lun3z

ᯓ★ Satoru Gojo

You were currently making breakfast, early in the morning. What should’ve been twenty minutes of baking turned into forty-five, since this wasn’t your kitchen and you weren’t yet familiar with it. 

That’s right, you were in your boyfriend’s kitchen. This was the first time ever that you’d slept over. 

The two of you hadn’t gone there yet, you just fell asleep entangled with one another after watching a cheesy movie. You were grateful for how patient he was, never rushing you into something you weren’t a hundred percent certain of.

So to show your gratitude and affection, you decided you’d get up early and make him pancakes. You knew he loved his sweets at any time of the day.

After rummaging through every cabinet and drawer, you’d eventually managed to gather all ingredients and tools necessary. And now, you waited for them to cook over the stove, flipping them every so often. 

Your intense focus on them was what made you inattentive to Satoru’s arrival into the kitchen.

“Morning.” he yawned, ducking his head under the doorframe to walk through. 

You flinch a little, caught off guard by his presence. “Good morning… I didn’t hear you come in.” you glance at him over your shoulder, spatula still at the ready near the pancakes.

He simply smiled in response, before his eyes landed on the kitchentop. “What’cha making?”

You moved sideways to give him a better view of the food. “Pancakes. Thought you’d probably like something sweet.”

His eyes light up at the words ‘pancakes’ and ‘sweet’, and he makes his way over to you. “You know me so well.”

You chuckle softly before turning back to the stove, and flipping a pancake over. 

“You should’ve stayed in bed with me longer though…” he speaks in a more hushed tone now. 

You feel your cheeks flush just a bit, and let out a nervous laugh.

Standing behind you now—or rather, towering—his arms carefully wrap themselves around your soft waist, and he rests his chin on your head, watching you as you cook. “Thought you ran away from me,” he mutters softly, tilting his head to press kisses to your cheek, and down the curve of your jaw.

Unable to contain them, giggles erupt out of you at the ticklish feeling. “Satoru, come on, stop—” your shoulder meets the side of your face in an attempt to shield yourself from his affectionate attacks. 

But he moves to pepper kisses on the other side of your face that’s still left unguarded. He laughs along with you, in between pecks, whilst letting out exaggerated kissy noises. 

Your heart felt full in a way you never could’ve imagined. You couldn’t have been happier.

That was, until he’d started wiggling his fingers. 

They tickled you all over, from your stomach, to your back, to your sides, and even your arms. 

You squirmed, your body jerking in all directions while laughter bubbled out of your throat at the sensation. 

“Satoru—” you breathed out desperately. 

That only seemed to spur him on, as he continued with more precision. 

This time, his hands slid under your shirt to meet your skin. 

And that’s when your stomach dropped, your eyes shooting wide open.

You managed to grab a hold of his wrists, and tried pulling his hands away from your waist. 

But he didn’t pay you any mind, obviously too strong for you to actually tug him away from you.

It wasn’t until you felt his thumb lightly brush over one of your stomach rolls that you mustered up newfound strength. 

“I said stop!” you shout, pulling him away even harder. 

At that, he finally pauses, and pulls his hands away and out from under your shirt, but keeps them hovering near your form. 

Your hands are still encircled around his own, and he lets you catch your breath for a little bit before speaking.

“... You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, and his tone careful. At your silence, he feels the need to talk again. “What’s wrong?”

You’re still a little shaken, unsure of what to do or say. “Nothing—” you start but choke up.

He pulls away from you fully, and instead steps to the side to properly face you. He stares at you in silence, waiting for you to finish talking. But when you never do, he takes the initiative. “Did I do something wrong?”

You sigh deeply before turning the stove off. “No… you didn’t.”

He takes a step closer and keeps quiet. But you know he wants to know more. 

“I just… I don’t want you to touch me there. Anywhere but there.” you cross your arms over your chest, as if to hide your body.

He looks utterly confused, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

You finally look up at him and deadpan. “Satoru, please… you know why.” your hands unconsciously clench around the extra skin of your sides.

He continues looking down at you, perplexed. But once he finally understands what you’re hinting at, his eyes soften.

“So that’s what this is about?” he mutters.

You look to the side, refusing to give him an answer. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” his hand finds your chin as he brings it towards him. 

You reluctantly look back up at him. You feel your throat close up, and your eyes water. 

He immediately brings you closer, hands cupping your face and thumbs near your eyes, ready to wipe your tears the moment they spill. 

“I’m sorry, I’m being such a crybaby.” you sniffle as your vision blurs. 

“What’re you apologizing for? Stop that.” he brushes some hair out of your face.

You lean into his hand, the plumpness of your cheek growing more prominent in doing so. He nearly melts at the sight of it.

“I’m not… I’m not nice to hold, Satoru. My body isn’t one to be held and loved. I don’t deserve that.”

Now he just looks offended. He stammers for a moment as his eyes widen. “And why not? Because you weigh a couple extra pounds?”

You nod against his palm, eyes closed. 

“That’s such bullshit,” he scoffs. His face slowly inches closer to yours and he kisses your temple. “You’re beautiful.”

You open your eyes to roll them, your gaze landing on the floor. “Don’t lie to me because you feel bad.”

“I’m not lying—why would you even say that?” he asks incredulously. 

Despite how bewildered and offended he looks, he’s still softly cradling your head and wiping your tears away.

“You care way too much what other people think, you know that?” he sighs. “I think you’re beautiful, and that’s all there is to it. I’m not worrying about your weight, or how your stomach looks in a shirt, or how you feel when I hold you. None of that ever mattered to me.”

You’re stunned, watery eyes wide open as you stare at him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead this time. “That last one might’ve been a lie actually,” he chuckles against your skin before kissing it again. “I like holding you. You’re soft, and warm, and… I just like it. I like you, okay? Stop overthinking it. You worry too much.”

Your bottom lip juts out as you feel yourself tearing up again. 

“Aw, poor baby,” he chuckles again at the sight.

You huff in a frustrated manner. “God, what is wrong with me? I keep crying…”

He only laughs louder. “Nothing’s wrong with you.” He moves to pepper kisses all over your face, lingering on all of your features. “You’re just not used to being appreciated.” his voice softens.

You give up on trying to force the tears away, and just let them roll down your cheeks. The two of you stare at each other in silence. Your eyes sweep back and forth between his own. 

Fluttering white lashes and bright blue eyes stare at you with love and fondness you thought you’d never receive, or deserve. 

“Thank you.” you mutter silently, wanting to say more, but finding yourself unable to.

He kisses your cheek, smooshing his lips against it in amusement. Once he pulls away, he speaks. 

“You’re welcome.”

ᯓ★ Suguru Geto

It had been a long day. Suguru always had long and tedious errands to run from dawn to dusk, but today had been particularly slow and arduous.

Which is why he was looking forward to falling asleep with you in his arms.

Originally, you were supposed to spend the night at your place like any other day. But after receiving a couple text messages from him complaining about his shitty day, you figured the least you could do was offer him comfort. So you’d gone to his place. 

As expected, he arrived rather late, but you didn’t mind. Despite your protests and insistence on him eating dinner, he refused. The only thing he wanted was to sink into his king-sized bed with you tightly clutched to his chest.

With reluctance, you obliged. 

So here you were, buried under the covers with Suguru. With his hair splayed out on the pillows and mattress, and his soft but tired features, he looked like he’d jumped out of a renaissance painting. 

Usually, he’d be the one spooning you. But tonight, he just needed to be the one taken care of for a change. 

His head was nestled right under your chin, cheek resting against your chest. 

But there was something else different about him tonight. He was being far more clingy and touchy than usual. You weren’t sure if it was unconsciously done or not, but either way, it was starting to get to you. 

His hands had started at a respectful resting place, your hips. But as more minutes passed, they slowly inched closer to the hem of your shirt. Eventually, he’d managed to slip them under the fabric. 

You tried to ignore the rapid beating of your heart, and the heat rushing to your face. 

His large hands splayed across the expanse of your back carefully inched up, up, and up. 

Until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

The second he touched a particularly pudgy area, you hissed, and pushed him away instinctively.

He opened his eyes in surprise and stared up at you.

You sit up, and stare back at him, equally as shocked.

The silence drags on as he slowly props himself up on an elbow. When he realizes you don’t plan on explaining yourself, he decides to take the initiative.

“Something wrong?” he asks, his voice slightly raspy from fatigue.

You open and close your mouth a couple times before finding the words. “No,” is all you can muster as you fold your legs closer to you under the blanket. Your eyes land on your hands as you fidget with them.

He eyes you skeptically, clearly unconvinced. “... you sure?”

You nod, still staring at your hands. 

His firm palm encircles them, forcing you to look back at him. 

“Don’t lie to me angel. Talk to me.”

You hesitate for a moment, but one of your hands moves to intertwine with his own. He returns the gesture almost immediately, his fingers tightly lacing themselves with yours.  

You sigh deeply. “I’m sorry for reacting like that, it’s not because of you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “What is it then?”

“I just… I wasn’t expecting you to touch me like that.”

He looks at you perplexed. “... So it is because of me?”

Your lips part, and you find yourself speechless. 

He only chuckles, finding amusement in your inability to put him at fault for something. After a little while, he settles down, regaining a serious demeanor. 

“Did you not expect it, or did you not want it?”

You’re once again stunned. How was he able to read you so well?

“... both.” you look away, guilty. 

He brushes some hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear, cupping your jaw to make you look at him. 

“Can I ask why you didn’t want it? You don’t usually reject my advances.”

You shrug. “I know, but…” you trail off, letting silence take over.

“Use your words. I’m listening.”

“I don’t want you to feel those parts of my body.” You finally spit out. “You know… the bad parts.”

At your words, he finally sits up, as if having understood the gravity of the situation.

He calls your name. “... look at me.”

You do so, albeit reluctantly. 

“There are no bad parts of your body.” His eyebrows are furrowed, and his jaw clenches tightly.

You feel a knot form in your stomach. “But I—” you choke up.

“None. Do you hear me?”

You grow quiet once more, and he can feel you slipping away from him, and back into a self-depricating spiral. 

Without thinking twice, he pulls you by the waist and firmly plants you into his lap. 

“I can handle you not wanting me to touch you because you’re not ready yet.” he starts, his hands trailing up from your sides to cup your jaw. “But I can’t handle you thinking of yourself in this way.”

You lean into his touch.

“You’re too beautiful to be having these thoughts.” He whispers. Suguru leans in, his nose nuzzling your own before he starts littering your face with feathery kisses. “So precious,” he hums against the plush skin of your cheeks. “Mine.”

You suppress a small whimper, feeling overwhelmed by his presence, and the complicated mix of emotions swirling in your head.

You wanted to believe the harsh voice in your head. The one that told you he wasn’t being sincere, that he’d eventually leave you, that you weren’t deserving because of the way you looked. 

But it was starting to get hard to listen to that voice when he was holding you like you were made of porcelain. Like you were his most prized possession. Like he truly believed in every word he spoke to you, without an inkling of a doubt.

“Suguru…”

He shushes you. “Don’t argue with me on this.” He makes sure you’re silent by kissing you once more, stealing the breath right out of your lungs. Feeling your breath hitch against his lips, he pulls back just enough so you can breathe. In the meantime, he resorts to kissing the tip of your nose. 

The two of you are silent for a while, simply basking in and enjoying the other’s warmth and proximity. 

“… do you really mean it?” You finally ask, voice a little raspy. 

“Every word.” He responds in an instant. 

At his words, you feel your face flush even more, and you can now feel the warmth spread from your cheeks to the tip of your ears. Too flustered and winded to speak again, you decide to hide your face in his chest. 

His arms wrap around you, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Go to sleep angel,” he says, although he’s already moving to bring you back down on the mattress along with him. His hand rubs soothing circles over your back. 

He makes sure not to linger too much on the areas you were jumpy about, out of concern. But when he feels you melt against him, like you were meant to be right there with him, in his arms, he relaxes as well. 

“Goodnight.” He mutters one last time before the two of you drift off into sleep.

ᯓ★ Kento Nanami

Saturdays were the best. You loved them because the weekend was just starting, and you didn’t have to worry about monday just yet. 

Oh, and also because you typically spent your Saturdays at Kento’s place. 

The two of you had taken the morning slow, only getting out of bed at eleven. You made breakfast (which was basically lunch) together, eating it by the window of his apartment. 

