I Love Your Writing So Much!!

Can we pretty please have Sukuna reacting to his crush telling him that thier lover cheated on them. Like the reader has been in a relationship with this person for a few months.

Would he comfort her? At all?

Also can I be‼️ anon

Sypnosis - He may be heartless, that doesn't mean he'll stand silently by and watch as you get yours broken.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, mature themes, foul language, Sukuna is nice for once (?)

A/N - First time ever writing for Sukuna -- wish me luck! And yes, you can be that anon, I love you guys.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"Brat, wipe those tears, you look pathetic," Sukuna says coldly, sneering at the sight of your tears running down your cheeks. You quickly lift your wrist, roughly rubbing the water from your eyes and turning yourself away from him.  

At the sight of you turning, oddly enough, he feels a strange sensation somewhere in his chest – what was it though? All he knew was that it wasn't anger, no, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry at you in that moment (shockingly).  

"Sorry," you mumble, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt to silence your sobs, but the action does very little to prevent the shaking of your body. Sukuna notices, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.  

His head tilts at you; you had come to Yuuji asking for a movie night and snacks, which wasn't out of the ordinary. But what was out of the ordinary was that you showed up on Yuuji's doorstep crying.  

The fact that Yuuji relinquished control to Sukuna so easily was also shocking – but Sukuna was never one to complain about having control over what was rightfully his vessel.  

He lets out a small "tch" at your apology, turning himself away from you and crossing his arms over his chest. Some part of him wants to turn back around and inquire about what had happened – but at the same time he could genuinely care less. 

You remain silent in your place on the couch, knees curled up to your chest as you keep your watery eyes focused on the television, which plays a repeat of an old rom-com that you mentioned that you enjoyed. But from what Sukuna could see, the sight of the two main leads being happily in love is only worsening your mood – but why? 

Usually you would be smiling and chipper, pointing out everything that the male lead did for the female with a too-sweet smile plastered onto your face. But now you were just staring at the screen with a look that Sukuna couldn't describe – and he despised it.  

`"What's going on? You're never this silent, I detest it," Sukuna comments, angrily scrunching his nose as he turns sharply to glance at you. Your hands tighten over your knees, eyebrows pinching together as you bite back the fresh round of tears that cling to your lash line.  

"Nothin' happened. Jus' wanted to come over and watch a movie," you lie through your teeth, voice slightly muffled from where you keep your mouth pressed against your clothed legs. Sukuna clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, glaring at you.  

"Liar." 

"I'm not lying." 

"You are. I only know because you're fucking terrible at it," Sukuna spits, furrowing his eyebrows together in frustration as you look away from him again. Your eyes water, and you lift your wrist to swipe away the tears before they have the chance to fall – remembering what Sukuna had just said about them rendering you 'pathetic'.  

"Nothin' happened. Even if something did, why would it matter to you?" Your voice is laced with a bitterness that Sukuna hadn't heard in you before – and honestly, he didn't think that you were capable of sounding so cold.  

"It doesn't. I just don't wanna deal with your sulking," Sukuna rolls his eyes, resting his cheek against his knuckles as he sneaks another glance at you. You seem to sink further into the couch – there's that sensation again. What the fuck was it? 

You remain silent, keeping your eyes fixed on the movie, which is nearing its conclusion. The male lead tenderly reaches for the female, holding her face and steering her lips to his own. Sukuna notices your nails digging into your legs, no doubt leaving behind angry red marks that you would complain about later.  

"So talk." 

You glance at Sukuna, narrowing your eyes at the unfamiliar tenderness that flickers in his irises. Your eyes involuntarily water, eyebrows furrowing together as you look back to the television screen.  

"Nothin'. My boyfriend – he just, y'know, got bored of me. Guess my best friend looked better," you explain offhandedly, obviously trying to downplay the situation for the sake of not working yourself up. But Sukuna could tell that the situation deeply bothered you, judging by the way you blink back your tears and curl your arms impossibly tighter around your legs.  

Sukuna's hands subconsciously curl into white-knuckled fists, anger flaring up in his chest as he mulls your words over in his head. He shocks himself – why did he care so much about what happened to you? Why did he suddenly have the overwhelming urge to strangle the life out of your now ex-boyfriend? 

"He what?" Sukuna all but growls, turning his head to settle all of his attention on you. You, however, don't spare him another glance, not wanting to see his mocking expression or the smirk that he's most definitely wearing in response to your sadness.  

