#suguru is mother

[kekokone]

this but sashisu raising four kids (miminana and the fushiguros)

It would be a menace 🗿

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[nyxowl16]

what is up with queer depressed men adopting kids and actually doing a good job of parenting??????

and bonus ofc: Stolas and Lucifer!

[karvakera]

drawing gojo every day as stupid pet memes until THE shibuya incident: day 16

[happeecat]

we love you

[theunbreakablecurse0]

Give Toji back his wife, give Gojo back his husband and you’ll fix Jujutsu Kaisen.

HAPPY END!

Menace: Sunshine, who keeps

menace in control:

[sinceaki]

Your days were a blur of exhaustion. Between managing the new house and taking care of your son, the weight of it all pressed down on you. Suguru—your Suguru—wasn’t much help these days. He had been swallowed by work, disappearing into his office for hours on end. When he wasn’t working, he was on his phone, his face hidden behind that tired, distant expression.

"Not tonight," he mumbled when you knocked gently on his office door, your son crying softly in your arms. "I'm really busy, just... I'll come help later."

But he never did.

You sighed, rocking your son gently in the dim light of the living room, the weight of Suguru's absence hanging heavy in the air. You knew he loved you, but the distance between you was growing. It wasn’t intentional—he was busy. But still, you couldn’t shake the loneliness that had begun to settle in.

The mansion’s walls seemed to stretch on forever, wrapping you in an unnerving silence. It had been days since you and Suguru moved in, yet the house felt anything but homey. No matter how much you tried to settle in, the air always felt too heavy, too still, as if it were holding its breath.

Suguru didn’t seem to mind. He moved through the house with his usual composed grace, handling the boxes, making plans, his face betraying none of the unease gnawing at you. He was always distant, often consumed by his thoughts, and this house… it seemed to suit that part of him. But you—something about the mansion put you on edge.

The days blurred into nights, the strange feeling growing stronger, especially when the sun dipped below the horizon and shadows crept through the halls.

That night, after tossing and turning, you gave up on trying to sleep. Your throat was dry, the house too quiet. You slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb Suguru, whose even breaths filled the room.

As you wandered through the dimly lit hallway towards the kitchen, the air felt different—warmer, almost humid. You grabbed a glass and let the faucet run, the sound of water filling the silence. That’s when something caught your eye.

Across the room, behind an old cabinet you didn’t remember moving, was a door. Small and unassuming, with faint light spilling from the edges, as if the very frame of it was glowing.

Frowning, you set your glass down and stepped closer. You didn’t recall seeing a door there before, but then again, this house had a way of feeling different each time you walked through it. Still, this felt strange. Kneeling, you gently tugged at the handle, and the door creaked open, revealing a tunnel inside.

It wasn’t dark. Instead, the passage glowed with an otherworldly light—soft, shimmering, almost beckoning you. The walls were rounded and smooth, almost like they were alive, their surface glistening faintly under the glow. The tunnel seemed to stretch into the distance, bending around corners you couldn’t see past.

A part of you wanted to turn back, to close the door and forget you ever saw it. But another part of you—curious, drawn in by the strange glow—urged you forward. Crawling into the tunnel, you found the air inside warm, like the embrace of a blanket on a cold night.

You hesitated at first, glancing back over your shoulder. But the tunnel’s light seemed to pulse softly, inviting you to move forward. You couldn’t resist.

When you finally reached the other side, the sight that greeted you made you stop in your tracks.

You were in the kitchen… or at least, what looked like the kitchen. But it wasn’t the same. Everything was more vibrant, more alive. The countertops gleamed as if freshly cleaned, the walls a richer shade of color, the air filled with the soft warmth of a hearth. It was familiar, but... not.

“There you are, dear…”

The voice was familiar, too. You turned, your heart skipping a beat.

There, standing in the kitchen, was Suguru. He looked at you with that same calm expression you had grown so used to, but something about him felt different. Softer. More welcoming. The cold distance that usually lingered between you seemed to have melted away.

“I…” you murmured, your throat suddenly dry for an entirely different reason.

Suguru smiled, his face illuminated by the warm glow of the room. But there was something strange about the way the light hit his face— your gaze drifted to his eyes. And you froze.

Buttons.

His eyes were shiny, black buttons, polished to a glossy finish. They reflected the light in a way that made them gleam unnaturally, but they lacked the depth, the humanity, that you were so used to seeing in Suguru’s eyes.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay calm. He was still Suguru, wasn’t he? He looked like him, his voice was the same, but… those eyes.