And now, it was three o’clock. You’d been lying in his arms on the couch, lazing about. 

He was holding up a book with one hand, glasses resting low on his nosebridge to read, while his other hand caressed your back. You felt yourself dozing off, your cheek smooshed against his chest while your arms remained loosely wrapped around his waist. You’d been lying down together for so long that your heart rates synced up.

Feeling drowsiness overcome him as well, Kento closed his book and set it on the coffee table within reach. His now free hand joined his other one on your back as he continued tracing patterns against the soft fabric of your cotton shirt.

You were slightly on edge. It’s not that you didn’t trust him or anything, it’s just that you were still new to this relationship with him. And you were also still unfamiliar with letting someone be so close to you physically speaking. 

Of course, Kento knew that. That’s why he always insisted on going at your pace.

Which is why you assumed his unusual touchiness right now was not a conscious effort, but rather a product of his half-asleep state.

His strong and large palms carefully trailed down your spine as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. 

Suddenly, your shirt lifted at the hem ever so slightly to let him in. The tips of his fingers affectionately prodding at your plush skin. 

You tried ignoring it at first. He had been so patient with you, maybe it was time for you to make a little more effort and open up to him as well. 

But when you felt his touch wander a bit too high up for your taste, you jumped out of his grasp, sitting up on the couch, still lodged between his legs.

That seems to wake him up, and slightly startle him. His glasses fall off his nose and land on his chest. He stares at you dumbfounded for a moment before picking them up and setting them on the table near his book. 

“Is something the matter…?” he finally speaks up, propping himself on his elbows to sit up properly and look at you. 

You stare back at him with guilt, and a hint of fear. Fear of disappointing him, fear of making him wait too much, fear of him finding you just as repulsing as you found yourself. Fear of having ruined everything.

He inches closer towards you without actually invading your space. “Hey, stay with me.”

You snap out of it. “... Sorry.”

He quirks an eyebrow, even more confused than before. “Don’t apologize. What’s wrong?”

You look into his sincere hazel eyes for a moment as silence passes. Letting out a sigh, your gaze darts to your lap instead. “It’s stupid.”

He sighs as well, but heavier, before running a hand through his hair. “I can assure you it’s not. I can’t force you to talk to me but—”

“I don’t want you to feel my rolls.” you cut him off, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice. “Or my extra fat… or my stretch marks.” you add.

His mouth, still open from when you cut his sentence short, closes and he seems to contemplate something before answering.

“I… understand. I’m sorry for overstepping.” he looks away as well, unable to meet your eyes. “If I may ask… why?”

You scoff, but not in a mocking way. Moreso in disbelief. “Because they’re not nice to feel. They’re… ugly. I don’t want you to see that side of me.”

He finally meets your gaze again, this time with a scowl. “What did you just say?”

You feel your heart drop at his glare, but try to play it off by shrugging. “Kento, let’s be honest here… they’re not cute. No need for sugarcoating.”

He runs a hand down his face, and then massages the top of his nosebridge. 

Oh, now you’ve done it. You knew it. You knew you weren’t ready for this. No one would ever accept you with your insecurities. And yet you still decided to pursue this relationship with him. You should’ve known better.

You wish a giant crack would appear in his floorboards and swallow you whole. You wanted to get up, and run out of his apartment. You wanted to disappear. 

But you knew there was no running now. You’d put yourself in this situation, self-sabotaging as always. 

“I’m sorry… forget I said anything.” you mutter, already moving to untangle yourself from his legs.

He stops you however, lightly holding onto your wrists and pulling you back down towards him, closer than before.

His gaze is still downcast and he sighs heavily. “Don’t go, I already told you you had nothing to be sorry for.” he looks up at you again, but this time his gaze is soft yet apprehensive, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He whispers your name before resuming, making sure he had your full attention.

“You don’t understand just how much it pains me to hear you talk about yourself in such a way. I have never, and I will never tolerate anyone speaking ill of you, including yourself.” slowly but surely, as if to give you the option to pull away, he tugs you closer until you’re a mere breath away from one another. 

“I know it might be hard for you to believe me, and I know that flowery words won’t be enough to change the mindset you’ve clung to for so long. But I mean it when I say you’re beautiful to me.”  

You feel your eyes start to sting, water pooling in the rims of your bottom lids. “How?”

The second he catches a glimpse of your tears, he pulls you into him, burying your face in his chest while you sob quietly. “I can’t explain it, words aren’t enough.” he whispers against your hair. “Just… trust me on this, okay? You might not love yourself at the moment, but know that I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

Your hands fist against the fabric of his sweater as you continue crying.

“All I ask is that you try to see yourself the way I see you. You don’t have to do it overnight of course, but… I’ll be here for you.” His lips caress your cheek, now wet with tear tracks. “Along every step of the way.” his hand finds your chin to pull you away from his body so he can look you in the eyes.

Your eyes are bloodshot and glossy as you stare back at him. “... thank you.” you huff, trying to reign in your emotions.

He doesn’t say anything, instead opting for brushing your hair out of your face and caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I love you,” he mutters. “Remember that whenever you find it hard to love yourself.”

You nod, and he swipes his thumbs against your bottom lids to dry the last of your tears.

ᯓ★ Yuji Itadori

The last time you’d seen your (recent) boyfriend Yuji was about two weeks ago. You were both swarmed with your own personal lives. And it was killing him, quite frankly. 

At last, when you were both free, you’d invited him to spend a couple days at your place. 

So far, you’d spent the whole day doing nothing and everything, and decided to finish it off with a movie marathon (his suggestion, of course). 

Perhaps it was those two weeks without seeing you that had him acting so strangely. 

He was being awfully clingy. But you didn’t mind. You had missed him too after all.

The two of you were laying on your couch with the only source of lighting being the tv. He was lying on top of you, head resting against your chest and his hair tickling your collarbone. His arms were tightly wrapped around your middle while his eyes stayed glued to the screen.

Your hands were nestled in his hair as you played with the spiky pink strands. You look down at him for a moment and notice the way his feet hang off the end of the sofa, the sight almost making you laugh. You’d suggested letting him have the couch so he could be more comfortable, but he had insisted that your current position was more than comfortable enough to him.

You couldn’t say the same however.

His hands made a very slow ascent on your body. One so subtle you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so on edge and, well, insecure.

You try to ignore it at first, but when you feel him tenderly squeeze at your plush skin like it was something he always did, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You jumped, startled by the sudden touch. He lifted his head away from your chest and looked up at you as he rose to sit up. “What’s up? Is there a spider? I can kill it for you—” he starts, already looking around for a slipper or anything he could use to kill the arachnid.

You stare at him baffled. “What? No!”

He returns your stunned look. “Oh… then why’d you jump?”

“Because you—” you stutter, embarrassed. “Because you touched my stomach, and my… my rolls.”

“What? I.. I didn’t even realize.” His gaze softens, and his shoulders drop from their upright posture. “… sorry.” he scratches at the back of his neck and looks away. 

You look down at yourself and hug your knees to your chest, seeking to cloak yourself from his gaze. 

Yuji notices the gesture out of the corners of his eyes, and he feels a sharp twist in his heart. Like he knew there was more to this, and that it was bad. But he was too scared to push.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” you shrug it off, still staring at your legs.

But that dismissal doesn’t do it for him. 

“Why the stomach?” he asks.

You snap your eyes back up at him. “... What?”

“Why are you jumpy about your stomach?” he asks again, more firmly this time. “I mean… we’ve kissed and hugged and stuff. Why is it a problem now?” his head tilts, in genuine curiosity.

But the second he notices how defensive you look, he scrambles to explain himself.

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.” he drags his hands down his face and sighs heavily into them. A few seconds go by and he pulls away from them to glance up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I just wanna know. But I’m not gonna force you into anything… of course.”

You relax a little bit, feeling more at ease.

He notices that and speaks up again. “I mean… it’s not because you’re insecure or anything, right? ‘Cause that would be kinda stupid.” he scoffs.

His small smile quickly fades once he takes in your silence and realizes that it is, indeed, an insecurity thing.

Your gaze drops lower.

“... Why? You’re beautiful.” he says it like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the universe. A fact that doesn’t even require evidence to be proven true. A fact he thought was an evident and unspoken truth between you two.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Don’t sugarcoat.”

“I’m not—you seriously don't think you're beautiful?” he stares at you incredulously.

You lift your eyes to finally look up at him. But you freeze. You don’t know what to say, or do. You don’t even remember how you got in this situation in the first place.

You watch as his hands slowly reach out to rest on top of your knees. They trail down and caress the sides of your thighs, his eyes remaining on yours the entire time.

“Listen, I don’t know how you’re not seeing what I’m seeing, but… I find you pretty. Really pretty.” he mutters, refusing to break eye contact. “I’ve never looked at you and wished you looked different. A number on a scale doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The moment your eyes water and your knees drop in defeat, he pulls you into his lap with ease, as if you weighed nothing. As if your weight was nothing to him. 

His arms wrap around your middle as you cry into his shoulder. He moves to lean back against the couch and shifts his hips so you’re more comfortable. He doesn’t say anything for a while, instead just letting you cry and vent out your frustrations.

He carefully strokes your hair until he feels your shoulders relax against him. “... you okay?”

You sniffle, trying to collect yourself, and pull away to look up at him through your wet lashes. His shirt is soaked, and the side of your face is still planted against it, but he doesn’t mind. 

You blink a couple times to focus your vision before answering with a raspy ‘yes’.

He leans down but stops, hesitating for a moment as he scans your features. When he realizes you’re comfortable enough, his lips meet yours in a soft kiss. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to leave you dizzy.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world, y’know that? To have such a beautiful girlfriend like you.” he presses a lingering kiss to your wet cheek. “There isn’t a single day that goes by without me thinking that. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up.”

You wipe at your tears lazily, feeling fatigue take over you now. Your eyes now dart back and forth between his own before you whisper a barely audible ‘thank you’.

He only smiles in response. “Don’t thank me for that, seriously.” he chuckles.

You chuckle along with him because that was such a Yuji thing for him to say. 

He feels a weight lift from his chest at the sight of you laughing, and leans down one final time to kiss your lips. “I love you.” he murmurs against them, his thumbs still gently carding through your hair.

ᯓ★ Megumi Fushiguro

Everything sucked. Shitty day, shitty weather, shitty mission, shitty curses, shitty late trains, shitty everything.

The only thing that didn’t suck though—the one thing that kept Megumi pushing through everything—was the thought of coming back home to you lying in his bed.

With every step he took towards his home, he replayed the scene in his head another time. 

He’d open the door to his bedroom, slam it shut behind him, shed the unnecessarily heavy jacket on his body, and fall straight into your arms while you welcomed him with that bright smile of yours he swore fixed everything.

And now, after his long and arduous day, he’d finally arrived.

He closed the door behind him, kicked his shoes off, and made a straight line to his room. But you weren’t on his bed like he expected you to be. You weren’t even in the room, actually. 

Suddenly, the door leading to his bathroom opens, and you step out of it and into his room. “Hey, you’re back.” you smile and walk over to him. “Sorry, I went to turn the shower on as soon as I heard you come in.”

Once he finally sees you, he lets out a little sigh of relief. Megumi could not have been happier that you’d said yes when he asked you if you could spend the night over at his place. 

You probably weren’t aware of it, but it meant everything to him.

Noticing he still hasn’t answered, you speak up again. “... I hope that’s okay with you.”

He walks over to you, ridding himself of his jacket in the process and tossing it in his laundry basket. “It is. Thank you.” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Give me five minutes,” he mutters before walking past you and closing the bathroom door behind him.

You go to lie down on the bed and scroll on your phone while waiting for him to wash up.

You were surprised he’d texted you so last minute asking you to come over, but you figured it was probably needed. Maybe he’d had a bad day and needed some company.

At least that’s the explanation you were choosing to justify how clingy he was being now that he’d gotten in bed with you.

The two of you were lying on your sides, your flush bodies buried beneath the covers as his front pressed into your back. His arms were wrapped around your middle while he rested his chin into the crook of your neck. 

“... needed this.” he sighed against your skin. 

Meanwhile, you were trying to hold it together. Sure you two have been dating for almost two months now, but you still hadn’t gotten this close.

He continued pressing the occasional kiss to your neck, while his hands found themselves at the bottom hem of your shirt. 

