guess which dumbass accidentally deleted

Fluff | Humor | Modern AU | One selfie. Two devastatingly down-bad men. And a friend group that can't recover.

The night starts normal.

Which is exactly why it goes off the rails.

They're all sitting around a table in a low-lit bar, the kind where the music hums instead of shouts.

Toji is slouched back in the chair, like he owns more than he can afford.

Sukuna is beside him, one arm hooked over the backrest, looking like he's judging the entire room out of spite.

Across from them, Gojo, Geto, Nanami and Choso are mid-conversation about something that sounds either serious or unnecessarily confusing.

"Toji, you listening?" Nanami asks, mentally preparing himself for a dumbass answer.

"...Huh?" Toji sounds like someone just woke him up.

Gojo snorts, "Man's gone. Mentally clocked out."

Toji ignores him, pulling his phone out instead.

"Wait," he mutters. "Saw a video earlier, we gotta—" Sukuna glances sideways.

"...This better not be another dumb shit." Toji opens the app.

Thumb scrolling once. Twice. And then— he stops.

Everything stops.

The voices surrounding him sound muffled, like he's underwater.

Toji lets out a quiet "...fuck." between slightly parted lips. It's not loud or aggressive.

It's low. Unfiltered. The kind that's meant from something a lot more intimate than a "hang out with friends."

The table freezes.

Gojo's glasses slide down his nose slightly. "...Did you just—"

Geto turns slowly toward him. "...Moan?"

Nanami closes his eyes, already regretting leaving his house tonight. "I knew tonight would test me."

Choso looks both concerned and confused. "...Are you hurt?"

Sukuna? He bursts out laughing.

Not polite nor controlled. Full-bodied laughter.

"Toji," he says between breaths, "what the hell was that?"

Toji doesn't even look up from the screen. He's still starring at it.

"...Look at this," he mutters.

Sukuna leans over, dragging a hand through his pale pink hair.

And then he sees it.

You.

A selfie.

Something they'd encouraged you take more often after relentlessly praising your beauty.

Oh, how do they regret it now.

Sukuna exhales slowly, like smoke leaving his lungs.

"...Yeah," he admits.

Toji finally leans back, dragging a hand down his face like he's trying to recover from a full-body hit.

"...That's unfair."

Gojo leans across the table, trying to peek. "Let me see that—"

Toji tilts the phone away instantly.

"Not happening."

"Selfish," Gojo complains.

Geto smirks. "You just embarrassed yourself in public, at least share the cause."

Toji scoffs.

"I ain't showing you shit."

Nanami adjusts his glasses, visibly contemplating to get another round of drinks.

Sukuna is still grinning, arms crossed over his chest, watching Toji dodge comments left and right.

"...Could've held that in," he says.

Toji shoots him a look. "You didn't either."

Sukuna shrugs. "Wasn't the one to announce it."

That earns a quiet laugh from Geto.

Choso, still trying to understand, tilts his head. "She made you react like that?"

Toji looks at him like the answer is obvious. "Yeah." Sukuna nods once, agreeing in a way that says he understands completely. "More that I'd like."

That makes Nanami reacts. "...You too?"

Sukuna smirks slightly. "I just have self-control."

Toji rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure." But there's no real bite to it.

Because they both know the truth. It's not about the selfie. It's about you.

Always has been. Always will be, until you get tired of them.

The magnetism is just too strong for them to stay away for long.

Toji locks his phone, shoving it back into his pocket with a huff.

"We're leaving early."

Gojo groans. "You've been here for like... an hour!"

"Yeah."

"That's not a night out!"

Toji stands anyway. "Don't care." Sukuna follows without hesitation, grabbing the jacket resting on the chair.

Nanami sighs deeply.

Geto chuckles. "Called it."

Choso watches them go, thoughtful. "...They're devoted."

Gojo leans back, hands behind his head. "...More like whipped."

Outside, the air is colder, biting at their exposed skin and painting their cheeks with color.

Toji exhales, rolling his shoulders like he's trying to shake something off. It doesn't help much.

"Hope she's ready for the chaos she caused." he mutters.

Sukuna glances at him. Smirks. "Sleeping is a privilege tonight."

Toji grins. Sharp. Anticipating heat, closeness and intimacy like only the three of you know how to share.

Like a language belonging only to you.

And just like that— they're already on their way back to you, not even pretending otherwise.

Because embarrassment? Public humiliation?

Worth it. Every time. For you.

♡ selfies are definitely safe with them, but no one is safe from their reactions ♡

Angst | Reincarnation | JJK AU | Sukuna remembers his queen. Now she stands before him again… and he can’t reach her.

*Season 3 for better understanding without spoilers*

The Heian era remembered him as a calamity.

The King of Curses.

A god of ruin.

But there had been a time— buried beneath blood and legend—

where Ryomen Sukuna learned what it meant to wait for someone.

You had not come to him kneeling. That's what caught his attention first. You stood in front of him, chin lifted, eyes sharp with something that wasn't fear.

Disgust.

Not at him. Never.

At the world.

"The Jujutsu society is weak," you had said, voice steady despite the pressure of his presence crushing the air around you. "Full of rules written by cowards who fear power they can't control."

Sukuna had smiled then. Not kindly. Not warmly. Something more feral.

"And you think you're different?"

You didn't hesitate. "I know I am."

That should've been the moment he killed you. Instead—

he laughed. And let you stay.

At first, you were nothing more than entertainment.

A sorcerer bold enough to stand near him, training relentlessly, breaking yourself apart just to rebuild stronger.

You didn't flinch when he watched.

Didn't crumble when he tested you.

Didn't beg when you lost.

