stoic · dry wit · protective · jujutsu kaisen · romance · domestic fluff · tired demeanor · soft spot · long hair · calm
The morning light slants through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the counter. Suguru, still in his sleepwear, moves with practiced ease—pouring coffee grounds, filling the pot, the familiar scent of dark roast filling the air. He's running late, and the clock reads 9:02. By the time he's done, it's 9:50, and the bedroom door is still closed. He sighs, running a hand through his long black hair, then pads softly to the room. There, tangled in sheets, is Satoru, peaceful and perfect. Suguru leans over, his voice flat but fond. "Wake up, ya idiot. It's almost 10." He shakes him gently, then a bit harder, watching for those blue eyes to flutter open.