rens-writes

[rens-writes]

childhood friend! suguru who sighs as he passes you in the hallway, leaning up against the walls with your arms raised up— a punishment that has become too routine for you.

“what did you do this time?” he stops in front of you, crossing his arms as he gets closer. you shy away from his gaze.

"nothing." you mumble.

he hums. “mr. Ishida?”

you purse your lips and nod. he then takes your hand, pulling you into the teacher's office with him.

childhood friend! suguru apologizes to your teacher on your behalf. lucky for you, suguru's one of his favorite students. you’re behind him, head down in shame as your math teacher begrudgingly agrees that detention alone will suffice.

childhood friend! suguru voluntarily joins you in detention, doing both of your homeworks as you pester him with justification for what you did.

"he pulled me by the hair! i mean, who does that in high school? and he only has to clean the classroom because he's an athlete." suguru simply nods, extending his hand for your other detention assignment to complete.

“don’t worry about him.”

childhood friend! suguru discretely beats the said boy up after school, scaring him shitless and steering him clear from you for the remainder of the school year. he smiles as you tell him about your conspiracies on how you managed to put him in his place.

“must’ve really scared him, huh?” you nod proudly and he suggests getting ice cream to celebrate.

childhood friend! suguru rushes out of his house when he hears yells from yours next door. he knows you prefer to leave the house when your family decides to fight, despite the countless times he has told you how unsafe it is to be out so late. he grabs his bike and sets out after you.

childhood friend! suguru, whose heart finally settles when he finds you on the swing in the park you frequent. he rings his bell, and you look up at him. everything feels alright again. he gets up and walks up to you, his eyes never leaving yours as he grabs you by the hands and seats you on the backseat of his bike.

you wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head against his back as he cycles to his house, your sanctuary.

childhood friend! suguru is doing his work, seated at his desk in your freshman year of college, when you latch your arms around his neck, showing him the text you just received.

"the guy from orgo lab asked me out on a date."

he instinctively grabs the phone out of your hands, grip tightening. he stops writing and looks up at you with a look you can’t quite catch.

“are…you?” he asks. you shrug, smiling unsurely. this marks the first time you’ve been asked out— the first time suguru has let his guard down enough for another guy to ask you.

“should i go…?” you hesitantly mumble. even though being desired should have filled you with giddy, you found yourself feeling a little strange.

he bites his lip, pausing before averting his gaze back to his sheet. his fingers start moving again. “if you want to.”

it’s not the answer you want. you look up at the clock hung on his wall, it’s a few minutes before curfew. sighing, you detach yourself from him.

“okay.” he doesn’t catch the disappointment in your tone, you pat his shoulder before you start for the door.

you look back at him. "and before you ask, i can walk back alone."

“then text me when you reach your room.” he gently smiles.

“night, suguru.”

“night, angel.”

he waits until the door clicks behind you before he crumbles the page of scribbles he had just written.

holy fuck. he messed up.

childhood friend! suguru balls up his fists at the posts your guy, neo, shared of him and you. you ended up going on that date.

he narrows his eyes as he zooms into the guy’s face. he thinks he looks normal. nothing special, he’s not even close to being worthy of you.

but he starts questioning, is he your type? that lame little guy?suguru lifts his head to look at his reflection in the wardrobe mirror in front of him, analyzing his face before shortly groaning and rolling his head back. “should’ve picked a class that didn’t coincide with her lab.”

he blocks the guy.

childhood friend! suguru greets you with unusually short answers when you ask about plans for the summer. he can't meet your eyes, he can't look at you without acknowledging how big of a mistake he made.

childhood friend! suguru has been distant ever since, no longer knocking on your dorm room, no longer walking you to classes, bringing you leftover food from club events, asking you to join him and satoru on the latter’s shenanigans, and just straight up humming with disinterest whenever you end up together.

childhood friend! suguru forgets all about his regretful sentiments when your friend calls him at 10 pm to ask about your whereabouts.

“she isn’t with you?” he’s already gathering his things to leave his study group.

“no-no, we were at the bar, it’s crowded and-”

“send me your location.” he hangs up.

it takes him five minutes to get there and only two to find you. you’re sitting at one of the corner tables with three guys around you, one’s hand is on your shoulder, seeming to make small talk except you seem far from interested. there’s an uncomfortable look in your eye and suguru doesn’t miss it.