You learned, adapted, endured.

And slowly— annoyingly— you became something else.

Necessary.

You challenged him.

Not in strength— not at first. But in presence.

In the way you spoke to him like he was not untouchable but never disrespectful.

In the way you saw him. Through him.

"That's a lonely way to live."

That had almost gotten you killed.

Almost.

Because instead of slicing you apart— he stepped closer. Gripped your jaw. Forced you to look at him.

"Careful," he warned, voice low, dangerous. "You're stepping into something you won't survive."

You didn't pull away.

"...Then why are you letting me?"

Silence—but that was the beginning.

You became his equal in everything but title— until one day—

"My queen," Sukuna had said, the words foreign on his tongue but right in a way nothing else had been.

And for the first time in his existence—he chose something.

Not destruction. Not dominance.

You.

Then time did what time does. It took everything.

Now— centuries later— he's trapped. Not in fear, but in a body that's not his.

Yuji Itadori.

And Sukuna hates it.

But today— something shifts when the brat gathers another sorcerer as an ally in the Culling Game.

A ripple. Familiar. Impossible.

Sukuna tilts inside the dark space of his innate domain. "...No."

It can't be. But it is.

That curse energy—

Sharp, refined, unmistakable. Burned into his very being.

You. Alive, reborn, outside, standing in front of the brat. Training.

The same core, the same relentless force that once stood before a king and refused to bow.

Sukuna laughs, low, unsteady.

"Brat."

Yuji freezes. "...What do you want."

Sukuna's voice curls through his mind like smoke. "Switch with me."

Immediate. Sharp. "No."

Sukuna's grin fades slightly. "...Do it."

"No." Yuji's grip tightens on the curse tool in his hands.

"I'm not letting you anywhere near people."

People. Sukuna's voice drops. Not cruel, not mocking this time.

"...She's not people."

Yuji frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Outside—you call Yuji's name, walking toward him, offering a correction on his stance.

Patient. Focused. Close.

Sukuna feels it. Every step. Every breath. Every flicker of your cursed energy. And something in him—

something ancient and buried— aches.

"Switch," he says again. Yuji shakes his head. "No."

And for the first time— in thousand years— Sukuna hesitates.

Then— quietly— "...I just want her."

Yuji goes still. The sentence doesn't belong to him. "What?"

Sukuna's voice is different now. Lower. Strained.

"...Let me speak to her."

Outside, you're closer now, crouching slightly to meet Yuji's eye level, adjusting his arm.

Your touch his light. Familiar.

Sukuna closes his eyes. "She's mine."

Not violent. Not possessive, yet. Lost in memories.

Yuji swallows. "Didn't know you could care about others."

Silence.

"...I won't hurt her, if that's what you're scared of." Sukuna says, eyes sharp, because the matter is important to him.

Yuji looks at you. At the way you trust, the way you stand close to him without hesitation.

"...How do you know her?" Yuji asks.

Sukuna's voice as loud as a whisper. "I remember everything...I remember her."

Yuji exhales slowly. Conflicted.

Outside—you smile slightly.

"Focus, Itadori. You're drifting."

He blinks. Grounding himself. "...Yeah. Sorry."

But Sukuna is unraveling every memory of you in his mind.

Because you're right there, alive, breathing, within reach—

and he can't touch you. Can't speak to you. Can't even say your name out loud.

And for a king who once had everything—this?

This is unbearable.

So instead of waiting for an opportunity, strategize, he decides to try the brat again.

"...Just once," he murmurs.

Love, turns out, is a far crueler prison than any vessel.

On the makeshift training grounds, gravel crunches under your feet as you circle Yuji, correcting his stance with a light tap to his shoulder.

"Again." you say. Calm. Focused. Unyielding.

Yuji nods, breath steadying. But, Sukuna is pacing now, his kimono flowing with his movements. Restless. Watching through Yuji's eyes like a starving man staring through glass.

"If you don't switch, then say this to her. Then I'll know she remembers too." Sukuna presses, relentless, unwilling to let the matter go.

"Now," Sukuna orders, softer than usual, threaded with something dangerously close to urgency. "Tell her."

Yuji clenches his jaw mid-motion, trying to keep his focus on the training.

"Drop it, old man."

Outside— you tilt your head slightly. "You hesitated."

Yuji laughs nervously. "Yeah, uh...thinking."

Inside—

"Brat," Sukuna's tone sharpens before it dips into something raw. "You said you would consider it."

"I said I'd think about it!"

"Think faster."

You step closer, too close.

Sukuna feels it like a magnet. A quiet gravity you've always carried.

"...She hasn't changed," he whispers.

Yuji exhales harder this time. "...Fine."

You blink as Yuji straightens his posture, stiff, like he's bracing himself for something awkward.

"Uh... This is going to sound weird,"

You raise an eyebrow.

"...I have a message."

You still. Something in you— deep, ancient, buried under lifetimes— listens. You tilt your head.

Inside— Sukuna's voice lowers, careful, precise, like handling something fragile with hands that have only ever known destruction.

"Tell her—"

Yuji swallows. Then he says it.

"...You tilt you chin when you're about to argue."

Silence.

The air shifts. Because that—is not something anyone should know.

Your body react before your mind catches up. Your chin tilts, just slightly.

Sukuna inhales sharply inside the innate domain. "There," he breathes. "There you are."

Yuji watches you carefully now. "...There's more."

You don't move, like your blood has run cold and your heart is beating in your ears at the same time.

"You hated the elders' rules," Yuji continues, voice slower now, more deliberate. "Said they dressed fear as tradition."

Your fingers twitch at your side. A flicker of a memory. Not clear, not whole—but warm and dangerous.

