☁️

Inside, the lights were dim, the air smelled suspiciously like fog machine and regret, and every creak sounded personal. Her friends, traitors that they were, quickly abandoned her at the first loud bang, sprinting ahead while laughing like they had no survival instincts. Y/N was left behind, shuffling forward with the energy of someone being led to a mild inconvenience that felt like death.

Behind one of the fake wooden panels stood Sukuna, fully committed to his job. He had been enjoying his shift. People screamed, he got paid, and occasionally someone tripped over nothing. Life was good. His makeup was particularly terrifying that night, all sharp lines, eerie shadows, and a grin that suggested several poor life choices. He waited, listening to the soft, hesitant footsteps approaching.

Y/N turned the corner slowly, already shaking her head as if preemptively rejecting whatever nonsense was about to happen. She muttered to herself that it was all fake, completely fake, nothing to worry about, definitely not haunted, absolutely not real, and then Sukuna jumped out with perfect timing.

She did not scream.

She punched him.

It was immediate, instinctive, and surprisingly well-aimed. Her fist connected with his face with a very real, very solid thwack that echoed slightly in the narrow hallway. Sukuna froze, not out of fear, but out of pure disbelief. Nobody had ever punched him before. People screamed, people ran, one person fainted once, but no one had ever chosen violence.

Y/N also froze, staring at him in horror as her brain finally caught up with her actions. There was a full second of silence where both of them simply processed what had just happened. Then Sukuna slowly turned his head back toward her.

The makeup.

The lighting.

The fact that he was now staring directly at her after being punched.

Y/N let out a scream so loud it probably qualified as a new sound effect for the haunted house. It was not a normal scream. It was the kind of scream that suggested her soul had briefly left her body and filed a complaint. She spun around and bolted down the hallway, nearly slipping as she went.

“I’M SORRY I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO PUNCH YOU OH MY GOD I’M SORRY,” she yelled while running, her voice echoing as she disappeared into the next room.

Sukuna stood there, still in position, one hand slowly coming up to touch his cheek. He blinked once, then twice, and muttered under his breath that he absolutely did not get paid enough for this.

Outside, Y/N had fully abandoned the haunted house experience and was now pacing near the entrance like someone waiting for exam results. Her friends eventually came out, still laughing, only to find her in visible distress.

“I punched someone,” she announced immediately.

They stopped laughing.

“You what?”

“I punched a ghost. Well not a real ghost. Obviously. I hope. But he looked very real and I panicked and now I think I assaulted an employee.”

Her friends, being completely useless, started laughing again.

Determined to fix her mistake, Y/N approached one of the staff members at the front desk with the seriousness of someone filing a legal report. She explained the situation in detail, including the punch, the scream, and the apology she had shouted mid-sprint. The staff member, trying very hard not to laugh, agreed to help and even pulled up the CCTV footage.

Watching it back was worse.

There she was, creeping around the corner like a cautious squirrel, and then immediately launching a punch with shocking confidence. The replay even captured Sukuna’s stunned expression afterward, which somehow made it funnier and more embarrassing at the same time.

“I’m a terrible person,” she said, covering her face.

“You’re the highlight of the night,” the staff member replied.

Y/N insisted on waiting. She asked when that particular worker would be done with his shift and planted herself near the exit like a determined apology statue. She even went to a nearby pharmacy and bought an ice pack.

When Sukuna finally stepped out, still in partial makeup and looking mildly irritated, he spotted her immediately. She looked like she had been waiting for hours, clutching the ice pack with the intensity of someone about to negotiate peace.

Y/N rushed over, nearly tripping in her urgency.

“I am so sorry,” she said in one breath, bowing slightly and holding out the ice pack like an offering. “I didn’t mean to punch you. I got scared and my brain just… chose violence.”

Sukuna stared at her, then at the ice pack, then back at her.

“You brought me first aid,” he said slowly, like he was still deciding whether this was insulting or impressive.

“Yes,” Y/N replied immediately. “Because I caused damage.”

There was a pause that felt longer than it actually was. Sukuna took the ice pack from her, turning it over in his hand like it was evidence in a very stupid crime.

“…At least you came prepared after the fact,” he muttered, pressing it lightly against his cheek.