“hands off, motherfucker.”

irritated, the man looks behind before realizing who the voice belongs to. he takes his hands off and looks away as he moves aside.

you look up at him with surprise, and you almost smile but he only returns a disapproving look.

“let’s go.” he grabs your wrist and marches the two of you out of there.

childhood friend! suguru can’t seem to get words out as you confront him about his distant behavior lately. he stays silent, still walking as you exasperatedly ask him from behind.

“i mean, you can’t even talk to me.” you’re desperate but he doesn't respond. he’s set on not saying a word, but that changes when there's a splash followed by sudden silence. he looks back and you’re not where you just stood, but in the river you were walking alongside.

childhood friend! suguru “why would you do that?” he asks angrily once he pulls you out, searching in your eyes for a possible reason. “was that on purpose? why would you walk so close to the ledge?” his voice is filled with confusion, frustration, worry, anger. you’d never seen him so furious before. he takes your hands in his, getting down on his knees to be on eye-level with you.

his voice is softer now. “they were bothering you, and you didn’t call me. since when did you go to bars? since when did you stop sharing your location-”

“you don’t like me anymore.” you cut him off, you’re trying not to tear up but it happens anyway. “you’re my only family suguru, nobody loves me like you. i can’t stand what’s happening between us, it’s so fucking lonely and i don’t know what to do.”

his heart twinges and he wastes no time engulfing you into a hug, eyes filling up with guilt as your muffled sobs get louder. he backs up momentarily to remove the wet strands from your face, getting a clearer look at your tear-stained face, and it only hurts him more. you feel like this because of him.

“we’ve been side by side for all our lives, i really can’t stand you not loving me anymore.” you quietly say.

“i’m not angry at you, okay?” he assures you, caressing your cheek. “i was angry at myself. I’m sorry. i love you, i swear i’ll always love you, i promise.” he apologizes as he takes off his jacket, draping it over you before turning around to get you on his back.

childhood friend! suguru takes you back to his room, handing you one of his shirts and shorts to change into. he’s pleased that you’re back with him again. he hates to admit it, but he's happy his presence meant that much to you.

“didn’t i leave a change of clothes here last time?” you ask, scanning through the stacks of clothes in his closet.

“might’ve thrown them in the wash with my laundry.” he lies. he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see you in his clothes.

childhood friend! suguru is slightly taken aback when you start changing in front of him. sure, you had done that since you were kids, but things were different now. ears fully red, he turns away, asking where all your modesty had gone as you hush him by launching your wet shirt at him.

childhood friend! suguru starts drying your hair as you slowly lean back on his chest, goosebumps forming when the back of his hand brushes against you. you’re suddenly aware of the feeling that accompanies the proximity between you.

childhood friend! sugur is equally as happy as he is nerve-stricken that you seem to sense the tension between you, finally. after some hesitation, you gaze up at him, and he looks at you the way he always does, but there’s more longing, more hope, an end goal he sees only in your eyes. you catch it this time.

but suguru doesn't want to get his hopes up.

“how’s it going with neo?”

“huh?”

“how’s neo been treating you?”

you abruptly shake your head and that’s when it all falls into place. he’s jealous.

“suguru i haven’t been on another date after the last…i didn’t like him, i just,” you look down and fiddle with his fingers. “I guess I wanted to see how it felt like, being asked out.”

“oh.” he bites his lips to restrain the smile forming on his face. “i see.”

you smile to yourself as you lift your head to meet his eyes again. "you relieved?"

he laughs lightly, "just thought you didn't need me anymore."

you frown at him, reaching for his face, and he automatically leans into your touch. "don't be an idiot, suguru. i'll always need you, i needed you then," you trail off, careful with your next words. "and i need you now."

he nods as he takes in the information, trying to quietly swallow the lump in his throat. "you do?"

"i do.” you clear your throat, pulling your hands back from his warm face, afraid he’d sense how nervous you are. a small pout forms on his face at the loss of contact and you send him a teasing smile. “so what was that earlier? you love me?”

he pinches your cheek, glancing away momentarily. “you know i’ve always loved you.”

he's right. he’s always shown you love, but you’re curious if it’s the innocent kind you’ve shared since the first day of kindergarten, or the kind you recently realized he makes you feel.

you shift a little. “in what way?”

your question catches him off guard and he brings his eyes back to yours again.

childhood friend! suguru finally gathers enough courage to do what he has wanted to since the second year of middle school.