Suguru stood in the center of the room, but something was profoundly different about him. His smile held a peculiar calmness that set you on edge.

You approached him cautiously. “Who are you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He extended a hand, the buttons on his eyes reflecting the soft light. “I’m your husband of course…” he said, his voice smooth.

You took a step back, instinctively creating distance between you and him. "What... who—what do you mean husband? You aren’t suguru! My suguru doesn’t have… b-b-b-" you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the uneasy tightness in your chest.

His chuckle was soft, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “B-Buttons? Do you like them?” he continued your sentence smoothly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m your other husband, silly” His tone was playful, but there was an eerie undertone that left your nerves prickling.

You stepped back again, feeling the surreal tension thick in the air. His button eyes stayed fixed on you, calm and unbothered, but there was something deeply unsettling about how unphased he was by your discomfort.

“Oh! right.. Come on, you came at the perfect time, i have a suprise for you.” he added, his voice tender, ignoring how wary you are of him.

Your heart raced as you struggled to process what you were seeing, standing in this version of your world that was somehow more vibrant but disturbingly off. Suguru— this Suguru—stood before you with the same gentle smile, but everything else about him screamed that this wasn't real. It was a performance, too perfect to be natural.

You hesitated, but curiosity and the allure of his warm demeanor drew you closer. He gently took your hand and led you out of the room. The warmth of Suguru’s hand led you outside, though something inside you still screamed to turn back. As you stepped into the garden, your breath caught in your throat once again. The landscape was breathtaking—too perfect. Flowers bloomed in radiant colors, their petals shimmering faintly in the twilight. The air was thick with the sound of gentle rustling leaves, and the sparkling water of a small pond reflected the faint glow of luminescent butterflies.

Everything here was like a dream—so beautiful it didn’t feel real.

Suguru stood beside you, his button eyes reflecting the twinkling light as he watched you silently. His presence was unnervingly calm, his hand never leaving yours as though he were tethering you to this place.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s... unreal,” you murmured, eyes lingering on the glowing butterflies, their wings catching the soft light like iridescent glass.

“It’s not unreal, love. It’s exactly as it should be,” Suguru replied smoothly, his voice quiet yet carrying a weight that made you want to listen. His eyes were only on you, even as you stared at the beauty around you, trying to make sense of the perfection before you.

Your gaze fell to the fish swimming in the pond, their silvery bodies gleaming as they moved in perfect harmony. But when you leaned in closer, your heart skipped a beat—each of them had small, glossy button eyes. The butterflies, too. The animals, the plants—everything in this world was perfect, but not without that eerie detail.

You shuddered. “The buttons… Everything here has buttons,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly. The unsettling feeling returned, making the beauty around you feel more like a trap.

Suguru’s grip tightened ever so slightly, grounding you. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, his voice low, like a soft lullaby. “The buttons are just a part of this world. But you—you belong here. With me.”

You glanced up at him, feeling his gaze heavy on your skin. “Belong?” you echoed, confused and wary. The perfection of the place was starting to wear on you, making you feel out of place—as though you were the only thing that didn’t fit in this strange world.

Suguru stepped closer, his breath soft against your ear. “Yes. Here, where there are no distractions. No worries. Only us. Wouldn’t that be better? To be in a place where nothing can hurt you, where you’re never alone?”

His words dripped like honey, each syllable wrapping itself around your thoughts. It was hard to ignore the way his voice seemed to promise you everything you had ever wanted—peace, ease, belonging.

You hesitated, torn between the growing fear inside you and the pull of his soothing words. “But… what about everything else? My life, my... home?”

“Why worry about that?” he asked, brushing a hand against your arm. His lips hovered just above your skin, barely grazing the sensitive flesh of your shoulder. A shiver ran through you, your body reacting to his touch even as your mind screamed for caution. “Everything here is for you. Look around.”

His lips trailed down your arm, slow and deliberate, barely touching but enough to make your pulse quicken. “The garden, the peace... isn’t this what you’ve wanted?”

The butterflies fluttered around your head, their glowing wings casting soft light over you. You found yourself staring at the pond again, the water so clear, so impossibly pure. It was inviting, almost calling you toward it, as though it held a secret, sparkling promise beneath its surface.

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted softly, feeling the words slip from your mouth before you could stop them. The beauty of the place was undeniable, but it was so foreign, so otherworldly that it made you uneasy. And yet...

