search window, his eyes train once more on your message to his brothers. Despite the fact that he wrote the email, you still seem to be upset with him, choosing to answer as though his brothers wrote it. At least you still teased him about looking like a frog.

Even if it’s stupid. It’s a stupid frog.

Slamming his laptop shut, he tosses his coat on, pockets his broken lighter in the side that isn’t singed, and makes his way out the door towards campus and Gojo’s frat house.

The weather has warmed up significantly over the past week to the point where he can’t see his breath anymore, although the ground is still coated in a thick layer of snow. Pulling out a blunt from his pocket between two deft fingers, he sets it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling deeply.

Among the many poor decisions Sukuna has made throughout his life, he didn’t mind adding tonight to his list if it meant drinking to forget and smoking to feel calm.

Although he’s earlier than most of the crowd, the music is already pumping loudly through speakers, bass booming through the ground beneath his feet as he makes his way up the porch stairs. He doesn’t recognize the frat boy letting people in, but one disinterested glare from Sukuna is all it takes for him to step aside. After all, who wouldn’t recognize Sukuna?

Swapping his lighter to his joggers’ pocket, he tosses his jacket over a coat rack and heads further into the house in search of something hard to get him buzzed as soon as possible. He blows smoke over the heads of most of the crowd, one of the perks of being nearly seven feet tall, as he heads towards the back of the house where he knows he’ll find the kitchen.

The further he moves from the makeshift dance floor in the front living area, the more reasonable the music volume becomes. College students chatter amongst each other, speaking loudly over the pumping bass, when a familiar voice grabs his attention.

“You made it!”

“Hey, buddy.”

“Well, well, look who decided to show his face.”

Sharp crimson irises flit between Uraume and Atsuya, who greet him casually, landing lastly on none other than Toji Zenin. Always at odds with Sukuna with a shit-eating grin as he pushes the pink-haired man’s buttons just a little bit too far.

“Uraume. Atsuya. Toji.”

It’s a miracle he still considers Toji a friend. Well, maybe an acquaintance. He certainly won’t bring Toji into the fray that is his life any time soon.

And Atsuya, well… The Kusakabe family is known for wealth, so Sukuna likes to keep him at arms’ length as well. Still, he enjoys his company. Uraume is easily his closest friend and he won’t deny that seeing them seems to ease his tension, even if only a little bit.

“So, finally decided we’re worth your time again? Or did you mess shit up with your girl?” Toji barks out a laugh, as though anything he’s saying is humorous.

“She ain’t my girl,” Sukuna growls, making a point of blowing smoke towards him.

“Dunno, you two seemed pretty close at lunch last week.” The scar on the corner of his lip stretches as he grins, taking a sip of whatever concoction is in his solo cup.

“Fuck off, Zenin,” Sukuna grumbles with a roll of his eyes. Toji should consider himself lucky he isn’t about to be at the center of Sukuna’s anger, saved only by the cannabis circling Sukuna’s system and dulling his thoughts, his anger, his mind. With a huff, Sukuna heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink.

“I see he still enjoys getting on your nerves,” Uraume observes, falling into step with him.

“Mm. Dunno how ya tolerate that asshole so much,” he comments, coming to a stop in the kitchen where he stubs out his blunt in an ashtray and opens the first bottle of rum he can find, pouring himself a rum and coke.

That is, if you can consider something that’s sixty percent rum a ‘rum and coke’.

“Me too, please,” Uraume requests. Sukuna hums, pouring a much more reasonable split of alcohol for them. “You can complain as much as you would like about Toji, but I know you two used to be close. Even if he can be a pain, I can tell you aren’t as bothered as you wish for him to believe.”

It’s true. Back in high school, the two were inseparable. Toji didn’t even mind when Sukuna’s father asked the two to take young Choso along to a basketball court or movie, so long as it was appropriate. Their issues came when Sukuna’s father passed away in their first year of college and he refused to speak with his best friend about it, choosing instead to take on mountains of stress on his own. As usual, Sukuna was the cause of his own problems.

Moving out of the dorms and finding a place for his two kid brothers to stay with him, that was a whole other challenge. Learning to change diapers, figuring out a schedule that worked both for the kids’ school and his education, that was what nearly dragged Sukuna to an early grave when he got horribly sick.

That’s where Uraume stepped in, helping to alleviate some of his classwork by taking on additional project work for him. They always expected something in return, but that’s just the way Sukuna preferred to make deals. They helped him get into the swing of taking care of two young kids.

Somewhere along that path, he came to the realization that they’d also had a big piece in both his and Choso’s recovery from grief. Sukuna had grown angry and Choso hardly spoke a word. Although still irritable, Sukuna is generally more reasonable nowadays and although still quiet, Choso is more talkative than he has been in a long time.

In particular with you. He knows Choso adores you, although he’s not as loud as Yuji is about it. Yuji may as well scream it from the tops of buildings.

Taking an unreasonably large sip of his drink, he wills away thoughts of you, replacing what he gulped down with more rum.

Uraume’s brow raises. “Difficult day?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he grumbles, alcohol and cannabis running through his veins and sending his mind into a haze so that he just might be able to handle Toji. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m relieved finals are over,” Uraume takes a sip of their drink with a small smile. “And it’s good to see you around again.”

“I saw you two days ago,” Sukuna points out, arching a brow.

They hum. “Yes, but Toji has a point. You’ve been spending more time with your project partner than us, which is unusual for you.”

He sighs. “Shit, guess I have.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Sukuna. I know you’re busy, and I can see she means a lot to you, but-”

“She’s just a project partner.”

Uraume purses their lips as they side-eye him. “... Right. Remind me, when did your project end?”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, shooting them a sharp look.

“As I was saying, I can see that she means a lot to you, so I don’t mind. I do wish you would get a new phone as I do miss texting, but our friendship won’t change.” They shoot him a reassuring smile, one that Sukuna lowers his defenses at the sight of.

“However Toji and Atsuya aren’t aware of your situation, which makes it appear as though you’re spending all of your time with her.” Uraume takes a sip of their drink, carding a hand through their snowy locks.

“Mm.” Sukuna runs his tongue over his lower lip as they approach the couch that Toji’s splayed himself over, manspreading with a bottle of beer held in one fist. He recognizes Toji’s cousin Naoya Zenin on the other end of the couch, surprised the two can even stand to be within five feet of one another. Toji may be an asshole, but somewhere buried beneath all that muscle is a fairly genuine person. Naoya, on the other hand, is the kind of person Sukuna wouldn’t mind socking in the face once or twice.

“So,” Toji starts, that infuriating grin returning. “Tell us ‘bout your girl.”

Sukuna chooses to stand between Atsuya and Uraume, his two friends who are decidedly less irritating. It’s a wonder him and Toji were ever close to begin with, though Sukuna supposes he was a lot different back when they hung out more.

The world had changed Sukuna, hardened him into a shell of what he once was.

“I told you, Zenin,” Sukuna hisses, “she’s not my girl.”

Toji scoffs, a wide grin across his face. “Yeah right. Ya got fuckin’ heart-eyes for her. Holdin’ her hand in the lunch hall n’ shit.”

Sukuna downs more of his rum, relishing in the burn as it slides down his throat. “We were studying, shithead. I owe her a favor, that’s all.”

“Yeah? You gonna bring her home n’ cuddle all cute-like?” The raven-headed man teases.

Atsuya sighs at Sukuna’s side, chewing idly on a toothpick. “Can you two shut up?” He grumbles, knuckles white as he grips his beer bottle tighter at the grating sound of their argument. “Giving me a damn headache.”

“C’mon Atsuya, I know ya saw it too,” Toji eggs both men on.

“Toji, enough,” Uraume scolds.

“Nah, I know Atsuya saw it.”

A muscle ticks in Sukuna’s jaw, his teeth grinding as he does what he can to push his frustrations aside. Turns out a full solo cup and blunt aren’t enough to dull Sukuna’s senses to the point where he can tolerate this conversation.

He’s supposed to be forgetting, yet here Toji is pushing the thought of you back in his face, infuriating him.

He downs the rest of his rum in two gulps, staring at the empty cup with a scowl, completely dazed as he tunes out the sound of his friends.

Heart-eyes. As-fucking-if. He scoffs to himself at the thought, staring back over the heads of the crowd towards the kitchen. He needs something harder after all. He should have brought the Everclear.

His relationship with you is similar to that of him and Uraume, he’s sure of it. It doesn’t go beyond that.

So why is he drinking to forget you?

Finally pulled from his thoughts, he turns on his heel to get something harder when he realizes where the conversation has turned in his absence.

Naoya questioningly tilts his head at Toji, a sleazy grin on his face as your name leaves his lips. Sukuna’s lip instinctively curls in disgust at the sound of your name leaving his lips. That’s not where it belongs, and Sukuna doesn’t dare imagine a world where this asshole so much as looks at you, because he thinks it just might give him an aneurysm.

Hell, he thinks an aneurysm would be kinder than the thought of Naoya Zenin ever looking your way.

“She’s fuckin’ hot, she’d look sexy as hell under-” Naoya’s gaze seems to search the crowd for you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Toji interrupts with a distasteful snarl, but it’s Sukuna’s words that seem to cut the crowd, red hot rage boiling in his chest.

“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence,” Sukuna barks, his tone low as he takes a step towards the vile excuse for a human being.

Naoya hardly seems phased by Sukuna’s outburst, although the throng of the crowd has dimmed in the face of Sukuna’s fury. “Aw, is she claimed, Sukuna? Is she your little playth-”

Sukuna barrels forward, not offering Naoya the time of day to speak.

Naoya’s eyes widen as Sukuna’s fist raises, barely managing to cower out of the way in time as Sukuna’s knuckles narrowly miss the blonde’s face and collide with the back of the couch. His eyes swirl with a ferocity that his friends haven’t seen before as they all leap towards him. Atsuya and Toji grab either of his arms and with a harsh pull from Toji, Sukuna stumbles backwards. They’re lucky he’s tipsy and not as stable as usual.

“Woah buddy, I’m all for teaching him a lesson, but let’s not start shit right now.” Atsuya speaks from a place of reason, but Sukuna knows he simply doesn’t want their group to get thrown out by Gojo.

… Again.

At least last time, it was Toji who started shit with Naoya.

Sukuna’s teeth are gritted as his friends hold him back. Naoya’s face has twisted from barely disguised fear into a satisfied smirk. “Did I touch a nerve, big guy?”

Sukuna lunges forward, stumbling back into the wall behind him as Toji pulls him back harshly. He grunts as his back collides with the wall, venom dripping from each syllable as he speaks in a dangerous tone. “If I hear you talkin’ about anyone like that again, I won’t hesitate to throw you through the nearest fucking wall.” Sukuna stares down at his knuckles that collided with the wooden back of the couch. They’re not bleeding, but they’ll bruise.

Naoya opens his mouth to retort, but his words die in his throat when Sukuna pushes off the wall, standing at his full height. Naoya’s tall, but Sukuna makes everyone look short. His usual smug expression falls as he chooses the cowardly option and slips away with an irritated grumble. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spat slowly begins to return to their conversations again, not daring to shoot a glance at the monstrous man spitting threats at the back of the room.

Sukuna huffs, flexing his hand as he moves past his friends to head back towards the kitchen, shoving his way through the crowd. He’s tipsy, but fuck, it’s not enough.

His brothers, his friends, even Naoya, why does everything constantly lead back to you? It’s like you’re some sort of succubus with your claws buried deep within the recesses of his mind that he can’t escape. Yet even as he spins the cap off of a bottle of Jack, he realizes it's his resentment of the way you’re so deeply ingrained in his life that’s causing him to think such a thing.

You’re not a succubus, you’re more like a fairy. Soft, sweet, and kind.

Sukuna pauses his motions, staring down at the bottle. His fingers drum lightly on the stem of the glass as something akin to distress stirs deep within him. He grips the bottle with white knuckles, his throat tight. Before he has time to consider what it is that you mean to him, Toji comes jogging over.

“Hey, everythin’ alright, man?”

The look on his face reminds Sukuna of a time long past. Of late nights at barely-lit skateparks as Sukuna learned the ropes of graffiti. Of long afternoons chatting as they passed a basketball back and forth in the late afternoon sun. It wasn’t so long ago but it feels like a lifetime after the battering Sukuna’s last few years have caused him.

“Why the hell is he even invited?” The pink-haired brute gruffs rather than offering a reply to Toji.

No, he’s not okay.

“Everyone’s invited, Ryo.”

Sukuna shoots him a glare. Everyone’s gotta have a nickname for him, don’t they? He sighs heavily, letting out a long breath before downing several gulps of Jack straight from the bottle. Just once, he wishes he was a lightweight.

He just wants his mind to go blank. He wants the racing thoughts to stop.

“Woah, let’s pace ourselves, yeah?” Toji reaches out to grab the bottle with a grimace, eyeing his long-time friend as he sets the Jack down and pours them both much more reasonable looking ratios of rum to coke. “Alright, so I guess you’re not okay. That’s fine,” he mumbles as he passes Sukuna a cup. “Let’s jus’ go have some drinks, forget about my cousin, yeah?”

With a barely veiled huff, Sukuna pushes off the counter as he follows after Toji.

Sitting alongside Toji and Uraume, a haze begins to settle over his mind that finally leaves him more comfortable. His anger dissipates and he eases more casually into conversation with his friends, something he’s needed more than ever before.

Finally, even if only for a night, he can forget.

–

“Shoko, this goes so low,” you whisper as though saying it any louder might proclaim it to the entire world.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” she retorts, grinning at you in the mirror.

“But it’s winter,” you whine, staring in the mirror at the black dress that, admittedly, does hug your curves just right, but god you feel exposed. It’s also not your usual style, and you know exactly what Shoko’s doing and why.

Ever since you mentioned being sick, she’s been on your ass about what Sukuna did, regardless of how adamant you are that he did nothing.

It’s a lie and you haven’t fooled a soul.

Sukuna did hurt you.

Again.

This time, though, there’s a certain trepidation that sits alongside the pang of hurt. Like you’re not quite sure that you’re allowed to feel hurt, so you hide it behind a smile and a lie that Sukuna did nothing wrong.