“this way.” he gently cups your cheeks and you stay frozen in place, hearts beating in synchrony as he closes the distance between you, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate it.

boyfriend! suguru doesn’t sleep a wink with you in his arms, his heart simply won’t allow him. he thanks the world for the conveniently timed thunderstorm that makes you nuzzle closer every time it strikes. it takes him a while to accept that it’s real, you’re in his arms, not as a friend, but as his girlfriend.

he runs one hand through the strands of your hair while the other fumbles for his phone. his screen lights up brightly before he adjusts it, glancing down at your sleeping form to make sure it hasn’t woken you. But he finds you too cute to look away yet, so he presses gentle kisses to your skin in hopes it would satisfy the urge to hold you closer than humanly possible.

he then opens instagram and unblocks neo.

a/n: [picture for reference only, insert yourself!] acts of service final boss. this was rotting in my drafts

[rens-writes]

snoopuru

[rens-writes]

“happy father’s day,” you murmur, slipping your arms around gojo’s waist from behind.

he’s halfway through shoveling a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into his mouth and pauses mid-bite.

“huh?” he mumbles, turning slightly in your arms with a mouthful and furrowed brow. “baby, you know we don’t have kids, right? unless you’ve been hiding a baby somewhere i don’t know about?”

you roll your eyes. “i know, dumbass.”

he pouts. “so why’re you saying—”

you just point with your chin across the courtyard.

he follows your gaze.

there, lounging like a band of chaotic little gremlins, are yuuji, megumi, and nobara, bickering over popsicle flavors. maki’s sitting on the bench beside them, trying not to smile as panda pokes fun at toge for something, who just responds with a flat “salmon.”

satoru looks, then looks again.

then his eyes widen behind his sunglasses, lips parting just slightly. “oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

he turns fully in your arms, ice cream long forgotten, the softest smile blooming across his face—bright and fond and achingly proud.

“they’re kids,” he says quietly, “they’re my little kids.”

“exactly,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you taught them how to fight, how to survive. how to live. they’re still here because of you.”

he blinks a few times. doesn’t say anything.

just watches as yuuji leans back and laughs so hard he nearly tips over, megumi catching him by the collar without looking. nobara shoves them both and gets dragged into the pile.

maki shakes her head. panda sighs. toge just laughs.

a tiny, watery chuckle escapes satoru’s chest.

you nudge him gently. “you’re not just their sensei. you’re their… you know. their person.”

he leans into your forehead and breathes in slow. “you’re gonna make me cry,” he says, voice cracking a little.

“good,” you smile, wiping under his glasses.

he kisses you, sweet and slow, and then pulls back to yell at the kids, voice suddenly obnoxiously loud—

“hey! none of you got me a card?! what kind of disrespect—megumi, stop pretending you don’t care, you’re my grumpy little son—”

megumi groans. nobara throws a napkin at him. yuuji waves enthusiastically and screams, “HAPPY DAD’S DAY, SENSEI!”

and gojo beams so hard it looks like the sun broke loose from the sky and settled in his chest.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i guess i’m a little late but happy father’s day gojo!! ily pls come back home

[rens-writes]

Ren, i miss you

Omg hi. I'm working on some stuff rn I promise. Idk if that's what you meant but-

[rens-writes]

when reading smut and y/n says “daddy”

[rens-writes]

New salarymen added!!

[rens-writes]

There mayhaps be something coming soon. I heard a song and it gave me an idea.

[rens-writes]

Happy Father's day to Kento Nanami, cause that man is the daddiest daddy to ever daddy.

[rens-writes]

Snip. Snip. Snip.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Why'd you stop?"

Satoru asked, voice slightly shaky as he sat on the makeshift barbers setup you, Shoko and Suguru had made for this occasion specifically.

"Yikes." You heard shoko mutter, just before the flash of a photo being taken came from her flip phone.

"What's that supposed to mean?!?" Satoru's voice rose, back straightening just a bit more but not moving away from his spot. All the while you stood behind him, staring at your handiwork. "Hey?? Answer me!!"

You could hear Suguru nearly knock a vase to the floor as he's stifling in his laughter. Poorly, may I add.

"Damn, I messed up," You dropped the pair of the scissors to the side, grabbing the razor and clicking it on. "We gotta go bald."

You sighed in acceptance as Shoko and Suguru had moved to restrain a now-screaming Satoru in the chair with maximum effort. All the while giggling like idiots.

It was your mistake, but it had to be done. It was for the best. Even if Gojo was screaming bloody murder at you.