"Who," you say quietly, "is speaking to me?"

Yuji hesitates. Hates being his middleman.

"...Sukuna."

The name lands like a dropped blade. You don't flinch—not outwardly. But in your soul, something recognizes it. Not as a legend. Not as a curse. As something that was once yours.

"...That's not possible," you murmur, but there's doubt in your voice.

Inside Yuji—Sukuna steps closer to an invisible edge.

"Ask her," he says, voice softer now. "Ask her what she called me."

Yuji frowns. "...He wants me to ask you something."

You nod once.

"...What did you call him?"

Your breath catches. Your body acts on instinct, your lips moving before your mind can catch up.

"...Nothing."

A pause.

Your gaze drifts— not at Yuji, but through him.

"...I didn't call him anything other than his name," you continue slowly, like pulling the words from a locked place inside you, "because titles meant power. And I refused to give that to anyone."

Inside—Sukuna smiles. Not cruel, far from it. Fond.

"Go on," he murmurs.

"...But one day," you whisper, eyes unfocused now, "he said something—"

You frown, trying to catch it. Then—it slips out.

"...My queen."

Yuji's eyes widen, like a wingman who never asked for this role. "...Okay, that—"

Inside—

"That's her," Sukuna breathes, voice cracking under something far too human. "That's my queen."

The world stills.

Your hand lifts slowly, hovering near Yuji's face. Just... close.

"...Why does it feel like you have something of mine?" you ask, barely above a whisper, before pulling your hand back.

Yuji doesn't answer. He can't.

Because Sukuna is right there— pressing against edges of his control. Not forcing his way out— but aching to.

"Tell her," Sukuna says, almost growling with restraint. "Tell her I remember."

Yuji swallows.

"...He says he remembers. Everything." He repeats.

And that's when it hits you. Not as a memory, not as a vision.

But as a feeling.

Standing in a place that no longer exists.

Heat. Power. Presence by your side. Like standing next to a storm that never struck you.

A voice— low, dangerous— saying things that should've terrified you. But didn't.

"...It's really him." Your breath shakes.

Yuji doesn't answer.

Because inside him— for once— Sukuna is silent.

Waiting. For you.

The entire ordeal leaves you questioning everything you know. Everything you are.

So you do what always felt right. Something that feels older that this life.

You give a silent nod to Yuji—a glance that lingers a second too long... Then you're gone.

Without any explanation for the teen.

Yuji exhales. "...Yeah," he mutters to himself. "That's not weird at all."

Inside him—

Sukuna sits on his throne of bones, knowing.

"She's going to hunt," he says, voice low, certain.

Yuji frowns. "You say that like it's normal."

Sukuna rest his chin on the back of his hand, eyes half-lidded.

"...It is for her."

And just like that—

Yuji really hopes he wasn't wrong about trusting you to help stop the Culling Game.

You find yourself downtown, within the colony that you've been assigned. The city at night breathes differently. Darker. Heavier. Honest.

You move through it like you belong there. Because you do.

A curse lunges—

You don't hesitate. Your technique snaps into place.

Precise. Brutal. Efficient. No wasted movement.

It dissolves under your hand like it was never meant to exist.

Another.

Then, another.

A curse user this time—desperate, fast, trying to carve his way up the ladder of Kenjaku's twisted game.

He attacks first, but you're faster.

You finish it. Clean. No thrill. No regret.

A clear purpose.

Meanwhile, from a safe distance—hidden—is Yuji. Part of him is curious about who you really are. The other...is for the King of Curses.

And he is. Watching. Remembering.

"...There," he murmurs.

Because he recognizes everything. The way you step into a fight like the outcome was decided long before it began.

The way you don't chase blood—

but never shy from it.

"Never afraid," he says quieter now. "Not of me, not of anything."

Images flicker in his mind. Heian battlefields soaked in red. You beside him. Never behind.

The only queen who didn't wear silk— but war.

Yuji swallows. "...You really loved her."

Sukuna doesn't answer.

Because the word love feels too small for what you were to him.

Back at the abandon shrine—the place you've claimed as a temporary refuge—

it's quiet.

Yuji senses you before he sees you. He turns.

Blood on your clothes.

Not yours, never yours.

Your presence fills the space louder than any sorcerer he's faced in the colony. Yuji stiffens.

Not in fear. Just...uncertain.

"...Are you okay?" he asks, hesitant.

You don't answer. Your eyes lock onto his. No— through him.

"...Sukuna."

The name lands differently now.

Not as a legend, nor a curse.

But, something intimate.

Inside—

Sukuna is already there. Standing. Present. Watching.

"...I'm here."

Yuji exhales slowly. "...He says he's here."

You nod once. Then step closer.

"I thought about it." Your voice is steadier now. Grounded.

Because something ancient has settled inside you—something his presence reignited.

"This game," you continue, gaze unwavering, "this 'Culling Game'—it's wrong."

Yuji relaxes slightly. Good. You're still on his side.

"It forces power without purpose," you add. "Twists strength into spectacle. That's not what we fought for."

Inside—

Sukuna's eyes narrow.

"...Kenjaku," you say, something sharp cutting through your voice, something personal, "is pretending this was ever about you."

Anger strikes quickly through Sukuna. Immediate.

"He dares to speak for me."

Yuji relays it, quieter now.

You scoff softly.

"...That's what irritates me the most." You take another step closer.

"You never needed anyone to give you purpose," you say, voice lowering. "You took what you wanted. You decided your own meaning."

Silence.

"...That's why I chose you."

Yuji freezes.

Inside—

Sukuna stills completely.

There's something intimate in it. Private. The way your words land.