“I panicked responsibly,” she said, nodding to herself like that made sense.

From a few feet away, her friends were already struggling to breathe from laughing so hard. One of them had actually crouched down, clutching their stomach like they might not recover.

Y/N ignored them with great effort.

“I’ve never punched anyone before,” she added quickly, like she was presenting a defense case. “You’re my first.”

“That is not comforting.”

“I mean you’ll also be my last.”

He adjusted the ice pack again, still looking at her with narrowed eyes, but there was something different now. Less irritation, more… curiosity.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” he said. “Most people scream first.”

“I was going to scream,” she said defensively. “The scream was coming. It just got… delayed.”

He let out a short breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Behind her, one of her friends whispered loudly, “Ask him if his jaw is okay,” before dissolving into giggles again.

Y/N turned slightly and hissed before snapping back to Sukuna with the most serious expression she could manage.

“I should get going now. I am sorry” She said it all in one rushed breath, then gave him a small, awkward wave, and turned to leave before she could say anything worse, walking quickly at first and then faster as if distance could erase the entire situation.

Her friends immediately falling in step beside her while still laughing loud enough to be heard halfway down the street, and just when she dared to relax, she stepped straight off the curb without looking and yelped as she stumbled slightly, windmilling her arms in a way that suggested she might fight the ground next if given the opportunity.

Lucky she caught herself at the last second before dramatically regaining her balance and continuing forward with forced dignity while her friends lost whatever composure they had left, and behind them.

Sukuna watched the whole thing unfold, ice pack still pressed to his cheek, before letting out a quiet, genuine laugh to himself, shaking his head slightly as he muttered that she was, without question, the most chaotic person he had ever met on the job.

you chuckle, dropping the dramatic act. you ruffle megumi’s hair a bit before standing up. a yawn escapes your lips and you stretch your arms above your head—clearly in need of a break.

“i’m gonna take a quick nap, honey,” your eyes meet toji’s. your husband nods and sits up with a groan. he’s also sleepy, but he knows that you did most of the work today. he’ll gladly watch over megumi while you rest and regain your energy.

megumi starts to fuss the moment you step out of the playpen. his tiny hands reach out to you—the little boy clearly too attached to his mother. toji shakes his head and effortlessly picks his son up and puts him on his lap, “naw, y’re stuck with me buddy. mama’s gotta rest.”

megumi squirms around and whimpers. he’s clearly not interested in his dad at the moment. toji sighs and tries his best to keep the baby still, but to no avail.

“mama! mama!” the baby’s cries for you breaks your heart. you stop a a couple steps away and turn around with a pout. you notice how megumi is kicking his legs, thrashing around in toji’s arms in attempt to free himself.

you sigh and crouch down, “gumi, mama’s sleepy. . papa’s gonna play with you, okay?”

megumi, of course, does not understand what you mean. he thinks you’re leaving him alone and it causes him to wail loudly. you’re about to console your son, but backtrack when you notice how megumi’s starting to stand up on his own.

his chubby legs are barely holding his body weight up. the balance is hard to find for the baby, yet he still does his utmost best. he nearly trips from just standing.

even toji looks on with wide eyes and a hint of a prideful grin on his lips. he’s silently encouraging his son in his head.

“ma..ma,” megumi babbles. he almost topples over, but toji’s quick reflexes come in handy. a big hand keeps the baby standing straight. the dark-haired man carefully lets go again, however keeps his hand near his son’s body. just in case.

neither toji nor you could believe what was happening. you both watch in awe as megumi’s left foot moves forward—the right one copying that same movement.

your precious boy, taking his first steps right in front of you both to witness. it’s a heartwarming sight. you hold your breath and toji’s lips part slightly. your husband has yet to grasp why this scene in front of him makes him feel so. . . giddy on the inside.

“c’mon! come to mama!” you squeal excitedly and open your arms, encouraging megumi to your best ability.

the tiny boy giggles and moves his limbs as fast as they could go. his chubby hands flail around as he quickly walks over to you.

toji stares at his family and that’s when it hits him; how much he loves this peaceful life. his son just achieved another great milestone that he had the honour of witnessing firsthand. it made him happy that he chose this path instead of the more ‘darker’ one.

it also nearly causes your husband to shed some tears from pure joy. but, toji didn’t want to seem too ‘soft’. even if he secretly is for his wife and child.

toji coughs subtly. totally not to get rid of the irritating lump in his throat. a ghost of a smile appears on his face while he got up, immediately moving towards megumi and you.