[rens-writes]

I need to write so bad 😭

But my brain is so empty

[rens-writes]

“WHO are you?”

sypnosis: you're too drunk to recognize your boyfriend.

warnings: alcohol (reader is drunk), swearing.

featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, sukuna ryomen.

Gojo

You are absolutely, unapologetically, undeniably wasted.

You don’t even remember how many drinks you’ve had. All you know is that the room is spinning, your heels are in your hand, and you’re sitting outside the club on the curb with a pout that could kill a man.

“Satoru,” you mumble, squinting at your phone. “Why hasn’t he called me back? That bastard.”

You’re just about to text him for the eighth time (your phone is upside down, for the record) when a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“There you are,” the voice says, amused. “You’re lucky I’m sexy and patient.”

You blink up, shielding your eyes from the moonlight—or maybe it’s the streetlight, or maybe it's the glowing aura of the man standing in front of you.

He’s tall. White-haired. Wearing a black coat and sunglasses, at night, like a menace.

You frown.

“Who,” you say seriously, “the fuck are you?”

He freezes.

You narrow your eyes further, wobbling to your feet and poking his chest.

“Back off, handsome stranger,” you declare. “I already have a boyfriend.”

He sputters. “Handsome? Wait—”

“He’s the love of my life,” you say proudly. “Six feet of nonsense. White hair. Smug face. He’s so annoying. But like, in a hot way.”

“…That’s literally just me,” he deadpans.

“Nooo,” you slur. “Satoru’s prettier.”

His jaw drops. “Excuse me?! I AM SATORU!”

You gasp. Loudly.

“Oh my god. You’re one of those crazy fans.”

“What???”

You stumble back, dramatically offended. “You wanna be him, don’t you? Is that why you dyed your hair? Is this cosplay?!”

Gojo stares at you, dumbfounded.

You wave your heel in the air like a sword. “Back off! I’m loyal!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “Sweetheart—”

You cut him off, whispering, “Don’t call me that. Only Satoru calls me sweetheart.”

“…I am Satoru!”

A pause. Then, suddenly, you gasp again—like your brain has rebooted.

“Wait… You sound like him,” you say slowly, brows furrowing. “Say something only Satoru would say.”

He leans in, lips grazing your ear.

“I know how you like it when I kiss that one spot on your thigh.”

You shriek, smacking his chest. “Okay you’re him!!”

He laughs—loud, stupid, proud.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his coat as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

“You said I was hot,” he hums smugly. “I’m never letting that go.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, snuggling into him anyway. “Still prettier in my head.”

He kisses your forehead. “Good thing I’m also prettier in real life.”

---

By the time he gets you home, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

You wake up the next morning with a hangover, a glass of water on your nightstand, and a sticky note on your forehead.

"Handsome Stranger says hi. —Your boyfriend 💙"

You groan, burying your face in the pillow.

God, he’s never gonna let this go.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Geto

You’re drunk.

Like, embarrassingly drunk.

Like, sitting outside the izakaya barefoot with your shoes in your lap and a half-eaten skewer in your hand, slurring into your phone like it’s your long-lost best friend.

“Where the hell is Suguru?” you mumble. “I’m cold. And also beautiful. I deserve a ride.”

A shadow falls over you.

You look up—slowly, dramatically—and see a tall, broad figure standing above you, dark hair in a low bun, wearing all black like he’s auditioning to be a villain in a slow-burn romance anime.

“Get up,” he says. Calm. Deep. Familiar.

You squint. “Oh my god.”

He raises a brow. “Yes?”

“You’re hot,” you whisper.

He sighs. “Baby, it’s me.”

“No,” you say, pointing a threatening skewer at him. “My boyfriend is nicer. He’s sweet. And warm. And smells like sandalwood and chaos. You look like a mafia boss. You probably steal hearts and credit cards.”

Suguru stares at you like he’s questioning all his life choices.

You stand up—well, try to—and nearly fall into him. His arms catch you effortlessly, like it’s muscle memory.

You shove a finger in his chest. “I’m taken. My boyfriend will kill you.”

“Will he?” he asks, humoring you. “Violent type?”

“The worst,” you say proudly. “He once glared at a guy so hard his hairline receded.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“He is,” you nod seriously. “And he calls me ‘sweetheart’ when he wants something.”

Suguru exhales a laugh, something low and fond. “Okay. What if I prove I’m him?”