No amount of stewing over what happened in Sukuna’s bedroom has given you any answers. You’re stuck somewhere in between feeling guilty for ever expecting anything romantic from him and feeling hurt that his best attempt to reach out was a sad ‘feel better’.

Hours of wondering if all you are to him is another warm body in his bed, even though the rational part of you knows it doesn’t make sense when no one knows his reality except you. Hours of wondering if he feels anything towards you at all or if he simply doesn’t care.

Yet your mind clung to one thing, one thin string that seemed to tie to an impossible ideal. Still, you couldn’t push the thought away.

If you really mean nothing to Sukuna, why is he acting weird? Why won’t he reach out properly, hiding behind his brothers? Why hasn’t he completely pushed you away?

If you were nothing more than a babysitter, he wouldn’t bother reaching out, right?

But if you were nothing more than a warm body to him, why hasn’t he pushed you away?

Shoko scoffs, the sound grounding you to the present. “Girl, you know Gojo will let us use his closet for our jackets. That’s your worst excuse yet.” She rolls her eyes, tossing your winter coat at you. “No more complaining, we’re going.”

You cast one more glance at the frilly black dress that barely reaches your knees and follow after Shoko.

The air is warmer than you expect, making your argument even less valid the moment you’re outside. You don’t bother to refute Shoko’s triumphant teasing, even as she mentions all the people you’ll surely attract in that dress.

Your stomach stirs uneasily at the thought.

As the staple at Gojo’s parties that you two are, the frat boy at the entrance shoots you both a kind grin as he lets you through. Why they bother with a bouncer at a party everyone on campus received an invite for is beyond you, but you return the smile regardless.

The thrum of music and thick scent of liquor, weed, and perspiration suffocates your senses as you enter the house. It’s familiar, and you know exactly where Gojo and Geto will be tucked away. Nanami and Haibara headed home practically the moment finals ended.

Making your way past the kitchen and grabbing a cooler, you slip past a game of beer pong and peer out the patio to the backyard. Sure enough, the snow’s been cleared and a massive fire pit is raging in the corner. Geto and Gojo are sitting around the fire alongside a few other frat members you recognize and some women very obviously vying for a place on one of their arms.

“My two favorite ladies!” Satoru calls out as you carefully make your way over the packed snow, trying desperately not to slip in your heels. You wrap your arms around yourself, thankful for the raging fire as you and Shoko take your seats between Satoru and Suguru.

“Why do you wanna sit outside?” You mumble, holding your hands out to the fire.

Suguru chuckles beside you. “I tried to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“It’s warm tonight!” The snowy-haired man insists with an overdramatic pout.

“Just because it’s not freezing doesn’t make it warm, dumbass,” Shoko rolls her eyes, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She offers them to the group, though only Suguru takes one. She leans over you to light it for him, smoke billowing in the air around you.

With a drink in your hand and your friends at your side, conversation comes easily and you all keep close to the fire, stoking it often to keep a steady flame. Eventually, the mix of the flame and the alcohol warms you up and with toasty cheeks, you’re staring at the fire with a steady buzz.

“How do you think your finals went?” Suguru inquires, leaning back in his camping chair.

“Killed it,” you reply confidently, eyes glazed with the thrill of vodka. “I even think I nailed history,” you proudly tell him, straightening your posture with a gleam in your eyes.

“Mmm, would a particular history major have to do with that?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his smooth voice. Your proud stance falters, your cheeks heating up further as you can only offer him a shy smile, too inebriated to defend yourself as your stomach jumps at the mere thought of him. Suguru chuckles. “I see. I’m just teasing, I won’t push like Shoko does.”

“Hey! I’m a great friend,” she narrows her eyes in a playful scowl, though Suguru just grins.

After the busy last month of the semester, not to mention finals, you’re relieved to share warm moments like these with your friends, reveling in the jokes and laughter filling the air around you.

Being able to indulge in partying is a relief too. Although Satoru does it every second or third day, you can’t partake in the same luxuries and still expect to pass. Life isn’t quite as kind to you as it seems to be for the blue-eyed campus royalty. Between your studies and looking after Choso and Yuji, you’ve had your time well-occupied for the past month.

That’s not even beginning to mention the resumes you’ve been editing for some quick cash, on top of your own.

Not that it’ll be enough extra cash to get you home for Christmas. You know your parents tried, but they’re already doing their best to pay for your apartment and day-to-day expenses. At the end of the day, you can’t sacrifice any of your savings for a trip home, as much as you would like to.

You just have to hold onto the fact that you’ll see them once you start working. Most of your friends will go home for Christmas, but that’s okay. Nanami even offered to pay your way home and have you join him and Haibara, but that just didn’t seem fair, as much as you wanted to take him up on his offer.

You’ll enjoy your time video chatting and maybe take some time to visit Satoru and Suguru’s families, who’ve kindly invited you along.

“Deep in thought?”

“Hm?”

Suguru smiles, amused. “Distracted, are we?”

Your cheeks heat up, embarrassed. “Sorry. What were you saying?” You offer him a kind smile.

“I was offering another drink, would you like me to grab you something?” He taps your empty can.

“Oh! Actually, I’ll come with you I think.”

Suguru hums, leading the way back towards Satoru’s kitchen with a much wider gait than your own. “What are you having?”

“Just whatever cooler is fine,” you shrug as he leans down into the fridge. He pulls out a couple of coolers to give you options, returning to the fridge with the can you choose not to take.

Your eyes scan the crowd from the kitchen with a mirthful, albeit dazed expression that falters when you come face-to-face with the one person who’s been a constant in your thoughts for the past week.

He’s hard to miss, towering over the crowd with a head of pink hair and sharp tattoos decorating his features. Your heart pounds in your chest at the mere sight of him. Clearly a week away from him has done your heart no favors.

Sukuna looks good. You’re so accustomed to seeing him exhausted in deep blue coveralls or a big hoodie with wet, disheveled hair and a frown that seeing him with a relaxed smirk, his hair pushed back out of his face and a chain sat around his neck, he looks handsome.

You bite your lip, tearing your gaze away from him to turn back to Suguru. A knowing smirk has found its way onto Suguru’s face and he chuckles. “Go talk to him.”

Of course, he doesn’t know about the strange fissure sitting soundly between you and Sukuna, but you appreciate his encouragement nonetheless. Even if his tone is teasing, he does have a much more genuine way of handling things than Satoru would have.

For a moment, you do consider Suguru’s encouragement, turning back to Sukuna in the corner of the house, but your heart drops as the crowd shifts.

Standing in front of Sukuna is a tall woman with long, blonde hair. You recognize her from the Volleyball team, she’s gorgeous and Sukuna’s leaning down, his lips close to her ear as he blatantly flirts with her. His eyes are lidded and tinged in red, likely both drunk and high, and he chuckles along to something the blonde says.

Blinking a couple of times, you feel your heart sinking, green with envy. You appreciate Suguru’s encouragement, but maybe you should resign yourself to a world where your feelings remain unrequited and you’re just friends with Sukuna. That is, if he even still wants to be around you. He’s so difficult and hard to read and that’s not to mention the fact he hasn’t even attempted to talk about the heated kiss- 

Sukuna’s eyes flicker upwards, meeting yours and stopping. His lidded expression falters, lips pursed. His brow furrows as the woman tugs on his shirt to get his attention and pull him closer, his gaze flickering between her and you.

You tear your gaze from him, turning back to Suguru. With a light touch to his bicep to get his attention as he pours himself something, you force a smile. “I think I’m gonna go find a quiet corner to get some air,” you tell him, slinking away before he can protest. With one final glance back at Sukuna, who’s returned his attention to the blonde, you slip into the crowd.

Pushing through sweaty bodies, the bass and crowd seems to box you in. Your heart is racing too fast, your mind too buzzed, your world too hazy to be trying to handle this many people.

Finding the stairs brings with it a sense of relief, no longer suffocated by the loud music and overwhelming smell of liquor. On the top floor, several of the rooms are shut, telltale signs of couples finding makeshift privacy and you don’t dare peek into any of them. You head straight for Satoru’s room, knowing well that it’ll be locked, and knowing equally well that you have the digital code to get in.

2-3-7-8.

B-E-S-T.

Cocky as ever.

Slipping inside, you shut the door behind you and take a breath as the ringing in your ears gradually begins to mute. Taking a seat on the edge of Gojo’s bed, you let out a long breath. You’ve spent hours on end in this exact spot, watching Satoru and Suguru compete in Super Smash Bros long after you and Shoko had been knocked out.

It doesn’t usually feel so lonely.

Pulling out your phone from within your bra, the only place you could store it, you find yourself doom-scrolling whatever social media has new content. It’s a poor effort to return to the happy state you’d found yourself in only a few minutes ago, and unsurprisingly it doesn’t return.

You’re not sure how long you sit in that spot, but with nothing left to scroll, you get to your feet and pad slowly towards the window, staring out towards the balcony that overlooks the backyard. Flipping the lock, you step out into the chill air, but it hardly seems to touch you, protected by the warmth of liquor in your veins.

You should probably get a coat given that the alcohol won’t really protect you and you’re not close enough to the fire to bask in its heat, but you don’t think you care enough. Not if it means seeing the one person whose presence suffocates you. The crowd is one thing, but Sukuna seems to outweigh every single one of them with just one glance. He crowds your world in a way a group of sweaty unknown college students can’t.

You wonder if maybe you had found him earlier in the night, if maybe you would have had the courage to ask about the kiss. Liquid courage maybe, but courage nonetheless.

You wonder if he would have told you it meant nothing and to move on from him. You wonder if he would have told you to fuck off. If you’re nothing to him.

Yet somehow those don’t seem to scratch the surface of the complicated canyon of emotions that holds you both at arms’ length. Each possibility is too simple.

With a sigh, you cross your arms over the balcony, letting the cold metal raise goosebumps along your skin as you rest your chin on them. Down below, your friends seem like they’re having a good time. Shoko’s attention is on another brunette you recognize from your history class while Satoru and Suguru joke alongside some other frat members.

You long to be a part of that, but you know you would be feigning a smile if you returned.

You shouldn’t be this drunk and this jealous when Sukuna isn’t yours and never has been. Hell, he hasn’t even spoken to you in-person since the kiss.

Maybe you’re this jealous because you’re this drunk.

“Need a jacket?”

You startle at the sound of Sukuna’s voice, a mix of dread, uncertainty, and jealousy raging in your system.

“You scared me,” you murmur, standing upright. Great, just who you want to see.

Sukuna hums. “My bad.” Shutting the balcony door behind him, he takes a couple of steps forward until he’s next to you, though he keeps an uneasy distance between you.

The drop-off between you is so evident it’s almost as though it’s real and physically repelling you from one another. Sukuna shuffles, the silence unbearable to his inebriated mind as he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as the shed in the corner of the yard suddenly becomes of great interest. “Don’t say it like that…” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I didn’t have sex with ‘er.”

You sigh again. The phrasing wasn’t really the point behind your words, but he’s either too drunk, too high, or too focused on the way you took a step away from him to notice. “It’s none of my business, Sukuna.”

He doesn’t know what to say to fix this. You’re talking to him, and that’s a start, but he’s way too far gone to soundly come up with an apology that makes sense, so his mouth just starts running.

“My apartment’s overrun with lizards.”

Even upset, you crack a smile. It’s hard not to at the thought of his little brothers absolutely littering his place in little bead lizards, all because you showed them the trick to the feet.

“The lil’ brat lectured me on the difference between lizards n’ geckos,” he pauses, a noticeable slur to his drunken speech. “Still think they’re pretty much th’same.”

“They’re a species and a subspecies,” you reply monotonously.

Sukuna doesn’t like your tone, devoid of any emotion. He shuffles slightly towards you. You look hot, but Sukuna knows better now than to blindly follow his desires, even in his completely intoxicated state. “Jus’ because you added ‘sub’ t’the word doesn’ make ‘em different.”

You let out a long sigh. “Are we not gonna talk about it, Sukuna?” You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as you turn to face him.

He straightens, pinned in place by your conflicted scowl. Your eyes are glazed, you’re drunk too, and you seem more upset than your emails lead him to believe. Maybe it’s just the alcohol clouding his ability to grasp your expressions.

“‘M sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You echo his apology, a brow quirked.

“Yeah. It was a mistake.”

That hits you like a slap in the face and you purse your lips, staring at the ground as you take one, two steps back from him, with the intention of heading back inside. No, with the intention of going home. 

“Fuck, no, no. Wait.” Sukuna’s jaw hangs ajar as he follows your stride, walking two steps towards you. His tongue runs across his lower lip as he hesitates, brushing a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your throat is tight as you fight back tears. You can’t help but wish you weren’t drunk while having this conversation, then maybe the tears wouldn’t be so quick.

“I-” Sukuna fights with himself, “- I was thinkin’ with the wrong head.”

Right. So he’s doubling down on it being a mistake. You nod slowly, turning away with a sharp intake of breath.

“Wait, shit. Wait. ‘M sorry, I’m way too fuckin’ drunk n’ high n’ shit to be doin’ this right now,” he scrambles with his words, taking another step after you. You stop again, giving him another chance to explain himself. You’ve always been too kind and patient with him.

Grappling with the thoughts running through his mind, he shuts his eyes for a moment with a deeply furrowed brow, red eyes dilating as the light of Gojo’s bedroom behind you illuminates your silhouette. Your dress suits you and frames your curves so well that it’s driving him insane, jumbling his thoughts even further. These thoughts are what got him into this situation to begin with.

“There was so much shit goin’ on n’ I wasn’t thinkin’ straight,” he slurs, red eyes flickering between yours. He can see the hurt in your eyes and he’s far too inebriated to even begin thinking about why it is that you’re so hurt he would refer to the kiss as a mistake. That’s a can of worms he can’t possibly begin to wrap his brain around in this state. “I was jus’... I dunno. I was chasin’ somethin’ I shoudn-” he pauses as his words slur, “- I shouldn’t have.”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. It doesn’t matter how many different ways he words it, at the end of the day it’s clear as mud. It was a mistake. His excuse, though? That’s just pitiful and insulting.

