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tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. What do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you mumff, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
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taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
436 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. What do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you mumff, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
436 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TAKING THE TIME OUT OF YOUR DAY TO WRITE THIS; I am so happy that you liked it <333
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. What do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you mumff, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
436 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. What do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you mumff, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
436 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. What do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you mumff, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
436 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. What do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you mumff, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
436 notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 8 days
Note
hi hii (ă€€ïŒ›âˆ€ïŒ›) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend
in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new đŸ§â€â™€ïž
Tumblr media
suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.
he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.
it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.
nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.
he just lets out a small hum of appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.
that’s enough he thinks.
but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.
it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.
he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.
wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?
wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.
what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.
so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.
a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.
the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?
the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.
he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.
in what form will salvation come in?
it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.
he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?
they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?
it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.
and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.
he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”
maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.
he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.
he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.
like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went to him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?
you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”
and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”
“I already asked gojo what he wants. what do you want to eat?”
he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”
he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”
“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”
in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.
another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.
last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”
he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?
so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”
for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.
your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you murmur, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“
“why?”
your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.
“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”
you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.
he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking to him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.
you stayed, and you were trying to understand.
then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.
he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.
at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 
satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.
gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.
he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.
he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.
that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.
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taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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tender-rosiey · 11 days
Note
ROSEEEEE HI HI HI I HOPE YOURE WELL I MISS U SO MUCH <333
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JESS JESS HIIIII I MISSED YOU SO MUCH AS WELL đŸ„č💕💕 I hope all has been well for you too <33
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tender-rosiey · 11 days
Note
How r u doin? <3
I am doing well; thank you for asking đŸ«¶đŸ’•đŸ«¶ and you?
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tender-rosiey · 11 days
Note
How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?
troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3
Tumblr media
sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.
he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.
you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”
your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”
he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?
is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—
“I will let you keep it.”
you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”
he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”
and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.
the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.
she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.
the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.
you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.
he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”
your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.
though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”
despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.
you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.
you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”
you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.
he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”
frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”
your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”
“her.”
“same difference.”
sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.
you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”
a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”
later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.
you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.
but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.
as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.
he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.
she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.
but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.
this is going to be a troublesome journey.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
3K notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 11 days
Note
How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?
troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3
Tumblr media
sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.
he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.
you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”
your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”
he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?
is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—
“I will let you keep it.”
you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”
he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”
and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.
the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.
she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.
the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.
you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.
he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”
your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.
though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”
despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.
you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.
you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”
you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.
he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”
frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”
your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”
“her.”
“same difference.”
sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.
you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”
a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”
later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.
you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.
but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.
as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.
he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.
she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.
but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.
this is going to be a troublesome journey.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
3K notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 11 days
Note
How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?
troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3
Tumblr media
sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.
he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.
you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”
your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”
he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?
is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—
“I will let you keep it.”
you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”
he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”
and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.
the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.
she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.
the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.
you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.
he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”
your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.
though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”
despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.
you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.
you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”
you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.
he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”
frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”
your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”
“her.”
“same difference.”
sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.
you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”
a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”
later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.
you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.
but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.
as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.
he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.
she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.
but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.
this is going to be a troublesome journey.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
Tumblr media
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
3K notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 11 days
Note
How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?
troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3
Tumblr media
sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.
he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.
you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”
your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”
he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?
is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—
“I will let you keep it.”
you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”
he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”
and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.
the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.
she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.
the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.
you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.
he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”
your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.
though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”
despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.
you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.
you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”
you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.
he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”
frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”
your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”
“her.”
“same difference.”
sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.
you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”
a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”
later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.
you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.
but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.
as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.
he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.
she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.
but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.
this is going to be a troublesome journey.
Tumblr media
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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tender-rosiey · 11 days
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How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?
troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
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a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3
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sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.
he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.
you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”
your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”
he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?
is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—
“I will let you keep it.”
you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”
he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”
and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.
the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.
she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.
the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.
you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.
he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”
your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.
though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”
despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.
you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.
you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”
you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.
he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”
frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”
your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”
“her.”
“same difference.”
sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.
you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”
a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”
later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.
you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.
but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.
as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.
he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.
she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.
but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.
this is going to be a troublesome journey.
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taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
3K notes · View notes
tender-rosiey · 12 days
Note
How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?
troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3
Tumblr media
sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.
he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.
you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”
your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”
he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?
is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—
“I will let you keep it.”
you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”
he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”
and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.
the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.
she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.
the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.
you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.
he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”
your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.
though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”
despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.
you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.
you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”
you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.
he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”
frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”
your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”
“her.”
“same difference.”
sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.
you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”
a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”
later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.
you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.
but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.
as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.
he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.
she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.
but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.
this is going to be a troublesome journey.
Tumblr media
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade
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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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tender-rosiey · 17 days
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RAMADAN KAREEM EVERYONE đŸ«¶đŸ«¶đŸ«¶
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