Bbg Frfr I Love Himmmm

Bbg frfr I love himmmm

bows 💝🎀

ac: rhaemaryn

satoru gojo p✰rn links .ᐟ

gojo's tongue is mean, rough against you as he's got no patience to take it slow. the blindfold stays on, that hungry look never leaving his face as his fingers and tongue dig into your folds.

gojo just loves grinding against you, his cock sliding between your folds, already slick with your arousal. you can see the way he pushes in, the fast thrusts as he fucks you.

idk what you want me to say, but gojo just LOVES having his finger(s) in you, fucking it into you though.

gojo is all over your tits, mouth greedy as he kisses and suckles, flicking and biting. he shows you just how much he loves them.

gojo's pathetic, so fucking submissive as he gets a handjob, his breath ragged. the oil just makes it worse, slick and messy as you straddle his face, riding it slowly.

gojo's hands are slick with oil, loving the way it makes everything feel so much smoother as he works over your tits. he massages them with a desperate need, his eyes glued to the way the oil glistens - so what if he loves oiling your pretty bod up?

you grip gojo firmly from the behind. with slick strokes, you give him a mean handjob, his body tense and desperate as you work him over, each pull making him whimper and groans.

FINALLY it's the girls eating the guys asses out. so sweet.

he's groaning, his head thrown back as your sweet words slips from your lips, each sweet word making him laugh and shiver. he can't help but laugh between gasps, loving how you have him wrapped around your hand. literally.

you're torturing him with his own cock, your hand tight and teasing as he whimpers uncontrollably. gojo's desperate, his breath shaky, begging you to stop overstimulating him. he's a mess, groaning and twitching. but that's what you wanted, right?

thank you @webism for making the divider, love you abby ! trust i WILL be using the other ones 💗💗

17K notes View Post

colorfulfestkoala

6 months ago

HINDI HINDI HINDI YESSSSSSS THANKYOU ML🤧🩷💖

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙐𝘼𝙂𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀!!

Desc: jjk men witness reader speaking multiple languages!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Ino!

Warnings: Fluff!

Comments are appreciated! :-D

1K notes View Post

colorfulfestkoala

8 months ago

GUYS. This is what we’re looking for. THIS is what the world needs.😍🙏

Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this.

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you.

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name.

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand.

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead.

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum.

“Now there’s my good boy.”

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips.

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side.

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store.

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it.

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it.

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay.

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name.

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner.

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name.

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes.

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say.

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name.

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name.

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale.

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working.

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click.

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically.

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker.

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically.

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically.

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand.

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall.

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you.

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one.

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind.

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead.

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment.

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame.

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming.

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips.

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften.

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not.

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose.

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind.

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see.

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips.

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted.

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.”

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different.

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise.

“M’not a dog.” he muttered.

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.”

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now.

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet.

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time.

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments.

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again.

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections.

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was.

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances.

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel.

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away.

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.”

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name.

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was.

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy.

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear.

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face.

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered.

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips.

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes.

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer.

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did.

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters.

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep.

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off.

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed.

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt.

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see.

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches.

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard.

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect.

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale.

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same.

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you.

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap.

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working.

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot.

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him.

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips.

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of.

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought.

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen.

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you.

He parted his lips with an inhale.

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you.

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone.

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time.

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration.

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later.

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression.

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it.

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.”

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share.

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine.

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked.

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely.

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours.

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his.

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen.

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks.

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff.

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften.

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him.

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it.

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes.

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name.

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

3K notes View Post

colorfulfestkoala

7 months ago

She said everything there was to be said.

𝐅𝐚𝐯 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬!!

@cinnamxnangel @accidentcache @daughterhouse

@cckaisen @gumiiiiezzzz @skiiyoomin

@chososcamgirl @enchanthings @retiredteabag

@hinamie @kurominiiiz @reignpage

@megumislovedoll @chosolala @calist4r

I 100% recommend giving their blogs a look!

49 notes View Post

colorfulfestkoala

4 months ago

Y’all don’t realise how my face beamed at the first sign of angst. UNEXPECTED SURPRISE I LOVE ANGST YUMYYURSHSH👹😋

Ribeye with mashed potatoes

Being in a relationship with Sukuna had its challenges, especially when it came to his routines. So when you misplaced his gym bag by accident, it turned into a big deal. He was already thirty minutes late to his session—something he absolutely hated—and now, he was in a foul mood. Sukuna despised losing anything, even time.

He was petty about it too, giving you the silent treatment for an entire day. By the middle of the second day, you couldn’t take it anymore.

"Baby, I said I’m really sorry, mm? I swear I won’t touch it again, I swear on my heart," you pleaded, raising your hand in a promise.

Still, nothing. He didn’t even look at you. You had been racking your brain for a way to make him forgive you, and finally, you found the answer—food.

