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𖹭 × hi. i'm into daydreaming and escapism nsfw content, minors﹠ageless please dni × masterlist
formerly svgarseason
Reblogged
𖹭 cw: suggestive, fluff, mdni
English professor nanami places your final essay grade-side down on your desk. He holds down the corner with his index finger. He notes the way your hands tremble to turn it over with an expression that he hopes resembles his baseline stoicism.
He waits until your eyes rise to meet his over the rims of his glasses to say, in the most infuriatingly neutral tone imaginable, "Please see me after class."
"Yes, sir," you nod, hoping he doesn't notice the tremulous quality of your voice.
He fights to maintain his air of neutrality when he hears the rustle of the paper followed by your sharp exhalation when you see the red "98" scrawled in the corner. It's hard, fighting the thrill that crawls up his spine, hearing you gasp like that and knowing that he caused it. He pushes the feeling down. Feelings like that are totally inappropriate.
Professor nanami doesn't hand out A's. Especially not on his infamous final paper. But you? You are exceptional. Your writing, that is.
You're the kind of writer who pours her soul onto the page. Little pieces of you were hidden in the spaces between every word you wrote for his class. You gave everything, and he had inadvertently collected it. Stored it away. Built a fascinating, inescapable idea of you. And he couldn't let it go at the end of the semester. Your talent, that is. He couldn't let your talent go. That's why he is offering you the coveted work-study position as his assistant. His interest, purely academic, of course.
That's why he doesn't notice the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your sweater hangs off of one shoulder as you slowly pack up your things, waiting for the room to empty. He doesn't pay any particular attention to the smooth column of your neck, the line of your collarbone above the swell of your breast. His pulse doesn't quicken at the way your nervous teeth tug at your bottom lip as you finally approach his desk after the last of your classmates have departed.
Professor nanami does smile, however, when you lean forward, nodding before he can even get the offer all the way out of his mouth. He can't help it. "Yes sir, thank you for the opportunity, sir," you say, breathless. It's beyond gratifying to see you so eager.
You've been eager to please him all semester. He could see it in the nervous pistoning of your leg under your front-row desk when he handed back assignments. It was mirrored in the shine of your eyes, the flush of your cheek at his every utterance of, 'Well done.'
"I really can't thank you enough," you say, hands trembling as you reach out to take the key to his office and the card with his number on it. Goodness, are those tears in your eyes?
Professor nanami extends his hand for you to shake when you both stand to go, but he doesn't reject the friendly hug you offer instead. Perhaps he should have, judging by the way his head swims with the clean, sweet scent of your hair. But he couldn't bear to disappoint you. He simply ignores the way your body feels, lightly pressed against him. It was only a couple of seconds, easily forgotten. Should have been, anyway.
Professor nanami is thankful, for once, that winter break is short.
𖹭 cw angst, smut, mildly explicit mdni
"Oh, god," corrupt priest suguru geto whines. "Turn it off." The words are muffled as he buries his face into the pad of fat below your belly button.
You giggle at the image of him on the tv screen, his easy smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he reminds his congregation - which, at times, seems to outnumber the city lights glittering outside the floor to ceiling windows of your penthouse - to tune in for his televised Sunday morning mass. "You look pretty, though," you murmur as you twirl a silky lock of his hair around your finger.
"Be quiet," he says, turning his cheek. His dark eyes seem to fixate on the rise and fall of your bare chest, but you know better. By the time the commercial ends, he's far away, retreated into the depths of his troubled mind, his mouth a thin line. You could ask, but it's easier to spider your fingers over his shoulder blade to tickle his neck. It is enough to bring a version of him back to you. He gives you a smile that, you suspect, is as much a costume as the robes folded neatly and over the back of a plush accent chair beside the bed.
He hums into your skin and kisses the soft flesh of your lower belly. "Su," you whine as you try to squirm away.
"What?" He murmurs. His fingers sink into the fat of your thighs, holding you in place as he drags his tongue across your hip bone.
"I can't," you protest despite the flutter he's causing between your legs. "I have a client in 30."
"You're not kicking me out," he says. His hair brushes against your skin as he leaves wet kisses along the inside of your thigh.
"I am," you say as you work against his hands to close your legs. "Like I said, I have a client."
"Cancel," he says, pushing up onto his palms to crawl on top of you. His tone is playful, but you recognize the brief flash of anger in his eyes. "I'll pay." He settles his hips between yours, already hard again and pressing urgently against your belly.