“Um… Megumi?” you whispered, feeling your face burn up and your heartrate pick up.

“Hm?” he hummed, while his hands suddenly found themselves under your shirt.

“Megumi what are you—”

His fingers caressed the plush skin of your midriff. 

Your face went pale, your heart dropped, and your hands moved to get his own off of your body.

He stills, and stops his trail of kisses up to your earlobe. He’s taken-aback, unsure of what just happened, but waits for you to elaborate.

“I… sorry, I—” you stutter and fumble over your words. Letting his hands fall against the mattress, you sit up. You throw a brief glance at him over your shoulder, and notice his stunned look. Clearly, he’s still waiting on an explanation.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asks.

“Nothing, I…” you start, but end up looking away from him. Your shoulders drop and you look down at your lap. “I just wasn’t expecting you to get so… touchy.”

“... touchy?” he repeats, confused. This wasn’t the first time the two of you cuddled. 

You stay quiet, and your arms unconsciously move to fold themselves over your stomach, as if to hide it. 

Ever the analyst, Megumi watches the gesture, and it finally clicks in his head. His eyes soften. “... Fuck.” he sighs heavily. “I’m an idiot.”

At his words, you look back at him again. Your eyes meet once more.

“I’m sorry.” he mutters. “I didn’t realize you wouldn’t like that.” he searches your eyes, waiting for a response.

“... It’s fine.” you reply dismissively.

“It’s not.” he states firmly. “I should’ve asked first.”

You nod at him once, with a hum.

Silence settles between the two of you, both unsure of what to say next. He simply stares at you.

“You’re not gonna ask why?” you finally speak up.

“Why what?”

“Why I don’t want you touching my stomach.” you change your sitting position to fully face him.

His eyes widen for a moment before narrowing again. “... No. Do you want to tell me why?”

Your gaze drops to your hands in your lap. “... It’s a stupid reason, honestly.”

He sits up, and places one of his hands over your own. “Clearly, it’s not stupid if it has you feeling like this.”

Your bottom lip starts to quiver, and you lower your head even further, unable to look at him. 

His free hand moves to slot itself between your ear and neck, and he cranes your head to make you look up at him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

When you meet his eyes, you force yourself to take a deep breath. “It’s just…” you start, and huff out another breath to try and calm down. “I don’t like my body and I don’t want you to see it, or feel it, or… I just don’t want you to leave me because of how I look.”

For the first time since he’s gotten home, Megumi scowls. “Seriously?”

You say nothing, nodding instead.

“That’s—” he starts but stutters. “That’s fucking stupid. I’m not going to leave you just because of the way you look.”

“… You say that now, but—“

“I’m not going to change my mind, Y/N.” His thumb caresses your cheek. “And for the record, nothing’s wrong with the way you look.”

You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes.

His eyebrows only furrow further at the sight of your disagreement. “You’re beautiful.”

“But I’m…” 

“So? Do you really think I care about stuff like that?” 

You bury your face in your hands to try and silence your sobbing. His hands let go of you temporarily to wrap themselves around your body and pull you in.

His palms caress your back a little awkwardly at first, but he manages to ease into it. He lets you cry into his chest until you calm down. 

“I’m not good at this stuff, but… I meant everything I said, alright?”

You sniffle quietly, nodding against his shirt. 

“... I should’ve done a better job at making you feel good about yourself. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your hands let go of your face to wrap around his neck. 

Tentatively, he lies back down on the mattress and pulls you along with him. You follow him willingly, and nuzzle against the crook of his neck.

“... are you okay?” he whispers against the top of your head.

You take a deep breath before talking. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Okay, good.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “Go to sleep,” he tilts his head to the side, and presses a kiss to your temple.

You nuzzle further into him before whispering a soft “Goodnight.”

ᯓ★ Yuta Okkotsu

Today had been rather uneventful for you. And you were grateful for that. It was one of your rare days off, and you’d taken the opportunity to soak in a bath, watch your favourite movie, and make yourself a good meal.

The same couldn’t be said for Yuta however. He’d been sent out on a last minute mission and was only just now done. 

Usually, he’d be satisfied with just going home, showering the exhaustion off his body, and facetiming you until you both fell asleep. 

But today he really needed to see you, and hold you. 

You’d welcomed him with open arms of course. He wasn’t the only one missing his partner. Besides, you’d be lying if you said his tired tone when he called you earlier to ask if he could come over didn’t give you the urge to pamper him and take care of him.

You let him use your shower to freshen up. In the meantime, you rummaged through the drawer of his clothes that you kept at your place for something he could wear.

And now you found yourself sitting with your legs folded on your couch, with your boyfriend lying down, his head in your lap. 

Your fingers had been carefully threading through his damp and dark locks for the past twenty minutes while you watched the tv. 

Yuta, however, couldn’t care less about the show you were watching. He was turned away from it, in fact, and was instead looking up at you. Although he could barely keep his eyes open anymore. 

Feeling himself drift into slumber, he shifted in your lap to make himself more comfortable, and turned so that he faced your stomach. One of his arms came up to wrap around your waist as he nuzzled himself closer. 

You felt the color drain out of your face, and your heart drop. 

“Yuta… what’re you doing?” you whisper, not wanting to disturb him.

A soft hum escapes him. “... missed you.” he mumbles against your shirt, and presses his nose to your stomach. 

The second he touches you, you flinch away from him, sucking your stomach in.

That seems to stir him awake, and he opens his eyes to look at you. 

“What’s wrong?” he sits up, and lets go of you.

Your hands fall from his hair and into your lap instead. You stare down at them in silence, not giving him an answer.

“Did I… did I do something wrong?” his face morphs into a frown. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet his, and you notice how glassy they look. “You didn’t—I’m just… not used to stuff like that.” 

“Having your stomach touched…?” he questions further.

“That and other things…” you nod once, curtly, simply. Like you wanted the topic to die down.

But he doesn’t want it to. He knows this must be daunting for you, but he doesn’t want to bottle this up. 

“Is there something wrong with your stomach?” he asks, his tone softer and quieter now.

You stare at him, slightly baffled. “Well… yeah.” you reply, as if the answer was obvious. 

He tilts his head to the side, still not getting it.

“It’s pudgy.”

You expect to see enlightenment flash through his features, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he still looks confused. 

“So…?”

“So it’s bad, Yuta.”

He feels your patience wearing thin. “I-I’m sorry! I just don’t see what’s bad about that...” he scratches at the back of his neck and looks away.

You mimic him, and your eyes return to the tv as you let out a huff, folding your legs closer to your chest, your arms resting atop your knees and your face half-buried in them.

Once he notices your eyes aren’t on his anymore, his gaze trails back to you and he looks you up and down. Carefully reaching out for the remote, he pauses your show. 

“Y/N, I…” he starts. 

You stay quiet, your stare vacant. 

“Please look at me.” he leans in closer.

You feel your eyes start to water, but manage to reign it in, and look at him.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers sincerely. “But I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way you look. I never have.”

“How can you say that when I…” you start but feel your voice falter, and a knot forms in your throat. The tears well up again, and this time a couple of them stroll down your cheeks.

He stands up from the couch to instead kneel on the carpet in front of you. A hand rests on your knee while the other cradles your cheek carefully. Once you lean into his hand, his thumb swipes at your tears, tracing patterns on your skin slowly.

“You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful, I don’t even know why you—” he pauses, feeling himself get off track. “Listen, I love you. But I don’t like that you doubt yourself so much.”

Your lips part almost immediately to reply. To apologize profusely about your insecurities. But, as if guessing your next move, he cuts you off with a tender kiss.

He pulls away, but remains close enough so that you can hear him as he whispers. “I know you can’t help it, and that’s okay. That just means I have to be a better boyfriend to you." his eyes dart back and forth between your own.

You return his eye contact, and it doesn’t take you long before you break down. 

He immediately pulls you into his shoulder and lets you soak his shirt. His fingers thread through your hair soothingly as he whispers soft words of reassurance into your ear.

“I’ll do better from now on. For you. I promise.” He kisses your tear-stained eye corner. “I’ll help you see what I see when I look at you,”

You nuzzle into him further, your arms wrapping around his neck. He lets out a surprised huff from your tight squeeze, but quickly melts into it.

“I love you, and… thank you.” you mumble against the skin of his neck.

He continues rubbing your back soothingly. “... I love you too.”

ᯓ★ Choso Kamo

Choso was a very patient man. Especially when it came to the things he loved and held dearly to his heart.

You, of course, are no exception. 

Despite his age, he was equally as new as you when it came to relationships. Neither of you wanted to mess this up, so you had mutually agreed on taking it slow. 

You knew that about your boyfriend. 

What you weren’t aware of was how much he’d been holding back ever since you officialized your relationship. 

He loved praising you, showering you in words of affection and gifts, small romantic gestures he knew meant the world to you. But sometimes, even those things weren’t enough to convey the depth of his adoration for you. 

He would never tell you, but sometimes just the sight of you was enough to make him fall to his knees.

He’s been trying so hard these past weeks to hold it in, to be good for you. But tonight, he didn’t have the strength to do so anymore.

You’d invited him over at your place, insisting you wanted to try out the new face masks you bought with him. He’d said yes in a heartbeat.

And now, a couple hours later, you were cuddled up on the couch, watching tv. Nothing unusual for the two of you, right?

Not exactly. 

You had been iffy about physical intimacy of any kind with him. It’s not that you didn’t like him, you were just scared he wouldn’t like your body. 

Choso knew about your apprehensiveness, but didn’t know about the reason behind it. He never asked, not wanting you to feel like you had to justify yourself to him.

Maybe that’s why he was underestimating your hesitance tonight. He had underestimated it enough to let his temptations get the best of him, and slowly push past your boundaries. 

You were seated between his spread thighs, your back pressed to his chest, while his arms remained tightly wound around your frame in a bear hug.

You weren’t even sure of how you ended up in such a position. But now you had to try and ignore your rapidly beating heart as he kept his lips sealed onto a specific spot under your ear. 

He wasn’t moving, or kissing, or sucking on the sensitive bit of skin. He was simply nuzzled there, comfortably. And that somehow made it worse.

His hands move to tighten their hold on your waist,

“Cho?” you whisper.

“Yes?” he answers, but continues his caresses.

Your breath hitches. “Can you—” you start, but falter the second his hand squeezes your soft belly. “Stop!” you shout in a panic.

He immediately lets go of you and lifts his head from your neck.

Your eyes are wide open in shock. Both from his sudden touch, and from you unexpectedly raising your voice. 

“I… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…” you start speaking but go speechless.

He remains quiet behind you for a while. “... Have I done something to upset you?”

You turn sideways with the intention of facing him properly, but your gaze is still downcast. “Not really, it’s just…”

His hands clench into fists at his sides, holding back from holding you. As clingy and affectionate as he was, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“I don’t want you to feel my rolls.” you finally explain with a sigh.

His hands relax, and his eyebrows furrow. “... Your what?”

Now it’s your turn to look confused. “My… rolls?”

He does a little head shake, as if still not understanding. 

“The extra layers of fat on my stomach and back.” you elaborate even further. 

His expression is solemn, if not, slightly angry. “What about them?”

“Choso…. I don’t like them, and I don’t want you to see that side of me.”

His eyes shoot wide open, and his lips part. “Why don’t you like them? I like them. A lot.”

“Because they’re fat… and ugly.”

A pang of anger flashes across his gaze, although it’s not exactly directed at you. “Stop it.” His tone of voice rises. “How dare you say that? They’re beautiful, just like you are.”

Beautiful? He couldn’t seriously mean that.

His hand flies to his chest and he grips the fabric of his shirt right above his heart. “Do you… do you not believe me?” His bottom lip starts to quiver. “I… have failed you as your lover.”

You’re stunned, and your hands hover in the air on either side of him, unsure of what to do. “What? No, that’s not true.”

Tears start welling in his eyes. “It is. I’ve failed to make you feel worthy and loved.”

You cup his face as you speak to him. “Choso, I’ve been like this way before you… you’re not the issue.” your thumbs swipe his tears away.

His hands rest atop yours on the sides of his face. “How long… have you thought of yourself like this?”

“I’m… not sure. For as long as I can remember, I guess.” you look away.