His favorite meal: ribeye steak, mashed potatoes, and a cold beer. He loved to eat, and if this didn’t fully earn his forgiveness, it would at least make him smirk. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek—though he barely reacted—you rushed to grab your bag and keys, hurrying to your car to do some shopping.

Meanwhile, Sukuna had gone to take a nap, expecting to wake up and find you at home, doing whatever you normally did. Yeah, he was annoyed about the bag, but at this point, he knew he was just being grumpy. He also knew that from now on, you wouldn’t touch his stuff.

But when he woke up three hours later, you still weren’t home. No text. No call. Nothing. He couldn’t even check your location.

By the fifth hour, his stomach twisted in knots. Something felt wrong. The kind of wrong that sent a cold chill creeping down his spine. He was getting sick just thinking about it.

Then came a knock at the door.

When he opened it, he was met with two police officers, both looking tense. For a moment, they hesitated, almost startled by the sheer size of the man answering the door.

"Good afternoon, sir. Are you Ryomen Sukuna?" one of them asked.

"Yeah?" His voice was sharp, questioning. He didn’t have time for this—his mind was already racing. His heartbeat was erratic, pounding against his ribs. He just knew something wasn’t right. A dreadful, ice-cold sensation washed over his back.

"Sir, I’m really sorry to inform you, but we found a car registered to this residence crashed on the rode. Unfortunately… there were no survivors. The only things recovered were a phone and an identification card. We need you to come with us to identify the body. We’ll give you a minute."

The moment Sukuna heard "I’m sorry," his ears started ringing.

His chest tightened, fingers curling into fists. It felt like a cement block had been shoved down his throat, lodged deep in his lungs, leaving no room to breathe. No room to make a sound. His vision blurred at the edges, his mind rejecting the words being spoken to him.

He tried to blink—yeah. Any second now, he’d wake up from his nap. There was no other explanation. No. Life wouldn’t do this to him. No, yeah. He’d wake up, shake off this nightmare, run downstairs, and find you there. You’d smile at him, and he’d wrap his arms around you, burying his face in your neck, whispering apologies for being so damn spoiled—for getting mad over a fucking gym bag.

That was it. He’d been too spoiled, and this was just his wake-up call.

But he still wasn’t breathing. His vision swam, black spots creeping into the edges. He didn’t even feel himself swaying, but one of the officers must have noticed—because before he could crumble, a firm hand caught his arm, steadying him.

"Sukuna—sir, you need to sit down."

But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t listen.

Because this wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

It took the officers an hour to get Sukuna to calm down just enough. He hadn’t even been breathing properly—they had to teach him how to work his lungs again. Every inhale was jagged, every exhale was forced, as if his body had forgotten how to function.

They had seen a lot in their line of work, but watching this—this was something else entirely. On any normal day, with his looks and presence, he might’ve been a suspect. But right now? Right now, he just looked like a man who had lost everything.

What they didn’t see, however, was you.

You had managed to walk all the way home. It was a long journey—an hour by car, so you could only imagine how long it had taken on foot. Your body ached, exhaustion settling into your bones, but the moment you saw the flashing lights of a police car in front of your home, you pushed through.

Your pace quickened into a jog. Why were they here?

The front door was already open.

And then you saw him.

Sukuna was on the floor, sitting with his back against the wall, his face void of any color. Two officers knelt beside him, speaking to him in low, careful tones.

Your brows furrowed. Since when did he get buddy-buddy with the cops?

But then you saw the way he was gripping his own arms, his fingers digging into his skin like he was holding himself together by sheer force alone. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his eyes empty, like he wasn’t even seeing what was in front of him.

Something was very, very wrong.

It seemed none of them had noticed you yet, too caught up in whatever was happening inside. You stood there for a moment, confusion twisting in your gut before finally knocking on your own door.

"Excuse me… what is going on?"

The room fell into a deafening silence.

Sukuna’s head snapped up so fast it was almost inhuman. The officers turned, their expressions shifting from shock to pure disbelief.

But nothing—nothing—could compare to the way Sukuna looked at you.

At first, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared. Like his brain couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing. Like you were a ghost standing at the threshold of his grief.

Then, all at once, the tension in his body snapped. He was on his feet before you could blink, shoving past the officers like they weren’t even there.

"I—" His voice cracked, raw and broken. His breathing was still uneven, his chest heaving. "You’re—What—"

Before you could respond, he yanked you into him, burying his face in your neck. His entire body trembled against yours, gripping you so tightly it was as if he thought you'd slip away if he let go.

You had never been this confused before—until you felt it.

Sukuna was sobbing. Not the quiet, restrained kind. No, gut-wrenching, broken sobs wracked his entire body. His grip tightened, his weight pressing against you as if he had completely given up.

You had never seen him cry. Not like this. Sure, maybe a few tears at your wedding—happy ones. But now? His cries were raw, pained. The sound of it made your chest ache, your throat tighten. Unknowingly, your own tears welled up, threatening to spill as your hands instinctively cradled the back of his neck.