You continue, "I'll help end this."

Yuji blinks. "...Yeah?"

But your gaze never leaves him. "...But this ends, if he helps."

Yuji tenses again. "...Define 'helps'."

Inside— Sukuna tilt his head, intrigued.

Then— you make your offer.

"He listens to you,"

Yuji goes still, bracing Sukuna's reaction.

"...behaves," you add simply.

Sukuna lets out a low laugh. "You ask for obedience?"

Yuji hesitates before repeating it.

You raise your chin. Not mocking, certain.

"I'm offering something in return."

That catches both of them.

"...What?" Yuji asks.

Your voice softens.

"When this is over," you say, "I'll bind our souls."

Silence.

Yuji narrow his eyes, not fully understanding how this could even be possible.

You don't look away. Not from Sukuna. Never.

"In death," you continue, solid as stone, "where no one can separate us again."

The air changes.

Because this isn't romantic.

It's devotion sharpened into something unbreakable.

"Like it was always meant to be." you finish.

Inside—

Sukuna closes his eyes. Not remembering the end—

but what was taken from him. What was interrupted.

"...Kenjaku," he murmurs, voice darkening, "interfered with something that was mine."

Yuji doesn't even question repeating it anymore. He just does.

Your lips press together. "...Exactly."

A beat. Then—

"...Do we have a deal?" you ask.

Silence stretches. Yuji waits, tense. Because this matters. This could change everything.

Sukuna?

He doesn't laugh. Doesn't mock.

Because it's you.

"...Yes."

Yuji exhales. "...He says yes."

You nod once. No celebration.

Because there were never games between you.

No lies. No tricks.

Just two forces choosing each other. Even now.

Yuji rubs the back of his neck, tension easing just a little.

"...Okay," he mutters, almost smiling. "That's...weirdly reassuring."

You finally look at the young man properly.

A flicker of something softer passes through your expression.

"You'll live," you say simply.

And somehow—coming from you—

it feels like a promise.

Inside—

Sukuna's gaze lingers on you.

For the first time since his rebirth—

he's not reaching for control.

He's waiting.

Working toward an ending that finally belongs to both of you.

♡ It’s long, but it feels special ♡

If you stayed until the end, you get it...thanks ♡

Fluff | Comfort | Modern AU | Gojo and Geto have a habit of showing up exactly when you need them.

The city looked like it had swallowed a galaxy. Neon spilled across the pavement in pink and violets shades, pooling under streetlights, dripping down storefront windows, sliding across the hood of the car like melted candy.

You sit at a bench, waiting for a late-night bus ride after a day, a week that seemed to be after one thing and one thing only...

Your energy. Your time.

You.

Like teeth sinking into you even if you had nothing left to give.

But— when Satoru and Suguru pull up, the headlights cut through the night like a quiet promise.

They don't honk. It never happens when Geto is the one driving.

The passenger door swing open first, Gojo leaning halfway out, elbow resting against the car door. The vehicle looks ridiculously small beside his tall frame. His clear-framed glasses reflect the warm city lights against his pale blue eyes.

"C'mon," he calls, voice light but softer than usual. "We're stealing you for the night."

Suguru stays silent, only glancing at you through the rearview mirror as you settle into the back seat.

Space made for you before you even asked.

Once the seatbelt clicks across your body and the doors of the car are shut, you realize how quiet it is compare to outside. Compared to your mind.

Not awkward. Not tense.

Just... contained. Safe.

The car smells faintly of cologne, old takeout and something warm that feels like home. Like them.

Music hums low, barely louder than the engine.

Gojo twist in his seat immediately grinning.

"You look like you fought a final boss and lost."

You huff, nudging the back of his seat with your knee. "Shut up."

He sticks his tongue out at you, unconvinced by your attempt to act fine.

Then, like muscle memory, he reaches into the glove compartment and pulls a handful of sweets before dropping them into your lap.

Your chest does something small but painful. Comforting and bittersweet all at once.

"You still carry those?" you ask quietly.

"Obviously," he says. "What if you need emergency sugar and emotional support at the same time?"

Suguru snorts under his breath, eyes still on the road. "You're neither of those things."

"Of course I am! Now hush, taxi driver," Gojo shoots back before glancing at you again, tone softening immediately.

"Eat."

So you do.

The city blurs past the car. You lean forward between the front seats, resting your chin briefly against Suguru's seat near his shoulder.

You start talking in pieces. Not about everything, mostly about things that don't matter.

Gojo listens in a way that gives you space, room for words to spill out freely. He tosses in jokes at the exact moment your voice dips too low, nudging the mood back up like he refuses to let you sink.

Geto listens like he's collecting every word and placing it somewhere safe.

At some point during the ride— your hand brushes Satoru's shoulder. He doesn't move away.

At a red light— Suguru reaches back without looking, warm hand squeezing your knee lightly. Grounding. Steady.

You don't pull away. Your body reacting in agreement with your emotions without your brain registering it.

The car pulls into an empty parking lot. A wide quiet stretch of asphalt only illuminated by scattered streetlights.

Suguru parks, the engine idling for a second before shutting off.

The silence that follows isn't heavy. It settles like you in the back seat.

None of you rushing any movements.

Gojo tilts his head back against the seat. "Okay," he says. "Meeting time."

"Yeah. Agenda item one: you." Suguru says as he shifts, turning slightly in his seat so he can look at you properly. Face-to-face.

"You've been quiet," he says gently. "More distant than usual."

His tone carries no pressure. More of an invitation than confrontation.

You shrug it off at first. Then sigh. Then the words come. Messy, uneven, but honest this time. The kind of monologue nobody rehearses beforehand.