You blink at him, considering. “…Fine. Do it.”

He steps close, close enough that his chest brushes yours.

“Two weeks ago, you said if I didn’t let you adopt a cat, you’d put glitter in my shampoo.”

Your jaw drops. “How did you—?!”

“Three days ago, you cried because a dog in a TikTok wore boots.”

“And last night,” he leans in, brushing his lips by your ear, “you told me I’m your favorite ‘tall dark and dangerous’ man, but you’d leave me instantly for Keanu Reeves.”

You gasp. “Suguru?!”

“Yes.”

“OH MY GOD.” You slap his arm. “Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

“I did.”

You cling to him, dramatic as ever. “I missed you. You smell good. Don’t ever leave me again.”

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you bridal style toward the car, shaking his head with the softest smile.

“You’re gonna regret all of this in the morning,” he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I regret nothing,” you slur. Then squint up at him. “Wait. Did you really glare a guy’s hairline off?”

“…That one might’ve been a little exaggerated.”

“Still hot.”

---

The next morning, you wake up in Suguru’s hoodie, with water, painkillers, and a sticky note on your phone:

“Mafia Boss says thank you for your compliments. You’re under permanent protection now. —Your real boyfriend 💌”

You bury your face in the pillow.

He’s never letting this go.

And honestly? You’re kind of glad.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Nanami

You’re sitting on a curb, absolutely wasted.

There’s glitter on your eyelids, chicken nuggets in your purse, and a girl from the bar sobbing beside you because her ex posted a gym selfie.

You offer her a nugget.

“You deserve better,” you tell her. “You’re gorgeous. Your eyebrows are, like, symmetrical. I’d marry you.”

She sniffles, then stares behind you. “Uhh… is that your boyfriend?”

You turn.

And see a tall, broad man walking up, sleeves rolled, tie loose, face unreadable—like God sent a male model from a finance firm to collect wayward souls off the street.

You frown.

“You look expensive,” you say slowly. “Are you one of those… high-end butlers?”

He stops in front of you. “You’re drunk.”

You blink. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend.”

Your jaw drops. “No you’re not. My boyfriend is… emotionally repressed. Wears beige. Has a sexy office job and a judgmental stare.”

Nanami sighs. “That’s me.”

You squint suspiciously. “Okay, if you’re really my boyfriend… what’s my weirdest habit?”

He looks down at you, voice flat. “You talk to plants. You name them. One is called Baby Groot. You cried when he lost a leaf.”

Your lips part. “Only he would know that…”

You wobble to your feet and nearly fall, catching yourself on his very firm chest. You clutch his shirt.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “You are my sexy office man.”

“Let’s go home,” he mutters, guiding you gently toward his car.

You dig your heels into the ground. “Wait! Waitwaitwait—don’t kidnap me! I have a boyfriend!”

“You just admitted I am your boyfriend.”

“…Oh. Right.” You giggle. “Lucky me.”

He helps you into the passenger seat like you’re fragile cargo. Once seated, you stare at him as he buckles you in.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur.

“I know.”

“And patient.”

“I have no choice.”

“You’re gonna marry me one day.”

His hands still for half a second.

Then: “I already plan to.”

You pass out smiling.

---

The next morning, you wake up in bed, dressed in your comfiest pajamas, with a glass of water, aspirin, and a note:

"In case you forget: yes, I am your boyfriend. No, I am not a butler. Please hydrate. —Kento"

You giggle into the pillow.

You’re definitely going to marry that man.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Toji

You are sitting on a barstool, double fisting two very illegally strong cocktails, laughing at absolutely nothing.

You're also very certain that a hot man is trying to kidnap you.

“Ma’am,” the man says, standing in front of you like an irritated wall of muscle. “It’s me.”

You look him up and down.

Black hair. Green eyes. Tall. Scary aura. Tight shirt. Very very hot.

But no. You're loyal.

You squint. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I picked you up from karaoke an hour ago.”

“Impossible,” you say dramatically. “My boyfriend would never show up to karaoke. He thinks fun is ‘a scam made by broke people.’”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he grunts.

You gasp. “You are hot though. Like, really hot. But listen—my boyfriend? He’s kinda mean, super strong, and terrifying. He could totally kill you.”

He stares.

You continue: “He’s also soooo good in bed. Real monster. Demon behavior. But he’s mine, so—”

Toji grabs your wrist. “Get your ass up.”

You gasp again. “You’re aggressive. Just like him. But he’d never touch me like that in public unless I pissed him off.”