“good job, kiddo,” toji says as he puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he stares down at megumi in your arms—the little boy getting drowned in kisses and compliments.

your ears twitch. there’s no denying it; the faint crack in toji’s voice. you give your kid a break from your overwhelming affection and tilt your head back. your eyes meet your husband’s.

you grin when you see how he quickly avoids your gaze. something he never does unless he’s. . .

“gonna cry?”

toji rolls his eyes at your question. he ignores your teasing by trying to change the subject. he focuses on megumi who’s still going absolutely wild in your embrace—cutely demanding more praise and kisses.

“daddy can also give ya some kisses, y’know,” toji pokes megumi’s cheek, fascinated by the plush fat. the baby stops babbling the moment his dad talks to him. he looks up at toji and then back at the finger still prodding at his cheek.

megumi opens his mouth and doesn’t waste a single second. he goes for a playful bite, though his little baby teeth do no real damage, “yumm.”

you giggle at the way megumi frowns at toji, his teeth holding tightly onto toji’s fingertip. it’s time for your husband to take over the dramatics now.

“hey, that ain’t so nice now,” toji hisses and leans forward until his face is right in front of megumi—a similar frown on both the dad and son’s faces. they really do look alike now that you see them both from up close again.

megumi only bites down more on the finger in his mouth and toji reacts to that by feigning his anger. it’s amusing to see how neither of them gives up first.

but, it’s also rather cute to see how the father-son dynamic plays out in cozy family moments like these.

your eyes focus back on toji’s face and you can’t help but smile to yourself. he’s a good husband and father; always there for the both of you. his own way of showing support for megumi’s first steps is rather heartwarming. plus, the playful banter between the two never fails to make any moment all the more precious.

where are they? your mind floods with anxiety; you must have misplaced them at some point. you’ve just been so tired recently, having to juggle missions, teaching, reports and paperwork while satoru has been away the entire time, so you don't even have his strong arms to hold you and comfort you at night. with all of the extra load, your mind has been completely scattered. 

you pace up and down your office, racking your brain for any hint of where you may have put them. your heart pounds heavily, thrumming in your ears. yaga wants these reports by tonight. it’s not like you procrastinated on them, either! you actually had them mostly done, and all you needed to do was proofread them and sign off. what can you even do at this point? tell him that you’ve lost them and that you’ll get it to him by the end of the week? no. these reports are crucial for potential promotions and you’ll be damned if your students don’t get their deserved progression after all of their hard work this year. 

feeling yourself beginning to spiral, you reach for your phone in your pocket. your fingers automatically find satoru’s contact, barely even giving it a second thought. you don't even really know what you want him to do at this point, but you just need to hear his voice. your fingers hover over his name. you know he’s busy, know he’s probably currently out in the field right now doing important work, but your chest feels tight and something inside you presses call, anyway. 

ring, ring, ri—

“hello?” his voice over the crackling call already soothes you. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks. 

and the space around you shifts, getting heavier as a weight pushes into you before you can even register what’s happening. 

“i'm here, baby,” he sounds closer, smoother. “what's up?” 

what… the hell? you think you must be dreaming. all of the stress must have finally caught up with you, and you’ve passed out and are currently imagining your husband here with you.

no. no, you’re wrong. he’s here and he’s real and— what is he doing here?

“satoru!” you whisper-shout. “you’re supposed to be in osaka right now. fuck, if anyone sees you, you’ll be in so much trouble.” 

he shrugs. “relaaaax, sweetheart. they can’t touch me. literally.”

you scoff lightly at his unshakeable arrogance. 

“plus,” he adds, stepping closer to you. one hand comes out to cup your cheek as he analyses your face, taking note of the creases between your brows. “whatever i was doing couldn't have been half as important as tending to my ever-so-sweet wife.”

your temper softens at his unwavering kindness. you had momentarily forgotten about the lost papers, too focused on your husband showing up out of thin air. shoulders sagging down again, you tell him about the reports and how important they are, though he already knows that fact. 

satoru listens intently, nodding. his thumb brushes lightly against your cheek and you lean into the warmth of his touch, a welcome feeling after only a couple of days without him. he doesn’t make fun of you, doesn’t play up his usual gojo antics and tease you for being worried. no, right now the love of his life needed his reassurance, and he was here to give it to them. 