"Mm mm," you hum, shaking your head and resisting the powerful urge to arch into him.
"I'll pay double," he whispers into your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point.
"No, Suguru," you sigh, pressing your palms into the springy flesh of his pecs in a very half-hearted attempt to push him away. "I feel weird taking money from you."
He pulls away and regards you with lidded eyes. "You don't seem to feel 'weird' about me paying the lease on this place."
"Uhg, that's why I feel weird about it. You do enough."
"Is that the only reason?" He asks, that gaurded look creeping back into his eyes.
Truth be told, all the man would have to do is ask and you wouldn't take clients anymore, wouldn't fuck them, anyway. You would let him keep you in this castle in the sky. You would let him purchase you for himself. But, he won't ask. He'd rather you offer, you suppose. "That's the only reason," you answer.
"Fine," he says, pushing himself off of you.
"Wait," you say, dragging him back. "Okay, I'll cancel. Hand me my phone?"
He leaves a trail of gentle kisses over your ribs as you tap at the screen. "Thanks," he says. "I feel like I can be myself when I'm with you... "
It's a pretty sentiment, and one you would have eaten up when you first met him. Now, you're unsure if Suguru is truly genuine with anyone.
But it's simpler just to say, "Me, too."
#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk x y/n#geto x y/n#geto x you#geto x reader#suguru x you#suguru x y/n#suguru x reader#geto smut#geto suguru#geto fluff#geto angst#suguru fluff#suguru smut#suguru angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader
taglist cont'd ‹ freak part four ›
aka your big brother's friend sukuna is kinda funny looking.
𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni
Your ringtone interrupts the thoughts you were just trying not to think about how it might be to fuck someone (something?) that your nervous system can't seem to distinguish from a charging grizzly.
"How the hell should I know, Toji?" You mumble into the phone wedged between cheek and shoulder as you tamp grounds for your espresso. Although you're annoyed that you're suddenly expected to answer for your big brother's friend sukuna when he fails to check in. "You want me to wake him up?" You scoff. "Not. Happening." The line goes silent as the espresso machine hums to life.
"Sooner I talk to him the sooner he's out." Toji says. Magic words.
Of course that freak would choose a room adjacent to yours to spend the night in. "Can't believe I'm doing this," you whisper into the phone as the door creaks obnoxiously on its hinges. That's fine, you'd like to be as far away from him as possible when he wakes up. "Hey!" You shout. As your eyes adjust to the dark you can make out the steady rise and fall of his massive chest. "Sukuna!" You shout. It is impossible to tell whether or not any of his eyes are open.
Against your better judgement, you step into the dark. "Hey, Toji needs to talk to you," you're saying, reaching out with trembling fingers to tap his shoulder. Before your fingertips make contact with his skin, the world spins and you find yourself crushed underneath the feverish weight of him.
The ease with which he pins you down, clamps a hand over your mouth, and holds the phone to his ear with hands to spare has you fuming and shouting muffled protests into his palm. He hardly seems to notice your struggling as he growls into the phone. When he flicks away an errant bead of water from his brow you notice that his skin and hair are damp. From the shower, judging by the smell of him. You realize he never was asleep, as your eyes trace the tattooed lines of his bare chest to land on the alarmingly small towel knotted around his waist.
The sudden realization that he's practically naked has your heart thundering in your ears loud enough to drown out any coherent thoughts. By the time you drag your eyes back to meet his, you find him looking at you like you're something to eat. Having finished what seemed to be a mostly one sided conversation, he releases your face and arms, but plants his hands on either side of you. "Couldn't stay away?" He says, leaning in. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
Evidently, Sukuna interprets your speechlessness as an invitation and fastens his mouth to yours for the second time in less than twenty four hours. You find yourself thinking strange thoughts behind your closed eyes. Thoughts about how you're glad you brushed your teeth and how it's odd such a creature seems to enjoy kissing so much. Odd that he's so good at it, you're thinking as his tongue glides over yours.
You didn't mean to moan into his mouth, but it's beyond your control, really, when his teeth tug at your lip like that, when two of his massive hands grasp your waist, another tugs at your hair, and yet another wraps gently around your throat. When your hands trace the dips of his abdomen only to touch something warm and wet, you think, dazedly: oh, that's right, there's another tongue down there. Your thoughts only get stranger from there. Down there. Right where you are beginning to urgently need some part of him or another. You are rapidly becoming less picky.
