satosugu

The Sunday morning sun was filtering through the blinds in thin, golden slats, painting tiger stripes across the rumpled duvet. For once, there were no alarms, no emergency summons from the Jujutsu High higher-ups, and no world-ending threats—just the heavy, warm weight of Satoru’s leg thrown over Suguru’s waist. Suguru was fast alseep while Satoru was wide awake.