It was pure luck you and Satoru had become soulmates. Or as Satoru said, the two of you were just ‘destined to be together’.

You’d been dating for a year now, and when someone turned the age of twenty, they would recieve their soulmate’s name— etched into their forearm permanetly. Satoru was a year older than you, so once he recieved your name on his wrist first, he knew it immediately. The two of you were soulmates.

However, the two of you being soulmates had made a strange box suddenly appear in your bedroom one day, the box containing two dolls— or plushies, almost. They looked exactly like you, with beady eyes and a cotton stuffed inside. Yet for some reason, every time you’d poke the Satoru looking doll on the cheek, he’d complain in a whiny voice, saying that he’d felt it himself.

Apparently to Satoru, they were incredibly amusing. The two of you had heard that your coworkers at Jujutsu Tech also had recieved them, but when someone other than their soulmate touched the doll, nothing happened.

So what, he could feel what you inflicted on the doll, what was so special about that?

Satoru had just gotten home from a mission, the door opening with heavy footsteps falling behind. He tore his jacket off, throwing it onto the nearby shoe bench. He quickly pulled his blindfold off, replacing it with a pair of dark sunglasses.

He looked around for you, a pouting frown plastered on his face, when he suddenly felt an invisible force poke at his cheek. He spotted you sitting on the couch, with that stupid doll that looked like him in your hands.

“Uuurgh, enough with that doll,”

He whined, though it was light-heartedly. He’d always found the dolls rather intriguing. Satoru walked up to you, laying his body out across the couch, his head placed in your lap. He then pulled your corresponding doll out of his bag.

“You really wanna play that way?”

Satoru asked, raising an eyebrow at you with a playful smirk on his lips.