“Do you think I don’t have a lot going on? Do you think that somehow my problems aren’t worth as much just because I don’t have two jobs and kids?” Your words are sharp, and they take a moment to sink in.

“No. Fuck. I jus-” He pauses again, knuckles white as he balls his hands into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching in frustration. He could use a dictionary right about now. Maybe just a whole damn linguist. Hell, he needs someone to read his mind because everything is coming out jumbled and it’s pissing him the fuck off, when all he really wants to say is, “Fuck, I jus’… don’t wan’ the kids to lose ya.” He swallows hard. “I don’t wanna lose ya.”

Your shoulders fall, your defenses crumbling. What? “What?”

Now that he has your attention again, he turns back to the balcony, hunching over it. The cool metal railing lulls his heated skin. Soothes the burning anger with his own inability to process a single thought. Maybe drinking to forget wasn’t his brightest idea.

He says your name quietly. It sounds foreign, vulnerable, when it falls from his lips that way. “I’m losin’ the kids.”

You take a step towards him, tilting your head to get a better view of his face. His expression is solemn, but you’re not sure you understand where he’s going with this. They seemed pretty fond of him when you saw them last week. Choso surely wouldn’t be expressing his worries to you if he didn’t love Sukuna.

“What do you mean?”

“Their fuckin’ mother slapped me with court orders. She’s takin’ ‘em.”

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening. The legal documents. You’d always assumed it was some foolish run-in Sukuna must have had with someone with a bit too much power or money, but never once had you stopped to consider that it could be something like this.

“No, what? You’re gonna fight for them, aren’t you?” You ask, voice strained.

“The hell ‘m I supposed to do?” He barks, turning to face you with a snarl. The look on his face isn’t one of anger, however. It’s distress. “Pull money outta my ass to pay f’r a lawyer?”

You frown. “Maybe you can find a pro-bono attorney?”

Sukuna’s too drunk for this. “Free? That’s free, right?”

You nod.

“The fuck’s a shitty free attorney gonna do? Convince the court that the older brother with two jobs, school, n’ tattoos c’n take better care of two brats than the person who birthed ‘em?”

“Sukuna, come on-”

He doesn’t stop there. “No court’s stupid enough to say no when she pushed ‘em out-”

“Eugh, don’t say that.”

“- that’s not even mentionin’ the fact that she practically shits cash with how much she’s got-”

“Sukuna! Okay, I get it.” You set a hand on his bicep, grounding him as he stares at it. Your touch is searing. He’s not sure if it’s because of the cold, his anger, or something else entirely. He’s not in the state of mind to think about it. His chest heaves as your steady voice speaks so softly to him that it does manage to calm him, even if only a bit. “How much water have you had tonight?”

He huffs. “None.”

“That… makes sense,” you chuckle lightly, shooting him a tired smile. “Why don’t we start there?”

Had one of his friends asked a half hour ago, he would have rolled his eyes and downed the Jack Daniels in his pocket. After his beyond frustrating last few minutes where he couldn’t seem to get a single word out, it doesn’t sound nearly as bad.

“Fine,” he agrees, following after you as you turn to lead the way back to Gojo’s room, only to pause at the door.

“You didn’t lock the door behind you, did you?”

“What? No.” He peers over you, wrinkling his nose at the sight of a couple tangled in one another on Gojo’s bed.

You can only pray he didn’t notice you and Sukuna up on the balcony at all, he’d kill you if he knew what was going on.

“How convenient,” Sukuna deadpans, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he shields you from the couple with his body, ducking through the room as quickly as possible and shutting the door behind him. His grip on your shoulder doesn’t relent as he keeps you close to his body while heading down the stairs, through the crowd and towards the kitchen, shielding you from the sweaty dance floor.

You scramble to keep up with him, needing to move at almost double your walking pace just to keep up with him as he drags you along. Your cheeks are burning and whether that’s from the alcohol or his touch, you’re not sure.

Once you’re in the kitchen, he loosens his grip on your shoulder and watches silently as you move around the cabinets and fridges, filling a glass of water for him.

He hums in acknowledgement, leaning back against the counter. You hop up on the marble beside him, watching as he slowly sips on the water, staring down at the liquid that vibrates with the thump of the bass.

“So,” you begin, pulling his attention back to you. “You don’t wanna lose me, huh?”

Sukuna’s sharp eyes narrow into a glare, but it dissipates as he realizes you aren’t teasing. You’re lucky he’s drunk, because there’s no other circumstance where you would get such a direct answer from him. “No.”

“Is that why you didn’t reach out to talk about it?”

He returns his gaze to the water in his hand, rippling in the glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what t’ say. I overstepped boundaries.”

You sigh, glad he’s found a more eloquent way of putting how he really feels rather than just labelling the whole thing as ‘a mistake’. You wish he started with that, but obviously drunk, high, and in a panic to keep you from walking away, his words failed him. You can accept that he doesn’t see you romantically but values your friendship.

“It’s okay, Sukuna. We… both… overstepped boundaries,” you offer with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s clear that what Sukuna needs right now is a friend, someone to support him and look out for him when he needs it most. You’ll be that for him, even if it means leaving your feelings for him at the door.

His eyes narrow again as he looks at you, irises flickering between your pupils as though he’s trying to make sense of something, but he lets it go to down some water, turning to the sink to refill his glass.

You don’t bring up the kids with people flooding the kitchen around you, keeping the conversation casual. Sukuna points out his friends in the corner at one point, telling you he’ll introduce you when Toji’s not drunk because apparently ‘he’s a prick’. You recognize Uraume’s name from a while ago when they had watched the kids so that Sukuna could be there to get your grade for your project. Sukuna tells you that he thinks you’ll get along well.

It’s gradual, but his speech eventually stops slurring and he joins you on the counter, though his head and shoulder hit the cabinet behind him and he hardly fits.

“Wait- that was today?”

“Mhm. I probably woulda been kicked out if Toji and Atsuya didn’t hold me back.” He flashes you his knuckles that are, as he expected, beginning to bruise.

“Something tells me you say that from experience,” you giggle.

“Somethin’ like that. Last time, it was Toji’s fault, though,” he shrugs, downing more water. You’re both now just comfortably buzzed and Sukuna doesn’t seem nearly as tense as when you were up on the balcony.

“Sounds like I should be glad I’ve never met this Naoya guy.”

“Tch. If you even see that slimebag look at you, head the other way. Guy’s a walking red flag.”

“Noted.” You kick your feet, staring down at your black heels dangling from them. “Oh, by the way, have you ever tried that diner near your place?”

“What diner?” He’s staring down at your feet as well, watching the movement as they gently sway.

“The one like a block over from your apartment, with the blue and pink logo?”

Sukuna stifles a laugh, but it still bubbles up in his chest and he snorts. “That’s a fuckin’ strip club, princess.”

“No it isn’t!” You insist with certainty.

“It’s literally called Strip Joint.” He points out with a smug grin.

“Kuna. They make chicken strips. It’s a joke, they’re a chicken strip joint.”

His lips part in disbelief as he tilts his head to look at you. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m dead serious,” you giggle. “How did you not know?”

“What do you mean ‘how did I not know’? How did you know?” He waves his hand out in the air like it isn’t quite as obvious as it seems. He’s got a point, it absolutely looks the part of a strip club with a dark outside and bright neon sign, but that only makes you laugh harder.

“You know what, now that I think about it, I actually think I know that because Satoru took us there for his birthday and thought it was a strip club,” you ponder the time you first visited, but can’t place if that was your first visit for sure.

“See!” He’s grinning, his cheeks dusted in a shade of red that suits him, just as well as his smirk does. Another one of those rare moments where you think you’re seeing the real Sukuna, even in the midst of everything bogging him down. It’s a good look on him, one that sends your heart soaring. “I’m sure the frat boy loved that.”

“You know, he wasn’t as upset as you would think he’d be,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Sukuna hums, glancing around momentarily. “Can’t believe I live right next to a chicken finger place and the boys don’t know. They’d love that shit.”

Your heart falls, but you do what you can to mask it at the mention of his little brothers. “Let’s check it out.”

“We can do that sometime,” he agrees, yawning.

“No, I mean why don’t we go now?”

Sukuna’s brow arches. “You wanna take my drunk and high ass to a chicken finger shop?”

“I think that makes it funnier, honestly,” you grin, hopping down off the counter. Sukuna contemplates your request for a moment, before dropping down to his feet with a thump.

“Fine,” he huffs, shoving his hands into his jogger pockets as he follows after you. You both pull your jackets from the front coat rack and closet and step back out into the cold. Considerably less drunk than last time you were outside, it’s markedly colder.

Thank god Sukuna’s apartment isn’t too far from campus, unlike yours. You’d had every intention of crashing at Shoko’s overnight, so you’d likely just head back to her place when the night ends if you can get a hold of her.

Heels probably weren’t your greatest call with all the snow, but you manage to keep yourself from slipping by walking slower. It’s a snail’s pace for Sukuna, but as much as he grumbles and gripes about it, he’ll be more than okay.

Jogging up to the door, you pull it open with a shiver and thank every god you can think of that it’s open at one in the morning.

Just as you had said, it’s a diner that specialises in chicken strips, classically decorated in reds to go with the otherwise grayscale diner colors. Off to one side lies a row of red leather booths, while there’s a faded red counter with patches of bare oak where forearms and plates have worn the color from the wood. The lights are dim, with one at the back of the diner flickering softly.

The restaurant is empty aside from one employee and an older man drinking coffee at the counter before her.

“Have a seat wherever, dears.” The kind old employee smiles softly at you, gesturing to the booths. You return her smile, leading Sukuna to a booth in the center of the diner, a couple away from the flickering light.

Sukuna shuffles into the booth, shrugging off his coat and leaning against his bent elbow. He yawns, grunting in thanks when the employee leaves menus before you. He doesn’t look as disinterested as usual, but tired hardly cuts the dark circles lining his eyes.

You peruse the menu for a moment, glancing up at Sukuna. His eyes are skimming the menu, his fingers drumming lightly on the white table lined in metallic silver.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?”

Sukuna’s brow arches. “Chicken.”

“Alright, smartass,” you giggle. “I’m thinking of having ice cream.”

Sukuna’s gaze narrows. “You complained about it being cold the whole way here.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that sound good?”

“Chicken sounds good,” he mumbles.

“You’re just high.”

“You’re just drunk,” he counters, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He shuts the menu after a moment, setting it at the side of the table to get the waitress’ attention. The kind woman rounds the bar and pulls out a small notepad and pen.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the six piece meal,” Sukuna starts, holding his hand out for you to go next.

“I’ll have the chocolate ice cream.”

“You were serious?” Disbelief drips from Sukuna’s tone as he shoots you a look like you’ve gone mad before the waitress can even confirm your orders. You kick his shin lightly under the table and he shuts his mouth with a grimace, muttering a ‘thanks’ when the waitress confirms your orders and heads back to the bar. “You were serious?” He repeats once she’s gone.

“Of course! Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Not really,” he chuckles, still leaning against his palm.

“Well, I think it sounds great.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever the princess wants, she gets.”

You grin at him as your stomach flutters at the nickname, following his gaze outside. The street lamps cast an eerie yellow light over the otherwise still roads, your fresh footprints the only sign of life out there. No cars pass by the side road at such early hours of the morning, the hustle and bustle of city life momentarily paused as most people settle in the warmth of their homes for rest.

“What are you gonna do, Sukuna?”

He yawns, wiping tears from his eyes. “‘Bout what?”

“The kids.”

“Mm.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. It’s a bit short for him and he has to slump down for any amount of back support. “Dunno. Not sure I can do much.”

“What about the pro-bono idea?”

“Maybe,” he hums, a little more level-headed as you inquire this time around. “I don’t think some free attorney off the streets is gonna do many favors against whatever expensive asshole their mom’s payin’ for, though.”

“Maybe, but you never know. It’s better than self-defense,” you shrug.

“Unless I find Daredevil on the streets, I get the feelin’ it won’t really matter.” The defeat hanging around him like a spectre seems to weigh heavily on him as he stares out the window.

“You can’t just give up.”

He throws his hands up in frustration, though he’s too tired to back it up with words. He supposes you can take that however you’d like, he’s not about to fight with you about this, not when this lawsuit almost cost your friendship all because his dumbass step-mother chose to deliver the legal papers at the most inconvenient time.

“They need you, Kuna. Where’s their mom been all this time, anyway?” Your brow furrows at the thought. Why does Sukuna have his brothers if their mom’s still around?

“Dunno. Overseas or some shit. She took a high-paying position and our dad refused to move us with her. When he passed, I tried to get a hold of anyone on her side of the family. Not a single word. Even the lawyers couldn’t reach any of ‘em.” He shrugs, reaching up to scratch his jaw as his gaze remains fixed out the window.

“Huh. What about your mom?”

Either Sukuna’s feeling kind today, or he’s too tired to fight your nosiness. Whatever it is, he shrugs again in reply. “Dunno about her either. I was an accident. My dad was nineteen when they had me, she signed me away the moment I was born.”

You suppose his statement from the other night about his father ‘knowing how to pick them’ makes more sense with this context. It seemed neither woman had done any of his sons any favors.

“I’m sorry, Sukuna.” “It’s whatever,” he mutters through a yawn.

“Hey, what about the law students or professors?”

He tilts his head, leaning over the table on both of his forearms. “What about them?”

“Have you spoken to them?”

“No. I dunno any of ‘em and I’m not about to get anyone involved.”

“Don’t you think it’s worth it? For Yuji and Choso?”

Sukuna parts his lips to reply, pausing momentarily when your ice cream and his chicken arrive. You both quietly thank the waitress before he continues. “‘Course, but I’m not gettin’ my hopes up.”

You frown, spooning some ice cream into your mouth. After your first bite, you chew on your lip in thought. “Would you consider talking to a law student? I know you would need to tell them what’s going on and that isn’t what you want, but…” You trail off, not really sure there’s a sound ‘but’ behind your insistence on helping him.

He sighs, finishing a chicken strip in only a couple of bites. “You think it’s worth it?”