“okay,” his voice is low, eyes searching yours. “so we’ll find them.”

your heart melts at how he always treats you with such gentleness, even if you had just made an insane screw-up. the two of you scour your entire office, searching every nook and cranny for where you could have potentially misplaced the files. and thank fuck satoru manages to find them tucked away in the corner of the small cupboard where you usually keep your outside jacket. you don't know how they got there, but you can't bring yourself to care. all of the worry from your body immediately releases, the tension in your posture loosening as you sigh in relief. 

your husband pulls you in for a hug and kisses your forehead. “told you we’d find them.” 

“thank you, satoru. i love you,” you hum, enjoying the heat radiating off his body. you pull apart from him, looking up into his eyes. his blindfold is tugged down his neck, you now realise, which must mean he was in the middle of using his six eyes with full effort. “you should really get back to what you were doing.” you tap his chest lightly. “see you in a few days?”

he pouts, eyebrows knotted together. “can’t i just stay? i’m already here, now. it’s a pain to go back.” 

“even if you won’t get in trouble, i won’t be able to hear the end of it from the higher-ups if you stay.” 

“do i really have to?” he whines, tilting his head back in frustration. 

“i don’t want you to go either, but you have to. come on.” who were you if not the voice of reason in satoru’s dynamic life? 

“fine, fine.” he throws his hands up. “but only because i don’t want you to get it in the neck.” he captures your lips in a welcoming kiss. 

you hug him one last time before he disappears. “what were you even doing when i called? you got here fast.” 

“i told you,” he smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “nothing important.” 

well, nothing that was important for you to know. unbeknownst to you, gojo was quite literally in the middle of an exorcism. some grade one curse that apparently no one else had the strength to handle. satoru knew they were just short-staffed. so there he was, mid-action, crushing some spirit one-handed, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

“hold on,” satoru put a finger up to the curse as if it knew what that meant. “gotta take this.” 

the mission could wait. the curse wasn't going anywhere; it lacked any sort of real intelligence to be able to flee when it was already half dead. so, of course he teleported to you as soon as he heard the crack in your voice. sure, he probably should have let it ring out to voicemail and listened to it five minutes later, when he would have inevitably finished the curse off. however, you are always his top priority. you come first in his life. 

9:15AM : A SOFA IS LIGHTWORK, SWEETHEART

spring cleaning on an early saturday morning. what else could be better? you have your earphones in, humming along to music as you mop the wooden floors of your shared apartment. satoru is currently in the kitchen cooking breakfast—you can smell the mouthwatering aroma of his famous pancakes that you look forward to every weekend. 

everything is perfect, going smoothly. that is, until a fat fly buzzes around your head, darting around with speed. you try to swat it away, one hand still on the mop. your arms are flailing in the air when your bicep brushes against your ear and an earphone falls out, clattering to the ground as your music comes to a staggering halt. everything happens too fast. one moment you’re standing, stepping back into what must have been a wet spot on the floor; the next, the room is tilting and spinning around you and you fall flat on your ass with a loud thud!

“shit!” you shout, probably a little too loudly. 

within seconds, satoru is next to you, helping you up to your feet. “what happened, baby?” he coos. “you okay?” 

wincing, you feel around the back of your shorts and touch a damp patch where you landed. “yeah, fine. just slipped. lost my stupid earphone under the sofa, though,” you groan. “now i’ll have to put my whole arm all the way underneath and i don't think i can survive that.”

“nah,” satoru’s voice lilts. “i got you.” 

inch by inch, the couch begins to slowly lift off the ground, levitating steadily as a shit-eating grin makes its way across satoru’s face. you fold your arms, waiting for him to retrieve your earbud. he doesn’t move an inch. 

“well, aren’t you gonna get it, then?” you can hear the smugness in his voice. 

“fuck you,” you roll your eyes. you pick the small device up off the ground. it’s a little dusty, but nothing too bad. internally, you thank your husband for his service. 