Suguru’s hand slid down your waist, his lips brushing the back of your hand in a featherlight kiss. “You deserve beauty, love,” he whispered against your skin, his voice soft and persuasive. “And there’s so much more for you here. Come back tomorrow, and you’ll see.”

You hesitated, your heart fluttering in your chest. “Tomorrow?” you asked, your voice uncertain.

Suguru’s button eyes stayed fixed on you, unwavering, as if he could see the conflict brewing inside you. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’ll be here waiting for you. Everything will be waiting. You’ll see how much better it is when you’re not fighting against it.”

His words felt like a lure, pulling you in. A part of you knew it was wrong—knew that this world, this Suguru, was not what it seemed. And yet, his presence was so calm, so inviting, it was hard to fight the drowsy pull of his voice.

You glanced around the garden again. The sparkling water, the glowing butterflies, the strange yet beautiful perfection of it all—it was enough to make you forget, just for a moment, the cold reality you had left behind.

“I… don’t know,” you muttered, feeling a wave of exhaustion suddenly settle over you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your body started to sway slightly, the warmth of the garden lulling you into a strange, almost dreamlike state.

Suguru’s hand slid up to rest gently on the small of your back, steadying you as your body seemed to sink into the moment. “There’s no rush,” he said softly. “You’ll see, love. You’ll come back. And when you do, everything will be just as perfect as you’ve always wanted.”

His lips grazed the side of your face, the gesture as much a promise as it was a kiss. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, your body betraying your mind’s desperate urge to pull away.

Before you could protest, he was guiding you back toward the house, his arm around your waist, his touch light but firm. The house seemed warmer, more welcoming as you stepped inside, and as he led you to the bedroom, the exhaustion from earlier became overwhelming.

The room looked different—so much softer, filled with warmth and color. The bed practically glowed with inviting softness. Suguru stood by the door, watching you with those unnerving button eyes as you climbed into bed, your body too tired to resist.

“Good night,” he whispered, his voice lingering in the air as your eyes closed, the exhaustion pulling you under like a heavy blanket.

____

You awoke with a jolt, gasping as you found yourself lying in the cold, bare room. The morning light streamed through the window, casting a harsh contrast. Your heart was still racing, your skin still tingling with the memory of Suguru’s- other Suguru’s touch.

But it had all been a dream... hadn’t it?

——

You looked over at the small door in the corner of the room, where the bricks stood in place, as solid as ever. Yet, despite the barriers, the memory of the garden and Suguru’s soft voice tugged at you.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the door, a strange ache of loneliness settling into your chest. The loneliness you had felt before seemed even more pronounced. The memory of the surreal, perfect world lingered in your mind, leaving you with a mix of longing.

“Bye, i gotta go..” suguru said, leaving the house without even a kiss for his beloved nor his child.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your gaze away from the door he just slammed, the image of the other Suguru etched deeply in your thoughts.

[quack-quack-snacks]

Lost

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Geto Suguru Masterlist

My Geto "Cult Leader" Suguru Masterlist

Pairing(s): Slightly Yandere Cult Leader!Geto Suguru x Single Mother!Fem!Reader Summary: After losing your son in the street after bringing him to visit the annual light show that happened in your town, you find him crying in the arms of a handsome - yet strangely unsettling - stranger with two girls standing beside him. Warnings: No manga (or really any anime) spoilers, Suguru is just a tad obsessive and whatever, Suguru being prejudiced against humans as normal, Suguru is a sly and smooth motherfucker (almost literally 😏) (maybe it will be literally if i write a part 2 😏😏) Word Count: 2,355 Extra Notes: In this story, Suguru is 23, Nananko and Mimiko are 9, the reader is 23 as well, and her son is 3 years old

part 2

While Geto Suguru wasn’t one for Monkey festivities any time of the year, he couldn’t bear to deny his two adoptive daughters, Nanako and Mimiko. Not when they shot him puppy dog eyes soft enough to melt the heart of the infamous Sukuna Ryomen. 

Well… maybe not him, but you get the idea. 

The light show they begged him to take them to, although still run by and flooded with monkeys, was, admittedly, beautiful. The lights reflected off the glass windows of the homes they passed by; they wrapped around the trees and bushes lining the street and were worn as bracelets on the wrists of the smaller monkeys that ran through the crowds, uncaring of the legs they crashed into. 