His legs buckled, bringing both of you to the ground, but he didn't let go. He couldn’t.

You ran your fingers through his hair, whispering softly, "It’s okay, love…it’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay. Not for him.

Sukuna only held you tighter, his ragged breathing hot against your skin. His entire body shook, and you could feel his heartbeat pounding erratically, as if he was still trying to convince himself that this was real—that you were real.

"I thought—" he gasped between sobs, his voice completely wrecked. "They said—they told me you were dead."

Your breath hitched.

Dead?

You pulled back just enough to see Sukuna’s face, his tear-streaked expression raw and panicked.

"Baby, I lost the car at the market," you began, voice shaking but determined to explain. "I parked it, but it was gone... my bag and my phone were in there too. I couldn’t report it right away."

You glanced at the officers behind him, their presence almost felt like a distant blur.

Sukuna was still tense, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, the emotions warring inside him. His grip on you hadn’t loosened and he wasn’t speaking. The air around him was still suffocating with the weight of his worry and pain.

The officer behind him spoke up, his voice professional but clearly aware of the severity of the situation.

"Ma’am, it seems there’s been a huge miscommunication. We found the car crashed on the road, and there was someone inside. The vehicle was registered to this address, and the identification card we found belonged to you. We came to inform your husband."

Sukuna’s body tensed all over again, his hands gripping you tighter as the weight of the officer's words settled over him like a crushing wave.

The air felt too thick. Your mind was still piecing together the disorienting puzzle, but one thing was clear: Sukuna wasn’t breathing any easier. His mind was still in a spiral, and even with the explanation, he wasn’t calming down.

"It’s okay, Suku." You whispered, trying to soothe him as much as yourself. "I’m here now. I’m really here."

But even as you spoke, he still couldn’t let go of you, his body shaking, struggling to grasp the reality that was just as twisted and confusing for him as it was for you.

The officer, sensing the tension in the air, took a small step back, choosing his words carefully. "Ma’am, it’s important that we make sure everything is resolved properly. We’ll need to keep an eye on the car accident, but… there’s nothing more we need from you at this point." At that they left, leaving you with sukuna who is in pieces.

You lay on the marble floor, gently rubbing his back, trying to soothe him. Just when you thought he’d calmed down, his body would shake again, and he’d sob. You felt a pang of guilt deep in your chest, knowing you were the cause of this.

"…over a gym bag," he muttered, his voice muffled against your neck. He repeated the words, as if trying to make sense of it all. "Why did you go? Why did you leave me?"

You tried to joke, desperate to ease the tension, to lighten the mood. "I was going to make you a ribeye steak with mashed potatoes and a cold beer. And beg on my knees to be forgiven by my lord husband."

There was a long silence. You felt him tense against you for a moment before he responded, his voice barely a whisper. "I’m sorry you married someone like me, Y/N..."

The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave. You pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, your heart aching for him. Sukuna was not one to show weakness, yet here he was, completely undone. You knew he didn’t mean that—he was just lost in his guilt.

"Don’t say that," you whispered, cupping his face gently. Your thumb brushed over his skin, wiping away any trace of tears that still lingered. "I’m not sorry I married you. I’m sorry we let something so small get in the way of us."

He shook his head, his eyes clouded with doubt. "I messed up. I got mad over something so stupid."

You let out a soft sigh, your voice full of warmth. "It doesn’t matter. We both messed up."

"I felt like they took out my soul and burned it," he muttered, his voice strained with the weight of his emotions. "I... I don’t know how to bind you to me more than marriage. But it feels like none of it matters. How can I keep you forever? Should I build you a house in my heart? Make you tiny and keep you there, never letting you out of my sight again? Never."

His voice cracked with raw desperation, the vulnerability in his words almost unbearable. You could hear the depths of his fear—fear of losing you, of not being enough.

"I'm just so scared," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, "that I’m not enough. That I'll lose you."

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your breath mingling. "You’re more than enough," you whispered. "You’re everything to me, Sukuna. Nothing’s going to change that."

His eyes, bloodshot and raw from the tears he’d shed, searched yours with an intensity that made your heart ache. He cupped your face gently, his touch almost reverent, as though he was afraid to touch you too much in case you vanished.

"You really mean that?" he asked, his voice cracking again, the uncertainty still hanging in the air.

"More than anything," you said, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers. "You are my world, Sukuna. Always have been."

For a moment, there was only silence between you two, the weight of everything hanging in the space around you. Then, slowly, as if testing the waters, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss—slow, hesitant, as if he was afraid it might shatter everything.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours again, his breathing still shaky. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered.

"Don't say that," you murmured, your hands still tracing the lines of his chest, grounding him, reassuring him. He let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening. "Promise me you won’t leave. Promise me you won’t ever leave me."

"I promise," you said, the words filled with all the conviction in the world. "I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

And with that promise, he finally allowed himself to relax, his body leaning into yours as he exhaled a breath of relief.

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