You nod, swallowing another bite of ice cream. “I just know if I were in your position, I would be trying everything. I couldn’t possibly let go of them.”

Sukuna’s heart twists and he runs a hand through his hair. There it is again, that uncomfortable sensation of being outside of his own body as panic grips him. It’s the same feeling from when you mentioned him being their hero. It’s like you’ve dropped something on him that he doesn’t quite know how to handle.

He stares down at his plates, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“Sukuna?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, strained. He subconsciously slides his foot out until he finds yours, as though he’s seeking your presence for comfort again like the night spent in his room. You set your spoon down, watching as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

You open your mouth to voice your concern, but he interrupts before you can.

“You know one? A law student?”

You chew on your lip briefly, taking in his distant expression. As though being high, buzzed on alcohol, tired, and mildly hungover isn’t all enough for one person, now he also hardly seems present.

“I don’t, but one of Kento’s friends is in the program.”

“Great,” Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes as he jabs his chicken a little bit too harshly in plum sauce. “My biggest fan.” You knock his foot beside you, which seems to bring him back to the present somewhat.

“You know, I think if you explain to him what’s going on, he might not be so cold to you.”

The pink-haired man makes a show out of his disdain for including Kento with a dramatic groan. “If it makes it easier with the law student, then sure, but,” he pauses, shooting you a glance, “I choose what I share.”

You pick up your spoon again, shoveling more ice cream into your mouth. “I wouldn’t share any of your secrets. Kento doesn’t know about your brothers.”

He doesn’t doubt that’s true, otherwise he thinks he may have garnered just a little bit more sympathy from the blonde. He’s fairly sure the only reason he’s still just barely on Shoko’s good side is the fact that she knows he’s taking care of two snot-nosed brats.

He mutters out a barely audible thanks before focusing on his food. Even as he eats, he’s running out of steam, just barely managing to stay awake as comfortable silence hangs between you. It’s a stark contrast from a few hours ago, the rift patched and stitched with a nice little bow to top it all off and for that he’s beyond grateful.

“Do you wanna try some?” You hold out your spoon as he sets his plate aside, wiped clean.

He reaches out, taking the spoon and popping it in his mouth. “That’s pretty good. I thought it was just Breyers or some shit.”

You shake your head, staring down at the couple of remaining scoops. “I think it’s made in-house.”

He hums in agreement, leaning over the table with a yawn and you get the feeling it’s time to go home. Waving the waitress over, you request the bills with a polite smile.

“Together or separate?” She inquires with a kind smile in return.

“Together.”

“Separate.”

“Together,” Sukuna doubles down, pulling out his wallet.

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs at the question. “You got one ice cream, I think I’ll manage.”

Giving in, you nod at the waitress.

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Mm,” he hums as he pulls out his credit card, paying quickly before sliding out of the booth and throwing his coat on. You follow suit, thanking the waitress and heading back out into the cold.

“You promise you’re okay with me reaching out to Kento about this? It probably won’t be until after Christmas, he’s back in our hometown with family,” you explain.

“It’s fine. Worth a shot, right?”

You smile at his willingness to work with you. He’s shown you an awful lot of vulnerability all night, and you appreciate his honesty, even if there’s still a pang of disappointment that your feelings for him aren’t mutual.

“You need me to walk you back to the frat house?”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought. You really don’t want to stay there if you don’t have to, and your buzz has completely faded. You have no desire to return to the party, which you would need to do if you wanted to crash with Shoko. “That’s alright, I think I’ll head home.”

Sukuna rolls his shoulders backwards, fighting a yawn. “Uber? Busses aren’t running this late.”

“Yeah, I’ll get one now.”

“I’m comin’ with you.”

“Sukuna, you’ve been yawning for the better part of the last two hours. You look like you’re ready to pass out,” you point out, reaching forward to poke him in a similar fashion to back when you first met his brothers and teasingly shoved him to prove a point.

Marginally more awake than your first encounter with his brothers, Sukuna grabs your wrist before you can poke him. “Nice try, princess. It’s two in the morning, I just wanna make sure you make it home. I’ll walk back after.”

Your heart should not be soaring like it is right now given the fact that he openly admitted to you that he overstepped boundaries, but you can’t help the way it races. “Okay,” you smile meekly, waiting alongside him for the car you hailed to pull up.

The ride is an odd one as Sukuna struggles to stay awake while the driver recounts his night, but his presence is comforting in what would otherwise be an awkward ride.

Arriving back at your apartment, you open the app and add a secondary destination, keying in Sukuna’s apartment. He sluggishly goes to get out but you dash around the car as best as you can in your heels to block him.

“Thanks for getting me home, now I’m getting you home.”

He’s too drained to start something with you for being too kind when he could just walk home, returning to his seat with resignation and a mildly contemptful expression.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, though he’s internally much more grateful than he’d have you believe.

“Text- uh- email me when you get home.”

He blows air from his nose, amused. “Yeah. Night, princess.”

“Goodnight, Kuna.”

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; i hope you guys enjoyed the chicken strip conversation as much as i did, maybe i'm just tired but i though it was toooo cute something about writing sukuna fumbling through his day-to-day life is so enjoyable, this poor poor man. i love him sm 😭 as always, thank you for reading and a huge shoutout to each and every one of you who's interacted with my posts, you guys seriously make my day and are a big part of the reason i'm having so much fun sharing this story with you all. thank you all <33

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - next

synopsis: Toji takes up dog-sitting for you and learns to appreciate his new job, in more ways than one.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It did not take long for you to go back to work in person, however, it did take a while for Toji to see you again. Despite the oddity that was your first meeting, he couldn't help but wonder what you were doing while he stayed at your house.

In his time there the man had created a routine with your dog.

First thing in the morning, he let the dog into the backyard while he prepared the pampered beast's breakfast, then, he refilled the water bowls with Britta water from the jug in the fridge. After that, the dog comes back in, eats, and after a little digestion, they go for a 10-minute walk.

Toji found that he enjoyed being outside so frequently. He liked being around another life form that appreciated his presence so much.

After three hours he would take the dog on a longer walk, around two miles, come back, play a little, eat dinner, and then Toji would let the dog out in the yard again before giving the dog a treat on his way out.

The routine they had developed was so consistent that when it inevitably went amiss, Toji was unsure what to do.

It all went down on a Tuesday.

It had been about three months since Toji had started watching the dog, the house seemed to have a new light now that he knew who the owner was. He found himself meticulously cleaning the dishes he used, ensuring that he never left any garbage out, and washing the towels that he occasionally used.

He was only making sure he didn't leave the place a mess, he was happy to have so much money was all.

On this particular Tuesday, the sun seemed determined to hide behind a sheet of clouds. It was dark when Toji let the dog out while he prepared breakfast. He had just finished refilling the Britta, his hand on the fridge door when he heard an unfamiliar snarling noise.

Looking around the backyard, he called the dog back in, but for once, the dog did not come. The growls persisted, sounding unlike the dog he had come to know, and eventually, Toji stepped out and firmly called the dog's name. Returning, the dog circled Toji and seemed uninterested in his food.

By noon his breakfast was gone however, and Toji had the beast leashed up for their walk. Everything had been so normal. After about a mile in the humid air, they began their trek home. Looking back, he and the dog must be more similar than Toji thought. The pooch's senses must be on par with his own because the moment Toji halted at the feeling of another, the dog did as well, his ears perked quickly and twitched in different directions, a low growl in his throat.

Later, Toji would wonder where the beast emerged from, how long it had been following them, and who it belonged to but in the moment Toji had little time to think as he whipped around just as a Tosa lunged for them both.

Toji had seen this type of dog before. Commonly bread with aggressive temperaments, Tosa Inu's were common in the underground dog fight scene. And they could be deadly. Toji made quick to stomp the thing right in the face as it bounded toward his dog. Now that he has the chance to look back at the situation, he hopes your pet will forgive him for how aggressively he had yanked the collar behind him.

"BACK! GET BACK!" Toji's voice broke through the dark and cloudy air, the aggressor began to circle himself and the dog, in an effort to contain the Tosa, Toji released his grasp on the leash, fully expecting his pampered boy to run in fear, what he didn't see coming was the dog to leap from his grasp and make to attack the Tosa.

Then there was the blood.

Toji had to claw the beast from the dog he had let go of just a moment before. He can't even remember when the pain in his hands surfaced. Adrenaline was pumping, he should've had his gun. The pain took a backseat to his focus on lifting the (easily 100 lb) dog into his grasp.

He can't remember how he let the Tosa get away, one moment he was tightly grasping its head between his fingernails and then he heard the whimper at his chest and the mastiff mix pulled to scamper away.

Toji zeroed in on what was important, he carried the dog the mile home. Eventually, he couldn't tell who's blood was who's. There was a muted drip, drip, drip, as he jogged. Eventually, they made it into his beat-up car and he watched painfully as the dog bled into his passenger seat, huffing in pain.

Toji knew the vet and animal hospital you used, months back, you had made a very detailed list of information when Toji visited the first time.

The mans heart pumped as he sped past cars and traffic signs.

"Damn it" Toji stoked the dog's face at the red light. "Don't look so pitiful" he tried for a smile, "You fought well... guess you're tougher than you seem." Toji tried to be stoic but in all honesty, he had to keep from shouting at the cars in front of him when the light turned green. He sped all the way to the hospital, flinching when he lifted the dog in his arms.

As it turns out, you need the owner's consent before operating on a dog. That was when Toji made the move to call you. His hands bled across the screen of his phone. The first time it didn't go through, sent to voicemail, he hung up and tried again. He tapped his foot in frustration.

"Mr. Fushiguro-" He immediately cut you off.

"He got bit. We're at the animal hospital. They need to speak to you." Your frantic "What?" fills his ears and he has to squeeze his eyes shut at the anger he feels that this occurred in his care. Your voice was still gentle when you gave your consent for the dog's surgery. You arrived at the hospital in record time and it was here in this moment that Toji believes he's ever really "seen" you.

You stood before the vet tech in your suit pants and tight sleeveless top, your blazer was tossed over your arm as you discussed options with the man at the desk. Toji's head was in his bloody hands when he heard you raise your voice for the first time.

"No. You listen to me. You will do whatever it takes. I. Don't. Care. If the surgery is ten grand, look at me!" Toji lifted his head, the young man at the counter has turned to speak with an assistant, "Ma'am, we understand, he is undergoing care as we speak, we just wanted to ensure this was a financially plausible option before we carry through with the-"

"Stop wasting my time! I'll pay whatever the cost! Do you hear me? I' 'll pay it!" Your hands smacked the counter, "Do you need the money now? What are we doing just standing around?"

"N-no ma'am, no, it will be billed to your resid-" Toji watches as you scoff and turn away from the pair of technicians.

"Oh good. Then send the bill now and help him!" You were making your way to Toji, his eyes widened as you collapsed into the chair beside him. Your breathing was erratic, and you were making these uneven whimpers.

"Is it... gonna be alright?" Toji questioned in a dull tone.

"Yes." Your answer was immediate. "Yes. Yes, they're sewing him up now. He's-he's gonna be alright." You were shaking and sucking in air in quick huffs.

"I'm sorry. That I let this happen." Toji was looking only at you before your head shot to meet his.

"What? No. Don't be. This wasn't- it's not your fault- thank you, really, I don't think- I would've- I could... get him here the way you did." You held his gaze before his discomfit forced him to pull back.

He just shook his head and you both sat there in silence.

"I'm sorry... about all that. I wish you hadn't seen me behave in that way."

It took Toji a moment to realize you meant about the yelling. He scoffed and shook his head again, he wasn't sure how to confess that he had found it impressive on your part. And oddly...charming.

Eventually, a vet came out in scubs and kneeled to tell you that the dog was stable and sedated but would need to spend the night at the hospital. You made no complaints, saying you did not mind staying the night.

Of course, despite your determination to sleep in the waiting room, you were sent home.

You both hadn't made it out the doors before you spotted Toji swiping his hands along his bloody pants and only then did you notice just how hurt he really was.

"Mr. Fushiguro!" You call for him as he makes his way across the parking lot to his vehicle. "Oh my gosh, your hands! Why-why didn't you say?! Oh my, please come here!"

"It's nothing" His voice sounded odd in his ears as he called to you from a distance in the 8 PM animal hospital parking lot. "It looks worse than it is." He finishes when you don't respond.

You were silent in your insistance on driving him back to your house. You looked so determined when you told him to leave his car and allow you to bandage him up. He was so uncomfortable in your lovely BMW convertible's heated leather seats.

You made no move to speak as you sat him down on the edge of your bathtub. Avoiding his presence, you scampered to find antiseptic and a first aid kit.

Internally you had refused to look the man the eyes when you arrived with what you needed. Not meeting his stare until you warned him before pouring the alcohol over his palms, he hissed in annoyance but regretted it the second your eyes wilted,

"I'm sorry, I know, it's awful." You stroked at his hand with your little fingers, dabbing a cold washcloth over the deep animal bites. He felt the sudden need to pull his hand back at the intimacy of the moment but in your naivete of the situation you made a apologetic noise,

"I'm sorry, was it too much?"

"Yeah." He breathes in. Breaths out.

Toji was mesmerized by how gentle your touch was, how soft you felt. When he touched people in the past, it had always been hard and firm, fast and aggressive. Now he wasn't sure what to do with your display of physical kindness.

You held his hands, wrapped in a thick, cool towel, "Mr. Fushiguro, I cannot thank you enough, and I'm so sorry this happened, I fully understand if you are uninterested in watching the dog in the future, I wish I could have prevented all of this from-"

"Woah." He pulled back, "I don't want to quit. It's not so bad."

He didn't expect your response, you eyes on his hands as you murmured, "Please let me buy you lunch. Of course, I'll pay you double for tonight, this is the absolute least I can do."

Toji's brows raise. Ah. So this was it. For some reason, on your bathtub and in your gentle grasp, he can't seem to mind so much.

Toji's eyes become intentionally lidded as he leans down to your level. He pulls a hand from the towel that you had meticulously wrapped and he reaches for you. Stroking at the back of your hand.

"You ain't gotta do all that. You've got me here now." His lips curve and he leans in just a bit more before your head turns to the wall. Your brows furrow when you see the clock.