12:27PM : MANIPULATIVE COFFEE SPILLS

it’s a weekday. you both have a free hour, so you decide to spend the time having coffee together at a small cafe on the outskirts of tokyo, relatively near the school. satoru orders a latte for you and some kind of fruity iced drink for himself, despite you insisting that he needs to ease up on the sugar because he’s bound to get diabetes when he’s an old man. it’s better for him than coffee, though. the one time he had a shot of espresso, instead of increasing his focus like intended, he ended up bouncing off the walls with boundless energy. 

grinning, he walks over to you with a tray of two cups and a plate. he sits down opposite you, sliding your mug over to your side of the table. you share a vanilla pastry. it’s yummy: flaky, creamy, and sweet. satoru had protested to sharing at first (he wanted his own dessert), but you told him that if he was getting a sugary drink, then he should be open to compromising on the sweet treat. 

as you’re chatting idly with him, he makes you laugh over something trivial. then you accidentally knock your mug over. it all happens in slow motion. the wobble of the cup, it tilting over the edge of the table, the hot liquid beginning to pour straight into your lap. 

then it stops in midair. you’re going crazy, you must be. confused, you look up at satoru, and he’s just cheesing at you. it all clicks into place. of course, gojo would use his gravity manipulation to stop your coffee from spilling. maybe a little excessive for the situation, but you were grateful nonetheless. with a swish of his finger, he gently lifts the liquid back into the cup, placing it on the table, and it all goes back into place. apart from one drop that plops straight onto your skirt. 

“satoru!” you hiss. 

your husband feigns innocence. “what?” 

“don’t act like you don’t know what you just did.” you point an accusatory finger at him. 

“uh… spare your outfit from boiling hot coffee?”

“you got a drop on me!”

“one single drop…” he mutters under his breath. “i just saved your life and you’re complaining about one single drop.” he drops his gaze from yours, doing his best impression of a kicked puppy. 

“don’t try to manipulate me with those eyes. i know what you’re doing.” 

“what eyes?” he bursts out. “i’m not doing anything!” 

“oh, come on,” you laugh airily. although he’s mildly annoying, sometimes, you can’t deny how endeared you are by him. maybe those puppy dog eyes did work on you. he was cute. “you know very well you left one drop untouched on purpose. you’re telling me the gojo satoru accidentally missed a drop?” 

he tries to hold back a laugh, though it chips away at his faux sadness. “fine, fine…” he allows himself to chuckle properly, now. “you got me. you know me so well, baby.” 

you can’t help but laugh along with him. 

6:53PM : SWEATY PITS ON THE TRAIN !

it was his idea to take the train back to tokyo. not yours. if you had it your way, you would both have teleported back home the moment you finished your mission and would be cuddling together in your own bed. but nooooooo. satoru just had to “make a day out of it.” he insisted that taking the train back would be a fun way to “experience the regular life,” like you had normal office jobs and weren't overworked jujutsu sorcerers. 

but the two of you hadn't taken a train anywhere in what felt like forever, always relying on his speed or teleportation to get to places, so getting on the train back to tokyo was… more than crowded. you had forgotten just how busy rush hour was, all packed into a cramped train like cheap sardines. you led the way onto the carriage, satoru’s hand resting on the small of your back as you shimmied into a crevice where you could stand next to him. he held onto the overhead railing whilst you mainly leaned against his tall frame. honestly, it was such a tight squeeze that you basically didn't even have to hold on to anything; the tension from all the bodies around you was enough to hold you in place. 

then the worst happens. some guy shuffles in, squeeeeezing his way through the crowd. and he’s reaching up, up, until you’re face to face with his sweaty armpit. you crane your head to the side, trying your best not to audibly gag. 

a low hum fills the air. suddenly, the filthy odour is… gone? there’s also a sizeable gap between your face and the man’s unfortunately placed underarm. a weight falls onto your waist—satoru’s hand. you don't have the space to be able to turn around and look up at him, but if you did, you know he’d be making the most over-the-top, exaggerated gagging face, shaking his head at the lack of tact from the other man.

you smile to yourself. he extended his infinity just to shield you from a sweaty armpit. so romantic. 