A shame that if you had looked up, you would see the genuine anger that Sukuna displays.  

"Wasn't slick about it either, but it's whatever," you say with faux indifference, shrugging your shoulders. You sigh shakily, tears slipping down your cheeks as the movie in front of you ends. "It's whatever Sukuna." 

"It can't be whatever if you're staining the couch with tears," Sukuna bites back, glaring at you – though his anger is very clearly directed elsewhere. You let out a shaky sigh through your nose, not wanting to discuss the situation further.  

"Well it is whatever, so fucking drop it," you growl out, voice wavering slightly as you reach for the television remote, flicking through channels until you land on some random documentary, opting to leave it on for background noise. 

Sukuna grumbles something incoherent, lifting his legs to cross them over one another as he sits silently on the couch across from you. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to sneak glances at you, taking mental notes of your body language and facial expressions.  

"I'm...sorry that he did that to you," Sukuna grumbles out, his voice at a volume that you nearly miss. The tenderness in his voice is so foreign, but at the same it sounds so natural coming from him – almost like he had rehearsed this very scene a thousand times over in his head.  

You sit there stunned for a moment, not having expected Sukuna to be offering you his condolences. In truth, you didn't need them, nor did you want them – but the fact that he had softened up for a passing moment to say those words to you brought a little bought of warmth to your stomach.  

"It's whatever," you say again, this time with a bit more indifference than before. Sukuna finds himself smirking, which he tries to hide but to no real avail – you catch it just before it fades away.  

He'll pay your ex-boyfriend a visit later, right now, he wants you to keep that barely there smile on your face. 

Promised Protector

Sypnosis - When a particularly pushy Araj begins to make Astarion revert to a past self that he had been trying so desperately to grow from, it leaves you to step in. It leaves Astarion with a small realization -- you did care for him, really truly cared for him.

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, mentions of abuse (physical and sexual), Araj being an ass, slightly OOC Astarion

Word Count - 1.8k

A/N - Trying my hand at BG3 fanfiction. I have yet to actually play the game, so I'm going purely based off of the playthroughs of others and random clips that I've found sprinkled around YouTube. I do plan to write more for this little vampiric shit, so y'all can leave requests for him as well!

“Must we be here darling? I’m not rather fond of dungeons with … medieval torture devices.”

You bite back the breathy chuckle in your throat as you continue forward, eyes expertly searching your surroundings to ensure that no creature in the dark would ambush you or Astarion. 

“For a creature that usually prefers the dark, you’re quite the complainer,” you bite back, tilting your head to cast a glance at the vampire over your shoulder. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shooting you a warning glare – one that you laugh off. 

“And for a creature as clumsy as yourself, you’re doing quite well in avoiding any potential traps.” Astarion’s eyebrow raises as you now shoot him a glare. His shoulders rise and fall in a nonchalant shrug as he moves to walk in sync with you, scarlet eyes scanning his surroundings before they allow themselves to return to you.

“I am not clumsy. It was one time,” you roll your eyes, continuing forward and clenching your jaw as Astarion dares to chuckle at your side. “Rich coming from the one who threw a tantrum even after I revived him.”

“Darling, need I remind you that you dropped an entire building on my head?” Astarion whips his head to the side to face you, his eyes narrowed now in a pointed glare that only brings a wide smile to your face. In any other situation, he too would have smiled simply at the sight of your own, but your revealed teeth only make his chest twist in faux anger. 

“And need I remind you that it was an accident?” 

“In what world is dropping a building on someone an accident?” Astarion murmurs under his breath, stopping when you do. Your eyes flicker to a figure standing just a few feet in front of you – a drow. 

She turns as your footsteps and Astarion’s become more audible, curiosity painting itself onto your face as you both approach. Her eyebrows raise, and you’re not sure if her expression is one of intrigue. 

“Hello,” you say politely, bowing your head in greeting as the drow eyes you curiously, irises raking over the entirety of your figure before they curiously flicker to peer at Astarion. 

“Araj Obladra, a pleasure,” the drow returns just as politely as you, her head dipping in the same bow that you had offered her. “How nice it is to stand in the presence of a True Soul … and her paled companion.”

Astarion’s eyes roll at the nickname, you catch it just out of the corner of your eye. But you choose to ignore it for the sake of not wanting to stir up any unnecessary drama – you had come to Araj for a reason, after all. 

“I’ve traveled to inquire about your services if you’re willing to provide them,” you explain, already noticing a glint in Araj’s eye. You’re not quite sure what expression it’s meant to convey, but from the way that she shifts from one foot to another, your gut tells you that it may not be the most positive. 