His hands carefully slide around your waist and he sits you down on his lap. “Well… it needs to stop. I refuse to let you think of, or speak of yourself in this way.” he sniffles, although now he sounds more sure of himself. 

You look back at him, only to be met with a look of determination. 

“I love you, and I want you to love yourself as well.” he mutters before burying his head in the crook of your neck. “So please… promise me you’ll see yourself the way I do.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” A light chuckle escapes you. “But I can promise that I’ll try.”

He pulls away to look at you. “That’s good enough for me. Just… please don’t use words like that again. They pain me.” he nudges the underside of your jaw with his nose. “You’re beautiful.”

You pull him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. Leaning in, you whisper against his hair. “Okay… I won’t.”

A satisfied hum escapes him. “Thank you,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss right under your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer, right before he pulls you down on the couch with him.

ᯓ★ Toji Fushiguro

You were trying really hard not to overthink this. After all, you knew nothing crazy would happen. You’d told your boyfriend very clearly a while ago that you wanted to take things slow. And he’d agreed with no hesitation, of course.

So why were you so nervous about him spending the night over at your place for the first time?

He’d finished his work today (you weren’t sure exactly what his job was, but you didn’t want to force him for an answer), and had asked you if you wanted to fall asleep on the phone with him.

On a whim, you suggested him sleeping at your side instead. He hesitated, and asked you if you were sure, but upon hearing your insistence, he accepted.

Once he arrived, you’d eaten dinner together, watched trashy reality tv, and had offered him a change of clothes. 

Now, you were both in your bathroom. He was brushing his teeth, while you were combing your hair.

Earlier, you weren’t so nervous. But now that you were getting ready for bed, it was starting to settle in.

Standing side by side in the cramped bathroom, with your shoulders touching, you occasionally glanced at him. But every time you did, he would already be staring at you with his signature lopsided smirk. 

Looking away, your gaze returns to your hair in the mirror. 

He spits out the toothpaste, rinses his mouth out and cleans the toothbrush before putting it away. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he uses the towel to wipe his face. 

Once he’s done, he turns back to you, and stares at your reflection.

You try to ignore the weight of his gaze on you, and manage to keep your eyes glued to your hands as you continue brushing. “What?” you ask.

“Nothin’” His smile softens. “You look pretty.” he adds before snaking his arms around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Toji, I’m trying to brush my hair here.” you groan in annoyance, despite the blush forming on your cheeks.

“What’s the point? It’ll just get messy again when you sleep.” he chuckles dryly.

You roll your eyes.

His head dips down to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’m tired.”

Your heart stutters as you feel his fingers trail further down, and reach the hem of your sleep shirt. “... go to bed then.”

He hums, nuzzling himself against your neck and pressing another kiss. “Not without you.” His hands slip under your shirt, his palms laying flat against the soft and plush skin of your stomach.

“Toji!” You gasp, panic and jerk out of his grasp almost immediately while turning to face him. 

His hands slip out of your shirt just as fast as they got in, and he looks down at you with wider eyes than usual.

Your eyebrows are knit together in a frown, and your shoulders are tense. 

Guilt flashes across his eyes as he takes in your defensive stance. He takes a step back, letting his hands fall back at his sides. 

“... m’sorry. I didn’t realize.” he mutters out, his tone quiet. 

“Don’t apologize—” Your expression softens when you see him retreat. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, because you told me you didn’t want me to do stuff like that.” he states blatantly, holding himself accountable. “And I forgot, like a fucking idiot.”

You place the hairbrush back on the counter near your sink. You look away, not sure what to say now.

His jaw clenches tightly, before he speaks. “... Do you want me to leave?”

You rush to answer him. “No! God, no... I just— give me a minute.”

He nods once, a hand slipping into the pocket of his dark sweatpants, while the other rests on his nape. 

You stare down at the floor, hesitant. Eventually, you decide it’s best to be honest with him. 

“I panicked because I don’t want you to feel how…” you start, but trail off, struggling to find words that won’t make you sound like you’re begging for his pity or compliments. 

“... how what?” he asks, although he’s soft, not rushing you.

You take a deep breath. “How big I am.”

He quirks an eyebrow. 

“I mean, it’s not like you can’t see how big I am, I’m aware of that—” you fidget with your hands. “But… what if you find it worse once you actually feel it?”

Noticing the fact your gaze is remaining downcast, and that you don’t intend on looking up at him anytime soon, he places one of his hands on top of your own. You stop your fidgeting, and finally meet his gaze.

“That’s why you don’t want me to touch you?”

You seal your lips in a tight line before nodding.

He sighs. “You should’ve said so sooner. We could’ve resolved this a while ago.”

You tilt your head to the side with a quizzical look. 

“I don’t mind that you’re bigger.” he states. “I like it.”

Your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen, and your lips part. You’re speechless. 

He chuckles as he takes in your expression. “But that’s not the only reason I’m with you.”

Your hands move to wrap around his. 

“... I love you. And the way you look doesn’t change that for me. Never will.”

Your lips tremble, and he immediately catches sight of it. Pulling you in, he presses you into his warm chest.

“I’m sorry for crying… and thank you.” you sniffle. 

He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He waits a little while before pulling you away enough to see you properly.

“Do you really like that I’m… bigger?” you ask, skeptically.

He nods with a grin. “I thought you knew.”

You shake your head innocently.

“And here I thought I was being too obvious about it.”

Suddenly, it clicks. “Wait, is that—is that why you’re always staring?”

He doesn’t say anything, but by the way his grin only grows wider, you can guess the answer is a yes.

“I thought you thought I looked weird.”

“What? Fuck no.” he exhales heavily, before moving to pick you up, your legs wrapping around his middle. “Need you to lie down on me.” he speaks in a hushed tone as he walks over to your bed. 

He can hear your heartbeat pick up in pace, and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“We won’t do anything you don’t want. I just…” he brushes your hair out of your face. “I wanna feel your weight on me. Feels nice.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between his own. “... okay.” you whisper.

He moves to slip you both under the covers, making sure at least half of your body is resting atop his. 

“I love you too, by the way.” you add, resting your cheek against his chest as you look up at him.

You feel his scarred lip brush your temple in a soft kiss. “... go to sleep.”

ᯓ★ Ryomen Sukuna

Half a year had passed since you became betrothed to the king of curses. Although you knew about the arrangement years prior, it had only been officialized six months ago. 

You were scared the night of your wedding. You shouldn’t have been, considering you knew what to expect. But you were still scared.

To your surprise however, he had asked you if you were willing. And upon hearing your refusal, he’d retreated to his own chambers in silence. 

Ever since then, he’d honored your choice. 

But in these last six months, things changed. Six months of longing glances, of not so accidental touches and brushes of hands and shoulders, of words left unsaid. 

It was safe to say he had grown on you. You’d learned that although he was still the monster on the battlefield everyone claimed him to be, he had a different side reserved just for you. 

As for Sukuna? The wait was killing him.

You had somehow managed to nuzzle yourself into the depths of his cold heart, and have stayed there ever since. He tried to stop it at first, but he quickly learned that it was no use in denying it anymore. 

He loved you, because you’d taught him how to love. 

But out of fear of scaring you off, and also because he found himself wanting to respect your wishes, he kept distance between the two of you. 

So although you had spent multiple evenings walking side by side in the gardens with your arms linked, or hours in his library reading together in silence with your pinky fingers touching, neither of you had made a move. 

The closest the two of you had ever gotten was sleeping cuddled up together. 

The first time, he’d insisted on sleeping at your side when you’d fallen sick in the winter. He had berated you for being a weak human the entire time, whilst simultaneously holding you close enough so you could stay warm.

The second time, he had drunk one too many bottles of sake, and refused to let you go the entire night. You could only laugh to yourself as he kept you trapped in a bear hug, imagining how embarrassed he’d be the next morning.

The third time was tonight.

He’d grown restless from waiting. He wanted to be able to hold you without worrying about whether or not you would wake up the next morning or perish from a measly cold. He wanted to be able to feel the plumpness and curves of your body and remember the feeling, instead of clinging onto snippets of his foggy memory.

Hence why he’d called you to his chambers so late. 

Six months ago, you would’ve been afraid to step anywhere near his quarters. But now? Now you trusted him.

So upon hearing his request, you assumed he’d want to do some late night reading again, or maybe listen to you play the koto like he sometimes liked to do. 

But your heart jumped in your throat once you’d learned of his real reason for requesting your audience. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. This wouldn’t be the first time the two of you fell asleep together.

So, despite your heart hammering against your ribcage, you made your way over to his bed, carefully lifted the covers and slipped underneath them. 

He didn’t take long before slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. 

Your noses nearly touching, you ducked your head, too flushed to face him. He didn’t force you to look back at him, instead focusing on mapping out the fullness of your waist with his large palm.

You focused on his touch as a way of distracting yourself from how close his face was to yours, but noticing how deliberate the caresses of his hand was, it only flustered you further. 

“Sukuna…” you breathed out. 

“... Hm?” he hummed absentmindedly, too focused on feeling you. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, before his hand moved further down, feeling the curve of your tummy. 

Instantly, your hand flew to his, pulling it away from your body. He let himself be pushed away willingly, and finally stared at your face. 

It was redder than he’d ever seen. And he could tell you were simultaneously flustered, and scared. Mostly scared. He almost hated himself for how attractive that was to him.

Upon noticing your hesitancy and silence, he takes the initiative.

“Speak.”

“... Don’t touch me there.” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His hand fully retreats now and he even scoots away from you a bit.

“Why?”

Your gaze snaps up to his, and you look at him incredulously. “Simply because I don’t want you to.”

You expect him to taunt you, to smirk at you. But he does none of that. 

He looks solemn as he talks. “That’s not true. Tell me the real reason.”

You seal your lips and stare at his neck instead of his eyes, out of fear that you’ll fold if you stare into them for too long.

He tenses, and his gaze lands on your stomach. “Are you injured?”

You shake your head and sigh deeply.

A beat of silence passes. “... Is it me? Do I repulse you?”

“What?! No!” you tilt your head back up despite yourself. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it if not that?” he urges, his tone of voice rising.

“It’s the opposite!” you retort. He looks stunned by your shouting, but you continue regardless. “I don’t… I don’t want you to be repulsed by me.”

He looks at you in total shock. How could you, the embodiment of everything beautiful in the world repulse him, a monster driven by bloodlust?

“What the hell do you mean?” his eyebrows knight tightly together. 

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb.” you roll your eyes, as if the motion could stop the tears from forming.

He only looks more baffled at your words.

“My weight, Sukuna. That’s the problem.”

“Your weight.” he repeats in disbelief, his eyebrows falling back in place.

“Yes, my weight. I’m all… pudgy and gross.” your tone grows quiet in your embarrassment. 

His eyes narrow into a glare and he immediately spits out, “Watch your words when you speak of my wife.”

You scoff, before one of your hands rests atop your stomach.

“No one is allowed to speak ill of you. That includes you.”

“But it’s the truth. You can’t act like it’s not.” Your other hand moves to hide your stomach as well.

He lets out a dissatisfied groan, takes your hands away from your midriff, and instead lands your palms flat against his chest. “It most certainly is not.”

You hesitate at first but eventually lean into him. 

His tone of voice softens at your gesture. “Who has put these foolish ideas in your head?”

You sigh once more.

“Tell me so I may have them executed.”

“No one, Sukuna. I grew up like this.”

He softens even more at the sound of his name slipping past your lips. “... Well get rid of them.”

You finally look up at him. “It’s not that easy.”

He meets your gaze instantly. “What is it going to take then?”

You shrug and shake your head once.

“Allow me to say this then,” he starts, and one of his hands moves to cup your jaw. “These thoughts and insecurities are beneath you. There is only one thing in this world that I am certain possesses true beauty in every sense of the word.” he tugs you closer to him. “And that is you.”

You feel the urge to deny his words, to pull away and call yourself berating things, but you hold back. Instead, tears well in your eyes and trickle down your cheeks. 

He scoffs at the sight of your tears, but swipes away at them with the pad of his thumb regardless. “Cease these pointless waterworks. They’re unbecoming of you.”

“Sorry,” you mutter before nuzzling into his chest in an attempt to stop the crying.

He freezes at your sudden proximity, but quickly wraps his arms around you. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he adds “I don’t need your apologies. Just stop.”

You nod against him.

