놔

20+ | the boot licker of fictional and unreachable men

[yenayaps]

i feel like having sex with sukuna for the first time would have you so shook that it feels like your souls being snapped out of place.

like you already figured he had a big dick just from the way he carried himself, and you figured he’d be a little rough, because look at him, but you didn’t think he’d be that fucking mean.

he has you on all fours, immediately. he’s been waiting to have you like this since the moment he first laid his eyes on you. his hands are gripping on your lower back, pressing down so you arch for him more, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. the whole time he’s making fun of you with that sinfully deep voice of his.

“mmm— look at you tryna run from it. what’s wrong, sweetheart? thought you said you could take it?”

yeah well you were wrong. you’re genuinely scared of how hard he’s planning on making you cum, meanwhile this is light work for him

he doesn’t even talk you through it when he does make you cum, he just continues to taunt you, talking about how “that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

then when you think you’re done, and that you can finally have a moment to catch your breath, he’s flipping you over on to your back and pushing your knees up to your chest.

and with a smile, he goes, “have fun trying to run from it now.”

a/n: i needed to get this thought out there lol

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[yenayaps]

If you think Sukuna is a menace now, just imagine that man as an ex-boyfriend. He was already an asshole to begin with, but now that man's feelings are hurt and he's going to make it known.

All the usual spots that you go to— the gym, your favorite grocery store, your favorite bakery? He’s now a regular there. You can't even escape him by going to Sephora because that's where he gets his cologne now.

Peace at home? No. He's signed you up for literally every single religious organization that's local to you. Scientology. Jehovahs Witness. The Catholic Church. And more. Literally each and every one within a 20 mile radius. They blow up your phone. They knock on your door at 8:00 am on a Sunday morning.

It doesn't stop there. He buys over a hundred keys, with your phone number attached to it, with a little note that says "please call if missing", and scatters them throughout the city.

After the 18th call in a day, you change your number.

Any new guys you go on dates with? He befriends them. You don't even know how he does it, he barely had friends when you two were together and now he's suddenly the most friendliest man on the planet.

You get a flat tire and you go to your nearest tire shop to get it patched up, only for them to send you to Sukuna's shop. You try a different one, they referred you to Sukuna's shop too. In the end you manage to patch it up yourself, but then the next week, you start your car and it sounds weird.

The tow truck guy tells you your catalytic converter is missing??? He also refers you to Sukuna's shop.

None of it scares you, you know he's not going to hurt you. He's just throwing a fit right now.

And when you finally come storming into his shop, cussing him out and telling him how fucking pathetic he is, all he does is grin and says, "I missed you too, princess."

And somehow an hour later he has you bent over his desk, making you remember what getting fucked by him feels like so you can finally stop being a brat and take him back.

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[yenayaps]

your first kiss with sukuna

cw: fluff, readers a little shy, soft sukuna, girlies who get extra nervous on first dates and meeting new people RISE

it's not like you've never kissed anyone before. it's not like he was a stranger either, you've seen each other around campus and at parties, even exchanged a few words here and there. but even then, it was different with sukuna.

if you had to be honest with yourself, had he not asked you out on a date, you would've never guessed he had any interest in you. even then, he was aloof. so fucking casual about it all.

you were intimidated by him.

he had to have known.

your first date wasn't really all that, just dinner at a local restaurant. he offered to pick you up, but you insisted on meeting him there just to avoid a potentially quiet, and uncomfortable, car ride.

the pounding against your chest started the moment you started your car and was almost unbearable by the time you pulled up to the place. it was 5:20 pm, you were ten minutes early, yet you didn't get out until he texted you he was there. maybe it was just the fear of getting stood up.

why would he do that? he was the one who asked you out and made the reservations after all. was it insecurity? you don't know. all you knew at the time was that you couldn't stop your hands from trembling as you turned the ignition off.

he was already seated when you had walked through those doors, eyes scanning over the menu, looking as bored as always. he didn't even notice you walking up to the table, only looking up from the laminated paper when you had murmured, "hey."

you were already kicking yourself over the smile you had given as you sat across from him. it was quick, you immediately looked at away right after. dinner was quiet, as expected, and you silently kicked yourself over that too-- how he was the one to carry the conversation, trying to get to know you better by asking casual questions. some about school, but mainly about your life outside of it, like what your hobbies were, what kind of music you were into.

you were convinced that the first time he asked you out would also be his last, but he was back in your messages just days later.

| r. sukuna: there's gonna be a night market a couple towns over this weekend. wanna go?

| you: yeah! that sounds fun.

| you: what time?

| r. sukuna: like 8-ish. gonna let me come pick you up this time?

| you: sure lol

| r. sukuna: atta girl (: see you then.