"But... it's 10 pm... of course, can eat anything here now if you like. I'm not sure what I have. But please, I insist, let me send you a gift card. I owe you so much!"

Toji swears he feels his eye twitch as you pull away from his grasp and rewrap his hand in the towel, tighter this time.

He's so dazed that he says nothing as you ask if he's in pain. With furrowed brows, he simply shakes his head. You gave him some medicine anyway and ordered him an Uber. He can't focus after your reaction, your rejection, he hardly recognizes his own disappointment at the wholly pure intentions you have this evening. At the lack of invite to stay over. He had been so sure how this night would have ended when you decided to bring him home.

He can't recollect a time he hasn't been pestered to stay the night and now he's being sent away in a prepaid taxi, with a cool washcloth in his hands and a nauseating feeling in his stomach.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

pt. 4

-

Tags @sweetpo1son @scorpiosugar @starmapz @toruswrld @your-mum3000 @meow-satoru @animeblr @utarts @roxyyyyy1xx @lilming36 @scandibabeuh @atanasiaaaa @chouzuko @voronii @transsfish @h3llf4iry @lucrea @straewberrysoda @s4m4nth4wrld @storiesbyparadise @pokiona @neiostrike @breenatalle @uwolivia

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[toji-bunny-girl]

Keep an eye out for my new Gojo series!!! Interact to be tagged <33

(a lil sneakpeak hehe)

[lalunanymph]

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.

[benkeibear]

⛧°。 ⋆༺ 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 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 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 (coming soon) // 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

[maeijie]

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."

[joemama-2]

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.

[nakachuchu]

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

[owarinaki]

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

[wallpapers4screen]

[tokitouumuichirou]

Fanfic writers please do your thing and create fluff mechamiwa content cause gege must be allergic to happiness there's no other explanation

[starmapz]

what you know - ch1: fallen angel || 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. 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.

❦ words ; 12.1k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

You make a point of not judging a book by its cover. So, when paired with the college’s resident bad boy for the literal most important project of the year, you just nod to yourself. Of course, you’re aware of his very poor attendance record among other things you’ve heard about him. At the end of the day, the rest is all hearsay, so you’ll treat him the same as you would any other group project partner.

Searching around the lecture hall until your gaze lands on him, you shoot him a kind smile. You don’t expect him to return it, he practically always sports a disinterested or aloof expression and now is one of those times, it would seem. He’s wearing his usual oversized but fairly stylish shirt, baggy cargo pants and a leather jacket, even though it’s quite warm inside. One airpod sits in his ear, only half paying attention.

The two of you are practically polar opposites. You, who shows up to class ten minutes early, jots down every note you possibly can, and turns in projects a week early, not to mention your fairly preppy style, makes the two of you about as different as it gets. On top of that, there were moments where Sukuna would dip into a room late and you would wonder why he bothers paying for college at all. Does he even want to be here?

Turning back to your laptop, you decide you’ll set up some documents for your project to get ahead of everything and stop worrying about someone else’s life. You’ll just have to make the most of the project. Besides, Sukuna could be the best project partner you’ll ever work with.

Upon dismissal, you wait a moment for the room to clear before slinging your pale pink bag over your shoulder, holding your books to your chest and making your way up the lecture hall to where Sukuna’s seated.

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m-”

“I know who you are,” he sighs. “I’m Sukuna.”

Rude. “Right,” you swallow, blinking twice as you attempt to clear your mind of the less than ideal first impression. “So, I was thinking since we need to analyze three paintings, I can choose one, you can choose one and we can do the work separately and then work together on the last one-”

“Sure, whatever.”

You purse your lips. That was easy. Or does he just not care? Brushing off the thought, you nod slowly. “Okay. Great,” you mumble somewhat nervously, unsure if the reason your voice is wavering is out of fear that you’re doomed from the project, or the fact that Sukuna is hardly giving you the time of day and it’s somewhat imposing.

Finding the nerve to meet his gaze, you find that it seems he’s barely paying attention. His deep near-crimson eyes accented by tattoos are trained off to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other is fiddling with an unlit cigarette. You have half a mind to wonder if he’s heard a damn thing you’ve said given the airpod still hanging from his pierced lobe.

“Do you, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth as you mentally reset to stop yourself from stammering. “Do you want to go over anything before we do our parts?”

“Nah.”

Nah? Oh my god, you’re doomed. 

“Okay. No problem. Um, why don’t we just meet after class next Friday?”

Sukuna balances the unlit cigarette between his lips, shuffling to pull out his phone and open his calendar. “Sure,” he agrees, his words muffled by the cigarette.

“Great! I think we’ll want to start working on the third piece next week so I’ll choose the first painting and get started on it and then we can choose the last painting next week,” you say, putting the date in your calendar as well. “Oh! And we should exchange numbers.”

He hums in agreement, not even giving you the time for words now but he does give you his number. Realizing you aren’t about to get anywhere else with him, you shoot him a wry smile and make your way out the door.

Oh Shoko is so gonna hear about this.

–

Before you know it, next Friday comes around and when you turn your gaze to where Sukuna usually sits, you realize he just isn’t there.

Well that’s… lovely.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you groan with your face in your hands. This project was sure to be a nightmare at this rate. You could already see yourself going to talk to the professor about how Sukuna hadn’t done an ounce of work and it was all done by you.

Opening your laptop, you stare at the document you’d put together for Persistence of Memory, which may be an obvious choice but you love the painting too much to choose a different one.

Maybe you should just choose the third one on your own.

Maybe you should just choose the second one on your own…

Fuck.

You sigh, glancing back at Sukuna’s empty seat once more, and to your surprise just as you begin to give up hope upon seeing his seat empty, he ambles through the door in an oversized hoodie and sweats as though the lecture didn’t end fifteen minutes ago.

His gaze meets yours and he tilts his chin upwards at you, a silent message for you to take a seat near him.

Gathering your belongings, you take your laptop over to him, setting it on the table beside him in the mostly-empty lecture hall.

“Hey,” you greet him, receiving a grunt in response. “I was starting to think you were gonna flake out on me,” you joke with a somewhat nervous laugh when you meet his striking gaze. His disinterested eyes bore into you as he examines your nervous expression, and it’s then that you notice that- “are you okay?”

He sighs, heavy with exasperation, running a hand over his sharp features. His hair is still damp, not spiked up as usual as it hangs over his forehead, he has dark circles that make him look like he hasn’t slept in years, and his leg is shaking up and down like he’s got somewhere else to be.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, unimpressed that you’ve noticed how horribly disheveled he looks, but he brushes it off. “You got somethin’ to show me?”

“I, um-” you pause, casting him one last uncertain glance at the fact that oh my god, he looks sick? “Yeah, so I chose a Salvador Dalì piece,” you tell him, nudging your laptop towards him so that he can see your analysis.

He casts a glance at it, and it’s then that you realize that he doesn’t seem to have a laptop on him. Hm.

He seems to have noticed your confusion as he pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment or two before setting it in front of you. “Had to do something before our meeting, so I don’t have my computer right now, but here’s what I’ve got so far.”

You flash him a curious glance before staring at his phone screen, reading through his notes quietly. The Fallen Angel painted by Alexandre Cabanel. You can’t say you’re shocked, but it’s a good choice. His analysis is short and needs more detail, but it’s a good start and fairly insightful. Sukuna lacks elegance with his words, but this is just the research phase anyway. Okay, not a bad start.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

To your surprise, although he’s mostly quiet, he gives you some input on your analysis and hums in agreement when you ask him to write a bit more in certain areas to match your research. He doesn’t even seem that bothered by it, only mildly inconvenienced. You would almost argue that he was agreeable if you couldn’t feel the side-eye you were receiving from him.

When you finally settle on C. Allan Gilbert’s All is Vanity for your final piece, Sukuna excuses himself quite quickly and makes his way out, grunting in agreement when you ask him to meet you at the same time next week. You had hoped to get some research done with him but this would have to do, and hopefully you would have more time next week.

Only… when next week comes, he doesn’t show. You lean over the desk where Sukuna usually sits, figuring maybe he’s just late again, but as the clock rolls past the thirty minute mark, you begin to lose hope. Tapping your fingers rhythmically over the desk as you stare at the clock, you resign to texting him.

3:39 PM || You: hey! just wondering if youre on your way

Another twenty minutes of staring at the sent text does you no good and you can’t really get much done without Sukuna’s portion, so with a sigh, you push yourself up and call Shoko to go out with you. At least now you can make the most of your Friday night, even if it’s a bit earlier than intended.

–

“He just completely no-showed, huh?”

“Not even a text,” you confirm with a groan, keeping your attention on the road as you make your way to the bar by Shoko’s house. The afternoon sun glints on the windshield of your car, warming the interior of the vehicle rather comfortably for the early autumn day.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Shoko hums at the thought.

“I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean honestly his research wasn’t too bad,” you sigh, casting a glance at your best friend.

“Could still be salvageable. Maybe try asking him what works for him?” She suggests with a shrug, leaning back in her seat as she stares blankly out the windshield.

“I don’t know. I think if I leave things up to him, he just won’t do it.”

“Oh, because he’s been so good at showing up when you organize things?” She chides with a raised brow.

You suppose you can’t really argue with that, so you groan in response. “At least he has a good taste in art.”

“Yeah?”

“A little edgy, but yeah. He chose The Fallen Angel, you know the one that-” you pause, moving your arm over your face to mimic the famous painting while keeping your eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel.

“Oh yeah, I think I know the one,” she agrees with a chuckle at your description. “I think I’ve seen-” she pauses as your car comes to a slow halt at a stop light. You shoot her a questioning glance when she remains quiet. “Speak of the devil. Isn’t that him?”

“Sukuna?” You question, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of whatever Shoko’s looking at.

Sure enough, the pink-haired man in question is on the sidewalk along with two young kids. He seems frustrated, his hand flying in the air in obvious exasperation and you wonder what his relation to them is. Your first thought is that they could be his, but the older of the two kids is just a bit too old to make that assumption.

Still, you didn’t take Sukuna as someone enthusiastic at the thought of being a babysitter.

“Shit, that is him,” Shoko confirms for herself. When the light turns green, the car jolts forward as you pull through a lane abruptly to turn and grab street parking very suddenly. “Woah, what are you-? You can’t be serious.”

“I-” your words die in your throat. Are you serious? What are you doing? It’s not like you’re friends. Are you here to confront him about not showing up? No, you aren’t really even mad, just frustrated at most. Your mind flashes back to how he’d looked the week before, like he could pass out at any moment, and you wonder if you’re here out of concern. “I don’t know,” you mumble, parking your car and hopping out.

“You are serious,” she mutters more to herself than you as she watches you leave the car with a sigh, following a short distance behind you.

The day is relatively warm for the early fall, the sun shining high overhead and providing a comfortable escape from the brisk breeze. Leaves are losing their vibrant green colors overhead, replaced with beautiful hues of yellows, oranges, and reds, and the sound of them rustling in the breeze is refreshing.

From around the corner, you can just barely make out Sukuna’s words. You were right to assume he was frustrated.

“Give it back to your brother,” he instructs, his voice a near-growl, but as the younger of the two kids whines in complaint, you can tell neither kid seems all that intimidated even by the almost seven-foot-tall man made of pure muscle who towers over them.

“No!”

“C’mon brat, I don’t have time for this,” he hisses out, voice rife with irritation. As you round the corner, lightly jogging up to Sukuna, you watch his gaze slowly turn to land on you and Shoko, his eyes widening for a moment as his expression shifts to surprise. For a moment you even think you see horror flash through his eyes, but he masks it all with his usual disinterested expression before you have time to think much about it.

“Sukuna?”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair in exasperation.

“Hi! I’m Yuji!” The younger of the two boys bounds up to you, blatantly ignoring Sukuna as he waves to Shoko behind you.

You grin at him, kneeling down to his height as you greet him with your name. His eyes are filled with delight and as you get back to your feet, you put the pieces together. These must be Sukuna’s little brothers. Although the older of the two doesn’t particularly look like him, the youngest is a near carbon copy of Sukuna, only lacking his tattoos, piercings, and his signature attitude.

“What a cutie,” you coo at the little boy, who can’t be any older than five. The older of the two boys doesn’t resemble Sukuna in the same way Yuji does, with sunken eyes and unkempt long brown hair, he looks to be about eleven… and he also looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“Don’t feed his ego,” Sukuna huffs, watching you interact with Yuji with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Look! Look!” Yuji excitedly holds his hands out to you. You recognize an old GameBoy in his hands, something you’re sure you have hidden away somewhere in your own apartment from your childhood.

“I had one of those when I was young,” you tell him, glancing up at Sukuna whose left brow slowly raises.

“Really? Do you like Pokemon?”

“Yuji, that’s enough. Leave her alone and give it back to your brother,” Sukuna instructs, his frustration laced within his words.

“No! Choso’s playing it wrong,” he argues.

Sukuna looks like he’s about to burst. If he were a balloon, he’d be floating dangerously close to a pin, and it’s in that moment that you finally get a good look at him. If you thought he looked sickly last week, he looks like he’s about to collapse now.

His eyes are sunken, skin pale, and although he’s making an effort to mask it, his focus seems as though it’s drifting while he simply stands there. His hair is disheveled in a way that doesn’t look intentional and there’s a stain on the abdomen of his shirt. Which, to your surprise, is also a uniform for a local food distribution warehouse. He’s wearing cargo pants, steel-toed boots, and a blue polo shirt. It’s a strange look for him, but you’re more concerned about the fact that he seems to be swaying, he’s so tired.

“I wasn’t playing it wrong!” Choso argues back, leaping at his brother as they get into a scuffle, and it’s barely a split second before Yuji is in tears alongside Choso.

“Fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off, taking a step forward.

Instinctively, you step in before Sukuna needs to. “Hey, hey!” You coo softly, leaning back down to them. “Why don’t you both play together?” Yuji’s sobs don’t stop at your suggestion, although Choso backs away from the younger boy, listening to what you have to say with a heartbreakingly sad expression over something so simple. Life was so much easier at their age.

“How?” Yuji asks through sobs.