Two pairs of eyes stay fixed on you. Not interrupting. Not trying to fix. Just listening.

And somehow— that feels more powerful then any solution.

When your voice finally runs out of things to say, you lean forward again, like gravity is pulling you toward them.

A quiet shift in motion.

Satoru reaches first, fingers brushing your arm, then settling there like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Suguru follows more slowly, his hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, thumb warm against your skin.

You melt a little, shoulders finally releasing some tension as your eyes drift shut. The scent of them fills your lungs.

"Hey," Satoru murmurs, softer than you've ever heard him. "You don't have to carry everything alone."

Suguru's voice comes out low, steady. Entirely him. "You're allowed to lean on us."

You exhale shakily against them.

"I know," you manage to whisper. "I just... forget sometimes."

"And we're here to remind you," Satoru answers. Quick, immediate, like it isn't up for debate.

Suguru nods. "As many times as it takes."

You don't remember who moved first. You? Them?

Only that suddenly your whole body is halfway between the front seats, like they made room for you. Like they always do.

Satoru presses a quick kiss to your temple, casual like breathing.

Suguru follows a beat later, lips brushing your forehead slower, lingering for just a second longer.

Your heart stutters. Cheeks getting warmer and the weather isn't at fault.

That unspoken bond between you... it stretches, softens, deepens. Not rushing, nor defined, not yet.

Just... present. Like roots quietly growing under the surface.

Satoru bumps his forehead lightly against yours. "Better?"

"...yeah," you admit, voice small but real.

Suguru's hand doesn't leave the nape of your neck. "Good."

The city is still loud outside.

But inside the car, tucked away between laughter, warmth and hands that linger longer than it probably should—

You feel cared for.

Not fixed.

And tonight, that's enough.

♡ when Gojo tells you to get in the car, you just do ♡

pairing: satosugu x reader

synopsis: You got injured on a mission, and though Suguru is worried about you, you both know Satoru would freak out more if he found out.

contents: fluff bc i think the world needs more satosugu fluff. reader is injured on a mission; yall aren't dating but the feelings are obvious on all sides; shoko is done w yall; dramatic!satoru but it's justified

word count: ~2.1k

playing: mystery of love - sufjan stevens

You sigh, reclined back on the medical table, exposed skin goose bumping from the cold air flowing through the room. You look down at Shoko who has her hands hovering over the deep gash in your abdomen, her reversed curse technique slowly piecing the torn muscle and skin back together.

“I’m sorry about this,” you push out, the pain still tightening your vocal cords even with your experience.

She snickers, her dark eyes flicking up to you, “It’s no problem to me, you’re helping me train, but those two might lose it.” At the thought of your other classmates, your eyes flicker up to the ceiling.

“Dunno why,” you mutter, “it’s not like they can expect me to not get injured--” at that the door slides open and in the threshold is one of your classmates in the flesh, Suguru Geto.

“Speak and he shall appear,” the words slide out of Shoko’s mouth, but Suguru pays her no mind. His gaze is fixed on your figure, and though you should be embarrassed at the expanse of your body that’s on display, you know exactly what he’s looking at.

“So you are injured.” His deep voice rings through the room. He takes a single step in the room, before he’s blinking like he remembers something, and checks behind him in both directions before quickly sliding the door closed. He turns back to you, namely at the pool of blood gathered underneath your back, and quickly steps closer to you. He sinks into the chair, though his body stays tense likes he’s preparing for something. His brows furrow in an uncharacteristically worried way and you immediately want to placate him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say.

“No it was much worse before this.” Shoko immediately counters. You gasp, your head flying back to hers, and she just shrugs, “I can’t lie about a patient.” Rolling your eyes, you look back at Suguru and lock your gaze with his.

“What happened?” You try to hum noncommittedly, eyes darting over his shoulder. His hand covers yours from where it’s holding your shirt up, and your throat tightens again, this time not because of the pain. You meet his gaze once more, he commands you, “and don’t lie.”

You pout before you can control it, looking at where his hand grasps yours. “A stupid curse got the jump on me before I was expecting it,” you mutter. Your eyes lock back on Suguru’s face, your own turning into one of determination, as you finish, “but I immediately took care of it, so I’m serious, you don’t have to worry.” At your words some of the tension eases out of his shoulders. He sighs, a deep ragged one, much beyond his age, as he looks down at Shoko who has healed the gash as much as she has deemed necessary. You look at her then too as she indicates for you to sit up. At the first movement however, you wince, and immediately Suguru has his hands stationed around your back to help lift you. You freeze and there is a long silent moment. Your cheeks warm, and Shoko clears her throat as she looks away and you rise the rest of the way.

You look back at Suguru questioningly and now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze.

“Don’t want you to overexert yourself so soon,” he mutters.

“Yeah right,” Shoko mumbles, and he shoots a glare in her direction, though she pretends not to notice, wiping down the bed. Even after you’ve fully inclined, his hands don’t leave as she starts preparing the gauze to wrap around your body.

“Suguru,” you say softly, “it’s alright-”

“No,” he counters, “I’ve got you.” Shoko gives the both of you an extremely exaggerated eye roll, though neither of you notice.

“Well if you insist on staying so close, Suguru, at least hold this,” she nods down towards the end of the gauze that she’s holding right under your rib. He nods, looking at you for approval, and once you give it to him, he carefully places his palm over the end of the material. You both pretend not to notice how your muscle jumps under his warm skin. You blink, looking straight ahead over Shoko’s shoulder to avoid the warming of your skin at the press of his large (and quite frankly gorgeous) hand.

It’s silent for a long moment as Shoko continues to unravel and wrap.