Now, of course, Suguru would never allow anything to happen to his daughters, especially since they were still not even ten years old, so he designated a cursed spirit to reside on each of their shoulders, one for each girl. He allowed them to wander off if they desired - and told them as such - but he was glad they didn’t want to separate from him in such a crowded place. 

He cursed himself for jinxing it with that thought real soon, though, when they decided to venture off without him to watch the dragon dancers. 

With a sigh, he shook his head at the desire to go after them and decided to only keep an eye on them from his spot. 

He didn’t move as they ran to the side of the road, holding each other’s hands in excitement with gleaming grins on their faces. 

He didn’t move when they ran into a young boy, knocking him onto his hands and knees.

He didn’t move when they stopped in their tracks and glanced at each other before hesitantly apologizing, an act that made Suguru smile despite himself. He knew he was raising them right - despite the boy being a monkey. 

However, he did move when he realized that statement wasn’t true.

The boy wasn’t a monkey. 

If he was, why did he start screaming in horror at the cursed spirits propped on the shoulders of the girls as soon as he looked up at them for the first time?

Nanako - although momentarily shocked - dropped to her knees to console the boy on instinct but was surprised further when he scrambled away from her, scraping up his already torn and bleeding hands and knees even more. Mimiko helped her twin sister back to her feet and looked at the boy with confused eyes before following his line of sight to the grotesque figure sitting on her shoulder. Her gaze flickered back and forth between the curse and the boy with growing confusion until it clicked in her head. 

He could se-

“Are you alright?”

The familiar voice of the man she grew to see as her father interrupted her silent revelation and she looked to see him kneeling in front of her, blocking the sight of the cursed spirit and the girls from the boy’s eyes and offering him a smile that was quite similar to the ones he gave Nanako and Mimiko. 

The young boy in front of him whimpered, trying to peer around Suguru’s head to see if the monster was still there only to scream and cry more when it hadn’t disappeared. 

In an action that was nearly entirely instinctive, Suguru picked the boy up and wrapped his arms around him, holding him against his chest as he cried. The long sleeves of his traditional kimono blocked the crisp wind and soothed the gentle shivering that had unknowingly overcome the younger boy’s body.

“Where are your parents, hm?” The cult leader asked, silently and selfishly hoping he didn’t have any so he could get him out of a place so overrun by the stench of monkeys and the bodies that always follow. 

As if reminded that he had any, the boy started to cry even harder. “M-mama!”

‘Damnit,’ Suguru cursed to himself, keeping the smile on his face unmoving while he gently caressed the boy’s back. From behind him, Nanako - who was still oblivious to the boy’s sorcerer abilities and confused as to why her dad was holding the, presumed, monkey - walked up to him and scowled at him. Just as his eyes widened at the new proximity of the monster and a scream built up in his throat, 3 things happened: Nanako’s eyes widened in final realization, Mimiko wrapped a hand around her sister’s upper arm to yank her back, and an unfamiliar voice started frantically shouting a name in the distance. 

Or, at least, the voice was unfamiliar to the family of three. It was more than familiar to the boy whose eyes widened in a mix of fear and relief - fear at the monster and relief at the voice - and he started struggling to get out of the 23-year-old cult leader’s gentle grasp. Reluctantly, Suguru let the boy go and watched as he started running towards the woman screaming his name.

When your eyes finally caught sight of your son after minutes of frantic searching and being unable to find him even when trying to use your cursed energy technique, you were overjoyed. The unshed tears that built in your eyes finally fell down your cheeks and you fell to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around him in a secure hold. 

“Ryōsuke! How many times have I told you not to run off!” You scolded him, cursing yourself when your voice cracked and rubbing his back as he sobbed into your shoulder. He gave no response and just weakly held onto your shirt, most likely ruining it with his tears and snot but you didn’t care. You’d had plenty of shirts ruined by his tears and snot before, and this most likely wouldn’t be the last one. 

Your eyes flickered over his shoulder to where he had run over from and you saw three people standing there watching you. One was a man who looked to be around the same age as you wearing a dark purple and green kimono along with two girls, one blond and wearing a light pink dress with hearts scattered across the fabric while the other was a brunette and was wearing a black t-shirt with a Minecraft sheep on it and blue shorts. The man, who hadn’t torn his eyes away from you and the boy for a second, had a kind yet slightly unnerving smile on his face. It made you want to walk up to him and express your gratitude for watching your son as much as turn in the opposite direction and ignore him entirely. 