the second date was a little better. maybe because you were a little more comfortable with him, but you couldn't take much credit for that. he was touchier since he finally had the chance to. throwing his arm over you just moments after you two got out of his car, guiding you through a sea of people like it was second nature to him. he let you pick which stands you wanted to check out, leaning down and lending you his ear each time.

so casual, yet so intimate. it shouldn't have effected you as much as it did, yet there you were, feeling your cheeks warm up and heart skip a beat everytime he murmured something in your ear. everytime he held out a skewer, insisting you take a bite out of it.

he was still somewhat intimidating, but he made you feel comfortable-- safe, making it easier to let your guard down. you actually let yourself have fun with him, abandoning any pessimistic thoughts you would've had if he had kept his distance.

yet your heart picked up once more as he walked you back up to your apartment. you said you'd be fine, but he insisted, walking slower than you usually would've had you been alone.

he kept his hands in his pockets the entire time, not giving off the energy that he wanted to go in with you, but there was still something in his eyes that said there was something he wanted from you.

you two were only a few doors down when he finally spoke up.

"i had fun tonight, did you?" his tone was softer this time around, like he was searching for some sort of validation. it was sweet.

a word you never would've associated with a man as big and burly as him.

your lips curled into a smile as you slowly nodded, "i did." you almost sounded like you were surprised when you said it, pulling a low laugh out of him.

"that's good. almost thought you were gonna turn me down when i asked if you wanted to go."

"why's that?"

he shrugs, "you were pretty quiet that first time we grabbed a bite to eat. you're usually a lot more talkative at parties."

"sorry," you stifle a laugh, stopping at your door and turning to look at him, "guess i'm just a little shy when im not taking shots with a bunch of people."

"don't be," he smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "i think it's kinda cute."

"yeah?" you hold your breath a little as his hand stays, snaking it around your neck and rubbing his thumb over your cheek rather than pulling away.

"yeah," he murmurs, eyes tracing down to your lips for a moment before looking back up.

and there was something about it that made you lean into his touch a little more. you could tell he was going to ask you something, but watching the way your lids slowly dropped was all he needed to abandon the question altogether.

his lips were soft.

that's the only thought that went through your mind after he pulled you in and closed the distance, tasting the faint remnants of the mint he had to erase the beer he had earlier. it wasn't dizzying in the way you had imagined what kissing sukuna would be like.

it was warm.

tender.

and it's not like you've never kissed anyone before, but it was the first time a man had ever kissed you so gently.

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai.

[yenayaps]

The Parasite | serial killer!sukuna x yandere!reader

synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way. your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.

cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added

notes: ik i said this would be for kinktober but this is taking over my brain lol. this’ll be a one shot! lmk if you’d like to be tagged

one: better than i ever even knew | do it for the thrill of the rush

two: master of none

three: the devil's hand

four: i loved her too much

epilogue: i think she took my soul

side story: ryu gets bullied at school

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[yenayaps]

silent lovers

pairing: nerd!sukuna x f!reader

synopsis: from walking to school together as kids to sharing an apartment in college, you and sukuna have always been attached at the hip. it used to be fine, it used to feel normal, having him at arms reach was just second-nature. now, as you two have gotten older, it's become unbearable.

cw: MDNI, college au, roommate au, childhood best friends to lovers, readers a little insecure, smut, light angst, oral (f receiving), p in v, there’s so much pinning and yearning in this one, kuna’s lw so funny he already thinks you’re dating in his head LMAO.

notes: 8.8k words!! i never do milestone events, but i just hit one and wanted to write this as a thank you to all of you❤️

song rec: bags - clairo

After over a decade, you still don’t understand how you and Sukuna are friends— best friends, at that. Half the time, he’s kind of a grump. He’ll act like he’s bored with you, like he has somewhere better to be. 

And surprisingly, he did. 

But you can count on Sukuna to drag you there with him– whether it be to an underground fight club for robots, built by the geeks that were controlling them, or a mixer held in some science museum, which is actually pretty fun, by the way. Both are. 

This nerd had a fucking life. 

It wasn’t always like this. He used to be an unsociable loser who’d scoff at the thought of going to parties. Now you’re in some beat-up, dimly lit warehouse, watching him holler along with the rest of the crowd, cheering on the robot he placed a bet on. The expensive cologne he randomly decided to switch to, managing to reach your nose, reminding you how much he’s changed.

Next weekend, it’ll be the robot he’s spent months building that’ll be fighting in the ring, and it’ll most likely win because he’s just as smart as he is handsome. 

A genius, even.

You guess he’s just one of those people who really grew into themselves after leaving their hometowns. Flourish, even. He joined clubs, made friends, even dated a couple of girls. 