His hand awkwardly and tentatively moves, caressing your back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. 

“The next time you feel like this, come to me. I’ll make sure to extinguish these idiocies from your mind.”

“Okay… thank you.” You sniffle the last of your tears away, before leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He stays frozen in place for a moment, his eyes wide open. Eventually, he grunts out a small noise, acting as though he was annoyed. 

He pulls the covers over you both properly. “Sleep.” he orders one last time before you drift off into slumber.

masterlist

a/n: this took soooo long to write because its such a sensitive topic and i didnt wanna mess it up

with a plain frown, he scratches his back before throwing his blanket over his body and tip toeing downstairs, hoping some fresh air might do something for his nervous system. every step is carefully placed as to not creek the floor, every move so methodically planned. he hugs himself as he grabs the carton from the fridge and fills a glass up with milk and microwaves it until it’s warm. careful not to let the alarming beep go off before he hugs it to his chest and takes a thick sip as he slowly slides the back door open and steps out.

the air is crisp, with a subtle wind blowing and shaking some of the leaves off the trees in the distance. clark makes a point to keep the main light turned off as to not be noticed and takes thoughtful sips of his milk, looking up at the stars. it could’ve been ten, twenty minutes for all he knew that he’d stayed like that outside. trying to get ahold of his racing thoughts and anxieties manifesting from his fear of being so far away from home. his ma and pa still call to check in on him every now and then and check in to see if his nightmares are still as bad as they were when he was a child. clark is always assuring them that he’s doing just fine even if he’s lying through his teeth. they care enough to notice the dip in his voice while he lies, but they don’t prod any further if he wasn’t opening the door to talking himself through it. they figure he has new friends of his own in his life that he can confide in.

a helpless tear rolls down from his left eye before he can stop it, an unexpected sob rushing from his throat after he finishes his glass of milk and sets it down on the side table. in a quick, anxious attempt to conceal the noise of his sobs he covers his mouth and shields his face with the blanket, knowing that the tears were still coming and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop them. all’s he could do was let them out and hope for the best that he isn’t making noise, that this is just going to be one bad night and that tomorrow night will be better.

his eyes are red and exhausted from his hands angrily scrubbing over them. since he’s in the dark he thinks he’s in the clear.

when he thinks the worst wave of it is over, he tries to swallow the lump in his throat and gets up to head back to the kitchen for another glass of milk, and gets stopped in his tracks from the kitchen light turning on.

like a vampire in the sun, he flinches and covers his face, head going down in shame while he sniffles and tries acting like he wasn’t just crying his heart out like a pathetic loner on the back porch. his roommate, squinting with her own glass of milk in hand, scratches her bird’s nest of bed head and lazily smiles at clark.

“oh. hey! I didn’t know you were out there. I was about to lock you out,” she says casually, yawning and sipping her glass before she notices the great lengths he’s going to avoid her gaze. “woah. are you—hey, are you okay?”

all clark can muster is a piss poor excuse for a blatant lie of “yeah.” his voice even cracks too, adding a cherry on top of a very pathetic cake.

she doesn’t blink or even think for a second before she’s rushing over. the sweetheart that she is. her warm hands felt like a hot stove up against his cool cheeks, pushing her thumbs up his chin so his face can’t hide from her anymore, and she sees it. she sees it all. the tear stained cheeks, the red, puffy eyes, the snot probably still stuck in his nose.

“I’m fine—“ he tries to squeal, the sniffling not helping his case. she looks at him with deep, sincere concern in her eyes, doesn’t speak for a long moment before bringing him in a long, warm bear hug. and clark’s water works begin all over again. sobs wreck his throat, tears gush out to his cheeks and down his jaw, tickling him. he says he’s sorry, says he doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, says he didn’t mean to wake her up and that he’ll make it up to her if he did.

“clark, don’t apologize. don’t apologize.”

she brushes the back of his hair and rubs along his back over his blanket still shielding him. clark says sorry again anyway, desperate to assure her that nothing is wrong, nothing happened, he just ‘gets like this sometimes.’

“I know we don’t talk a lot about things beyond the surface level bullshit, but you’re seriously breaking my heart right now. you can absolutely talk to me, get off whatever is heavy on your mind,” she murmurs. rocks him back and forth in her arms while he towers over her with his stature.

he chuckles through a sob at that, ducking into her shoulder and lets himself get rocked like a baby. can’t help himself but to relish in the warm, inviting embrace, nuzzling himself into her like she’s his lifeline.

“I uh, I just get… I get real homesick. and lonely. I miss my parents, it’s been h—hard to adjust being away from them, they’re all I had for so long,” clark musters to speak, voice quivering through more than half of his words. she offers him her glass of milk with a raised brow, to which he smiles and graciously takes the glass, hesitating at first but ultimately giving in and taking a sip. it did wonders for his throat, thickly swallowing and carefully going in for another before he sets it down on the counter and sheepishly goes back in for another hug, bending his neck down to shove his face back in her shoulder. of course she smells so comforting, and it was addicting already to sniff her hair that was graced with the fresh scent of that shampoo that sat in their shower. it really soothed him to be held, to be held by her, specifically — his beautiful, patient, kind and understanding roommate of three months that hasn’t made a single complaint about living with him, and on paper really hasn’t given clark a single reason to not feel like he could open himself up to her like this. he supposed his nerves always got in the way.

“what do you miss about home the most?”

clark pulls back and looks at her, turning red when she wipes a stray tear away and holds onto his face. “I um, I miss… I miss getting physical touch, physical touch like this,” he admits. “I miss my ma’s homemade bread. I miss both my parents helping me with—with my nightmares,” he swallows, averting his eyes to the floor with a bite of his lower lip. “they’d stay up with me, warm me up some milk, tell me that I’m not alone. I can’t… I just can’t seem to get any sleep when I’m alone,” he breathes out.

she nods her head slowly in understanding. gets up on her tippy toes to give his cheek a kiss, and clark reels from the contact, clenching his jaw and rapidly blinking his eyes while he wonders if what just happened really just happened.

“let’s get you some more warm milk, then I’m taking you up to my room. sound good?”

. . .

clark cluelessly follows her back upstairs to her bedroom, awkwardly stepping as he’s led by her hand in his. she took it to heart when he said he missed physical affection, and her hands have stayed on him since.

her room has always looked cooler than clark’s. posters decked out on the walls, bohemian plants strung out and framing along her window. she has a diffuser that makes the room smell soft and almost tropical. used bras and panties strung along her full hamper, and the sight makes him try to stifle a smile, rubbing his lips together.

“come here,” she guides. laying on one side of her bed, leaving plenty of room for him to get in right beside her. she expectedly holds her hand out for him, watching intently as he carefully sets his full glass of milk down and shuffles into the empty side of the bed, unsure of where his long limbs should really go.

“you can spread out you know. don’t have to stay crumbled up in a ball all night.”

it could have come out snarky, sarcastic, witty — but it comes out sincere instead, like she didn’t want to just watch him remain so uncomfortable.

with a thoughtful sigh, he gives in and spreads his legs out, grazing hers in the process and holds onto his blanket with his other hand that wasn’t grasped in hers. of course it dawned on him how intimate this really was, how she saw him cry and her first actions were to hold him, talk to him, give him more milk. it strangely makes his lower belly start to tingle almost with what felt like butterflies while he works himself up about how maternal his roommate really was towards him. the rocking back and forth in their hug, the gentle reassurance, the open ears that didn’t judge him for a split second.

it fills him with another burst of emotion, enough to make him get on his knees and start to cry again.

he turns towards her, finding she was already looking at him, wondering what the hell he was probably thinking so loud about.

“thank you,” he licks his lips. “thank you for doing this. for being kind to me. I don’t really cry in front of people except my family. I don’t mean to dump all of my problems on you.”

she shakes her head and scoots closer, slowly reaching an arm over his chest, testing to see if it’s boundary crossing or if it comforts him. clark scoots further into her, rushing to answer the quiet question: how close can they really get?

“you’re not dumping anything if I wanna hear it,” she replies. “hate to see a face this pretty cry like that.”

clark’s lip wiggles as if on queue, still chuckling through another little sob wrecking through him while he scrambles to wipe an incoming tear.

“no, no baby, let it out. don’t hold any of it in anymore.”

and with that, clark lets the floodgates open.

he cries again, less soft and quiet as his meltdown outside. this one is thundering, takes over his whole being while his head closes in on her touch while she shushes him and hugs him to her, kissing his wet cheeks while he lets everything else he’s held in come to the forefront.

she hands him a tissue after a minute, letting him blow his nose and drain his mucus, balling up the tissue into his fist to not dirty her side table with any of his germs even if they were bunched up in a napkin.

“does that feel a little better? drink your milk, baby. don’t forget about it.”

he nods and stutters to grab the glass and chug, finishing most of it in one foul swoop before wiping the corners of his lips for stray drips.

she gently fusses with his hair, brushing it in different directions so he never misses out on any physical contact. her leg even crosses over his lap, cooing in his ear that he’s never gonna be alone, not ever again.

clark curls in on her, looking smaller than he ever has even with his frame and build. he lets out hurried little boyish uh-huh’s when she repeats to him over and over, you are safe. and you are not alone.

when he’s floating in a post-cry haze, eyes so swollen he feels like he could’ve gotten punched, a name falls from his lips without his upstairs brain’s full knowledge like it was instinctual.

“mommy…”

the pets never stop. not a single inch of her body reacts, no limb even moving to push him off of her bed. if anything she gets even closer, if that was even possible.

while he nuzzles his nose into her neck, she caresses his back and hums. not giving any indication that he’s said anything out of line.

so he surrenders and says it yet again.

“mommy, mommy I need you so much,” clark whimpers. tries to hold in more of the seemingly endless supply of pathetic tears he’s held back and bottled up for far too long, all his jumbled emotions coming in a whirlwind at the first feeling of someone touching him, someone seeing him and his pain and not running away or letting him go to bed scared and alone.

“you’ve got me. I know. and you’ve got me,” she affirms. kisses the top of his head, never stopping the circles on his back. “you’ve got mommy.”

clark’s tone is hopeful when he looks up at her face to read her as best he can in the dim light, leaning in to her as she cups his cheek.

“I… I do?”

“of course you do. mommy’s right here.”

. . .

this had become a nightly ritual.

a strict, no nonsense break of their curated routine. if clark had a troublesome day and marched up to his room after work, she let him sit it out alone for no more than twenty minutes before she was knocking on his door, crawling on his lap, asking him to let it all out for mommy once again.

if clark had a good day, he would tell her about it too. how he didn’t get any bad feedback by his supervisor on his report, how he got to pet one of the stray cats in their neighborhood that were notorious for running away at the sight of any people.

she praised him when he needed it, smothered him when he needed it. held him too of course whenever he looked hungry for her affection.

she mothered him in a way that made him feel a way he truly hadn’t felt before, and that alone brought up another string of anxieties. about not being enough, about being too much. too needy. too much of a little boy. too much of a momma’s boy.

there were even times she’d have to ring it out of him, what he was feeling. she could read every facial expression that passed over his face like the back of her hand. and it was always taken in a stride. she tells him he’s silly for overthinking like that, but that it’s okay to tell her these things, and that he shouldn’t let thoughts like those start to even fester. because she’s all in.

after one particularly treacherous nightmare he wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily and trying to self soothe with his blanket. in a fit of frustration he kicks off the comforter and of course, in turn, wakes her right up.

“baby boy,” she reaches up for him. knows what’s wrong from the second he stares up at the ceiling, stubborn with a frown stuck on his face. “is it too hot for you?”

clark breathes in deep, fights the thoughts in his head that tell him he’s a freak for needing so much love and so much attention, and leans in to kiss her right on the lips, whimpering in her mouth when she automatically reciprocates.

“mommy,” he smacks his lips against hers, smelling the natural scent coming off of her from her neck. “mommy please. please.”

“tell mommy what you need.”

“I need your kisses,” clark full on whines. doesn’t hold anything back, doesn’t minimize his needs. gives it to her straight. she’s never punished him for telling his truth before, and she wouldn’t start now.

“I wanna touch you, mommy,” he swallows. “can I please…”

his hand shakily trails down her side, feeling goosebumps make way on her skin. it makes him lick and bite his lips, leaning in for another warm, needy kiss that threatens to grow even deeper while he preciously tries to glide his tongue in her mouth and lick along hers.