“Why don’t you take turns? It’s Pokemon, right?” You ask, earning a nod from Yuji as he sniffles and wipes his face, his sleeve absolutely covered in tears and snot already. “Why don’t you pass it over between each battle?”

Yuji stares at you skeptically, as though the little boy cannot possibly fathom sharing. Choso quietly waits for his brother to come to a conclusion as his sniffles subside, all the while Sukuna just watches the entire scene unfold with a furrowed brow.

“Okay,” Yuji finally agrees in a small voice. “But I go first!”

To your surprise, Choso seems fine with this as they both crowd around the game.

When you stand back up, you’re happy to find that Sukuna looks absolutely relieved.

“Fuck, thought I’d never hear the end of that,” he mumbles, making you wonder if that’s his begrudging way of thanking you.

You chuckle quietly, crossing your arms over your chest with a small shrug. “I’m good with kids,” you tell him. He eyes you for a moment, humming, but doesn’t say anything. After a brief silence, you glance back up at him to find the tall man’s tired gaze still boring into you.

“Ask,” he instructs.

Your brow raises. “Ask?”

“You wanna ask where I was today, right?”

That obvious, huh? “I did wait for an hour.”

A hint of a smirk graces his lips as he snidely comments, “y’know, I’m sure I’ve had other women wait longer.” You aren’t sure how he expects you to react, but the way you raise a brow and don’t entertain his lewd implications clearly doesn’t encourage him to continue. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he clicks his tongue and turns his head away from you. “Had to pick up a shift at work. Was gonna text but the little brat broke my phone yesterday.”

“Sorry, Kuna,” Yuji’s voice is small as you realize he’s been listening the whole time now that Choso is holding the GameBoy. His cheeks are puffy and red still from crying, but god he sure is a mini Sukuna.

“Kunaaaa?” You coo teasingly at the absolutely adorable nickname.

“He can’t say my name,” Sukuna grumbles, suppressing his irritation as best as he can, given that you did save him from further arguments with his brothers and he did already test his limits with you anyway. Still, his nose wrinkles in distaste at the nickname as he stares at the ground with a huff.

“That’s so cute!” You practically squeal, eyes bright as you grin at the hulking mass of anger and maybe even embarrassment as his cheeks heat up before your eyes.

“Shut up,” he hisses, still avoiding your gaze.

“It’s alright, by the way. We can figure out another time to meet.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll text-” he cuts himself off, blinking at the realization that he has no phone. “I’ll email you or some shit.”

“Email. Right,” you sarcastically tease with a tilt of your head. A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw visibly twitches and he huffs.

“Take it or leave it.”

You raise your hands in the air defensively, unable to help your amused smile. As silence falls over the both of you, interrupted only by Choso’s quiet commentary to Yuji about their game, you let your expression morph to one of concern again. Your lips part to ask if Sukuna’s alright, but he beats you to it.

“I’m fine.” His voice is low and strained and you both know you don’t believe him.

“You look it,” you challenge him sarcastically.

Sukuna’s jaw tenses as he stares you down as if daring you to challenge him again. Luckily for him, you’re willing to let it go.

“Do you guys need a ride somewhere?” You ask, glancing back in the direction of your car. Shoko is probably itching to get to the bar, though surely she won’t mind your offer given that the man in front of you looks like he could melt into a puddle if it only meant he could sleep.

“No.”

“Yeah!”

Sukuna and Yuji stare at one another as they both respond at the same time.

“No. We’re fine,” Sukuna growls, narrowing his eyes at the young boy.

“I don’t wanna walk anymooooore,” Yuji complains, shooting Choso a pleading look. Catching on, Choso shoots Sukuna a pair of puppy dog eyes. God the two of them are just adorable.

“No, both of you. Cut it out. Now.” Sukuna’s voice drops an octave as he hisses the last word.

“I really don’t mind,” you say quietly, leaning closer to him in an attempt to keep your words between the two of you.

“I don’t need your help,” Sukuna protests, taking a step towards you with massive muscular arms folding over his chest as his polo shirt is pulled taut from the movement.

“So if I give you a little push, you won’t fall over and pass out?”

“No.” He scowls defensively as he stares back at his two brothers, not noticing the way you slowly reach your hand out before shoving him lightly. He sways backwards slightly, catching himself before he actually does fall over as he swats at your hand. “Fucking- What the fuck is wrong with you?” He grouses, voice dripping with irritation and anger, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He just looks tired.

“Let me drive you where you need to go and I’ll stop,” you taunt, moving your hand forward to shove him again.

Now paying attention, he grabs your wrist before you can push him. “Christ, you’re almost as much of a brat as my brothers,” he huffs, fiery eyes hyper-focused on your cheerful demeanor in spite of the fact that he’s been nothing short of snappy with you since you first showed up. “You’ll stop because I said so, not because I’m agreeing, got that?”

You shrug, shooting him a smile that says you won. “Whatever you say, Sukuna.”

He drops your wrist with a dramatic sigh before ushering his brothers after you as you turn to make your way back to your car.

“Can’t say I know what just happened,” Shoko whispers in your ear as she walks alongside you to your car. “But I’m surprised he agreed.”

“I’m not. He’s barely awake,” you tell her as you both cast a glance back at him. He doesn’t seem to notice as he bickers with his brothers, telling them to keep up if they want a ride from you.

“Yeah, he looks like shit,” she chuckles with a shake of her head. Never one to beat around the bush, but she is right.

Unlocking your car, you open the back door as Sukuna lifts his youngest brother into the backseat, grumbling about the two boys needing to behave before he climbs in himself, completely blocking your view through your rearview mirror.

He huffs and puffs as he gives you his address, choosing not to say a word throughout the ride as he listens to you chat with Shoko, muttering only the occasional “cut it out” or “stop that, brat” to one of his brothers.

Rolling up to what you assume is his apartment, you put the car in park and turn your attention back to the boys, putting on your best radio voice.

“Thank you for riding, please exit to your left and have a greeeeeat day!” You earn a sweet laugh from Yuji and a calm smile from Choso for your antics. You can practically feel Sukuna’s exasperation as it comes off of him in waves, clearly done with the world for the day, but you don’t miss the silent relief gleaming in his eyes.

“What do you say?” Sukuna gruffs, nudging the youngest of his brothers who you’re obviously putting on the show for.

“Thank you, miss!” He grins brightly as Sukuna opens the door and lowers him to the ground. He hands Choso a pair of keys, nudging them along to the door of the run-down building. To your surprise, he shuts the door and comes around to your side, knocking on the window.

You tilt your head as you roll down the window.

“Thanks…” he trails off as though the word is sour on his tongue, shooting a glance at Shoko in a silent gesture of thank you to her as well.

“No problem. Go get some sleep,” you tell him softly. Frustration flashes through his eyes as you tell him what to do but he’s not about to lash out at the person responsible for his grade who also gave him a ride home. Even he’s not that much of an asshole.

He sets a hand on your hood, pausing for a moment before he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up more than it already was. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone, yeah?”

You tilt your head, exchanging a glance with Shoko as he looks between the two of you. “Yeah. No problem.”

His hand slides off your car as he rounds the vehicle to follow after his brothers. He pauses to cast a glance at you, before pushing into the front lobby of his apartment building and out of sight.

Silence falls over both you and Shoko as you watch the tattooed man disappear into the building when Choso holds the door open for him.

“That was fucking weird,” Shoko comments.

“Hm?” You hum as you pull out of the apartment, unsure of what she means. Of course Sukuna would have a life Shoko had never thought about, it’s not like they were close, you aren’t sure what she was expecting.

“He wasn’t a complete dick.”

Shooting Shoko a confused glance, you purse your lips. “Is he known for that? I thought he was just a bit of a delinquent.”

“Yeah, that too, but he’s pretty well-known for being snappy with people and snarky to profs.”

“Oh,” you blink twice in thought, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know. He’s pretty quiet in Art History, this project is the first time I’ve ever talked to him. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Huh,” Shoko shrugs, “guess you’re on his good side, then.” She sighs, leaning back in her seat once again. “Oh well, you have blackmail on him anyway, so there’s no way he’s bailing on you now,” she grins with a teasing smirk.

Your eyes widen and you move your elbow to nudge her. “Absolutely not, and don’t you think about it either!”

Shoko chuckles, though you know she wouldn’t anyway. Much like you, she’s too kind to spill Sukuna’s secrets to the school, regardless of her opinions or thoughts on him.

–

As you return home from the bar late that night with a comfortable buzz that had left you needing to keep your car at the bar overnight, you pour yourself a glass of water and open your laptop on your bed, letting it boot up while you change into an oversized cozy beige hoodie with little bows adorning the sleeves.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over your hands and throwing on a pair of shorts, you run a hand through your hair and log into your laptop, pulling it onto your lap to browse social media, when something catches your eye.

You don’t pay much attention to your email inbox most of the time. Maybe you should, after all the college sends you a fair amount of emails and you’ve missed some in the past, but what catches your eye is certainly not from the faculty.

It’s a response to the document you sent Sukuna via email last week.

Oh shit, he was serious about sending you an email.

Maybe it’s because you're drunk, or maybe it’s because the idea of the nearly seven foot tall tattooed man who you’d watched leave class once just to smoke sending you an email of all things is a truly funny thought, but you snicker to yourself as you open it.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 1:17 AM hey. you around this weekend

Your snicker turns to a full laugh as you read the message. You can’t decide if the message feels like a sad attempt at a booty call, an old man attempting to text via email, or an embarrassing attempt to save his bruised ego since he can’t text you.

You’d learned from Shoko at the bar earlier that Sukuna has quite the reputation. Supposedly he’s known for bringing a woman home at every party, for being able to smooth talk his way into the bedroom in spite of his usually grumpy and ill-mannered demeanor, and for being able to always get what he wants even though he has a reputation for being an asshole. So it’s hard not to laugh when that same man is the one who just sent you the most awkward email. At one in the morning. On a Saturday.

Oh my god.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:12 AM Hey Sukuna! I’m around tomorrow afternoon and all day Sunday. Did you have time to work on the project?

You hit send and shut your laptop, deciding to brush your teeth and begin getting ready to get some rest. Taking off your makeup and brushing your hair, you finish up your nighttime routine and decide on a whim to see if your project partner has responded to you.

Getting under the covers and leaning against the headboard of your bed, you open your laptop again. To your surprise, your inbox has gone up by one.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:19 AM cool. come by mine tomorrow whenever

You snicker to yourself as you read the message again. He’s certainly not fighting either the sad booty call or old man texting via email allegations.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:23 AM Had to leave my car at the bar, did you wanna come by my place?

To your surprise, it’s only a couple of minutes later when he replies.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:25 AM uhhh i gotta watch over the brats

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:26 AM Bring them!! They’re so cute :)

You can practically feel his irritated grumbles through the screen when not even a minute later he responds.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:26 AM fine. address and time

With a satisfied smile, you let him know to drop by at two in the afternoon and send him your address before shutting your laptop.

As you lay down in bed, you can’t help but wonder what a strange little world you’ve somehow managed to squeeze your way into. Sukuna’s world. Maybe it’s because he’s easy to tease, maybe it’s the undeniable fact that he’s a good looking guy, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s actually surprised you more than once now and you’re somewhat enjoying the project more than you initially thought you would, but you can’t help but find yourself fascinated by him.

Come to think of it, you wonder if maybe Shoko’s comment has something to do with it. You think back to the way that she mentioned that he was oddly agreeable and, well, not a dick, and you wonder if it’s a curiosity to get to know this side of Sukuna that no one seems to know that compels you to be laying in bed at two in the morning thinking about the situation.

Regardless, you fall asleep with a calm little smile.

–

Glancing at the clock, you have half a mind to wonder if Sukuna will actually show up. Sure, he was the one who reached out, but maybe you should have just bussed to your car rather than waiting on Shoko to drive you to it and gone to his place on your own given that you can’t text him to ask where he is and it’s almost two thirty in the afternoon.

You could email him.

No… no. You aren’t about to email him.

You almost laugh to yourself at the thought.

Returning to your coffee, you keep at your work, refining your notes until you have something you think you can confidently write a full thesis about, when finally there’s a buzz at your door.

Speak of the devil. You buzz him up and there's a knock at your apartment door a few moments later.

“Cut that out,” Sukuna hisses practically the moment you open the door. You raise a brow at him and he sighs. “The brat, not you,” he clarifies, nudging Yuji.

You shoot him a sweet smile, suppressing a chuckle. Sukuna is dressed in a leather jacket, a plain white V-Neck and a pair of ripped jeans. In comparison to his usual baggy cargo pants and hoodie, he almost seems like he’s dressed up a bit and you can’t help but smile at the thought. More importantly though, the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a bit faded in comparison to when you had spotted him yesterday and you can tell he was able to get a bit of rest.

Yuji is excitedly looking up at you and attempting to tug on Sukuna’s hand while Choso stands behind his brother silently, his expression neutral.

“Hey guys, c’mon in.” You grin as you open the door for them, watching Yuji bound in ahead of his older brothers. He begins looking around with wide eyes, so full of wonder and excitement that you can’t help but smile.

“Such sweet kids,” you comment as Sukuna stands beside you, sighing as both brothers practically run to the sofa, looking around your little apartment excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You giggle at Sukuna, nudging him playfully. The glare he shoots you as he grunts seems to lack the usual malice his expressions hold and he runs a hand through his well-groomed hair, motioning for you to lead the way.

You show him to your little desk at the back of the apartment, pulling up a kitchen chair for yourself as you give him your office chair. He silently obliges, sitting down with his legs spread.

“One moment,” you mumble, heading into your room briefly before reappearing with none other than your old GameBoy, complete with a copy of Pokemon Ruby. Sukuna’s gaze is tethered to you and although his expression doesn’t change, you see surprise flash across his crimson irises as you walk up to the boys, kneeling in front of them.

“Choso, do you want to use my old GameBoy?” You ask the brown-haired young man, holding it out to him. His eyes are wide with surprise as Yuji’s jaw drops open. Choso nods, not saying a word as he flips the device and eyes the game. If it’s even possible, his eyes widen further and he smiles shyly.