As much as you loved watching him come out of his shell and become someone who smiled a little more and hated people a little less, a part of you wishes you never gone to the same university together. The admiration you’ve had for him since you were kids has only grown. Some nights it’s so unbearable that you lie awake trying and failing to control that ache you get in your chest from knowing you would always just be a friend to him. 

He’d never even consider you when thinking about what kind of girl he’d want to be with. 

Meanwhile, you’re finding it harder and harder to control your heart rate whenever you really look at him, realizing just how much of a man he’s become within these last couple of years. The braces are gone, his eyes have gotten sharper, his jawline’s stronger, and is now surprisingly covered in tattoos. He even started working out in his freshman year, and after studying the science of bodybuilding and proper nutrition, half the gym started wondering if he had started taking steroids. The other half wondered if they’d be able to fuck him. 

You understand them. He’s huge. Tearing your eyes off of him is hard.

The glasses definitely make him more approachable, but if there’s one thing about him that’s stayed consistent over the years, it’s that smart ass mouth of his. 

He fucking hated the attention he started receiving after getting hotter, and it comes out when he has to tell someone to fuck off so he can finish his damn workout. He doesn’t go there to fuck around and socialize with a bunch of idiots that don’t know how to isolate their own muscle groups. He just goes to get his reps out of the way so he can go back home and continue studying.

The whole time, he’s completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve grown to like it when he’s not home— that you’ve started to prefer his absence. 

Yes, you two share an apartment together. Roommates. It’s fucking torture— watching him take naps on the couch, the small glimpses of him half naked as he walks out of the bathroom after a shower, late nights spent studying together at the dining room table. 

Even now, as you stand in a loud, crowded warehouse with him, it’s torture. All you want to do is look at him, watch all the faces he makes, and the way his muscles flex as he pumps his fist in the air. But no– you had to force yourself to look forward, watching two mid-sized robots pummel each other to death. 

You feel bad for whoever's going to lose, all that time they spent on building the damn thing wasted in just one night.

Sukuna doesn’t take forever to leave once the fight’s done— he’s more of the Irish goodbye type. Had it been the opposite, you would’ve stood around awkwardly, waiting for him since he was the only one you knew here. You’d like to think you wouldn’t have come at all, but he would’ve found a way to drag you here. 

You two practically did everything together— it’s always been like this. 

The ride home is quiet. It’s one of those nights where neither of you remembers to connect your phones to the speakers and play music, all that can be heard is the low thrum of the car's engine and drops of water tapping against the metal. He notices you looking out the window, watching the raindrops fall as you absentmindedly bite on your nails. You never bite on them unless there’s something wrong. 

“You alright?”

“Hm?” The question snaps you out of it, but still, you lie. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He tries to keep his eyes on the road, but looks back at you a couple of times. That's a bullshit answer. He can read you better than anyone else can.

“You sure? You’re lookin’ a little…” There’s a pause as he does some weird hand gesture toward you. “Off.” 

“Off?” you let out a small laugh, looking at the phone to check the time. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s already one in the morning.” 

He all but hums in response as he drops the subject, feeling tired himself and growing impatient at the thought of getting into his bed to sleep. He’d probably be speeding home right now if you weren’t in the car with him. 

The lack of response doesn’t translate well, furthering the belief that he just doesn’t care that much. 

You weren’t fine. Truth be told, you haven’t been fine for a while now. It happened slowly, until one day over the summer, you looked at him and a realization crashed over you, and quite frankly, scared the shit out of you. It wasn’t just admiration or an innocent crush. 

You love him. 

And there was nothing you could do about it. 

—

The longer you go without talking to anyone about your pathetic, unrequited feelings, the more your frustration grows. At times like this, it’d be nice to have a therapist, get down to the bottom of what attracts you to your best friend in the first place, and snip it right at the stem. 

Maybe even douse it with weed killer. 

In a way, you kind of are. The weed killer part, that is, not finding the root cause of what the hell is wrong with you. After much thought, you decided to start distancing yourself from him, and it started with sleeping in.

It seems small, but putting a stop to your morning routine with him seemed effective. No complaining about school and internships over coffee. No talking about your plans for the day, which usually lead to what time you’d be home and what you two were doing for dinner, since you often shared meals as well. 

For a couple of days, it worked. Sukuna chalked it up to you just being more tired than usual from school. While you two shared enough in common, you were nothing like him academically. 

The combination of a short attention span and lack of interest in most subjects always made school harder than it should have been for you. He used to tease you for being dumb, up until the 8th grade when shit got real and your school counselor told you that you’d have to repeat the year if you didn’t get your grades up. 

Sukuna was not going into high school without you, so the obvious solution to that was to do your homework himself. He didn’t have the patience to actually sit down and teach you. He still doesn’t, and still does your homework from time to time when he hears you sniffling over it in your room— yanking papers out of your hands, grumbling about how useless you are and how you need to grow the hell up, as if you were the one forcing him to do it. 