There is so much to feel that your brain is incapable of sound judgement. You would never consciously choose this. That's what you tell yourself, after. After he peels away from you, laughing as you gasp at the loss of him. "Thought you didn't like me," he says, standing with his back to you, and drops that little towel before you truly have the chance to look away. At least his ass is... normal, you note.
"I don't," you spit back as you search for your discarded phone in his bedding. "Can't fucking stand you," you mutter, but he doesn't hear you. He is already dressed and gone, presumably to wherever Toji needed him to be. Maybe he won't come back, you think, even as you look around the spare room for evidence to the contrary and try to ignore the ache between your legs.
a/n: Thank you guys for showing an interest in this fic. Appreciate you all! It's super nice reading all your comments although I am not the best at responding lol. I will keep the taglist open for now, so some will be tagged in a separate post, just fyi. ♡
𖹭 cw fluff, mildly suggestive, mdni
Your husband Nanami surprises you when he comes home from work early. Normally, you've showered and fixed your hair, maybe put on a little makeup by the time he gets home. Today, how've, you'd only gotten as far as pulling on one of his old long sleeves after tossing your sweaty workout clothes into the hamper. Your hair is falling out of a messy bun as you knead dough for the bagels you've been craving. "Oh," you say, leaving a smudge of flour on your chest when your hand flies there in surprise.
Your husband Nanami is framed in the kitchen doorway, briefcase in hand. The way he stares at you has you feeling suddenly quite self-conscious.
"Wow," he says, still rooted to the spot.
"Oh, God. I'm a mess," you exclaim, looking down at yourself.
Your husband Nanami has closed the distance between you by the time you lift your eyes again. You gasp when he runs his hands down your sides, sliding them down the curve of your ass before lifting you up to straddle his narrow waist. You giggle as you press your thighs into his obliques to anchor yourself.
"You're perfect," your husband Nanami murmurs into the sensitive flesh of your neck as he carries you into the bedroom.
𖹭 cw: suggestive, mdni
The spotlight is blinding. Thus, to Satoru Gojo, who is always haloed in the glow of it, you were invisible, once. Another face in a dark sea of people that swirl around or break against him like waves, all without ever truly touching him.
You wish you had stayed that way. Invisible. Instead, the slide of his diamond eyes from the top of your head to the tips of your toes makes you feel like you are underneath a microscope, even from across the room. It makes you nervous and uncomfortably warm.
"Leave her alone, Satoru!" Your sister whines as he plops down on the couch next to you, his lanky limbs encroaching on your personal space as he sinks into the cushions.
"Huh?" He mimes bewilderment as he pushes his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "Oh." His eyes slide in your direction once again as you dig your heels into the cushion and press your little body into the corner of the couch as far away from him as you can get. "Didn't see you there," he says.
You don't believe it for a second, although you make a point not to look up from your phone as you mutter a tepid, "It's fine."
You are grateful that he is distracted by a group of chattering students that gathers around him almost immediately. The way his slender fingers keep inching toward the bare skin of your thigh has you praying for the timely arrival of your study partner. Come on, Suguru, you think to yourself as you check the read receipt on your last text for the hundredth time.
Satoru excuses himself, mumbling something about the restroom, shortly after he feels the weight of you leave the couch. The only reason he comes to your sisters stupid house parties is for the opportunity to get you alone. He is eager to unravel the mystery of how you, a lesser moon, had managed to pull him into your sad, little orbit.
The wind was already giving you enough trouble lighting your cigarette before Satoru's bright voice rings out from behind you. "Whatcha doing out here all by yourself?" He asks. And, before you even have the opportunity to find your stolen breath, he's closed the distance between you and snatched up your wrists in his hands. "You're shaking?" He hums as you drop your smoke. "What's the matter, hm?"
There isn't the faintest trace of true concern in his voice and his eyes glitter with amusement as he leans in even closer. "Shouldn't smoke, you know," he says, releasing a wrist in favor of grasping your chin and prodding at the shocked 'o' of your lips with his thumb. "Don't want these pretty lips to wrinkle."
You're still stuttering, "Er... I- huh- wha-" when he presses his lips to yours. He tastes sweet like whatever fruity drink he'd been nursing. And when did your lips part, for his tongue? You hadn't meant to tug at his bottom lip with your teeth like that, although, judging by the appreciative hum that bubbles out of his throat, he doesn't mind. Your hummingbird heart threatens to burst out of your own as you tear yourself away from him and sprint towards the safety of your room.