Another thing you notice … how her gaze continuously flickers to Astarion. 

“But of course,” Araj replies without hesitation, angling her body so that it faces Astarion rather than you. Your eyes narrow, brows momentarily pinching together. Just what was she playing at?

“You seem … interested in my pale friend here,” you think aloud, immediately wishing that you could swallow your words the moment that you register both Astarion and Araj’s reactions. 

“It is not every day that one encounters a vampire spawn,” Araj notes, the term bringing a disgusting taste to Astarion’s tongue. His nose scrunches in that same disgust, and for a moment, a flicker of anger dares to flare up within the depths of your chest. “After all, in exchange for blood, I craft potions.”

A hum rumbles in your throat, though you say nothing. Araj continues, choosing to ignore the expression you wear – the anger that you so clearly display. 

“All I truly need is a single drop, and then whatever potion you require … well, I can brew it,” she explains, finally moving from where she stands to circle you and Astarion. It reminds you of a predatory lion, one with slit-like pupils that eyes its prey before promptly pouncing on it. 

“And with the rest of it?” you prompt with a raise of your eyebrow. “My blood, I mean.”

“I shall keep it for myself … other potions need to be crafted, as you well know.”

She steps forward, extending her hand and holding her palm out to you. For a moment, you simply think, pondering whether or not you should even trust the drow – especially considering how her eyes still dared to flicker to Astarion. Why was she so interested in him?

You can sense Astarion’s worry from over your shoulder, the feeling rippling off of him like rolling ocean waves. But even with it, you lay your palm over Araj’s. 

“There, finished,” Araj says, already stepping back from you the moment that your skin comes into contact with her own. Her eyes, once again, meet Astarion’s. 

“And now wh—“

Araj’s attention turns completely now to Astarion, who momentarily falters underneath her gaze. His worry for you morphs silently into disgust directed at the drow. 

“There’s still much to discuss,” Araj comments, a smirk just barely pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Such as your paled companion.”

Astarion glances at you, and in return, he’s met with an expression of suppressed anger and jealousy — that would be a conversation for later, he dictates. 

“He’s a vampire, is he not? Or vampire spawn?” Araj’s eyes wander over Astarion, drifting down his entire body and ignoring the way that his eyes narrow in a glare at her. She turns then back to you, once again choosing to ignore the fury that glints in the depths of your eyes. 

“He belongs to you, am I correct?”

If you weren’t angry before, you were now. Your eyes flicker to Astarion, his expression a mixture of hurt and shock – it was one that you had never seen him wear before, and with the way it made your heart positively crack, you never wanted to see it again. 

“The last I checked, he was his own person,” you turn to Araj angrily, “he does not belong to anyone.” 

Araj bites back the chuckle that threatens to crawl up her throat, lifting a hand in front of her mouth as she laughs breathily into the skin of her palm. Your teeth grind against each other, jaw setting into place as the drow regains herself. 

“Oh, you were serious?” Her eyebrow lifts, the sight of it taking everything in you to not lunge at her and promptly wedge the blade of your dagger into the skin of her neck. “It’s adorable really … if he truly believes you, that is.”

Astarion swears he could hear one of your teeth chip with how roughly you set your jaw into place. His eyes wander down to your hands, taking note of how they clench into white-knuckled fists. Your fingers itch towards the blade in its holster, but you fight the urge to remove it. 

“Does your spawn have a name?” Araj shifts her attention back to Astarion, eyeing him once again. He opens his mouth to speak, but with a speed that feels almost inhuman, you answer for him. 

“His name is Astarion, and if you dare to call him my spawn again, I will surely–”

“Now, now darling!” Astarion’s hand closes around your mouth, palm pressing to your lips as he flashes you a too-sweet smile – hoping to whatever God was above him that you wouldn’t turn your anger onto him and plunge a dagger between his eyebrows. “Let’s be civil, yes?”

You bite back the angered insult that bubbles up in your chest, swallowing your words and settling back on your feet. Astarion nods, slowly removing his hand from your mouth before he turns to Araj.

“It’s been quite the dream of mine, being bit by a vampire … spawn or the like,” Araj explains, her tone taking on an almost dream-like lull. You can already feel the bile rising in your throat.

And it seems that Astarion shares your sentiment, what with the way that his eyebrows raised and his lips curled in that adorable little scowl. 