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure. I bet there’s some neat Pokemon on that file,” you tell him.

The two boys exchange a grin and Choso thanks you profusely as he turns on the system.

“No problem. There’s a TV in my room, why don’t you two hang out in there and you don’t need to listen to your brother and I talk about boring art, hm?”

Yuji nods excitedly, bounding to his feet and grabbing your hand. Your heart swells at the action as you lead him and Choso to your room and hand them the remote. It takes all of a moment for both of them to begin bickering about what to watch, though you notice their arguments are fairly one-sided, with Choso being much quieter than his younger brother.

Leaving the two of them to their own devices, you make your way back out to Sukuna, who’s set his laptop on your desk and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He’s wearing a white band tee with a deep V-neck for a metal band you aren’t familiar with, though the sleeves are torn off. With arms crossed over his chest and tattooed muscular arms on display, it’s undeniable just how attractive he is.

The real surprise is when he turns his head to look at you and his sharp eyes are, strangely, filled with… well you aren’t quite sure. Uncertainty? Confusion?

You subtly tilt your head when you take a seat on the kitchen chair beside him. His chair spins to face you as he examines you.

“Is something wrong?”

Sukuna’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows, before shaking his head. “Nah. Let’s just get this shit over with,” he grumbles, opening his laptop and turning his research document towards you. He’s clearly taken a look at yours, because his notes are in a similar format and he has about as much written as you, not to mention he’s put some work into research on the third painting you two had chosen.

Your brows raise as you read through it. “Wow, this is really good.”

He scoffs. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

You chuckle in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to come off that way, I just-” you pause, leaning back in your chair. Aside from the subtle sounds of Pokemon and the TV in the background, the only sound that breaks the silence as you pause is the squeaking of your chair. “I don’t know. When you were late and then you just didn’t show up, I…” you trail off, not wanting to accuse him of something that clearly isn’t true.

“You assumed the worst.”

Your mouth opens but any words you had in your defense die on your tongue, casting your glance to the side as you search for something, anything, to explain your thought process. No matter what way you try to word it, you’re definitely the bad guy here.

“It’s fine. Everyone does.”

Your brow furrows but before you can ask what he means, Choso is surprising you as he taps on your arm. You turn your attention to the young boy, who’s looking up at you with gleaming eyes.

“You have Rayquaza,” he states, arms outstretched to show you a serpentine creature on the GameBoy.

Your curiosity twists to easy mirth as you smile at him. “I guess I do, huh?”

Choso’s arms fall back down in front of him as he stares down at the Pokemon. His eyes flicker up to you briefly, then back down. “You have Groudon too.”

You can’t help your amused laugh. He’s such a sweet and shy little boy, but he talks just like Sukuna. Straight to the point, blunt, and rather short. He may not look like Sukuna like Yuji does, but his speech is just like his older brother’s.

“Leave her alone,” Sukuna mumbles gruffly from beside you. Choso smiles up at him before bounding back to your room. You can hear the two of them gearing up to play the games together from across the apartment, the game’s music heard in mismatched double as they both turn up the volume.

Turning back to Sukuna, your trail of thought is completely gone. “What was I saying?”

“You got any music? The brat’s game’s been drivin’ me crazy,” Sukuna mutters. “Yuji broke my laptop’s speakers,” he sighs.

“He’s on a hot streak for breaking things, huh?” You giggle.

“Don’t get me started.”

You turn in your seat, pointing towards the wall where a table sits with a fairly nice record player on it, and a shelf of records. They’re organized by artist and their sleeves range from new-looking to clearly well-loved.

Getting to his feet, Sukuna follows to where you point, curiously staring at the spines of the records. He’s not exactly shocked by most of the choices, but a few of them do stand out to him, and you’re thankful when you hear him sliding something off the shelf and putting it on the player.

You recognize the melody in the air instantly, and grin when Sukuna sits down beside you again. “The Eagles?”

Sukuna doesn’t move as his eyes slowly trail to you. He hums after a moment. “It’s a good album. You have… alright taste.”

In truth, he doesn’t mind your taste in music. Sure, he may not be fond of all of your choices, many in fact, but it would seem the two of you are making a habit out of surprising one another as he has his next album choice in mind already.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckle at his dry attempt at being nice. The corner of Sukuna’s lips twitches up into a hint of a smile. It suits him.

As Hotel California blankets the air in warm strings and simple drum beats, the two of you are able to get a good amount of work done, putting your research together into one well-written and coherent thesis, one to be proud of.

Of course, you still need to put together an actual visual presentation to go with the thesis to be presented, but at least the bulk of the work is over with and you can feel confident in your project without concern anymore.

You have half a mind to get started on the visual portion now as well to get it all finished, but one glance at Sukuna tells you he’s tapped out, and either way you’ve gone through three records at this point as the final track on a Pink Floyd album comes to a close.

As silence falls over your project group, Sukuna lets out a sigh. It’s fairly dark in the room too as the sun sets, and when you check the clock to find it’s already six, you realize that’s likely why your stomach’s been making noises for the last twenty minutes.

“Why don’t you guys all stay for dinner?” You suggest, mostly out of politeness, but you can’t help but feel as though you’re drawn to him. You want to get to know him, know why he’s late so often, why he stays in school just to not show up for classes when it’s his money being blown. After all, it can’t just be his brothers or work, he likely only takes care of them while his parents are at work, surely.

Sukuna wearily glances between you and the door where his little brothers are, before shaking his head. “Nah, I can just make us somethin’ when we get back.”

“I insist,” you grin at him, watching the way a muscle twitches in jaw. “There are some great places nearby, we can just grab takeout while they play games, we’ll only be gone for a moment.”

He remains silent, arms crossed disdainfully over his chest before grimacing, giving in to your overly kind grin.

You settle on a curry restaurant just down the block and grab the boys’ orders, letting them know you’ll be right back. You’re sure you can trust Choso to look after his younger brother for twenty minutes.

As the chilly evening air hits your face, you let out a content hum, peering curiously back to see Sukuna falling into step with you. The two of you are a sight to behold, your appearance preppy and sweet decorated with autumnal colors fitting for the season, while he’s clad in leather and punk attire, the tones of his clothing purely grayscale.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, keeping his mild gaze locked in front of him.

“How old are they, your brothers?”

“Five and twelve,” Sukuna replies, fighting off a yawn and failing.

Amused, you smile up at him. “I’m glad you got some rest last night. I was worried about you.”

His brow twitches as he meets your kind smile. “Worried? About me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, scoffing. When you pout at him, he’s unable to hold back a smirk. It’s the first time you’ve seen him truly at ease and now that you’re alone with him, you notice that he actually seems to be somewhat relaxed.

“Yeah, maybe I was. Shoot me,” you shrug, playfully rolling your eyes.

He snorts, entertained, growing silent although the air that settles over you is comfortable now. Sukuna’s presence is surprisingly calming now that he isn’t constantly regarding you with disinterested gazes and irritated huffs. His expressions remain mild, but his brooding is more infrequent and the tension in his gruff voice has dulled. You would almost think he likes being around you.

As you come up to the curry restaurant, you lean into Sukuna with a point of your finger, silently telling him to enter the restaurant to your right. He pulls the door open for you, trailing closely behind. The atmosphere of the restaurant is busy, the employees behind the counter moving quickly to fulfill orders. Sukuna can only imagine how good the food must be given the line waiting to order, though you assure him it won’t take long.

He casts a glance up at the menu and frowns as he takes in the prices. He can afford to pay for himself, Yuji, and Choso, but not you. He has half a mind to say something, but his pride causes him to choke on the words. He inconspicuously pulls out his phone to take a look at his bank app to see if he can swing anything, but catches a glimpse of an employee not paying attention as he moves quickly towards you, all the while you’re not paying attention either, idly staring at the menu.

The employee about to barrel into you is holding a massive steel bucket and while Sukuna can’t see what’s inside, he doesn’t love the idea of you covered in water or worse.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he lowers himself slightly, locking a strong arm around your middle and lifting you off the ground. You yelp in surprise, eyes wide as you latch onto his arm for purchase, head whipping around in confusion until you find the employee now walking past the exact spot you were in with boiling hot oil in a bucket.

Your lips purse, a shiver running from the base of your spine up to your nape just as Sukuna drops you to the ground unceremoniously in front of him. Your heels land with a clack on the ground as you catch your balance, your eyes still trailing after the employee that hadn’t been able to see you over the jug of hot oil they carried.

“Pay attention,” he scolds you with a frown.

“Oh my god,” you mutter mostly to yourself, your heart beating out of your chest as you finally look up at your savior. Your eyes flicker down to his arms. Even covered in leather, the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric with each movement he makes doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Thank you, S’kuna.”

He shoves his hands in his pocket, nodding. The way you abbreviate his name is painfully close to the nickname he avoids as much as he can, but he can’t bring himself to correct you and in all honesty, he’s not sure why. He lets it slide, clearing his throat as he clears his mind of the way the name seems to shake him.

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

His words feel like they should be scolding, but his tone doesn’t hold the same meaning. As he stares back up at the menu with a stitch in his horribly handsome brow, you can’t help but find yourself confused by the meaning of his words.

You don’t have much time to think about it as your turn to order comes and you find yourself at the counter, giving the employee your order before glancing back at Sukuna. His mouth parts and he hesitates.

“I- uh-”

You’ve never seen him dither in such a way and you tilt your head, blinking in confusion.

“I can’t-”

Frustration flashes through his eyes and you can see his jaw clench as he trips over his words. Flustered isn’t the right word, but his pride is certainly hurt as he finally manages to force out the explanation you need.

“I can’t afford to- uh-”

Again he pauses, his expression burning with irritation as his cheeks heat up, the admission coming at the cost of his ego.

Your face softens in understanding and your soft fingers wrap around his tattooed wrist, pulling him up to the counter.

“I’ve got it. I invited you to stay, it’s on me.” You hold your card out with a kind smile, but Sukuna doesn’t share your sentiment, anger flashing across the crimson of his eyes as he grits his teeth at you.

“I don’t need help,” he hisses, eyes narrowed as his walls go back up right before you.

“That’s not-” your eyes widen as you try to salvage the situation when Sukuna recoils suddenly. You hadn’t intended for him to take your words so personally, you’d just felt it was the right thing to do given that you had invited not only him, but both of his brothers over as well, and suggested the place to begin with. “You can get the next one,” you tell him in hopes of mending the bridge between you.

He examines your expression, finding no traces of malice or ill-will in your features. Frowning, he huffs as he turns to give his order to the poor employee who’d had the displeasure of witnessing Sukuna’s outburst. In his silence, you order for his little brothers as well.

With a dour sigh, the tattooed man moves along to the side to wait for the order, the fact that you paid leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You make your way over to him, leaving a small distance between you.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.”

“Really, I- I-” you stumble over your words as he glares at you. You suppose Shoko had warned you that Sukuna was notoriously an ass, but you hadn’t witnessed it first hand until now. Still, you can’t help but feel like what you’re witnessing isn’t that. At the end of the day he isn’t lashing out for no reason, it’s clear you struck a nerve and you can’t blame him for being hurt by it, even if it’s not what you intended and you don’t fully understand where he’s coming from.

“Drop it,” Sukuna growls, though his anger has subsided somewhat, his gaze cast to the wall.

You blink up at him, hating the way the world seems to hold its breath around you.

You can’t deny that the man who towers over you, covered in tattoos and piercings is intimidating. Between his gruff voice, his mild mannerisms and his disinterested demeanor, he’s tough to read and you really can’t afford to let a rift come between you when you still have to work on your project.

Your lips part to say something but one striking glance from those crimson eyes has the words dying in your throat. Your mouth goes dry as you wrack your brain for anything to stay, but draw a blank.

Sukuna’s brow knits together at the sight of your anxious expression and he shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing.

It takes him a moment to fully cool off and collect his thoughts, but he can see in your eyes that you genuinely meant no harm and he supposes it’s the right thing to do to give you a break for that. You’re just naturally kind and he finds that he needs to remind himself of that.

“It’s… fine,” he murmurs in a strained voice, nudging you with his elbow. You crack a smile at him, thankful when his body language seems to relax somewhat again.

You don’t dare say anything as you wait for your food, fiddling with your phone in your hands as you contemplate his reaction. You obviously hurt his pride unintentionally by offering to pay, but between skipping school for work and the fact that this restaurant isn’t by any means expensive, you have a guess as to why he might have been so affected, one that makes Sukuna’s entire demeanor and his exhaustion click into place like a puzzle.

Before you have a chance to ask him, unsure if you even want to, your name is called and Sukuna is grabbing your order. You reach out to grab one of the bags but Sukuna swiftly holds it overhead with a smirk that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as you pout playfully. He continues to hold the food overhead as he leads the way outside. Watching you trail closely behind him, standing up on your tiptoes in an attempt to reach the bags, he raises a brow.

“Walk, brat.”

You shoot him a look, brow furrowed, before giving in and falling into step alongside him. He brings his arms down, holding the bags on his arms opposite you.

With your mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Sukuna’s earlier outburst, you bring your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you stare at the sidewalk beneath your feet.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals, taking note of the way you’re deep in thought. “Just fucking ask your question.”

Much like yesterday, Sukuna easily notices the way you glance at him uncertainly, the question on the tip of your tongue. It catches you off-guard how easily he reads you and you fall out of step with him, taking longer strides to catch up after you falter.

“I- um- do you-” you hesitate, casting a glance at his aloof expression. He seems at ease again and you don’t want to burn the bridge you’ve only just managed to mend, out of fear that another fire wouldn’t be put out so easily.

“Yeah.”

You stop in your tracks, blinking in surprise with pursed lips. Sukuna raises a brow at you, only a short distance ahead as he stops too, turning to face you. You can’t read his expression as it remains mild, his questioning brow the only sign that gives away any hint of his thoughts. In a few short strides, you’re back at his side.

“You’re… their guardian?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Sukuna chews on his tongue piercing mindlessly as he watches the gears turn in your mind, putting together the pieces of the puzzle that had been laid out for you.