"Can't believe you're going for that guy," Suguru, who is already lying across your bed, says with his usual easy smile as you slam the door shut behind you.
"He went for me!" You exclaim, cheeks burning. "When did you get here? I was waiting for you!"
"So it's all my fault, huh?" He says, propping himself upon an elbow and closing the book in front of him.
Before you can answer, there is a knock at the door and Satoru muffled voice whining to be let in. You can only gape at your friend with a look of wide-eyed terror.
"Let him in," Suguru says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'll deal with him." You have little choice as the slender man is already shoving the door open and wedging himself inside.
Suguru chuckles, shaking his head. "Satoru," he tuts, "that wasn't part of the plan. Rude of you to start without me."
𖹭 cw: fluff, suggestive, mdni
Ryomen Sukuna looks down at you from beneath furrowed brows as you kiss the corner of his tummy mouth. Even those auxiliary lips are drawn tight in a scowl.
"You waste your kisses there? Of all the things you could do with your mouth, this is what you choose?"
"Does it not please you, my lord?" You ask, feining an innocence that does not quite match the mischievous gleam in your eyes.
He only huffs in response, watching with gaurded interest as you trace the seam of his second mouth with your tongue. The tip of the thick, pink muscle inside - which seems to have a mind of it's own, at times - protrudes, drawn out by your attentions.
"Enough," he growls when you latch onto it, hollowing your cheeks as you attempt to draw at least part of the oversized tongue between your lips. You laugh as he drags you up to face him.
"Strange creature," he says, his voice soft, although he still frowns. One pair of hands clutch at your waist while the other cradles the back of your head as the king of curses urges you forward, pressing your soft mouth against his, the correct one, this time.
#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#sukuna smut#sukuna headcanons#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna drabble#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#true form sukuna x reader#true form sukuna#heian era sukuna
𖹭 cw slight angst, suggestive, mdni
〢dissonance | sukuna x reader smau
You're new in town and Sukuna is everywhere you go, unfortunately. Enemies to lovers kinda thing.
a/n: I changed the colors to match my other sukuna posts bc I am anal and bored at work. I hope it's not super confusing. Also, I used an app instead of texting myself bc it's easier, and I'm lazy. That's why it looks different. Thanks for reading. Have fun.
𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni
You are in the kitchen fussing over a curry when your big brother's friend sukuna returns the very next day. Alone. Toji had the decency to warn you, so when sukuna sneaks up behind you, you manage not to jump out of your skin. You do however, shoot a glare at him over your shoulder when he powers off your Bluetooth speaker and gives your ponytail a hard tug. "Hey brat," he says, sniffing over your shoulder. "Miss me?"
"Smells good," he says, when you don't dignify his question with a response.
"It's not for you," you huff.
"Not talking about that slop," he says, close enough that you feel his breath against your neck.
"Back off," you round on him, brandishing your curry-stained spoon.
"Scary," he says, before he leans in and licks the utensil with the broad flat of his tattooed tongue, much to your dismay and his subsequent amusement.
You groan as you turn away to rinse the spoon in the sink. Why Toji thought it would be a good idea for his overgrown lackey to stay here until his return, you just can't understand. Doesn't help that he refuses to explain it to you. "Just tell me if he leaves," he had rasped at you before abruptly hanging up. You question what gods you have angered to put you in this situation as you watch the suds circle the drain.
"Toji says you have to stay so-"
"I don't give a fuck what Toji says," he interjects.
"So you're leaving?" You ask hopefully as you dry your hands.
"No."
"Then we should set some ground rul-" you trail off as you turn to see him tugging his shirt off over his head with his lower pair of arms. His chest and abdomen are tattooed in a similar linear pattern as his jaw line, you notice. Bold black marks like nature might bestow on some highly poisonous insect as a warning. Fitting for him, then.
"You were saying?" He prompts with a smirk as you realize you are staring instead of speaking.
"Can't you do that somewhere else?" You snap, rapidly losing what little patience you had to begin with.
"Do what?" He asks, as if he doesn't know. He crosses both sets of his stupidly muscular arms over his stupidly muscular chest, making every striation and vein stand out. On purpose. He does it on purpose. Why does he have to look like that? It's so annoying. You hate him. Hate him.
To your horror, you feel heat creeping up your neck all the way to the tops of your ears. The flush must be visible, judging by the amused expression on his face, which makes you even angrier.
