I Feel Like A Virgin When I Search Up “x Reader” With A New Character I Like

"so pretty, 'toru."

he's like putty in your hands. eyes drooped low as he gazes up at you, he mumbles something unintelligible through cheeks squished by the hands that cup his hands. he wouldn't dare move to make himself coherent, though. moving any of the long limbs wrapped around your like a koala would be more offending than his students calling him old.

(you've seen plenty of that firsthand.)

but here, in the comfort of your shared space, he's not a teacher. he's not a sorcerer, or the shoulders that carry jujutsu excellence, or the strongest. here, with the window cracked just a bit to let in the night breeze and the blankets fresh out of the dryer warm on his skin... he's just 'toru. hopelessly loved by you to the furthest corner of his domain and beyond.

you can't help but smile as he drifts further and further into sleep in your hands, lids falling closed for a brief second before fluttering halfway open again. it's almost like a little game at this point. how long will he last this time?

and as if on cue, you mumble with him—"'m not tired, just restin' my eyes."

you giggle when he looks up to glare at you halfheartedly, expression already slipping into fondness as you stroke your thumbs against his cheeks in calming circles. you watch in real time as he sags into open adoration. your certain he can hear your heart fluttering around inside your ribcage.

"my heart," he manages to sigh between drawn out yawns. "everything i do is for you. because of you. and the kids, and.."

"if i could turn your brain off for the next few hours, i would," you muse in return, smiling when he gives you a knowing look. pale eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones before he burrows his face into your neck. you move easily, petting through his hair. "but you're appreciated, 'ru."

your voice lowers to a whisper. "if not by anyone, then by me. always going to be in your corner. always."

he doesn't respond. not verbally, anyway. but as his shoulders finally give way to exhaustion and his body leans against yours, the ghost of a kiss brushed against your jawline is as much as a thank you as it would have been shouted from the top of the world.

I close my eyes, hoping that I don't come off contentious

I'm yelling, "Father, did I finally get it right? Everything I did was selfless. I spoke freely when the people needed me, I helped them. I didn't gloat, even told 'em, 'No', when the vultures came. Took control of my fleshly body when the money changed."

Son, you do well, but your heart is closed. I can tell residue that linger from your past creates itself. "Father, I'm not perfect, I got urges, but I hold 'em down." But your pride has to die. "Okay, Father, Show me how."

Tell me every deed that you done and what you do it for. "I kept one hundred institutions paid," Okay, tell me more. "I put one hundred hoods on one stage," Okay, tell me more. "I'm tryna push peace in L.A." But you love war. "No, I don't," Oh, yes, you do "Okay, then tell me the truth."

Every individual is only a version of you, How can they forgive when there's no forgiveness in your heart? "I could tell you where I'm going"

I could tell you who you are. You fell out of Heaven 'cause you was anxious- Didn't like authority, only searched to be heinous. Isaiah 14 was the only thing that was prevalent.

-Kendrick Lamar ; reincarnated

Inspired by "Obsession" fanfic by EvolvingCatFish

You look up from your book to see your husband standing over the bassinet with his arms crossed, his brow raising as he looks down inside of it with a tiny scowl. He stays like that for about a minute. You sit up in your shared bed, then call out to him. “Ryo.” 

“Hm.” He doesn’t look up. 

“May I ask what you are doing?” 

“The little brat is staring,” Sukuna says matter-of-factly. “I am simply staring at her in return.” 

Inside of the bassinet, your baby daughter coos. Her scarlet eyes—exactly like her father’s—glitter with interest. You hear her giggle, and you scoff lightly and return your gaze to your book. “She thinks you’re playing a game.” 

“I am doing no such thing.” 

You flip a page. “Put a hand over your face for a few seconds.” He doesn’t respond, but you know he listens. “M’kay, now lift.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then your daughter bursts into a fit of giggles. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “I do not understand what is so entertaining about that.” When you look up again, you see that he’s covering his face again, then revealing himself to get the same reaction from the baby.

“It’s called peek-a-boo. It’s a game most babies love to play.” 

The little princess babbles as she lifts her arms up, and Sukuna tilts his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You snicker. “One: You’ll figure out what she’s saying the more you talk with her. Two: She wants you to pick her up.” 

He sighs dramatically, then reaches into the bassinet to pick up the small girl. Though she has her father’s eyes, she has your hair, the shape of your nose, and your ears. She also has your fearlessness, because she smiles directly in the face of the king of curses. Now at his eye level, she reaches her arms towards him excitedly. “What is it now, you brat? I’m already carrying you.” 

He looks over at you in question, and your smile grows. “She wants to touch your face,” you say. 

“Why?” 

“Because she’s a baby, and she’s curious.” 

Sukuna pulls her closer, and once in range, his daughter lays her tiny hands against his marked face. She giggles more, and you can see his eyes soften. “Hmph. You have your mother’s smile.” 

— — — —

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen where you hear Sukuna speaking with someone. When he turns to the side, you see your daughter nestled in the crook of one of his muscular arms, staring up at him as he concluded whatever story he was telling her. 

“...At the end of the battle, only I remained. Victory was mine.” 

The baby babbles excitedly, and Sukuna scoffs. “Ha, you will do no such thing. How do you expect to join me in battle when you aren’t even a year old, brat?” 

Her face scrunches in what looks like annoyance, and she repeats to him what he taught her the night before. “Hmph.” 