“you can touch mommy. I know what you need.”

clark’s cock shamefully fills and rolls up against his belly at her words, aching for some stimulation as he trails more kisses from her face, to her jaw, to her neck. hands exploring lower than anywhere his hands have ever explored before. they drift down to her hip, to her waistband, to her stomach and breasts.

“take care of me so good, mommy, always…. I just wanna be a good boy to you. wanna be a good boy for you,” he hums. she beams from his complete one-eighty change in disposition, from his sulking, shivering ball of anxiety into this flourishing, outspoken, touchy boy that knows to voice what he needs.

“can I… I wanna—“

his words are cut off by an unabashed groan when her hand grabs his and stuffs it down her panties, letting his fingers feel the pearly skin of her naked pussy, no layers in between.

“momma you’re so soft,” he whispers. doesn’t let himself tighten his hand over her mound too hard, gently pressing his palm in and applying a slow, easy pressure. his fingers have already started to get a little wet, and that did things to him that he won’t ever be moving on from. “pussy’s so warm. feels so perfect, mommy.”

she grinds into his touch subtly, hips raising up in heated figure eights while he kisses her and swallows up the moans she lets out too, mirroring his to a T.

“I need it. I need to.”

she doesn’t fight or protest anything as he ducks his head and crawled down the bed until his face was right between her open legs.

“take off mommy’s panties. go on, don’t have to be my shy boy. indulge yourself, baby.”

clark nods his head again, eager to follow orders when he pulls them down in a swift motion, dropping them to the floor off the edge of the bed. nothing could stop him from going in, from taking that last final step. he hums like he’s just found the most decadent meal to eat as he stuffs his face into her pussy, wiggling his tongue over her clit, gliding the flat of it down her lips and her hole. it weeps and clenches down and makes squelchy noises the more he sucks, and it’s so juicy and ripe that clark can feel his own dick pulsing even if he’s still completely untouched.

he moans and keeps scarfing down, sheepish voice muffled, only the words please and mommy able to be deciphered.

that tongue proves itself to become a dangerous addiction while she humps against his face, grinding her clit up to his nose while he fucks his tongue up to breach her g-spot and thrust it in and out like his face only existed at her leisure. it was rejuvenating, it was astonishing, how close to another human being he’s felt since he first cried in her arms and showed her sides of himself he never wanted to claim as his own. he hopes his tongue can do the talking, can tell her how much he appreciates her and hopes to give her as much as he takes.

she curses and slams her hips upwards when he curls his tongue so right, nudging her clit with the bridge of his nose with the right pressure and humming in a way that felt divine. clark continues his feast and stares up at her to watch her fall apart, to watch her feel good. her mouth is wide open and her eyes squeeze shut while her pussy walls quiver and gush against his mouth. it felt heavenly, like a religious experience to feel her cumming against his mouth. to get to suckle on her clit and watch his mommy lose it.

when he licks her clean she laughs and pulls his face away, too overstimulated to allow him to keep going. as he gives in despite wanting to stay right where he was, he switches gears to her inner thighs and lays the wettest kisses all over her, cum still smeared all over his lips and chin.

“you taste so good mommy. you fed me so well,” he mutters, licking her spend off his face with his outstretched tongue, leaning in to her hold on his pink cheeks.

“you all full? don’t wanna leave my baby boy hungry,” she whispers. plays with his hair again, one of his favorite forms of her attention and affection.

he closes his eyes and hums, says he’s all full now and ready to go back to sleep. doesn’t care that he ends up faceplanting right between her thighs, cheek laying directly on her naked pussy as he snoozed away with no night terrors getting in the way of his peaceful rest.

she was the antidote. to all his homesick worries, to all of his outside failures and personal interior failures, she was always there to put a lid on all of his troubles again whenever the lid flies off.

the habit became a habit because the high never seemed to wear off, soothing himself by getting his head between her thighs and kissing her pussy or licking her pussy until he was slowly falling asleep. he’s been out like a light with his airways nearly blocked by her crotch, nearly dead to the world in a deep sleep that he couldn’t ever have on his own.

the nightmares eased down the more he gave in to his desires, humping her leg and shamelessly screaming mommy when he cums. eating her out for a good hour at the very least every night so he feels high and buzzed off of pleasing her. taking care of her. thanking her.

“mommy, mommy you’re the best. you’re so beautiful. m’so lucky I have you.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, baby boy. and if you ever need to eat before bed, just eat. you need to be fed.”

so clark eats. he eats to think straight before work, he eats for a good several hours in bed after dark to feel the rush of her cum sticking to his lips. he lives to come home and make his mommy feel good, to make himself feel good. even eats to make himself feel safe again.

she never downplays the affect it has on him, the way it’s comforted him like never before. she knows it’s more than just a bedtime treat for him.

a couple nights in a row he even has her sit down on his face and ride, gladly licking up everything that drips out of her and having her cum against his nose at least three times before they both pass out, her legs still trapped over his face with her head shoved in the pillow.

after several months of their ritual he officially moves into her bedroom, hardly ever going into his old one unless he went for a new change of clothes, still preferring to go straight back to their shared room to change.

once in a while in public he’s let it quietly slip, his little voice uttering a helpless mommy if he’s on the verge of a panic attack. she of course identifies when he needs her touch more than ever to ground him back to reality and step out of the anxieties that plagued his head. and sometimes, only sometimes does he end up dragging her to the nearest family restroom and make his mommy take off her panties so he can soothe himself with his mouth back on her clit to suck.

little sequel here

. . .

I got so carried away with him being sad and homesick and how lonely poor baby would feel, and how he needs a mom-like figure to worship and get love and attention from.

the tears are already brimming and blurring his vision, causing him to rapidly blink them away and shake his head with a sniffle as he hangs up his coat, takes off his shoes.

she’s there on their living room recliner, reading with her glasses on her nose, cozy with a big blanket swallowing her up. it smells like she made brownies too. the air of comfort should throw all of his worries away and out the door. what happened at work was only at work, he shouldn’t be taking it all home. but that’s not how clark’s head ever seemed to behave. he still remembers all his wrongdoings, his inferiority to some of his peers performing well above him. and their boss surely knows it too.

she puts a bookmark on her page and starts moving to get up and greet clark, a warm open smile on her face. clark immediately shakes his head and goes over to her, murmuring with a low, weak voice to tell her not to get up from her comfortable spot just for him. he marches over to her and doesn’t want to watch her face contort into worry, opening her arms as he comes over and balls himself up in her lap.

“oh no. baby, what happened today? was work too much?”

clark already has tears uncontrollably running down his face before he shoves himself into her bosom, sobbing into her chest as he breaks down and loses any facade of composure he’d tried putting on for his entire day.

“I…. I made…. a mistake,” he whimpers out. “got yelled at. of course. cause I’m just so stupid I can’t seem to do anything right anymore.”

she pats his back and runs her hands over his combed hair. she takes off his glasses for him and sets them down on them table while clark continues to cry, only word able to come out of him being mommy, mommy, mommy.

“shhh. I’m here. I’m here, baby. don’t be scared. you made a mistake is all, we all do. you aren’t a bad person or a stupid person for that. come here.”

he sniffles and licks his lips, suddenly salivating in a trance that’s pulling him out of his head when she starts unbuttoning her top.

“I know what you need.”

he looks at her with a little pout of his lower lip. “I need you, mommy. always need you….”

“I know.”

and then he’s ducking his head and wrapping his lips gently around a nipple, suckling like this is all he needed all day. her nipples harden from the cool air and the bud remains hard as his warm flush tongue swirls around and suckles down, humming as he nurses from his only caregiver.

“I missed you so much. all day mommy. needed you so much. wanted to be here instead, pleasing you.”

“you were so strong today. you’re my strong boy. you know that?”

she coos and plays with his hair. clark whines some more that he’s in heaven when she takes care of him like this, assures him like this. the tears have quietly began to dry as he keeps suckling, little noises coming from his mouth and the contact made on her delicate skin. after a few moments he switches to her other nipple, humming and closing his eyes in a daze. she tells him again that he’s worthy of love, that he’s as human as the rest of them, even if he’s from another planet he’s shown he is just as vulnerable, multifaceted, and caring as anyone else — despite what the news may say, despite what his enemies may try and claim.

“they make up stories about me. that I’m weird, that I don’t belong.”

“exactly, baby. they’re making it all up. where you belong is right here. right in mommy’s lap. you know I’ll always cherish you, especially on your hardest days,” she whispers sternly, making clark agree with a nod, giving in to her words before he helplessly goes back to sucking on her breast.

“I made brownies for us,” she coos after a while of soothing clark as he suckles each nipple. “how does a brownie and a glass of milk sound?”

“mmm. could smell them when I walked in. sounds amazing, momma,” he hums, still cuddling into her, kissing on her collarbones until he reaches her face. she looks at him with an honest understanding, like she knows exactly what he goes through and faces every single day and is all the more proud of him for always getting through it. for being brave, for never changing who he is just because he doesn’t fit certain expectations. if he needs to suck on his girlfriend’s clit, or her nipples, or cry into her shoulder to calm himself down, she’s more than willing — more than happy to provide what he needs to survive such a cold world.

they both get up and head to the kitchen, clark stuffing his face with glee and praising her for her delicious hard work. she pours him a glass of milk to go along with it, and he graciously drinks it up to wash down all the chocolate on his tongue. after dessert she brings him back to the living room with a tug of his arm, this time heading to their couch for more space for his long limbs to sprawl out. clark’s mouth began to water and all the worries in his brain began to fade out as she pulls her sweatpants down, then her panties included in a little pile on the floor. adjusts her top so her breasts can each fall out and be exposed to the air. it’s the most mouthwatering sight clark could have ever seen.

“mommy, mommy I…”

“have your pick, or take turns with your mouth on each. I know what you need,” she beckons him to the couch and he gets down on his knees to the floor right beside her. “I know what you go through. you need mommy now more than ever, don’t you?”

“mmmhm,” he agrees, leaning in and kissing her on the lips, not hiding his possessive side as he grabs onto her breast and twirls with one of her nipples that he’d been nursing on. “I always need you mommy. you’re so smart and so giving,” clark sighs as his lips open up to her skin, licking like he was seconds away from giving her a hickey. “so beautiful. you’ve taught me about what it means to be good. I have to lick you everywhere I can…. tasting you is what I live for, what I wait to come home to all day,” he whimpers. she shushes him and tugs him to bring him closer, having him lay on the other end of the couch between her open legs. “you’re everything and more.”

“I love you, baby boy,” she hums. he says he loves her more. she in turn pulls the hood of her clit up as he brings his face closer in, breathing her pussy in and planting little kisses to prep her for what was to come. “you can start on my clit then go back to my tits, okay?”

“okay, yeah, yeah please.”

and then clark eats all night, putting his mouth to work on her pussy, on her breasts, all down her thighs. scattering kisses and love bites everywhere he desires. she bucks her hips and her breasts up into his mouth every time, watches as he goes completely lax without a single thought to overwhelm him or harm him anymore. he doesn’t have to be in his head when his mouth is going to work on the woman he loves.

. . .

he was everything you weren't. and to most people, your relationship was something that was straight out of a fever dream. 

the absolute angel of a girl with a man who couldn't hold his ground even if he tried.

but he wasn't like that around you. well, sometimes. he'd open his heart the slightest amount and withdraw almost instantly. but you knew that he was trying, that he would change.

but sukuna didn't want any of that. the second he felt the smallest kindness, his brain was quick to shut it down and want to wreck it before it got too far. 

—

when he first attempted to ‘court’ you he’d send you stupid flowers, show up with the snacks you always liked, always going out of his way to try to impress you. well in his own subtle way, but he always just tried. 

he’d left behind such a big part of his life to keep you close, partying less, avoiding the alcohol because knew how much you hated it. he cared, he really did. but gods you were just so good. too good. and far too angelic, and kind, and everything that was just so out of his reach, it fucked him up.

and old habits die hard. and a small fucked up part of him wanted to see how far he could push you before you leave him too. how far he could pull the strings on your poor heart until you’d finally want to get rid of him. because of course someone as sweet as you, someone that charming would never be someone who was destined to stay by his side.

ryomen sukuna wrecked things, it was simply what he was good at. and no matter how hard he tried to be good to you, his old ways always found a new way to ruin what was the one good thing he had left in his life.