“I’ll have to decline,” Astarion is quick to answer, shaking his head and taking a tentative step away from Araj, almost as if he’s trying to hide his body behind your own. You allow it, going so far as to then sidestep him and stand protectively in front of him – an action that he smiles gently at. 

“I’ll compensate–”

“He said no, thank you very much,” you butt in, glaring down your nose at the overbearing drow. She falters on her feet for a moment, but just as quickly, she recollects herself. “We’ll be going now.”

You turn on your heel, reaching swiftly for Astarion’s hand before promptly leaving – not once sparing a glance to the disappointed drow over your shoulder. 

< … >

“Darling?” Astarion hesitantly lifts the flap of your tent, ducking beneath it and entering. You hum from where you sit at your desk, tilting your head slightly to show your acknowledgment. “Are you alright? Your lively presence was missed. You left me to deal with … them … on my own.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turn in your seat to look at Astarion. At the sight of your face, he falters, his expression softening. 

“You’re still upset over that vile drow, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am Astarion!” you rise from your place, throwing your hands up. He flinches, not having expected a violent outburst from you. 

“She … she thought that I had ownership of you! All because of what, the fact that you’re a spawn and not a vampire? The nerve of some creatures disgusts me! I mean honestly–!”

“Darling.”

You pause, head lifting so that your gaze finally meets Astarion’s awaiting gaze. His eyes are soft as they gaze at you, lips turned upward in a smile of equal softness. He approaches you, offering his hands to you – which you take without hesitation. 

“I want you to know that I … appreciate what you did for me today,” Astarion admits quietly, speaking low enough that you could barely hear him. “It has been many years since I was able to choose my own.”

You soften, squeezing at his hands. “Astarion, you deserve to have your own voice. Nobody should be able to control what you do besides … well … you.”

He draws you closer to his chest, arms locking around your waist as his face buries itself into your hair. You chuckle lightly, returning his embrace and laying your face against his shoulder. 

For 200 years, Astarion had never known the sound of his own voice. 

But now?

Now he knew the sound of it, and he knew that it mattered. 

“Baby? It’s late, what are you still doing up?” Suguru asks drowsily from the doorframe that connects your bedroom to the kitchen. He lifts a hand to his eyes, flicking away the last bits of sleep that still cling desperately to his eyelashes.  

You turn to face him with a smile, patterned oven mitt covering one of your hands. In your hand is a steaming tray of cookies, snickerdoodle to be specific. “Well it was supposed to be a surprise, but I made you cookies.” 

Suguru’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion as he walks into the kitchen, glancing curiously at the tray that you lay out over the stovetop, then removing the oven mitt and opening your arms to him. He steps easily into them, wrapping his broad arms around your waist and allowing you to tuck your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.  

“What’d you make me cookies for?” he inquires curiously, tilting his head at you as you step back from his embrace, then folding your hands behind your back. Your lips curl upward in a soft smile, one that he mirrors almost immediately after seeing your own. He couldn’t help it — you always looked so soft around him.  

You bite your lip in thought for a moment, shuffling on your feet as your eyes flick to the still cooling cookies. Suguru watches you intently, still slightly confused.  

“Well…I overheard you talking with Satoru yesterday — you were complaining that the Curses you consume leave a sour taste in your mouth,” you begin, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze momentarily leaves Suguru. Your nails pick at a hangnail, but you don’t tug on it hard enough to remove it.  

“I thought that maybe making something sweet would — you know — get rid of the taste for a little bit.” 

Suguru softens, his lips turning upward in a smile as he reaches his fingers out, tilting your head so that your gaze finally meets his own. He leans down, pecking your forehead softly.  

“Thank you,” he whispers, bringing his forehead down so that it connects with your own. You smile, placing your hand against the one that he has resting on your cheek, stroking a finger over the backs of his knuckles.  

“I love you Suguru.” 

“I love you more, sweet girl.” 

000 - rules page

hi there! listed below are just a few ground rules for this blog.

-> i write mainly for female readers, but will write for other readers upon request

-> i am 100% okay with both fluff and angst, but am a bit iffy on full-length smut fics

-> i do not write character x character relationships unless in a poly situation (writing for satosugu x reader, etc)

I WILL NOT WRITE THE FOLLOWING -> r*pe, smut for characters that are minors, anything having to do with sc*t, p*ss, v*mit, incest, stepcest, illegal age-gaps, gender-swap characters, descriptive gore

don't be afraid to send in a request, as i accept the majority of them and try to write them within a timely manner!