“Oh?” he says, voice flat. “You mean like getting blackout drunk, threatening the DJ, and petting strangers' dogs without asking?”

You tilt your head. “So you do know me...”

“I live with you.”

You lean forward, squinting hard, then grab his face between your hands. “Say something only my boyfriend would say.”

He deadpans, “If you puke in my car again, I’m charging you five grand.”

Your mouth drops open. “Toji?!”

“Finally.”

You throw your arms around his neck. “Where have you been all night?!”

“Chasing your drunk ass down. Again.”

He tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking to his car.

“Wait,” you slur. “You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“But I’m your babygirl…”

He opens the car door. “You’re my goddamn headache.”

“Love you too!”

---

The next morning, you wake up with a hangover and a bruise on your hip that looks suspiciously like the edge of Toji’s shoulder.

You check your phone.

1 New Message from Toji

📸 [photo of you passed out face-first in his passenger seat, drooling]

Toji: Don’t drink again unless I’m there. Dumbass.

You smile.

Your murderous, scary, mean boyfriend is the best.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Sukuna

You’re absolutely, irreparably hammered.

How do you know?

Because there is a gorgeous man standing in front of you with piercings, tattoos, and arms you’d like to sit on — and instead of flirting with him, you’re loudly sobbing to your friend.

“He’s gonna kill him. He’s gonna kill the hot guy,” you sniff.

“Who?”

“That guy,” you point at the very man you’re talking about. “He’s hot but he’s not my boyfriend. But he’s gonna die. My boyfriend is crazy.”

The man in question — the hot one — drags a hand down his face. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

You nod solemnly. “Yes. And you should leave before he finds you.”

“I am your boyfriend.”

You blink. “Noooo, my boyfriend has tattoos—”

He lifts his shirt.

“—oh my god you have tattoos,” you whisper.

“And piercings.”

You stare at the twin bars through his eyebrow and the silver glint on his tongue as he smirks.

“My boyfriend has those too!” you giggle. “But also, he’s terrifying. He’d murder you in an alley for touching me.”

He steps closer. “You mean like this?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you flush against him.

You freeze. “Bold of you, hot stranger.”

He leans in, voice low and dark in your ear. “You bit me last time I tried to wake you up from a drunk nap.”

You gasp. “Sukuna?!”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, sharp canines grazing your skin. “Now let’s get you in the damn car before I dump you in a gutter.”

You wrap your arms around him, eyes wide. “You’re so mean. I love you.”

“I know you do, dumbass.”

---

The next morning, you wake up to an ice pack on your head and a water bottle on your nightstand. Sukuna is sitting at the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone.

“…Did I threaten you again last night?” you mumble.

“You told me you’d report me to the FBI if I didn’t prove I was your boyfriend.”

“Oh god.”

“You also called me ‘Mr. Jail Tattoos’ and asked if I knew I was hot.”

“I hate myself.”

He glances at you with that lazy smirk. “You said, and I quote, ‘I wanna kiss you but my boyfriend’s gonna beat your ass.’”

You pull a pillow over your face. “Did you beat your own ass?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “But I did let you tackle me onto the bed. You drooled on my neck.”

“…Love you?”

He flicks your forehead. “Be less dumb next time.”

You grin. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Jail Tattoos.”

And he does, in fact, tackle you right back.

[rens-writes]

You know those days where you’re not quite sure what you want?

Like… your body’s antsy, brain is a bit foggy, and for some reason, hugging your boyfriend and gnawing on his bicep feels like the best option you’ve got. So you do exactly that. Face smushed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his middle, teeth lightly biting at the fabric over his bicep, leaving drool behind.

Satoru pauses mid-tap on his Switch. Looks down at you with a curious little tilt of his head and the faintest smirk playing at his lips.

“Well good morning, princess,” he coos, baby-blues darting between your face and the game, followed with a curt. “Need attention?"

You just sigh. Whine a little. Snuggle closer.

He chuckles. Loud and shameless before he drawls out. “God, you’re so needy this morning, what's going on?” Eyes going back to the screen. Replanting his flowers. Checking turnip prices for the day, mumbling under his breath that he will have to text Nanami for his prices.

You huff and wiggle like you’re going to leave, feeling off, maybe a bit too warm, but he immediately locks an arm around your waist and yanks you right back against him, grinning like a fool.

“Nope. You started this,” he taunts with a smile on his lips, “now you’re stuck with me.”