11:00PM : MOVIE NIGHT BLUES

cuddled up into the corner of the couch after a long day at work, you and your husband sink into the plush pillows beneath your bodies. your back is resting against satoru’s, one of his arms circles your shoulders, the other draped loosely over your waist, atop a fluffy blanket that’s tucked tightly under your chin. you’ve put on a film the two of you have been dying to watch for weeks, but haven’t had the time to see. 

“shit…” you mumble to yourself, remembering that you were supposed to be the one to bring all of the snacks. but now, you were all cosy and settled, and the last thing you wanted to do was move from your position. you’d never be able to get back to this exact spot afterwards. 

“what’s up, baby?” satoru pecks you on your temple. 

you sigh. “nothing, just wish i grabbed those snacks before getting comfy. i don’t wanna get up, now.

slam! a bang comes from the kitchen. within seconds, packets of crisps, popcorn, and bars of chocolate are darting towards you. they stop dead in their tracks before they fully reach your face, stopping just centimetres before, then they fall onto the couch next to your entwined bodies.

“blue?” you question, twisting your neck around to look at him behind you. 

satoru nods, evidently proud of himself. with a flick of his wrist, he closes all of the opened cupboard doors in the kitchen. “even cleaned up after myself. you’re welcome.”

humming happily, you sort through what you want to eat first, settling on a packet of salty popcorn as you hand satoru a sweet pack to tear open. 

“you’re the best,” you say, mouth already stuffed full of kernels. 

satoru is just happy to help, happy that he can make his wife's life even the tiniest bit easier. 

5:12PM : DRAMATIC GUSTS OF WIND

“how do i look?” you twirl out of the bathroom dramatically, smoothing your dress out. tonight is date night. satoru was already ready to go, but you needed a couple more minutes to finish touching up your hair and outfit. so, you made him sit on the bed and wait for you to make an entrance into the bedroom. he still hadn't seen your outfit until you spun out of the door. 

from the edge of the bed, satoru’s gaze lifts from his phone, raking over your figure. crinkles form in the corners of his eyes, his lips twitching up. an easy smile stretches across his mouth as he clicks his fingers. 

out of nowhere, something that you assume is a breeze begins to flutter over your skin, your hair billowing out around you as the fabric of your dress floats up, flowing behind you as you skip over to plant a kiss on your boyfriend’s forehead. his control over his cursed energy is always so precise that he can use red with such accuracy that it only blows languid gusts of wind. 

catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. you look like you’ve just stepped out of a cheesy action movie trailer. “bit much, don’t you think?”

satoru sits up straight, clapping with utmost sincerity. “ten out of ten,” he nods. “no notes.” 

10:56AM : HE FLIRTS LIKE A MENACE

you've finished up your morning classes with the second years, knocking on the door of your husband’s classroom to see if he was also done. the door swings open before you can knock for a third time, and you’re met with satoru beaming down at you. 

“come in, come in.” he ushers you inside. 

you sweep your eyes over the room and see the first years at their desks—postures slouched, eyes wandering anywhere but the front of the classroom, clearly uninterested in what their teacher had to say. they perk up at the sight of you as you greet them happily. 

“sorry, did i disturb your lesson?” you take pity on the kids. 

“no!” nobara cuts in quickly. she then shakes her head vigorously, as if backtracking. “no, sorry— i mean— gojo-sensei was almost done, right?”

satoru scratches the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. “uh, i guess so… i still had another thing planned for you guys…” he trails off. “but! i guess we can save that for this afternoon!” he claps, telling them all to be back after lunch. you giggle to yourself at his optimism. 

the three of them pack their things up hastily and scurry out. 

“thanks for getting us out early, sensei." megumi nods at you, nobara smiling by his side. 

yuji trails behind them slightly, jogging to catch up with his friends after being the slowest to gather his things. “you’re the best!” he grins in your direction, shutting the door behind him. 

turning around to face satoru, you see he’s already leaning back against his desk, a lazy smile painted across his soft features. “i can't wait to teach them next year,” you ponder aloud. “they have a lot of potential.” 

you walk towards satoru, who snickers. “all thanks to their great teacher, gojo satoru.”