This is self-indulgent comfort because hey, guess who just read chapter 236?

Also, consider this my official apology for this post.

This wasn't real.  

"C'mon Satoru, get up," you all but beg, fingers folding uncomfortably into one another as you stare forward. You already know that everyone else is staring at you, watching you, gauging their own reactions based off of what you display.  

He wasn't losing, was he? 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, continuing to watch as he pushed himself further and further towards a limit that you didn't know if he could bounce back from. The pit in your stomach only grew with each blow that he sustained, it grew with each drop of blood he lost and it grew with each Domain Expansion that he managed to pull off. 

No. He was the strongest, he'd be fine. 

At your side is Yuuji, his hand holding onto yours so tightly that you can feel your bones begin to crack. Even with the slightly uncomfortable sensation, you say nothing – Yuuji needed to feel the comfort of something familiar, and that just so happened to be you.  

And then … silence. 

Satoru Gojo … on the floor … eyes staring blankly up at the sky … blood everywhere.  

"…'toru?" 

You begin to tremble, the shake beginning in your fingers before slowly traveling up your body like a snake, coiling and twisting over your bones and biting into you – its fangs leaving behind a poisonous panic. 

"Satoru--!" 

"Hmm? Wha – what happened?"  

Your eyes shoot open, beads of sweat dripping down your forehead and making your hair cling uncomfortably to your skin. Your body propels itself upward, feet kicking off the blankets that cover you – it was warm, too warm.  

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?"  

Your head swivels to the side, nearly giving yourself whiplash. There, at your side, is that familiar tuft of snowy-white hair and bright aquamarine eyes that soften at the panicked expression you wear. Satoru. 

You open your mouth to say something, but instead of a coherent sentence, all your body is able to produce is a broken sob. And right on cue, Satoru's arms are locked around you, tugging you to his chest and allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. 

Your nails bite into his back as you sob into him, body trembling with the weight of your cries. Though the feeling of you scratching him was a touch painful, there was nothing that would stop him from comforting you – not when you were this distressed.  

"Hey … hey. Shh, 'm right here," Satoru murmurs into your hair, laying gentle kisses against your hairline as his fingers rub comforting circles into the small of your back. "Shh." 

You feel yourself begin to calm as the familiar tingle of Infinity washes over you, draped over your shoulders like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Its warmth reminds you of the safety that Satoru's arms provide, how he would never let anything happen to you. That you were safe. That he was safe.  

That whatever you saw when your eyes were closed was nothing but a story told by your imagination.  

"Don't leave me 'toru … ever," you mumble into Satoru's shirt, voice breaking to release a small sob. His arms tighten around you, cheek pressing into your hair. He can feel his heart tightening in his chest – mind wrapping around just how small you sounded. How desperate. Frail.  

He sighs, craning his neck and laying his palm against your cheek, lifting your head and guiding your tear-filled gaze to meet his softened one. His lips turn upward in a smile, the pad of his thumb swiping against the tears that roll silently down your cheeks.  

"Hey, there she is," he murmurs warmly, tone dripping with affection and a softness that he could only ever reserve for you. Satoru leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. At the contact, your eyes momentarily shut, as if committing the very feeling of him against you to memory.  

"I'm here. Not goin' anywhere just yet." 

His thumb swipes against your bottom lashes, wiping away those last few tears that cling so desperately to your waterline, wanting to fall but not being brave enough to make the final choice. Satoru smiles again – silently wanting you to do the same.  

Even though your heart still aches and your mind still reminds you of what you had seen … you smile too.  

Because deep down, in that little safe kept in your chest, you know that Satoru wouldn't go down so easily. At the end of the day, just like he had promised you … 

... he would always be on the other side of the front door.  

NANAMI PLEASE OH MY GOD

like wow nanami with a s/o that falls asleep after using like 200% of her cursed energy after a rough mission!

Sypnosis - Being a sorcerer wasn't easy, but your husband would be there no matter how worn out you may be.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, NANAMI BEING DOMESTIC ASF, uhh I don't know does fluff really need warnings...?

A/N - Don't worry everyone, Nanami is 100% safe and enjoying his retirement in Malaysia with his little wife, it's okay.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

“Darling? Is that you?” 

You can’t find it in yourself to answer your husband’s gentle call, eyes struggling to remain open as you stagger into your shared apartment, hands bracing themselves against any solid surface in the hopes that you would be able to scoot yourself towards either the couch, or better yet, your bed.  