You kick a little. He snorts. Tries to tickle your side and you squeal - so he pulls back, blinking in mock innocence. “Oh? So that’s too much, huh? But teething on me is fine, mmm?”

You let out another long sigh, exasperated and dramatic. A string of whiny sounds follows, none of which are even a little helpful.

He finally sets the Switch down on the table, lips twitching upwards as he watches you flop around where he trapped you in one of his arms (did he have to be that strong?) .

“I swear,” he murmurs, shaking his head, teasing as he moves to cup your face, “you’ve got so many noises but not a single useful word, huh?”

His long fingers cradle your cheeks, squishing them gently until you’re forced to meet his eyes - those gorgeous, ice-blue eyes glinting with affection.

“Use your words, baby,” he says softly, mockingly sweet. “Please? I love you. I really, really do. But you’re testing me right now. You wanna be babied, nibbled, coddled, tackled? I need some sort of direction here.”

He kisses your pout once. Then twice. Then again just to be annoying.

“Not letting you go,” he sing-songs, arms wrapping tighter around you, trapping you against his firm chest. “Not until you say what you want. You can’t squirm your way out of love, sunshine. I’m clingier than you are.”

Eventually, you grumble something under your breath - maybe a mumbled, “Just hold me,” or even a “Shut up, Satoru,” but he hears it. And oh, he lights up.

“There she is!” he cheers, pulling you fully into his chest, smothering you. “See? Communication! I’m so proud of us! We're learning!"

[rens-writes]

i have so many feelings (i feel insane)

[rens-writes]

Nanami Gets Sick | Kento Nanami

✮ PAIRING: Nanami x Fem!Reader | FLUFF ✮

To hear Nanami Kento tell it, he was never sick.

"Just tired," he insisted, brushing off your concern for the third time that morning.

You’d raised an eyebrow when he refused breakfast—especially considering he’d packed a full bento the night before. You noticed the way he leaned harder against the wall after standing, how he squinted more than usual at his phone screen, how his voice came rougher than usual.

Still, he showed up to work on time, pressed and punctual, suit only slightly askew.

Which was why, hours later, when you opened the door to his study and found him slumped over the desk, fast asleep amid half-signed paperwork, your heart sank.

You stepped in quietly.

The sight was… rare. Nanami didn’t do “slumped.” He didn’t do “unguarded.” But there he was—brow creased in sleep, mouth faintly parted, breathing uneven. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose.

You pressed a palm gently to his forehead.

Hot. Too hot.

You frowned and whispered, “Kento.”

He stirred, groaning softly. “M’fine… just need a moment.”

“Liar,” you said affectionately.

His eyes blinked open blearily. “You’re supposed to be at HQ.”

“Left early. Something told me someone wasn’t taking care of himself.”

He sighed and tried to sit up straighter. You pushed him back with a gentle hand.

“Don’t make me fight you,” you said. “You’ll lose. You’re weak right now.”

He gave you a dry look, then winced. “I’m not… weak.”

“Okay, tough guy. Let’s get you to bed before you collapse again.”

It took some coaxing—okay, dragging—but you finally got him out of the chair and onto the bed. He muttered about inconvenience and productivity the entire way until you tossed a blanket over him and shoved a thermometer in his mouth.

“38.8,” you read. “Kento, you’re burning up.”

“I’ve worked with worse.”

“And now you’re resting with me, which is better.”

He groaned again, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, mission failed. You worried me into cutting my meeting short, and now I’m here. Making soup.”

You turned to leave, but his fingers caught yours.

“…Thank you.”

You looked back, softening. “You're welcome. But if you try to stand before I come back, I’m tying you to the bed.”

“…Tempting.”

You blinked.

Nanami turned his head, already flushed, and murmured, “Ignore that.”

You grinned, squeezing his hand. “Sleep, Kento. I’ll be back with something warm.”

When you returned fifteen minutes later, he was half-asleep, hair a mess, one arm reaching for your side of the bed in his sleep.

And for once, you let him have it.

You curled in beside him, bowl of soup forgotten on the nightstand.

Because sometimes, the best medicine was just being held.

Even if he grumbled about germs the entire next morning.

Author Note: thanks for reading o(≧v≦)o stay healthy & request are open <3

[rens-writes]

Dear Gege, you make me SICK

[rens-writes]

post sleepover

[rens-writes]

propaganda i'm not falling for: nanami hating gojo