“ah, right,” you mock. “whatever you say, babe.” in an attempt to kiss him, you tiptoe up to reach his lips. but, just as you get close to his face—

buzz. 

it feels like your body is slowing down faster than you can process or control. so much so that you can't even attempt to touch your husband. this man has just activated his infinity to, what, tease you? 

“satoruuuuu—” you whine. 

he shakes his head firmly. “nope,” he says, popping the p. “say please.”

“you’re not serious.” your jaw falls agape. how could he be denying you a kiss?

“deadly so, sweetheart,” he smirks. 

pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “i am not saying please just to give you a kiss, satoru.” and you’re not! you’re not going to let him win this time. 

“fine by me,” he shrugs, utterly nonchalant. “no kiss then.” 

“what?” you scoff. he’s unbelievable. you know he relishes in being able to rile you up. “no, that’s not fair.”

“it so is,” he smirks casually. “you want to kiss me? then say please.”

“fine, whatever…" you grumble, muttering under your breath. "please…”

“sorry?” satoru cups a hand around his ear, leaning forward closer to you. “couldn’t hear you.” 

“you’re so annoying.” you roll your eyes, but you can feel his charms working on you as each second elapses. “fine. please,” you say, louder this time so he has no choice but to hear your words. 

“hmm…” he taps a finger against his chin. “please what?” 

“oh my god, you’re kidding.” he’s kidding, right?

“nuh-uh, i don’t play like that.” 

you huff, but at the end of the day, you do want to kiss his pretty lips. so, you give in to his antics. “please, can i kiss you, satoru?”

“as you wish.” 

another buzz as he releases his technique, then he dips down and presses his lips to yours. they’re warm and soft and you practically melt into his touch, sliding your hands over his chest. he pulls you closer by the waist and you hum in satisfaction against his mouth. 

when you pull away, you’re smiling at each other like two teenagers in love. 

“see?” he raises his eyebrows. “that wasn’t so hard.”

“you’re insufferable.” you lightly slap his shoulder and he clutches it far too dramatically. the two of you laugh together before he presses a flurry of chaste kisses against your face—first your forehead, then your cheeks, then back to your lips. 

“you love me.” 

and you can’t deny it, really. you truly do. 

okay, so maybe he does sometimes use his technique for non-jujutsu related tasks. and maybe it was more often than he’d like to admit to anyone else. but they didn't need to know the details. satoru was more than content to use his limitless for you whenever you needed it. 

however many times the higher-ups scold him, he will gladly take the consequences if it means he can make you happy. 

masterlist

It’s quiet.

Not awkward. Not heavy.

Just… quiet.

You’re sitting beside him, close enough that your shoulders brush every now and then, but neither of you moves away.

Megumi doesn’t seem bothered by the silence.

If anything, he looks more relaxed than usual.

Which says a lot.

“You’re thinking again,” you murmur softly.

A pause.

“…maybe.”

You smile a little, leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. He stiffens for half a second just instinct before settling again.

He doesn’t move away.

“…you’re quiet today,” he says after a moment.

“So are you.”

“That’s normal.”

You hum. “Then I’m matching you.”

Another pause.

But this one feels softer.

Warmer.

You let your eyes close for a second, just enjoying the stillness—the way nothing feels rushed, nothing feels like it needs to be said.

“…this isn’t bad,” he admits quietly.

You open your eyes slightly. “What isn’t?”

“This.”

You tilt your head, glancing up at him.

“Being quiet like this.”

A small smile forms on your lips. “You don’t like talking much anyway.”

“That’s not it.”

“…then what?”

He hesitates.

Not for long.

Just enough that you notice.

Then, quieter

“…you make it comfortable.”

Your chest warms a little at that.

“The quiet?”

“Yes.”

A beat.

“You make quiet feel comfortable.”

The words are simple.

But coming from him

They feel like something more.

You smile softly, shifting just a little closer. “I’m glad.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

But his hand moves slightly, resting beside yours, close enough that your fingers brush.

You take the hint.

Gently, you lace your fingers with his.

He stills.

Then lets it happen.

“…don’t make it weird,” he mutters.

You laugh quietly. “I’m not.”

“…good.”

His grip tightens just slightly.

And for a while

You both stay like that.

Quiet, comfortable, together.

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