With a sigh, you decided to do your duty as a good and polite person and thank him for his kindness. Besides, it wasn’t every day you met someone in this town who wasn’t immediately put off by you and your son’s presence. Of course, the average person wouldn’t be able to tell it was your cursed energy that made them feel uncertain about being around you but they could sense something off. You wondered if the somewhat unnerving feeling you got from this stranger was the one your neighbors got from you. 

Or maybe it was because of the two hideous creatures that sat on the two girls’ shoulders.

With a forced smile, you picked Ryōsuke up and placed him on your hip before standing up and walking over to the group with him, smiling kindly at the two girls and trying your hardest to keep your gaze off the invisible creatures on their shoulders. You were taken aback by their scornful expressions but pushed it aside as them being shy or something of the sort. 

When you looked back up at the man standing in front of you, you were awestruck by how much more handsome he was up close. Your forced smile became a little more genuine as you somewhat awkwardly shifted the boy on your hip around. “Hi.”

Although your smile turned more genuine, it seemed the longer you stood in front of him the less his was. It made you shift nervously on your feet. He didn’t say anything as he looked at you but you could practically taste the disdain that flooded off him in waves. 

“Um, I just wanted to thank you,” you started. When he still didn’t say anything, you filled the silence as a nervous habit. “F-for watching over my son. I put him down for a second to get him a funnel cake since he was begging for one and then when I turned around to pay, he had suddenly disappeared-”

‘It’s unfortunate such a pretty face belongs to such an arrogant monkey. Placing food as a higher priority than her gifted son. I should kill her right here and now,’ Suguru thought to himself, keeping the polite smile on his face to avoid any of your suspicion. 

“-so I just wanted to t-thank yo-”

Your son screaming in your ear shocked you out of your stuttered rambles and you frantically looked over at him, trying to figure out what was making him freak out.

“What? What is it? Are you okay?” You asked only to find him pointing at the two girls while sobbing. You looked over, already knowing you’d see the creatures that rested there, and tore your sight away just as fast. Despite having to hide your son’s abilities to see cursed spirits for his whole life thus far, it never got easier to pretend you couldn’t see the things you really could. 

You wrapped your hand over Ryōsuke’s eyes and tucked his head into your neck, whispering, “Don’t look at them, okay? I’ll protect you.”

While consoling your shaking son, you couldn’t see the pleasant surprise that settled on Suguru’s face. Meanwhile, his two daughters erupted in soft whispers, saying how a monkey like you didn’t deserve your son. He held out a hand to stop them and despite their confusion, they did so immediately. 

Once your son finally settled back down with his head firmly tucked away into your neck - you were even nearly positive he had fallen asleep - you turned back to the man and allowed yourself to be shocked at the once forced smile on his face no longer being forced. It allowed the tension to leave your body as the genuineness of his gaze washed over you and calmed your nerves. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you said with an apologetic smile. “He has schizophrenia and can’t tell the difference between what is real and what’s not just yet,” you explained, before adding, “It’s run in my family for a long time,” for good measure. You adjusted the boy in your arms to free up one of your hands to hold out in greeting to the man before introducing yourself with a smile. 

The girls beside him both scoffed, both at your excuse for your son - which they thought was you simply being foolish enough to believe that - and at the audacity you had for believing yourself worthy of touching your hand to their dad’s. They were left in utter bewilderment when Geto had no qualms about returning your handshake. 

“My name is Geto Suguru but you may call me Suguru, Darling,” he responded with a wink and easy smile. 

The girls’ jaws dropped. 

His hand was soft when he placed it in yours and you blushed not only at the heat emanating from his palm but also from the nickname. You nodded. “Suguru,” you tested the name out on your tongue, unknowing of the effect it had on him. The light blush that grew up his neck was so small in the darkness of the night you could only blame it on the lights flashing from the parade. “Well, Suguru, I will be taking my leave now. I think losing my son for one night was enough for me to last a lifetime,” you joked. You saw what you thought was a bit of panic flash through his eyes before it disappeared in an instant. 

“Well I can’t possibly let you travel home alone on a night like this,” he started to insist. “At least allow me to take your number so that you can let me know when you’ve returned safely. It would bring my girls and I some peace of mind.”

Damn. This man was smooth. 

With a quirk of your lips, you nodded in agreement and handed him your phone to put his number in. Once he did and you sent him a text he seemed satisfied. 

“I’ll be off now, but it was nice to meet you. Thank you again for looking after my son in my absence. It means more than I can tell.”

He nodded. “Of course, Darling. Have a safe trip home.”