Of course Sukuna’s tired if he’s taking care of two young boys, going to college, working, cooking, cleaning, god the list can only go on. You wonder if the reason he seems so at ease right now, so quick to forgive you, is because he’s thankful for the break. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had time to himself.

“That’s why you missed yesterday.”

He shrugs. “You knew that already.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your turn to shrug. “I just thought it was a temporary thing.”

Sukuna lets out a humorless laugh. “Well it’s not.”

You’re not really sure how to react, in all honesty. You don’t want him to think you pity him, you can’t offer sympathy, you certainly can’t offer help. In your uncertainty, you find yourself continuing to fiddle with your phone, avoiding his gaze.

Sukuna quite simply… turns to leave, deciding to spare you of your discomfort, and him of any more blows to his pride. You jog after him, falling into step again. There are questions left unanswered and sympathies you want to extend, but you can’t bear the thought of hurting him again, even if it’s unintentional, so you bite your tongue.

The sounds of the city surround you, filling the silence. Sirens blare in the distance, trees rustle above you, and casual chatter comes and goes as you pass other groups of people on the way to your apartment. It’s all a welcome distraction as you continue to fiddle with your phone, the air between you two neither tense nor comfortable. It lies somewhere in between and you don’t dare tip the scales out of fear of making your counterpart uncomfortable.

“You play a lot of Pokemon growin’ up?”

Your eyes light up as Sukuna starts a conversation, finally tipping the scales back towards being comfortable.

“My best friend growing up really liked it, we played a lot of Ruby and Sapphire.”

“Same as the brats.” He scoffs playfully.

“Are you gonna pretend that isn’t your old GameBoy?”

He tilts his head in your direction, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “And if it is?”

“Dunno, I might think you’re a bit of a nerd,” you tease, mindlessly chewing on your lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker down to your lips. He catches himself immediately, averting his gaze. “Tch.”

You giggle when he doesn’t refute your claim. He shoves his hands back into his pockets, your takeout bags dangling from his forearm.

As you arrive back at your apartment, Sukuna lets you unlock the door before grabbing and holding it open for you. His eyes trace your figure as you tread ahead of him with a skip in your step. When you turn back to him, realizing he hasn’t followed you yet, he blinks in surprise as he realizes exactly what he’s doing, shaking his head to clear it.

Why in the hell was he checking you out anyway? He doesn’t make a habit of hooking up with people who know him beyond face value. He mutters a ‘sorry’, relieved when you don’t seem to notice the way he’d so shamelessly checked you out.

Closing the door behind him, he sets the food on the table, tossing his jacket aside as you call his brothers, setting up a little dinner around your coffee table. Sukuna groans as he slips down onto the floor to eat, remaining quiet as he simply watches the way you cheerfully entertain both of his brothers’ antics.

Shoveling rice into his mouth, Sukuna stares down at his curry, contemplating the strange sense of warmth blooming in his chest. The feeling is so unfamiliar to him that he can’t place it. He has half a mind to drown the emotion in nicotine and the need to smoke grows quickly.

He’s so preoccupied in his thoughts, Sukuna doesn’t realize his little brothers have both run off back to your room, leaving the two of you alone.

“S’kuna?”

Striking pupils suddenly meet yours. He straightens from where he sits across from you on the couch, taking notice of the fact that you’ve already finished your dinner.

“Are you alright?”

Sukuna nods. “‘M fine.” Yet he can’t help but to drink in the sight of you, the way you look at him with so much care and he can’t understand why, the way your lips move so softly when you speak. The way your figure and curves would feel under his hands, the way you keep biting your lip… Sukuna shakes his head suddenly, getting to his feet as he chalks it up to lust. He’ll get over it at the next party he goes to. “Balcony?” He asks suddenly, pointing at the door at the back of your apartment.

You nod, watching in confusion as he rises suddenly and rushes out the door, pulling out a box of cigarettes. You hum to yourself, deciding to give him a moment. You’re not sure exactly what came over him, he seemed flustered even if only for a moment, but there was something else you noticed in his eyes, something darker you couldn’t identify.

Pushing that aside, you put the lid back over his food to keep it warm and check your phone to find Shoko’s been trying to reach you to go pick up your car. You let her know you’ll have to pick it up tomorrow since you’re with Sukuna as you wait for him to finish smoking.

After a few messages back and forth, you glance back outside at Sukuna. The way the muscles along his back ripple just from the act of breathing is eye-catching enough, but when he stubs out his cigarette and leans over the railing of your little balcony, your eyes trail to his shoulder blades protruding from the white material of his shirt.

Catching yourself holding your breath, you take a step forward and decide to check on him, closing the balcony door in your stead as you slip onto the small overlook behind him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you even as you lean beside him, his tired expression fixated on the street below. You rest a hand on his bicep as you tilt your head quizzically. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Ever aloof, you aren’t able to tell what he’s thinking as he turns to look at you. You, completely unaware that your touch has set his skin alight. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes have darkened a shade as his pupils dilate at your touch. Unsure what’s come over him, he simply hums affirmatively as an answer to your question.

Your brow knits together but you accept his response. He wonders if you know that you’re rubbing circles into the skin of his bicep and it’s driving him crazy. What the hell is it about you that’s got him horny like it’s his first year of college again? It frustrates him beyond belief, but maybe it’s just been too long since he’s slept with someone. That has to be it. It’s just lust. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the action when you finally bring your attention out to the road in front of you both, removing your hand from him.

“Hey, um, what do you do at the supermarket?” You ask in an effort to create conversation with him.

“Stock,” he replies shortly, his tone as stoic as his expression.

“That’s not too bad,” you murmur thoughtfully, giggling to yourself suddenly. Sukuna’s brow raises. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine you as, like, a cashier or something.”

“Why not?” He sneers, standing up straight and facing you, offended.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you’re not very talkative.”

“I can be,” he insists, taking a step towards you.

“Is that your way of proving it?” You provoke him with a grin.

He scoffs. “I just don’t have anythin’ to say,” he grumbles with a tense jaw, staring down at you. “‘Sides, I work with customers at my other job.”

Another job? You frown at his admission. How the hell is he managing this? How hasn’t he flunked out? “What other job?”

“Mechanic,” he states blandly.

“Really? Are you a big car guy?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Sukuna’s somewhat taken aback by the way you lean in, your full attention directed towards him. You seem to take such a genuine interest in him and he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

A smirk pays at the corners of his lips as he decides to mess with you, loving the idea of keeping you on your toes and pushing your buttons. “Nah. ‘M just good with my hands,” he drawls as you present him the perfect opportunity to tease you back given how much of a hard time you’ve been giving him.

Your eyes widen at his euphemism, cheeks heating up as you grip the balcony railing harder. You avert your gaze in an attempt to save face, willing your heart to slow down to no avail.

You clear your throat. “I-I um, th-that makes sense,” you stammer, mentally facepalming at just how nervous your words come out. He has no right to be this hot.

“Not so talkative now, are ya?” He chuckles lowly, sliding from his position leaning on the railing beside you to rest his opposite hand on your other side, effectively trapping you.

You flip over to face him, leaning back against the railing with pursed lips. Sukuna grins at your mousey behavior, thrilling in the way you squirm trapped between him and the railing. “Sukuna?”

His heart pounds in his chest at the sound of his name coming from your lips and his smirk falters. Why the hell is his heart beating so fast? He forces his smirk again, moving his face down to your level in an effort to push away the strange feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, woman?”

Focusing on anything other than the man in front of you, you can only manage to mumble out a few ‘um’s and ‘uh’s. Sukuna chuckles at just how flustered you are, freeing you from the cage of his arms as he rests against the railing beside you again.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore your spiraling thoughts. And boy are they ever spiraling as you stare out at the street beneath you, attempting to focus on the passing cars and not your pounding heart. “Why are you in Art History?”

Sukuna’s lit another cigarette in the time that you’ve used to recover your thoughts. He looks calmer once again as smoke spirals from the glowing embers. “Required class.”

“R-Right.” You swallow, moving past your stammer. “What do you want to do?”

He pauses for a moment, taking a languid drag from the cigarette. A puff of smoke leaves his lips before he replies. “Dunno. I’m a history major.”

You wouldn’t have imagined the college’s resident bad boy to be a history major, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you remind yourself not to judge a book by its cover.

He runs a hand through his hair as you contemplate the idea of Sukuna as a history major and what he might do with that major given that you can’t envision him as a historian or a museum curator, and certainly not as a teacher.

“I’m thinking of swapping majors,” he admits. You examine his expression as he taps the edge of the cigarette with a finger. He shrugs, shifting his gaze to stare at the sidewalk beneath the both of you. “Starting to think history doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, what do you want to do, Sukuna?”

He casts you a glance, examining your attentive face. You’re so wholly invested in his words that it causes a pang in his chest. He subconsciously brings a hand up to his chest, scratching at it as if to cast the strange feeling away.

Setting the feeling aside, he finds himself scowling in thought. When he was considerably younger he’d wanted to pursue graphic design but he hadn’t had the luxury of thinking about his future for a while now. In truth, he’s not even sure why he’s in history right now. It interests him enough to keep him attentive but the career options are… few and far between and he can’t exactly afford to fuck around and swap majors constantly.

His minor in business makes more sense, at least he can do something with it, but… in truth, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s another page filed under ‘uncertainties’ in the book that is Sukuna.

You take his silence as an answer and shoot him a wry smile. “You don’t have to answer, I’m sorry to pry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I just dunno that either.”

Admitting to it feels shameful, almost, and frankly, Sukuna thinks he’s had enough of making a fool of himself in front of you today. Stubbing out his cigarette, he stands up and makes his way back inside. You follow after him, blinking as he begins packing up.

“I should go,” he mumbles, shutting his laptop and tossing it into his bag. He picks up his keys from your desk, shoving them in his pocket as he zips up his backpack. “Oh,” he stops his movements, hesitating for a moment. “I… Appreciate dinner.”

Your expression softens and you smile wholeheartedly. “No problem. You can take your leftovers, too. They’re still on the table,” you point over to the box you’d set the cover over. He nods, shutting it and tucking it in his bag as well.

With a tired sigh, he gathers his brothers, ushering them towards the doorway.

“Got anything to say?” Sukuna utters, staring down at both kids expectantly.

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, miss!”

You grin at both kids, kneeling down. “I hope you two had fun. You know, maybe you can convince your brother to come over again and I’ll pull out my old GameCube.”

With the expressions of jaw-dropping awe you’re getting right now, you would think you’d revealed to them the secret to happiness or something. Yuji leaps into your arms immediately, nearly toppling you over as he shoots a pleading stare at Sukuna.

Sukuna’s expression shifts to one of irritation as Yuji pleads with him, “Kuna! Pleeeease pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” that has you giggling at the way a vein in his forehead seems to pulse.

“Brat. Brat! Shut up, I’ll think about it, alright?”

Yuji nods cheerfully, counting straight to Sukuna’s leg to hug him, and the clear irritation on your classmate’s face immediately falters. Maybe he’s a bit of a softie after all.

Sukuna sighs heavily, reaching a long arm down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Yeah, alright, kid. If she invites us.”

His voice is tired, albeit strangely soft. It’s almost like he’s a different person, and suddenly you can see why it is that he’s pulling such a terrible schedule. Despite the clear stress being a twenty two year old parent to two young kids is, he clearly loves them.

But this is Sukuna we’re talking about, so he doesn’t always know how to express that.

It’s sweet, really, and your heart melts at the sight.

“Go wait outside, you two.” Both kids run down the hall to the elevator as they excitedly ponder what games you might have, leaving you and Sukuna alone as he leans on the doorframe.

“You free next Saturday?” You ask once his attention returns to you.

“I can let you know. Depends on the auto shop’s schedule.”

“We can always do another day, whatever works best for you, Kuna.” Your voice holds a teasing lilt as you mimic Yuji’s entirely too adorable name for him.

“Don’t start with that,” he snarls, mumbling something about the name being annoying. Before turning to walk away, he decides to pay you back for all of your teasing with a jab of his own. “Don’t make a habit of getting oil dumped on you, yeah?”

What Sukuna isn’t expecting is for you to be able to match his teasing without a second thought. “What, I can’t email you for help?”

He snorts, smirking at the ground as he pushes himself off of the doorframe and begins to turn away. “See you around,” he says, raising a hand in farewell as he follows after his two brothers. Your eyes trail curiously after him until he’s out of sight, shutting and locking the door quietly.

In truth, you don’t expect to hear from him until maybe next Friday if you’re lucky, but to your surprise when you check your email later that night, your inbox has a new email from Sukuna. It’s still funny, to think that you’re communicating via email, but at least you aren’t giggling to yourself as you open this one.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:04 AM brat stole your gameboy. meet at the fountain at noon monday

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:23 AM That’s alright!! He can keep it :)

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:27 AM no he needs to learn. noon at the fountain

With a sigh, you realize he isn’t about to relent and give in.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:28 AM Okay I’ll see you then Kuna lol

And oh if you could see the way Sukuna is guffawing and huffing at his screen, slamming his laptop shut as you call him the nickname he doesn’t want anyone to know. Yet here you are, barging into his life on all fronts and learning more about him than he wants.

The way his heart stutters, it actually stutters when he sees his inbox go up by a notification because he just knows it’s you and fuck why is it actually cute when you use that nickname?

Sukuna rubs a hand over his face and pulls his comforter up over his shoulder, sinking into the plush of his mattress as he tries to get some rest before his shift the next morning. He’ll deal with his other issues later.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

❦ a/n ; hello!! thank you so much for reading i've been having an absolute blast with this. i've been working on this for a long time and it was initially intended to be about 25k, but after working on it for a month straight it hit that pretty quickly and i'm nowhere near done. aaaanyways, thanks for all the love and support and as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated <3

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @creamflix @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune.

[retiredteabag]

The Open Window Lets The Rain In

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-

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"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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[v-67]

Jjk spoiler alert!!

Panels I found really cool🔽

Panel i found heavy w feelings and emotions other than the one of Nanami😭😭😭😭🔽

Flashback of a warm memory, I need more of these, heal me🔽

jjk S2 last post🙃

[lalunanymph]

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.

[maldito-junajo]

The King

Ryomen Sukuna 🔥🔥🔥