Your latest mission had been one of the toughest yet. Taking on a Special Grade curse entirely on your own wasn’t a simple feat, even for a sorcerer as skilled as yourself. The overexertion of your Cursed Energy left you utterly exhausted and craving sleep — it was the hardest you had pushed yourself in a long time.  

You try to blink the exhaustion from your eyes as you finally make it into the living room, eyeing the empty couch with a borderline hungry glint to your irises. Your palms are cupped over shallow wounds on your body, fingertips lightly touching the various scrapes and bruises that you had received from the Special Grade Cursed Spirit. In honesty, you were lucky to leave in the condition you were in — many other sorcerers would have had gashes and fatal lacerations.  

Staggering towards the couch, you all but collapse onto it, burying your face into the pillows and turning your back to the rest of the room. Your eyes easily fall shut, body slumping into a comfortable position. Within seconds, you’re snoring on the couch, dead to the rest of the world. 

“Darling?” 

Quietly, Nanami enters the living room, having been worried at your lack of a response. He’s just about to call out for you again when he notices you asleep on the couch, your back turned to him with your shoulders rising and falling in deep, relaxed breaths.  

His lips turn upward in a gentle, loving smile — and in three steps he crosses the room and gently kneels down at the edge of the couch. He reaches a hand out, finger stroking your spine and prompting you to turn to face him, awoken by the soft touch.  

“Hi,” you whisper sleepily, blinking slowly at Nanami. He smiles at you, waiting for you to turn completely before he speaks to you. 

“Hello. How was your mission?” 

“Tiring.” 

He hums in thought. He can see the telltale signs of your exhaustion painted onto your face — your sunken eyes, the eyebags just underneath your usually bright irises, the soft paleness to your skin. Nanami’s hand shifts, his finger stroking lightly against your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch, biting back a yawn.  

“Missed you though.” 

Nanami’s heart warms, his smile widening ever so subtly.  

“I missed you too darling. But you should rest,” he scolds you gently, removing his finger from your face and already shifting to stand up. Your hand flies out, fingers catching the sleeve of his shirt and momentarily stopping him.  

“Stay?” you offer, lifting the blanket that you had haphazardly thrown over yourself. Nanami chuckles, shaking his head at you before taking a step forward, carefully slotting himself against you on the couch. He lifts your body, settling you on top of his chest and tucking your head underneath his chin.  

You sigh in content, already feeling your eyes growing heavy again. Nanami’s fingers against your spine only relax you more, his fingertips dragging up and down over your skin. “I love you.” 

You smile sleepily, squeezing at your husband affectionately. “I love you more.” 

Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.

Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.

He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.

With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.

He grins to himself, content again.

Hi 👋

Can u write Yuta, Gojo, Kokichi, and Noritoshi (the student) with a fem s/o who's very calm,quiet, and scary in public bcz of their scars and muscular body but when they are alone she's very sweet and shy :)

Make it fluff, and it's up to you if u wanna make it headcanons or whatever :)

Sypnosis - How would these boys fare with an S/O who doesn't look the most approachable at times?

Includes - Yuuta Okkotsu, Satoru Gojo, Kokichi Muta, Noritoshi Kamo

Warning(s) - none besides mention of scarring on Reader

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

You were not exactly known to have a friendly face or an approachable person – avoided by many in most social settings thanks to the deep furrow of your brow and the frown that curls the corners of your mouth downward. Though you could be doing something as simple as thinking about what to prepare for dinner that night, your exterior displayed a deep anger for any and all that surrounded you.  

You had built up walls that were borderline impenetrable … that is … until he steps into your life.  

YUUTA OKKOTSU  

Like many, at first, Yuuta was intimidated by you. You carried yourself in such a way that made it seem as if you were uninterested in everyone around you – which included him when he first transferred to Jujutsu Tech. 

Even Gojo seemed hesitant to introduce you, gesturing to you quickly with a wave of his hand before doing his absolute best to change the subject without it being noticed by you, Yuuta, or any of the other second-years.  

One of the first things that Yuuta notices about you is the thin scars that line your arms, little stories of the missions that you had been on and reminders of the curses that you had defeated.  

In truth, your appearance only adds to the mysterious, intimidating persona that you seemed to have adopted — one that deeply scared others and continuously drove them away from you.  

Initially, it seems like the only person that you tolerate is Maki, considering that she’s the only one that you show a sliver of emotion to. She’s the only one that you offer a soft smile to, the only one that you regard without that sharpened ice in your voice, the only one that you really showed that you were … well … human.  