"I don't know," you begin, gesturing wildly at him, "Exist? Could you just go exist somewhere fucking else?" You realize distantly that you are shouting. He is smiling and inching closer. "And if that's too much trouble, maybe you could - I don't know - do the world a favor and fucking kill yourself, huh? How about that?"
You continue on screaming at him, expelling at top volume and long last, your extensive list of grievances. You don't even realize that you have been backing away from him until your ass connects with the counter. By then, it is too late because his upper hands are cupping your chin, squishing your cheeks so that your words come out slurred just before he silences you completely with his mouth. You can taste the curry as your lips part for his tongue, out of pure shock, of course.
Your lips remain parted even after he breaks the kiss, panting as he grins at you. Before you can collect your scattered thoughts, movement drags your eyes down his abdomen, which, to your horror, splits open just below his navel. At first, you think he's injured, but when a large, wet tongue lolls out of the opening, you realize that it is just another anatomical anomaly. Stomach mouth. Why not? You scream all the way to your bedroom. His laughter echoes after you even after you've slammed the door shut.
A vague desire to not burn your brother's house down - at least not with yourself still in it - finally pulls you from your hiding place. The monster is nowhere in sight and, it would seem, he turned off the stovetop for you. The curry is salvageable, although a bit of the sauce is burned to the bottom of the pan. Your pride, on the other hand, well, that remains to be seen.
taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›
@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler ; @maybe-a-bi-witch ; @cairo-morningstar ; @rawwrrgal ; @sukubusss ; @raedollsstuff ; @expiredbred ; @ieathairs ; @frieddelusionparadise ; @hishearttohave ; @vellichor01 ; @mimiluvzu2 ; @lem-hhn ; @msrr-ws ; @paradisestarfishh ; @yuj111tadori ; @iminlovewqr0w ; @linaaeatsfamilies ; @samisfunky ; @noyaskneepad ; @shxyxyxxxx ; @00frenchfries00 ; @chubbyblckgirl ; @mysticranger575 ; @waterfal-ling ; @chiizuyu ; @contaminatedcupcake ; @littlesnoopy ; @dizzydotjpeg ; @sugufushi ; @missbunnybunny ; @go-go-gadget-autism ; @grapelover2000 ; @mmeerraa ; @tsukikoxo ; @slqttttt ; @akumazwrld ; @christiannugget ; @zlimeyzenin
𖹭 cw: angst, briefly explicit, cheating implied, mdni
Kento Nanami is a good husband. You know, because he was good to you once, years ago. The memories come flooding back when you first lay eyes on him again in Tokyo. It seems like fate when he takes a job in the office you work in. Did he remember? Was it on purpose?
The ring on his finger answers your question. Of course he's married. What did you expect after all this time? It doesn't stop the flood of memories, though. He walks by your desk, and the scent of his cologne transports you back to when he wrapped you in his arms after a mission. His strong body closed around yours like a vice, like he could never let you go.
Your eyes meet from across the room and the image of him buried between your legs, looking up at you through blonde lashes, drinking in every little sound and expression you make for him. You shiver. Does he remember? Does he remember lying next to you, pretending to ignore you for his book while you whined and pawed at him? You remember. You remember the way he smiled and pulled you on top of him, the hardness of him pressed into your belly.
If he remembers, he doesn't show it. Aside from pressing your small hand into his large one when he meets you again, your interactions are minimal. Aside from saying that he's glad to see you well, your conversations are professional. A fresh ache settles into your heart. You never wanted things to end the way they did. After one too many sleepless nights wondering if he'd make it home at all, you'd hoped he'd follow you when you took the finance job in Tokyo. It hurt when he didn't, but not as much as losing him forever might have.
You try to be happy for him when his pretty little wife brings his forgotten lunch to the office. The way he smiles at her shouldn't make your guts churn with jealousy the way it does, but you're only human. She stops by more and more often. Everybody whispers about how she eyes up the dark-haired guy from security.
Still, the first time you see Nanami without his ring, you think it must be a fluke. Maybe he was running late, left it on the sink at home. But his finger is bare the next day, and the one after that. His chin is stubbled and his eyes are drawn and tired. "Are you okay?" You ask, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He says he's fine and thanks you. "I'm here if you need me," you offer, and he turns to look at you. When your eyes meet, you say. "I miss you." You don't mean to say it. It just slips out.