It’s Suguru who decides to break it.

“You know we can’t tell Satoru.”

You laugh, though the motion momentarily stings.

“Yeah, he’d freak wouldn’t he.” Suguru hums his assent, giving you a humorous smirk from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, especially since he was the one who told you not to go on missions alone,” he reminds. You immediately scoff. After the fight with Tojo Fushiguro where you almost fucking died, Satoru has been adamant that you’re supervised when you go out of missions even though you’ve demonstrated that you can definitely hold your own in combat.

“Right yeah,” you remark, “it’s not like I’m a jujutsu sorcerer who’s frequently expected to do solo missions or anything.”

It's Suguru who laughs now, his eyes doing that really pretty thing where they crinkle in the corner, as you try your hardest not to stare.

“Right, yeah.” He echoes.

A sharp tug at your bandages draws your attention back to Shoko, as she is tucking the remaining bandage to assure it stays in place. She hums, noting her completion.

“Well it looks like you’re good to go-,” her words break as the door slides open, revealing the one person who you didn’t want to see.

His crystal blue eyes are wide as he pants, both arms braced on each door frame. You and Suguru share a glance before turning to Satoru.

He takes in everything right in front of him, Suguru’s hand braced on your back (he’ll return to that later), the almost imperceptible wince still on your brow betraying your discomfort, the thick gauze wrapped around your abdomen, and most importantly, the stains of blood that Shoko didn’t fully wipe up.

His body seems to thrust itself into the room, and he sinks into a chair conveniently already placed beside Suguru, his eyes burning a hole through your body.

“What happened,” he breathes, like the words themselves could no longer stay inside.

“Satoru,” you begin to placate him, just as you did Suguru, “I'm okay, it's just a scratch—,”

“No,” he interrupts, “you're still shaking.” His eyes have zeroing into the almost imperceptible tremble in your hands. You don't even know how he noticed it.

“Well yeah,” you confirm, knowing there's no point in trying to lie. That's the thing about Satoru, even though sometimes he pretends not to notice, he notices everything about you. Always. His bright eyes continue to scan your body even now, trying to see if there's any further injury not privy to him.

A warm hand covering his own stops his searching. His eyes meet yours.

“Seriously,” you nod, “I'm okay, Shoko's taking care of me.” He looks at her for a moment, like he's just now realizing that she's in the room. But the crease between his brows does not disappear.

“I told you not to go on missions alone,” his voice was low, like he the words were fighting to come out, “especially after—” his voice trailed off, but the silence spoke the words he didn't.

“I know, you did tell me,” you confirm, “but I'm a sorcerer too, I can't expect to always have someone to cover me in combat." Satoru's lips purse at your statement that he knows he can't exactly refute. He flips his hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“You shouldn't have to though,” his grip tightening, “I can come with or Suguru or even Nanami.” You giggle at the idea of your junior being forced to tag along at the behest of his senior.

“I feel like there's nothing less that Nanami would want to do,” you muse.

“Hmm,” Suguru adds, unable to resist the chance to tease Satoru, “I don't know, you are like the only other person he tolerates. Aside from Haibara." Satoru's lips twist in discomfort.

“Okay so maybe not Nanami then,” he rescinds. With that you actually burst into a full laugh, the sound reverberating around the small room, while Suguru grins and Shoko offers a warm smile. The sound is what finally causes Satoru to lighten, releasing pressure on your hand, and his eyes widening at the joyous sound that he was able to pull out of you.

You bring your other hand to cover your giggles, your shirt falling over the gauze and Suguru's hand still over your back. Once your giggles finally cease, you look over at them both, crowded beside the bed. Warmth emanates from Suguru's eyes and while concern still bleeds from Satoru, there is something else there behind his eyes that makes them glitter.

“Thanks Toru,” you smile at him, “I did really need that.” At the compliment, his chest puffs, all previous worry evaporating as you knew it would.

“Yeah obviously,” he scoffs, “I'm like the funniest person ever.” You can basically hear the eye rolls from both Suguru and Shoko.

“But seriously,” you're the one to grip his hand now, “I'm okay, tired, but okay.” You confirm, forcing him to meet your gaze. Satoru pouts at your words, still a little upset, but not nearly as much when he first saw your condition. He looks over to his best friend who also nods in agreement, though a wisp of worry still lingers in his own expression. At Suguru's confirmation, he looks back at you.

“Well, if you're tired then we need to get you into bed asap,” he shoots out of his seat. You blink and suddenly you've been scooped up into his arms. Suguru balks in surprise in his seat, and Shoko yelps.

“Be careful with her you idiot,” she almost shrieks, arms stretched out like she doesn't trust Gojo not to drop you.

“Obviously, I'm gonna,” he sticks his tongue out at her. In the midst of their bickering about your wellbeing, Suguru stands from his chair, and uses a single hand to settle your hair down. You tilt your head back to look at him, looking at his expression and the single silent question resting on his features, you okay? You nod, and he smiles back.

You've not been listening to Shoko and Satoru, so when you look back at him, he has that puppy-esque expression that denotes his guilt pointed at you. You're not exactly sure what he seems to be apologizing for, but you can make an educated guess.

“It's okay Satoru,” you assume it's due to his speedy grab of you, forgetting that you have a healing wound, “but you don't need to carry me.”

“Of course I do,” his answer is immediate, “especially now! How can we expect you to walk in these conditions.” His feet have already started carrying him to the door that's still hanging open.

“We have to get you to your quarters immediately!” He cartoonishly mimics the British accent of a knight returning a fair maiden to her safe haven, that you're sure he saw in one of those old cheesy historical romcoms. You can't help but snicker, unknowing that the more you react to his childish whims, the more he doubles down on them, just to see you smile. You look over his shoulder at Suguru, eyes pleading.