The other second-years had your favor as well; Yuuta quite enjoyed watching you train with Panda or playfully argue with Inumaki. He just wished that he had the courage to do what they did — which essentially was just talking to you.  

It’s only really with Panda’s pushing that Yuuta eventually builds up enough courage to approach you, hesitantly asking if you’d wanted to spar with him (Maki was preoccupied with Inumaki). Shockingly, you smiled softly at him and accepted.  

The rest was, quite literally, history.  

Little by little, Yuuta makes his way over the walls that you had built up around your heart, soft eyes and gentle smile worming its way into your life without any intent of ever leaving.  

He begins to realize that the way you acted with him was a complete 180 to how you acted around others. You regarded him with a soft tone, you touched him with gentle palms, you cooed sweet praises to him and hugged him tightly on those cold nights. 

You may be a force to be reckoned with out on the field, but to Yuuta? You were the soft-spoken girl that he devoted his entire heart to.  

SATORU GOJO 

At first, Gojo doesn’t want to think that he finds you intimidating. He tries to be nonchalant when he sees you standing beside Nanami, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes flicker around the room — desperately trying to look anywhere but where you stand.  

His gaze is drawn to your scars almost immediately, slightly impressed at the fact that you do very little to hide them. In any other case, he would say that you were proud of them (at least, that’s what he thought).  

But, ever the confident man, Gojo does eventually decide to approach you (literally the second that Nanami leaves the room). He tries to crack a joke or two, hoping that you would break and that maybe you would crack a smile. You don’t … and he physically deflates. 

That does very little to actually deter him though. Actually, he makes it his personal mission to make his way over the walls that you’ve so obviously put up around your heart. While everyone else would find his actions downright annoying, you find them oddly endearing.  

It’s rare that someone takes such an interest in you, considering that the aura you radiated was really anything but initially friendly. To see Gojo try so hard to capture your attention … well, it only makes you that much more interested in just why he was so dead set on you.  

Eventually, Gojo finally finds it in himself to properly ask you out — in his very own Satoru Gojo way. A bouquet of overpriced roses, a night at a resturant with pricing that could probably pay your mortgage, and a sweet walk that ended with Gojo hopelessly devoting himself to you.  

He adores the change in your personality — how you can easily switch from sternly speaking to your students to mumbling to him as if he were the only thing in your world that mattered.  

But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t also love the firm persona you take on when you’re, for example, out for a day together.  

He adores you … always and forever. 

KOKICHI MUTA  

Unlike the others, Kokichi isn’t immediately put off by your appearance. If anything, he’s intrigued by it. In a way, you remind him of himself; kept to yourself and separated from others — it makes him want to interact with you right at that moment.  

He won’t ever admit it to your face, but the first time that he did end up speaking to you, he was quite literally shaking under your gaze. You were just so damn assertive. 

At first, you come off as very bothered by Kokichi – but he quickly learns that it's the complete opposite. Just because you were this scarred, unapproachable individual didn't make you any less human than Kokichi himself.  

Slowly but surely, he makes his way over those walls that you had built up around your heart, opening you up and revealing that softened persona that lay hidden underneath it all. The sweet-eyed, soft-spoken girl who really wanted nothing more than to love and be loved in return.  

Upon coming to that realization, Kokichi finds himself gentler with you – just like you were with him. His words are soft-spoken and truthful, his actions performed out of the kindness of his heart rather than if the situation called for it.  

All in all, Kokichi feels a sense of protectiveness over you once you finally open yourself up to him. You were being vulnerable with him in a way that you simply weren't around others. And he was going to protect that vulnerability, no matter what it took.  

NORITOSHI KAMO 

Out of all the previously mentioned characters, Noritoshi is the one who minds the least about your appearance. If anything, he finds himself relating to you — considering that many don’t approach him as well for various reasons.  

And so because of that, he approaches you with as much confidence as he could muster, striking up a conversation with you and regarding you just as softly and respectfully as he would anyone else.  

You’re caught off guard by him at first, though slowly but surely, you and Noritoshi constantly seek the other out.  

He admires your ability to switch between being stoic and cold to soft and sweet. How around others you wore an expression as cold as the harshest winter, but the moment that you heard the lull of his voice, you were turning to him with a gentle smile.  

Noritoshi admires your scars actually, spending many nights just laying at your side with his fingertips dragging over the raised skin. He’ll hum a quiet song for the both of you, holding you and simply moving his fingers along your arm or leg.  