—

you sat on the couch for the umpteenth time this month, waiting for sukuna to get back home from another party that he swore he wouldn’t attend. you were supposed to go out tonight. and like a fool, you thought your boyfriend would follow through with his words this time. you’d sworn a million times that this’d be your last straw. it never was. 

you’d grown painfully attached to him. he treated you like you were something precious, like you were someone who mattered, well he did. he really did.

right while your brain continued down the same painful spiral, sukuna came stumbling into your place. he reeked of alcohol, and gods you hated that smell. and fuck you hated it when he was drunk. he was loud, abrasive, and everything that you absolutely had hated about him boiling until saturation.

you try to approach him slowly, reaching your arms out, trying to comfort him the only way you always did—

“get the fuck away from me, y/n.”

you immediately withdrew into yourself. he’d been making more comments about you lately, but sukuna never, never fucking talked to you like that before.

“ryomen, what’re you talking about—“

“fuck, y/n, you really are pathetic. you let me treat you like shit, you let me walk all over you and you’re still here. you still refuse to accept the fact that you should just leave with the last shred of self respect you have left.”

you could feel the tears slowly bubbling up behind your eyes. sukuna knew exactly what you were like, and the worst part was he knew exactly why you were the way you were. you couldn’t stand the idea of someone disliking you, you were always painfully understanding, always willing to go through hell and back for anyone who meant absolutely anything to you. 

he used to praise you for being sweet, used to whisper sweet nothings into your ears about how he’d be the storm to your calm, how he’d make sure people wouldn’t just use you and throw you away like they always did. 

it was always okay or so you told yourself. but the one thing you thought sukuna wouldn’t do was treat you the exact same way that everyone else did. fucking with your poor sweet heart until you had nothing else left to give.

“grow a spine, y/n. it’s getting a little sad to watch, baby.”

the sweet nickname sounded like venom on his tongue, not the way he used to say it before. the tears burning in your eyes eventually spilling down your cheeks. you hated it. you hated how easy it was to get inside your head. how easy you cried at the first sign of distress.

but for once, beyond the stupid thumping in your chest and the pit in your stomach, you felt something akin to rage. and for the first time, instead of enveloping sukuna in your arms, you felt your feet move, walking directly toward him, while a sharp smack! landed across his face.

you were almost just as stunned as he was, his cheek burning read with the imprint of your palm right across his face.

and just before you felt your throat close up—

“i’m done playing your stupid game, sukuna. we’re done.”

your words were sharp, final. a tone you’d never heard yourself possess before. it felt almost freeing. 

but the moment you looked up at his face you absolutely knew he wasn’t taking a single word coming out of your mouth seriously. and before you knew it, he let out a laugh. the fucking audacity.

you felt your legs move again, shoving the stuff you had kept in his apartment into the nearest bag you could find, sobbing between each movement, frantically moving everything into your bags before storming out of the building, slamming the door in his face.

—

and the second you left the apartment, absolutely fuming, a part of sukuna’s fucked out brain knew he’d finally fucked up. that building back his walls, turning himself into the very thing he promised he’d never be around you finally caught up to him. 

he wanted to think you’d come crawling back. you always did. he wished he had an explanation for his behaviour. but you were just…too you. and he was sukuna. the second he felt his heart soften he had to remind himself that you deserved better, you deserved better than just a half assed attempt at a redemption. you deserved someone kind. and he was everything that you should’ve avoided. maybe, just maybe pushing you away would feel freeing. maybe it’d feel like the weight that was crawling up his throat would finally disappear. oh, poor sukuna. if only he knew, that trying would always mean so much more than vain perfection. and the fact that he was trying would’ve always been more than enough for you.

—

you knew he was too drunk out of his mind to even remember what’d taken place in there. so you figured you’d tell his friend, toji to tell sukuna to stay the fuck away from you. 

you liked that about toji. he never got between people’s business unless necessary, and you knew he’d pass on the message without questioning you about anything.

you’d found your way into yuki’s apartment, crying into her arms the second you got there, sobbing nearly hysterically while she slowly pet your head until you cried until you tired yourself out.

constantly babbling about how you trusted him, while yuki slowly cooed, whispering about how none of it was your fault. and heavens she swore that sukuna would get a piece of her mind soon enough. but for now, all she cared about was making sure you wouldn’t self destruct—you loved sukuna beyond what words could convey. sukuna knew you in ways that terrified you, he knew you, inside out and every jab he took at you felt like pickets were being stabbed into your heart. it hurt so much. and you just wanted it all to go away.

—

sukuna woke up would what he could only describe to be the feeling of a hammer pounding against his head. his immediate instinct was to reach out to you, looking for you in the apartment slowly—until the realisation hit him like a freight train.

fucking hell. he’d meant to try to get you to leave, hoping his notorious reputation that came crawling back would send you away. that it’d push you away far enough that you’d hate him. that you’d think it was all his fault that this relationship of yours would never work out. he never should’ve let this get too far anyway. 

now? you were going to blame yourself. you would spiral and destruct thinking this was all on you. running his arm down his face, groaning while he went down this rabbit hole, his hair still messy, his breath still heavy with the stench of cheap vodka.

just before his brain was wracking for the things he’d said last night—toji stormed straight into the room. and in all his life, sukuna swore that he’d never seen him angrier. because toji never had a temper. he was simply the guy who barely gave a fuck about anything. and with the way toji was looking at him, sukuna could tell he was fuming.

“what. the. fuck. did you just do sukuna?”

it was odd, you were his girlfriend, so why was toji this mad at him? and his yelling was ringing in his ears paired with his utterly horrendous hangover.

“i don’t know man i was drunk out of my mind-“

“fuck out of here with that bullshit sukuna. you’ve been trying to push her away for months. if you wanted to dump her you should’ve just outright done it. you know she deserves better than whatever you just pulled.”

okay. ouch. way to kick a man when he’s down. but sukuna knew he was right. he fucked up. and he was going to have to face the repercussions of having had finally snapped the sweetest girl on campus in half.

—

you woke up in a frenzy in yuki’s room, buried amongst fluffy blankets you were nearly drowning in them while yuki brought you some tea.

“you feelin’ okay sweetheart”

“gods yuki i owe you my life.”

you groan almost flopping face first onto her lap again. 

“no, you owe me monetary compensation for dealing with that man.”

you snicker, it’s the first time you’d felt your heart feel light since forever. it felt..good, not having someone constantly weigh you down until you felt like you were walking around eggshells around them. you felt seen. and you sure as hell didn’t feel stupid for being a girl with a big heart like you always did.

—

toji by no means let sukuna down gently—he made sure to go on an insufferable rant about how perfect you were and if sukuna didn’t get his shit together, someone else would and sukuna would be left being the idiot who fumbled the girl who would’ve moved mountains for him.

sukuna wanted to think this was all a sick joke. he wanted to push you away, it was for your own good, after all!! so why was it that every single time he thought of your stupid face, it made his chest ache with a wound that he couldn’t quite fix? 

—

you made a vow to yourself to not cave. you’ve cut sukuna far too much slack, and you’re never letting him have that power over you. never again.

a sick part of you wanted to see him beg. grovel at your feet to beg you to come back. and you wanted to see him half as desperate and needy as you were in the relationship. you wanted him miserable.

—

it’d been a week since you’d stopped talking to sukuna. his pride wouldn’t let him admit that it was killing him. watching you, the sunshine reincarnated practically thrive without him being around you.

he wanted to be happy for you, he really did but just looking at you made him realise how he practically sucked the soul out of you. and god it stung.

watching you from afar when he made a big deal about you coming back to him while you didn’t even look back. when he tried to pass by you in the hallways, you simply pretended that he wasn’t there, barely grazing past him while still avoiding him to an extent that wasn’t obvious. 

and every little detail about you had him scrambling, mentally slapping himself across the face for never having noticed these things about you.

the way you bit your lip when you were nervous, the way you liked to hum when conversations grew quiet. you really were, at your core, nothing short of lovely. and sukuna of all people wouldn’t be able to break that. 

but to get the girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly to slap you across the face and avoid like the plague? now that was something worth mulling over. but deep down, he was proud of you. you were going to give him a run for his money and it was going to be worth every miserable second of his godforsaken life.

—

the one instance that has sukuna nearly snapping is when he spots you at a house party. the place is filled to the brim with people, his entire group of friends all off in their own corners, and as the sea of people part he’s immediately struck with the sight of you—all dolled up in the prettiest dress, your hair done to perfection, your makeup countering the dress perfectly, your jewellery sparkling under the dim lights.

you don’t do parties, they’ve never been your scene, but here you are, right before him, clinging onto to yuki’s arm while you make your way through the crowds of people.

the moment you find yourself a seat near the bar, you’re absolutely overwhelmed, sukuna’s mates crowding around you, and with the way they seem to be eyeing you? sukuna’s all but fighting the urge to drag you away. 

before he makes the ridiculous decision of approaching you to drag you away, he feels toji snake an arm around his shoulder, physically holding him in place.

“you’re the one who fucked up, man. either get it together or leave her alone, she deserves this.”

gods, you really did look stunning. and every little compliment that was thrown your way had you flushed and giggling. he had no right to take that away from you. not after the shit he pulled. he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. it wasn’t his place. and this was the first time he actually said that to himself. 

oddly enough, being anything but your boyfriend just felt so very wrong in his brain.

he either gets his act together or comes to terms with being okay with never having you in his life ever again.

—

stumbling through the hallways of the campus’ dorms, he made his way to what he thought was his room. it was a force of habit. showing up to your place when he felt like shit. you always had space for him, but he was so out of it he almost didn’t realise you didn’t want anything to do with him. well, that’s a lie. he did.

he knew alcohol made him painfully honest. it’d let him say the things you couldn’t pry out of him no matter what if he was sober.

you shouldn’t have opened the door, but a part of you really, really wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

the second you open your door, he’s leaning on the doorframe, looking at you with half lidded eyes while he slowly makes his way inside.

“wow i didnt think that you—“

“out with it before i kick you out.”

“you’re mean, y’know?”

he grumbles, a smile gracing his lips while he just gawked at you. gosh you really never did stop being pretty. he never told you that enough, now did he?

“ill cut to the chase, y/n. i want you back.”

there was a strange undercutting edge to his voice, one that almost sounded like begging.

“and what gives you that right, huh? no, tell me sukuna, should i take you back?”

you shot back almost immediately, if he was gonna try to pull this shit on you, you sure as hell would make him work for it.

“y’know what, no. no you shouldn’t.” his voice did not waver whatsoever, right while you were still caught off guard he managed to continue, 

“i hate myself for what i did to you. and i don’t know how to hold onto things without wanting to ruin them because i’m just unworthy of it all. i want to change, y/n. i really do. but if it were up to me, you should’ve slammed that door across my face and never let me back into your life because i don’t deserve even an ounce of your attention. but i want to try, i really do.”

the raw honesty in his voice, the way it shook in the slightest had you reeling. of all things you didn’t expect him to actually..admit it.

“well—at least you’re aware.”

“trust me, i am. but please, y/n, let me make it up to you.” you barely registered the way he stumbled to his knees right before you, his eyes glazed over with a thin film of tears, like one wrong move would send him weeping. 

he was looking right up at you, sniffling a little, before you walked closer, sukuna immediately hugging your legs toward himself, slowly letting out the tiniest sob, while your hands made their way into his hair. 

“one chance, sukuna. and don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

you could practically see the excitement radiating off of him, his smile so stupid and boyish, you’d never seen him look like that in all the time that you’d known him.

but you weren’t going to go easy on him. you needed to make him feel at least a part of the pain you felt every single time he pushed you away.

“go home sukuna, you can talk to me when you’re sober and you mean what you say.”

and he was pouting. the sukuna ryomen was pouting, teary eyed, on his knees right before you. he got back up, now towering over you, still leaning over just to appear a little less intimidating.

“i meant what i said, y/n. i’ll prove it to you, i promise you that.”