“Don't ask me to help you,” he shrugs, “you really did this to yourself.” You pout, folding your arms. You look back at Shoko before you lose sight of her completely.

“Well thanks for all of your help Shoko," you say, but she waves you off, a grin raising to her face that she can't control. She watches the three of you leave, your voices trailing down the corridor even though she can't see you all anymore.

She scoffs, looking back to the station that she has to clean. A single thought comes to her head, you're all idiots.

a/n: tapping into my satosugu roots after my itasfushi fics! always loving a comfort fic,, expect more satosugu works

-mdni. all characters aged up, dividers by @diviniyae, photos pulled from pinterest

18+ MDNI, smut - squirming away from bf!geto during sex

you always do this. every time. every single damn time.

you say you can handle it and proceed to crawl into his lap all sweet and soft. pepper his throat with kisses. breathe all breathless against his neck like please, sugu. i need you.

and then he gives it to you. fucking you slow and deep. and of cousrse, your body betrays you completely.

your legs start shaking, back arches and you squirm.

every time, you squirm obsessively like you forget how it feels to be so full of his cock.

geto always just lets it happen, just for a second. he watches you try to crawl up the bed, squirming from the stretch of it. your fingers twisting in the sheets as your hips twitch and roll. his cock’s barely halfway in and you’re already trembling.

“were do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, low in your ear.

you whimper something into the pillow. you’re not even sure whether it was a coherent thought. he just laughs, softly.

“nah. you’re not going anywhere.”

and then he grabs your hips, pulls you right back down onto him.

you squeal delighted while your back bows into an almost perfect arch. your thighs begin to shake again due to that euphoric feeling, only suguru can ever pull out of you.

“baby,” he says gently, “you gotta stay still.”

you can’t. you’re trying so hard but u just can’t. it’s almost as if your body’s not listening. every time he moves, even just a little, you twitch. gasp. try to inch away from how overwhelmingly good it feels.

he strokes a hand up your spine and kisses your shoulder. all the while, keeping his hips flush with yours while you squirm and sob and pant into the mattress like you’re being split in half.

“you get like this every time,” he hums. “so fuckin’ sensitive. makes me wanna ruin you.”

you cry out when he grinds in just a little deeper. your body reacts almost completely instinctively. your hips twitching, trying to squirm away again.

he pins you down. one long hand flat between your shoulder blades. the other wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him like he owns you.

“stop running from it,” he whispers. “take it. you can take it. can’t you?”

you nod, even as your body shivers under him. you’re so wet. the squelching of suguru’s cock stuffing your tight hole makes you blush.

“attagirl,” he praises. “fuck, look at you. so pretty like this. twitchin’ all over me.”

you whimper while trying to bury your face in the sheets. he doesn’t let you.

his hand curls into your hair, tugging gently. just enough to tilt your head back, let him see the way your mouth falls open with every sound you make.

“let me hear it,” he says. “don’t hide.”

and then he starts to fuck you in earnest. every thrust just a little sharper, dragging that wrecked little noise out of your throat again and again.

your body squirms, hips wriggling, fingers gripping his wrist, but it’s no use. he’s stronger.

you’re not going anywhere.

“that’s it,” he groans. “that’s my girl. look at you. can’t stop moving. can’t take it but you still want more.”

you’re going to lose your mind.

and he’s going to help.

based on this request

Your fingers dance over the large, pale ‘X’ that stretches across Suguru’s chest. He glances at you, watching the way you carefully trace your fingers over the surface of the scar, worried you may hurt him.

“I’m not made of glass, you know,” he chuckles, large hand coming to rest on the back of your head as if to cradle it as you stare at his scar in what he hopes to be awe. You roll your eyes, moving to press your lips against his scar.

Suguru’s breath hitches; his eyes stay focused on your lips as they slowly pull away from his chest. Your thumb moves to caress the healed tissue while you tilt your head to look up at him, “You’re so brave, y’know that?”

Your words ring in his ears. Brave.

“You’re delusional.” He quips back, a smirk creeping onto his face to hide the subtle shame bubbling beneath his skin.

“I’m serious,” you continue, “You’ve been through so much, Sugu, you’re the bravest person I know.” Suguru rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his lip trembles as he replies, “Yeah, yeah, just go to sleep.”

You nuzzle closer into his side, “You were a child up against a grown man, Sugu. No one blames you.” You said it so casually, as if it were a known fact, but to Suguru? It was as if he were hearing those words for the first time.

“I know that.”

“Do you?” You lifted your head, raising a brow at him. He pushed your face away with a sigh, “Just go back to what you were doing. It felt nice.”

You hummed, thumb soothing over his scar once more. “It kind of makes you look hot — hotter, I mean, like a warrior or something.” You mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut.

Suguru hummed, “Yeah?” hand moving to soothe over your back as he lulled you to sleep.

You replied sleepily, “Yeah. It reminds me to be thankful for you — I mean, I always am — but thankful that you survived the that day and all the days after.”

The room eventually fell silent, aside from your rhythmic breathing as sleep claimed you. His hand stilled on your back as stared at the top of your head, feeling your chest rise and fall with every breath.

Thankful.

You were thankful for him.

For years, Suguru had seen that scar as a tarnish, it had been an ugly reminder of how weak he had been — how he had failed her.

But you looked at it from a different perspective.

You saw it as him overcoming everything that had been thrown at him. You didn't see that weak version of himself he sees, no, you saw someone who was brave enough to continue on even after what he went through.