Another thing that Noritoshi adores about you is the way you whisper to him during your time spent together — how you lower and soften your voice when speaking to him. He smiles gently at you when he notices, then holding your face and decorating your face with little kisses.  

He doesn't mind your switch from soft to stoic, he knows that it's just what you're used to and it's become the norm for you. To him, you're still his lover, his absolute everything -- no matter what persona you decide to put on for the day. 

“As I’ve already stated,” Nanami pauses to sip at the coffee in his hand, “I’ve no interest in speaking to her.” 

Annoyed, Gojo leans back in his seat, casting a glance to the Instagram post that he had shown Nanami — the girl in it was attractive, but somehow it still wasn’t the blonde’s type. 

“Hmm, maybe you’re just not into brunettes,” Gojo says dismissively, scrolling through the woman’s Instagram before stowing his phone away into his pocket. 

Nanami bites back the chuckle in his throat, masking it by taking another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. A shame that Gojo kept interrupting him just as he wanted to enjoy his break.  

“I’m not into anyone,” Nanami finally says, setting down his cup — though he is quite frustrated considering that the coffee had been purchased by someone else for him.  

“Oh? What, have some secret girlfriend I don’t know about?” Gojo teases, already laughing at his own joke. Nanami shoots him a pointed glare, subconsciously running a finger over the smooth metal band adorning his left ring finger.  

“I don’t see how—“ 

Nanami’s phone buzzes on the table, its screen displaying your image. It’s one of Nanami’s favorite photos of you, one that he had taken himself during one of your monthly date nights.  

Gojo’s eyes flicker down to the flashing screen, his eyebrows raising and his eyes widening in absolute shock. “Who—?” 

Nanami is quick to answer the call, pressing the phone against his ear and doing very little to hide the smile that curls his lips upward. “Hi love.” 

Gojo’s jaw goes completely slack. It’s an expression that would make anyone laugh — Nanami is honestly shocked at how well he was able to keep his straightforward façade.  

“Yes, I should be home soon. I did not forget,” Nanami’s tone is reassuring, one that Gojo had never heard in the stoic man’s voice before. It’s heartwarming, not that he would ever admit it out loud.  

“I love you too, bye now.” 

The minute that Nanami hangs up, Gojo is practically screaming. Heads turn, and in a fit of both frustration and embarrassment, Nanami attempts to diffuse the situation. 

“You have a girlfriend?!” 

“Wife, actually.” 

“Are you—?!” 

Gojo knew that you absolutely adored his eyes, and in turn, he began to adore them as well.  

At multiple points throughout his life, Gojo would stare daggers into his own reflection. His hands would grip the sides of the sink, knuckles turning white from how tightly he curled his fingers.  

Your eyes are a curse, he would tell himself. They prevented him from proper rest, working on overdrive and spoon-feeding him information that he never truly wanted. The abilities and techniques of others constantly swarmed his mind, drowning out his own thoughts.  

That was before he met you. 

That was before you held his face in your hands and gazed at his eyes with such adoration that he felt himself melting on the spot. Before your soft lips parted to whisper to him, "Your eyes are gorgeous." 

From that point forward, he told himself that his eyes were gorgeous. He looked at them in the mirror with love, not with that burning hatred that he had known for so many years. He takes a second to admire them now in the morning, running the tips of his fingers against the skin underneath his eyes, smiling faintly to himself.  

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. 

He hears you say it to him every time he lifts his blindfold and catches a glimpse of his reflection. He can feel the ghost of your hands over his cheeks, how your thumbs stroked his skin and how your lips pressed to his closed eyelids.  

But you're not around anymore. 

It had been months since Gojo heard your voice, or felt your touch. Your last mission had ended in you never returning home – a fact that Gojo struggled to stomach. But shockingly, his hatred for his eyes never returned.  

"Satoru! There you are!" 

He pauses, feet suddenly feeling as though they were being weighed down by bricks. The heads of the transfigured humans he'd killed fall to the ground with dull thuds. He turns on his heel, heart dropping to his stomach.  

It's you. 

Your lips are turned upward in that soft smile that he had kissed so many times. You tilt your head at him, eyes opening as your smile begins to fade.  

His eyes roam over your figure, drinking in every detail about you and committing it to memory … not that he had forgotten anything about you in the first place.  

Gojo's Six Eyes kept repeating over and over again that it was you. You were alive … standing right in front of him as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.  

In that moment, at that very second … 

… he had never hated his eyes more.