—

sukuna stumbled back to his place, immediately losing himself to a fit of sleep, right before looking around the apartment and curling into himself, finally surrounded by silence. he hated being home now. you weren’t around. you kept his place alive, it was more yours than it was ever his. and with how he was never home anymore, the emptiness was going to swallow him whole.

but he'd do this. he didn't stumble into the dorms and beg and plead for nothing. 

he never thought he'd see the day where toji was right about his relationship. he fucked around, hoping to ruin it all and that's exactly what he did.

but he just couldn't help the pit that settled in his stomach every single time he saw you get hit on—of course you did, you were fucking stunning. you were charming, beautiful, funny, albeit a little shy but that just added onto what made you so very special, just so very you. he had you, right in his arms and gloriously fucked it up.

—

he started small, sitting next to you during classes again, small talk, borrowing your notes, walking by your side in the hallways. he forgot how good it felt to get to know you all over again, but he could practically feel the walls you'd built up, refusing to let him in just yet. keeping him walking on ice with every interaction, giving him sidelong glances when he said anything even remotely stupid.

but it didn't matter. if you were to cut him off, so be it. he could live with that. but what he wouldn't be able to stand was having had forced his way back into your life and getting away with how he treated you scott-free.

even if it meant started from scratch, if it meant struggling to get you to look in his direction again it'd all be worth it. but to make this work, he'd need help.

—

"so you've finally decided to get your shit together, huh?" toji snickers, the sight of sukuna with his head in his hands on his couch is nearly comical, his eyeballs evident, his hair messy while he's practically begging for help.

"please, man i'll do anything."

"we should start with how badly you fucked up." toji says almost instantly, cutting his sentence short.

"man i know i messed up i just need to know how to win her over again-"

"you have no fucking idea, ryomen. of all the people you could fuck over, you picked the girl who's practically a living angel. she trusted you with her fragile heart and you somehow stomped all over it. if you want her back, we start with whatever is up with you." sukuna grimaces, he's right. again. fuck this was bad. he knew it was bad, but drowning his sorrows in alcohol and completely avoiding even a sliver of emotion he felt. trying to bury you out of every thought he had. he was just running away, and it was starting to catch up to him.

"yeah. yeah." he sighed, resigned to his fate of having screwed up absolutely terribly.

"but i'll give you props now for actually wanting to try. but if you're gonna do this, you'll have to do it right."

"real helpful, man."

"you know her better than i do, you know exactly what she likes. don't be all sukuna about it."

"yeah, yeah i got it." gods this was going to be hard. 

—

he tried to approach you softly, he could see the way you always shrunk around him when you saw him coming and it killed him. 

"y/n, you know i meant what i said, right?"

"i don't know that sukuna, but i know you're trying. that's okay, i'll take that."

ouch. it stung to hear you say it out loud, but it was fair. but he could do this, this was something he could work with.

he wasn't used to making up for everything he fucked up, more used to people shutting him, which was always what he intended, but having you look at him with not scrutiny again, but with something dangerously close to forgiveness. like you were ready to let him try to fix everything.

—

patience is a virtue. and sukuna swore he could feel himself start to turn into a saint. you let him hang out around you a lot more often—much to yuki's dismay. but she knew he was changing too, after laying it down on him rather harshly, giving him graphic detail on exactly the things she'd do to him provided he fucked up again.

"you screw this up sukuna, so help me god, i'm going to snap your dick in half and shove it down your throat." she whisper shouted, dragging him away from you in the hallway, cornering him underneath the stairs.

"god—i'm serious about her i swear! i promise you could run me over if i fuck it up again, you have my word for it."

she reluctantly lets go of his ear, the one she was holding onto while threatening him.

"you may leave, but you hurt her—"

"i got it you'd have me hung by my guts."

"good."

—

time moved almost excruciatingly slowly, with sukuna trying to sober up, and you trying to let your heart soften so you'd let him in it again. but god you were terrified. he always the rough edges while you were softer, calmer, and you didn't want that ever again.

sukuna could see the way your mind was absolutely reeling every single time he was around you and it pained him. 

you'd started to let him in again, only to disappear momentarily, it was this dangerous game of contemplating whether you should really let him back into your life again. 

you desperately didn't want to be the girl who just allowed him to come crawling back. 

but he was changing. that was even worse. you didn't think you could stay tough any longer when all you wanted to do was collapse into his arms and cry about every horrible thing that he did to your poor heart.

—

it wasn't much longer until you caved, calling him in a frezy not letting him get even a word out before, gasping out—

"sukuna do you mean it."

"slow down, y/n. what's wrong?" in the weeks he'd been trying to make it up to you, you'd never called him, and you never sounded this panicked. before you found a response, he was throwing on the nearest hoodie he could find over his body, sprinting out of his apartment to get on his bike. you might not want to see him, sure, but he'd rather you kick him out than leave you like that by yourself.

"i don't kuna, i want you back. i do, but i don't know. i don't, i can't do this-"

"slow down, baby. i'm on my way there, you're okay, alright?"

you were seated on your floor right when sukuna showed up, your door already open while he ran toward you immediately, crouching down to your level, his warmth clouding you almost instantly while you melt into his arms.

"it's okay, baby. you're doing well."

you slowly nod into his shoulders, if you weren't panicking you'd be trying to shove him away, embarrassed that you caved this easily, back in his arms with your heart in pieces just like it was before.

"i won't fuck this up again, y/n. i really won't. it's gonna be, alright, okay? we're going to be just fine."

you were barely listening to him, while he proceeded to pick you up like you weighed nothing and carried you all the way back to your bed. gods, he missed this, he missed being close to you. and it only reminded me of how he was never this gentle, while that was all you ever deserved. 

when he tried to move away, you pulled him by his drawstrings, until he was laying down completely on top of you.

"don't leave…please." your voice was barely above a whisper, still buried underneath his massive form.

"i don't plan on going anywhere. i just need to make sure you want me here, y/n."

"i do. just please-" before you could continue, his arms were around your waist, he flipped over, having you lay on top of him while he hugged you like it was second nature.

the moment you looked up at him with your pretty eyes, giving him the softest peck on his lips, his palm moved to cup your face,

"may i..?"

you slowly nodded, right before his lips crashed obto yours, they were softer than you remembered, and he was gentler, his arm still wrapped around your waist while the other found their way into your hair. he finally felt like he was breathing again.

he was gentler, a lot softer, his lips moving against yours, while he slowly pulled away, looking right at you.

"i'm going to do this right this time. i'll give you everything y/n. thank you."

you nodded right before laying down on his chest again, enveloped in his tattoed arms, your head tucked under his chin while he kissed your forehead. 

the two of you were laying down in shared silence, your eyelids heavy, and your heart almost beating out of your chest. 

with your head rested close to sukuna's heart, you could hear the uneven thumping in his own. and you remembered that the sukuna you were once with and the man whose arms you were wrapped in now were most certainly not the same person. you really hoped he wasn’t.

and that was all that mattered. you might've been a stupid girl with a stupidly big heart. and you were never going to change that.

—

you slowly nodded to sleep in his arms, while sukuna continued to stare up at your ceiling. he never thought he'd actually make it this far again. and he would rather shoot himself in the spine than fuck this up like he does everything else. you meant everything to him. and this time around, he would treat you exactly like it.

maybe coming to terms with the fact that he deserves to hold onto things that meant something to him wasn't the worst thing in the world after all.

because if caring meant he'd get to keep you, to have you by his side. it'd all be worth it, even if it meant wanted to crawl out of his own skin at the very thought of opening his heart to you again. 

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Your eyesight began to get blurry, forcing you to blink rapidly. satoru said goodbye to utahime, approaching where you sat. He adjusted his glasses that had gotten foggy, pulling out a chair.

“wearing a skirt in this weather?” he commented. “at least you actually put on tights this time. Getting smarter I see.” you stayed quiet, just nodding, flipping your textbook to the assigned page. Satoru's playful smirk flickered at the lack of response. “everything alright?” 

“Yeah. Can we just start?” 

you never just started studying. satoru would have to deal with your usual gossiping first, then watch as you showed pictures of all the new clothes you had gotten over the weekend. “Is everything okay..?” 

you wanted to yell that no, not everything was okay. That your feelings were eating you alive and that you just wanted to oh so desperately smash your lips onto his until he forgot every algebraic formula. 

“I just had a long day.” you simply said.

satoru stared intently, knowing that it was more than just a ‘long day.’ he reached over to close the book, moving you by your chin to look at him. if it were to be any other day, the butterflies in your stomach would be freaking out. but they were still. 

he had a thing for touching you in ways that were beyond ‘friendly.’ Now you wondered if what you thought were reserved actions for just you were also used on her. 

“doll,” his personal favorite nickname to use on you. “its definitely more than that. talk to me. you’re always there for me when im upset, let me be here for you too.” 

it was true that you’d tentatively listen to satoru whenever he had a bad test or when his astronomy club was acting up. It's the least you could do in return. 

“There's nothing wrong.” 

satoru sighed, feeling himself grow frustrated at your inability to confess to what was eating you up. 

your eyes accidentally scanned the room, landing on a familiar red bow. utahime was sat at the computers, posture perfectly straight, clicking away at the keyboard. The look on your face was enough to make satoru turn around. before you could stop him, he figured out immediately what was going on. 

his eyes widened in realization. “hey..” he quietly said, reaching for your hands only for you to pull away. you felt embarrassed, knowing what was about to come. rejection. 

never in your life were you afraid of being rejected by a guy. you could have anyone you wanted, really. all the frat boys shamelessly flirted with you at parties. but you didn’t want them. 

satoru was internally panicking. overtime, his crush on you has doubled in size. no, tripled. he was crazy over you. you were the only thing his few friends would hear about every day whether it be the cute outfit you wore or how you mistook astronomy with astrology. 

“Do you like her?” your voice trembled, making satoru’s heart crack. He immediately shook his head. “no, no god no. utahime?” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “hell no.” 

you didn’t want to believe it just yet. “but the way you walked in with her-“

“We've been friends since childhood. I swear she’s like a sister to me. besides, she’s with shoko right now, they’re going out.”

oh.

you felt embarrassed. 

After a moment of silence, he spoke again “.. did the thought of me going out with her bother you?” he asked, hopeful. His blue eyes stared into yours, somehow making you feel more vulnerable. The library was the last place you’d want to confess to him in, but it really was the place that started it all anyways. 

“Yeah, it did. A lot, actually.” 

satoru fought back an excited smile. “why?” 

“because.. I like you.” 

there it was. the confirmation of the reciprocated love. satoru looked around the place, checking that no one was staring into your direction before placing his lips on yours. 

He was a sloppy kisser, of course. The lack of experience really showed but neither of you cared. Your eyes widened, shutting as you let yourself melt into him. His chair had scooted next to you, allowing him to wrap his arms around your.

“I like you too. so much.” 

⋮

“Fuck, is this what youve been dying to do to me?” satoru slammed your body down onto his aching cock, loving the yelp that came out of your bruised lips. His teeth sank down your neck, savoring you as best as he could. Your hips were giving out with every thrust you gave, requiring his assistance to continue riding him. “Satoru..!” You couldn't even finish your sentence without cringing at the wet noises that were unfortunately coming from your needy cunt. 

His hands kneaded at your ass, forcing you to keep up with the pace he had set. His glasses were missing from his face, now being set on the side table of his bedroom. “Can’t believe you were jealous over me.. Now y’know how I feel every time I see one of those stupid frat guys approach you.” 

“You’re too deep!” You gasped, shutting your eyes close, feeling hot ropes of seed shooting into your womb. “I know,” Satoru hugged you close, fucking his cum back into you. “I know baby, but you can take it.” 

Your clit brushed against his white pubes, tickling you in a way. “Y-you were jealous too..” You managed to ask. Your brows furrowed in pleasure, your stomach knotting in warning. 

Satoru moved the two of you, going from having you ride him to putting you in a mating press. “Yeah, I was.” He had you seeing stars when his cock reached areas you deemed unreachable. Who would've guessed this geek knew how to give a great fuck? Must’ve been all the hentai he’s consumed over the years. He just recently began to imagine the pretty girls in slutty outfits as you, making it easier for him to jerk off late at night. 

The bed wouldn't stop creaking. And you wouldn't stop moaning. 

Satoru groaned, thrusting in meanly, entranced with the way your tits bounced. “Wanted to walk over and fuck- did you get tighter huh? I wanted to punch all of them.” He hunched over to kiss your lips, swallowing every sound. 

You had grown tighter, because all he needed to do was deliver another drag of his cock to have you coming all over it. Satoru sighed, pecking you lightly now. “You’re mine.” 

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