"I-" he begins. He shakes his head. Sighs. Looks away. "I can't."
Kento Nanami is a good husband. Just not yours. He turns you down because he's decent. But maybe not because it's what he truly wants.
The next day, the ring is back on his finger. Soon, the pretty little wife is stopping by, too often, with coffee or lunch. He even brings her to the annual company party. She looks devastating in red. Red like the wine you realize you're probably having too much of.
She doesn't even attempt to be discreet when she slips out of a side door with that dark-haired guy from security. You see it. Everyone does, even Nanami, who is frowning over the tops of the heads of the crowd on the dance floor. You are moving toward him, hand reaching out for him when he locks eyes with you. Then you are pulled against his chest again, and his nose is in your hair, and he's saying, "I missed you, too." The music is slow, the world narrowed to the lack of space between you. Time seems to stop.
It is nice, while it lasts, but then he says her name and he's gone. You're alone with the pulse of the music and the whisper of the crowd like a collection of cruel ghosts.
𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni
Unfortunately for you, your big brother's friend sukuna can be surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. It seems that startling the living hell out of you is his new favorite pasttime. And he's around all the time now. He shows up unannounced and lets himself in. When you ask Toji why he has a key, he just laughs and says, "He doesn't. He wants in. He gets in."
Okay? That's cryptic and annoying, but you'd rather feign indifference than ask questions. Why overcomplicate things?
Mostly, he just sneaks up behind you and shouts, "Hey, brat!" In his stupid, booming voice as he claps all four of his large hands down on your shoulders. You count it as a victory when you detect his smokey scent first and actually manage not to jump out of your skin. Although you still break out in goosebumps at his touch, he doesn't seem to notice, judging by the satisfying look of dissappointment on his face. Your satisfaction is short-lived, however.
The sound of the two men crashing through the front door in the wee hours of the next morning startles you awake. You flick the bedside lamp on just in time to see sukuna crash through your bedroom door. Of course, you scream and clutch the pink duvet to your bare chest. "Oops," he says, with a shit-eating grin. "Wrong room." Toji drags him out with some half-assed muttered apology about drinking too much. You're not so sure that's a pertinent excuse. The smug look he shoots you before the door slams shut seems pretty much par for the course, at this point.
Sadly, that was not the end of early morning encounters with the monster. Now he has you caged in against the counter, nearly breaking your back in an effort to lean away from him. Evidently, he had seen fit to creep up behind you and you between the kitchen counter and his mountain range of a body. And you wee only trying to steam milk for your latte. What the fuck is his problem, anyway? Can't a girl make her morning coffee in peace? Your protests remain lodged in your throat, however, along with your racing heart.
He's so large and so close you have no choice but to look at him, which, to your horror, still renders you temporarily speechless. Being so close to him reminds you a little of the first time you ever saw a tiger at the zoo. The animal was so unlike anything you had ever seen before, so deadly and beautiful, that you could hardly believe it was real. Could hardly believe that it was roaring and pacing close enough that you could reach out and sink your fingers into its thick coat if not for the bars. The bars kept you safe, then. What is keeping you safe, now?
It is unsettling, the way his upper set of eyes remain locked on yours while the lower set look down at the hand scalded by your spilt coffee. "What's the matter brat? Hurt yourself?" He mocks as you clutch the injured hand to your chest. You hardly notice that one of his hands has left the counter, but somehow you don't flinch when he lifts it to your cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "Did I scare you?"
The gentle gesture alongside his mocking words is so disconcerting that you remain a quivering-lipped mute as seconds crawl by at a snails pace. You wonder if the action was subconscious on his part. Seems the only viable explanation.
You don't find your voice again until Toji's breaks whatever hypnosis the monster has you under. "Let's go," he says, and, just like that, Sukuna pulls away and you are finally able to pull air into your lungs again. "Gonna be gone for a couple of days-" Toji begins, addressing you.
"Please tell me you're taking it with you," you interject, stabbing an index finger in Sukuna's direction.
"Yeah," he says. And sukuna gives you one last smug, spider-eyed glare before he disappears through the door.
You're so relieved that it doesn't occur to you how quickly a couple of days can pass. Or that, when they do, your brother might not be the first to return. Relieved, not only to be free of Sukuna's bullying for a time, but also because what you feel is not truly fear. It's more like awe, if you really had to put a name to it. But you make a point not to think about it too much, or at all if you can help it.
taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›