When you turned around and hid the growing smile and blush on your face in the sleeping boy in your arms’ hair, you didn’t see the way Suguru summoned up a small low-level demon to follow you home. Just because you could see them didn’t mean he couldn’t make it so it wasn’t in your line of sight at all. It was all for your sake, in case you forgot to send him the text letting him know you were home safe and sound! It was just for your safety! Nothing else. 

He wasn’t storing the address of your home away for safekeeping at all. 

“Why did you give her your number? She's just a stupid monkey. Why would you give her the time of day?” Nanako asked with an annoyed look on her face. 

“Come now,” Suguru told her with a gently scolding tone, looking at her with a stern smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice, but that woman is anything but a monkey. In fact,” he looked back in your direction where he could still see your figure slowly getting smaller and smaller as you walked further and further away from the crowd with your son in hand. “She might just become your mother one day.”

He would make sure of it. 

[kacievvbbbb]

I feel like I need to know more about Todo and Yuki’s relationship as mentor and mentee. Like they seem the same flavor of person which is very different from what gojo and megumi have going on.

But also Yuki is very adoptive “dad” coded in the way geto’s relationship to the twins is very adoptive “mom” coded.

In that Geto seems to take on primarily a caretaker role than a mentor while Yuki is more a trainer and life coach than she is a caretaker. Which is something you don’t really see given to female characters in anime.

Like Todo lives by her words and fights by her example. Everything he knows about jujutsu she taught him and Todo’s a very skilled and violent fighter and that reflects back perfectly on Yuki’s own fighting style. It’s so very anime mentor it’s insane she is just introduced to us as Todo (this absolute menace’s) teacher before anything else. I’ve never actually seen a female anime character be introduced this way.

in contrast to Geto who serves as the caring parent who was tragically taken from the girls violently and too soon and the girls wish to honor him and live how he would have wanted them too despite the ungodly situation they find themselves in. Which is such a stereotypical anime mom trope it’s almost funny. He even fits in with the still very much in love with and still speaks highly of the father that abandoned the family in hopes that the kid will one day understand and forgive them. He is essentially the mom from Full Metal Alchemist.

Gege that fucking deranged cat actually flipped the script on us and it’s so interesting which is why it’s so frustrating how little we actually end up getting off yuki when all her little scenes point to such an interestnn in character.

She is introduced as one half of a crazy dynamic that we never actually get to see put to screen and that’s such a shame. Because Yuki is such a welcome addition to the tropes of female characters we need more female “dads”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

satoru is a puppydog who pretends to be a big bad wolf and suguru is a wolf pretending to be a domesticated dog, hiding his claws and the snap of his jaw (doctors come in and start pulling me away)

[lunerabo]

Having. Breeding kink Suguru flavored thoughts.

The fact that you appear to love and care more for the girls than for him is one of the things he finds the most attractive about you, honestly. From the day he first brought them into both of your lives they became first priority, despite you having always laughed that you’d be a terrible parent and that you don’t like kids—you showed none of that, and you were okay with it, and they were put first before him or yourself or anything else.

There’s little time for you to spend alone together now that you have to take care of them, but he doesn’t mind. That just means the time you do get is far more valuable and exciting, and it doesn’t take him long to begin wondering how the two of you would fare if you had a third. He doesn’t make any rash decisions in this case without considering the what then and the how of it—something he had somewhat failed to do with another choice of his not too long ago—but one night you pin his arms and snarl against his throat like you often do and it just does something, and all of those thoughts he’s had building up for the past several months come spilling out all at once. Earlier than he’d like, and deep within you.

You take it in stride. Nothing will come of this, you’re sure. And it doesn’t, but that seems to disappoint him; and just as you expect, it happens again. The next time, with more fervor behind it, desperate hands wrenching themselves free of your grasp to hold you firm against his hips. He mentions none of this, but he doesn’t need to. He knows, you know, and he knows that you know. He hopes you won’t say anything, he’s not sure what he’d respond with. The words would choke him though not as hard as you do.

You’ll both cross that bridge when, when, you get to it, he figures.

[thecaffeinatedcryptid]

I was driving when this idea popped into my head and I almost crashed the car

[poyell]

BROTHERRR it’s heree ^_^

[1-sided-dice]

Blessed be the fruit of your womb.

[skillzissue]

Guys sorry it’s been awhile somehow I forgot how to draw :(

[gacktfan69]

Quick satosugu sketch 😋