You burst into laughter, and Sukuna raises a brow at the little girl in his arms. “Great. Your mother’s smile, and her attitude.”

the nurse doesn't even get a full sentence out before you hear it—the loud, unmistakable, drawn out moan from behind the curtain.

"uuuuuuughghhghhhhhh."

you blink.

"that yours?" she asks, arching an eyebrow, holding back a smile.

you sigh. "unfortunately, yes."

she laughs softly and pulls the curtain back.

and there he is.

gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, your very dramatic boyfriend, currently conked out in the reclining recovery chair like a ragdoll someone left in the sun for too long. his blindfold is gone (carefully folded on the side table, somehow), his mouth is half open, one of his arms is hanging off the chair like he's mid-shakespearean death scene and one leg is swinging mindlessly like he's in the middle of an interpretive dance.

"ughhhhhhhhhh," he groans again, eyes fluttering, unfocused. "where am i. is this the void? the infinite void? am i in the purgatory between dimensions?"

"you had a wisdom tooth removed," you say, walking up to him with your arms crossed.

satoru's head rolls toward the sound of your voice. it takes him a solid five seconds to gain his bearings and settle his gaze on you.

and then—his whole body jerks.

"oh my god," he gasps, pointing a floppy, trembling finger at you. "you're the taco bell goddess."

you blink again, taken aback. the anesthesia is really doing a number on him. it's entertaining. "i'm sorry, what now?"

"i knew you were real," he whispers reverently, nodding to himself. "you came to me in a dream once. you had like, this glowing chalupa aura and you whispered 'live mas' into my soul."

you stare. "what—what the hell are you talking about?"

"don't play coy, my divine temptress of the drive-thru," he says, hand clutching his chest like he's about to write an epic soliloquy in your name. "you bring hot sauce and justice to this cruel, flavorless world."

"okay," you say slowly, looking around for the nurse, "how much anesthesia did they give you?"

"enough to see the truth," he says dramatically.

you laugh so hard you have to grab the side of his chair for support.

satoru squints at you. "wait—wait, no. are you—are you even the taco bell goddess? or are you some kind of fraud, preying on innocent taco followers?"

"i'm your girlfriend," you reply, still wheezing. "you live with me."

his sky blue eyes go comically wide. "you mean i bagged the taco bell goddess and i live with her?"

you pinch the bridge of your nose to calm yourself. "you need water and maybe an exorcism."

he doesn't hear you. of course he doesn't. he's busy throwing up both hands like he's just won an oscar.

"somebody better put me in a commercial," he says proudly. "'cause i'm livin' mas, baby."

you're practically crying with laughter now, and you don't seem to be stopping soon.

"you're a disaster," you choke out.

he grabs your hand and holds it reverently. "disaster, or super cool legend?"

you lean in and kiss his forehead, lips twitching. "definitely a disaster."

satoru beams. "you kissed me! i'm telling everyone. you kissed me first. that's legally binding."

"we've been dating for two years."

"two years?!" his jaw drops. "that's like—" he counts on his fingers "—more than ten kisses!"

you have to bite your lip before you start cracking up again. then, his eyes impossibly wide, he pats around on his lap like he's looking for something. "where's my phone. i gotta tweet this."

"you're not tweeting while high."

"but the world needs to know i'm in love with a celestial being."

"absolutely not."

"okay, but hear me out," he says, slumping deeper into the chair with a dopey grin. "what if we got married. right now. here. in the dentist's office. we've got witnesses. we've got—" he frowns at the table next to him "—fluoride."

you're really trying your best to not lose it. "you want to get married surrounded by cotton swabs and expired magazines?"

he reaches for your face with both hands like he's about to cradle something precious. except one hand flops uselessly against your cheek.

"you're all i need," he slurs.

you smile, warmth creeping up your neck. "oh my god."

"wait, wait. do i have a ring?" he pats his pockets in slow motion. "we can use a paperclip. i'll macgyver it."

"i'm confiscating your paperclips."

he groans. "you never let me have any fun."

you take his hand, kiss the knuckles. "oh, toru. you're a full-time menace, so i have to be the responsible one."

his eyes flutter, a soft, sleepy smile on his lips now. "but you love me."

you sigh, brushing his hair back gently. "i do. against my better judgement."

he grins. "ha. got 'em."

you let your forehead rest against his.

the strongest sorcerer alive. in love. loopy. wearing a bib that says 'tooth be told' with a cartoon molar giving a thumbs-up.

and somehow, impossibly, still the love of your life.

you whisper, "when you're coherent again, i'm going to tell you everything you said. never letting you live this down."

his eyes crack open. "noooo."

"yes."

"i'll sue."

"i dare you."

and he giggles. giggles. like a chaotic little gremlin in your arms.

you hold him close, his fingers twined in yours, as the strongest sorcerer in the world melts into a puddle of affectionate nonsense on anesthetic. and you think, grinning—

god, i love this ridiculous man.

if i’m ever brutally murdered and everyone feels like they need to do something productive in my memory, all i want is for you to pass legislation banning LED headlights in my name. regardless of how irrelevant it is to my murder. it’s relevant to my heart.

Renée Downer

Nanami: Initiate Phase 2.

Yuji: I forgot what Phase 2 is, but I'll assume we just run in like we discussed.

Nanami: Affirmative.

Yuji: I'll assume that means "yes".

Nanami: Roger.

Yuji: My name's Itadori.