His hand brushed absentmindedly over the scar. He pressed his lips to your hairline and muttered, “You’re unbelievable,” and a smile etched it's way onto his face.

You were still curled up next to him, shifting in your sleep. Suguru pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Suguru felt the weight of his grief lessen.

a/n: this didn't turn out how i wanted it to :(

Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.

A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)

The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.

This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.

“Did you just call her a bitch?”

Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”

“You called that girl a bitch.”

“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.

Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”

The room went silent.

Satoru looked around. “Did anyone else hear that?”

“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”

Satoru stared. “Who are you?”

“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”

“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”

“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”

The entire frat house collectively recoiled.

Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.

This was better than reality TV.

Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”

You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”

———————————————————————————————

The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.

Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.

And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.

His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”

She glanced over. “Yeah?”

“Grab me another beer.”

A few people looked over.

She frowned. “What?”

“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”

Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.

“No.”

Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”

Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.

You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.

Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”

Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”

“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”

A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.

Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”

“You ordered her.”

“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.

Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”

Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”

His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.

Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”

“Or what?”

The entire room collectively leaned forward.

Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”

You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.

A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”

Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.

Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”

Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”

Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”

Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”

“Thank you.”

Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”

“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”

As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.

His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.

Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”

Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”

He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”

Everyone looked.

You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.

You gave a little wave.

“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”

———————————————————————————————

The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.

Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.

Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”

Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.

“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”

The room erupted into approval.

“That’s genius.”

“People would love that.”

“Easy money.”

Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.

“Interesting.”

“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.

Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”

“Yeah.”

“And serve drinks.”

“Yeah.”

“And what are the men doing?”

Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.

“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.

Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”

More silence.

“Based on gender.”

The room collectively sighed.

Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”

Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”

Sukuna gasped.

You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.

“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”

“Yeah?”

“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”

The room erupted.

“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”

“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”

Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.

“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”

One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”

“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.

You were delighted to see how this was playing out.

“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”

The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.

Toji blinked.

Satoru blinked.

The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”

“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.

“No.”

“Why not?”

The room burst into laughter.

“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.

“The fraternity is serving drinks.”

The sorority girls immediately started cheering.

“YES.”

“MAKE THEM DO IT.”

Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”

Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.

You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.

Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”

Silence.

The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”

The fraternity erupted in panic.

“STOP HER.”

“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”

——-

Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.

Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.

Toji looked dead inside.

Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.

Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.

His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.

Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.

The sorority was making a fortune.

Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.

“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.

“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.

“Whatever you want baby,” he winked.

baby!yuji loves dad!kuna

Yuji ALWAYS runs too fast when he sees Sukuna.

The second his dad appears, all common sense leaves his tiny body.

One evening Sukuna comes home, you and Yuji are in the living room when the front door opens.

And immediately—

“DADAAAAA.”

Tiny feet SLAPPING against the floor at maximum speed

You barely have time to say:

“Yuji slow do—” Too late.

His little socks slide on the hardwood floor and suddenly—

THUD.

Dead silence

Yuji just lays there for one second in complete shock.

Not even crying yet.

Just processing

And Sukuna’s entire soul leaves his body.

“Yuji.”

He crosses the room in like two steps while you’re already kneeling down too.

Then comes the reaction

Tiny face crumpling.

Lip wobbling violently.

“…dadAAAAA.”

Instant sobbing.

Not even because it hurt that badly.

Mostly because he was emotionally devastated he fell while trying to get to Sukuna

And Sukuna looks genuinely stressed.

Scoops him up immediately, checking his face, hands, knees..

“You okay?”

“Lemme see.”

“You hit your head?”

Meanwhile Yuji is clinging to his shirt dramatically crying into his neck.

“Was runnin :(“

“Yeah I saw that.”

You’re trying not to laugh because Sukuna sounds personally offended at the floor.

Then Yuji hiccups sadly:

“Floor mean.”

Sukuna nods seriously.

“Floor’s a bitch.”

“SUKUNA.”

And honestly the cutest part is that even while crying, Yuji STILL only wants Sukuna.

Tiny arms locked around his neck.

Wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

So Sukuna just carries him around the house while he calms down.

Not even trying to put him down.

One tattooed hand rubbing his tiny back gently while Yuji sniffles himself sleepy.

Later Yuji whispers sadly:

“Wanted dada…”

Sukuna actually looks heartbroken for a second.

“I know, brat.”

From then on, every time Sukuna comes home and Yuji starts running full speed toward him, Sukuna immediately crouches down with his arms open like:

“Slow your little ass down first.”

Yuji never listens though..

sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.

and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.

after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.

he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.

a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.

“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.

and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.

some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.

finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.

your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.

but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.

“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.

but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.

“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.

and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.

ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml

me: my dude we just woke up!! It’s time for wakefulness and doing things and Productivity

absofruitly u can!! I like the way you think🙂‍↕️

senior emergency room attending physician!gojo satoru x endocrinology specialist!reader

in which the most unserious couple works in the same place

cw — smau, established relationship (they’re married :p), non sorcerer au, co-worker au, they’re both lowk freaks so read with a tiny bit of caution

a/n — I’m so happy yall fw doctor gojo the same way I do🫶🏾

When you tease the JJK men and they send a nude to shut you up ! ☆

including: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami

disclaimers: swearing, suggestive (duh)

A/N: this one is short and rushed im sorry

Pt.1 》》》 Pt.2 (coming soon)

i had so much fun making this, lmk if u want more!!

in which y/n has a really annoying surgeon bf who she also works with.

cw — smau, non sorcerer au!, silliness, nonchalant reader lowk, established relationship, suggestive (it’s gojo bro come on), bro (affectionate)

a/n — different doctor, same gojo 😋

MORE DOCTOR GOJO — pediatric physician gojo