You have no idea how you even got accepted into the same university as him. Sukuna claims not to know either, despite already knowing you’ve always had more to offer than just stats. He’s sure they figured that too when looking through your application— the one you refused to let him help you with. 

He let you have your time to mope around, but it’s Friday, and so he lays three stern knocks on your door. 

You’re still trying to avoid him, so naturally, your heart drops to your fucking ass. 

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, only for your courage to fall short when you let out a measly, “yeah?” 

“Can I come in?” he murmurs, sounding inconvenienced by the fact that he had to ask in the first place. Usually, you just tell him to. 

There’s another pause as you try to think of an excuse as to why you haven’t spoken to him much this week. The excuse never comes to mind, though, as the annoyed sigh he let out cut off your train of thought. 

“…Yeah.” 

The doorknob twists before you even finish the word, and he walks through the door with a scowl on his face, eyes tracing over your body with judgment as you stay in bed under the sheets. 

“I was gonna go to the book fair later tonight if you wanted to go.”

“I think I’m gonna pass on that.” It pained you to say, you’ve actually been looking for it ever since you started seeing the flyers all around campus. “I kind of wanna stay in this weekend.” 

“Alright,” he scratches the back of his head, trying to accept that answer. 

He doesn’t. 

“Wanna watch a movie then?” he asks, pushing up his glasses. “There’s a couple of bags of popcorn left from last time.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Turning him down is a struggle on its own— his stubbornness doesn’t help one bit. “I don’t know, I uhm— I’ve been feeling kinda sick… my stomach’s been bugging me all day.” 

“Alright,” he shrugs, hand wrapping around the doorknob. “Hope you feel better then I guess.” 

The words don’t sound very sincere coming from him, but you’d take that over him continuing to prod. He’s annoyed, doesn’t even bother to look at you anymore as he walks out of your room, missing the half smile you gave. 

Don’t feel bad. 

It’s not like he’s putting himself out there by going alone tonight. Sukuna has to know at least a couple of people who’ll be there— he’d never go somewhere that made him feel uncomfortable. And even if he were to put himself out there, it wouldn’t be as hard as it would be for anyone else. Anxiety isn’t in his vocabulary— the last thing he’d ever care about is how people perceive him. 

Sukuna leaves an hour later. You hear his heavy footsteps walk down the narrow hallway until he’s out the door, and once again you remind yourself that there was nothing to feel bad about it. 

30 minutes later, you hear the front door open, hardly getting a chance to wonder why he’s back so soon, since he walks straight to your door and knocks. 

At least you think it’s him.

“…Kuna?” 

“Who the fuck else would it be, dumbass?” he asks rudely. 

The only reason his words don’t offend you is knowing that you, a young woman, can never be too safe in this day and age. You don’t respond to him with that though, he’ll probably say something even ruder. 

“Come in,” you murmur rather grudgingly.

The doorknob turns, followed by the light shake of a plastic bag as he just barely lifts it to show you. 

“What’s that?” 

“Soup,” he says, setting the bag down on your nightstand and opening it to reveal the said soup along with a bottle of tea. “You never eat when you’re sick— probably why your stomach hurts.” 

“Yes I do.” You pout as you sit up in bed, watching him open the lid and drop a spoon in the tub.

“Don’t argue with me right now,” he responds in a bored tone, handing the soup over. 

The guilt builds up once again after muttering a quick “thanks” to him, stirring the liquid for a moment before giving it a try. He doesn’t say much— just watches you with an expression that’s as unreadable as it always is. 

You try to fill the silence. “Why didn’t you end up going?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Didn’t feel like it anymore.” 

The truth was, it wouldn’t have been as fun without you. He also figured you’d be suffering in bed for the rest of the night, wondering why your stomach hurt so much, not realizing that half of it was just hunger, so he turned around and went straight to the restaurant you usually order takeout from. 

He keeps his eyes on you for a few more seconds, then exhales. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you murmur back. “Thanks for the soup.” 

“Yeah,” he hums. “You better finish it.” 

Even through the discomfort you feel in your chest from lying, you manage to smile. “I know.”

You walk out to the living room once you’re done eating, holding the same plastic bag Sukuna had in hand a while ago. It’s filled with an empty take-out container and an empty bottle, along with a couple of other pieces of trash that were slowly cluttering the desk in your room. 

You catch sight of the back of his head, hair all messy from the beanie he put on when leaving in case it started to snow. He could’ve easily driven to campus or the restaurant, but he just doesn’t see the point— both were just a ten to fifteen minute walk away. Even on days when it’s extra cold, he’ll still walk, arguing that he’ll warm up anyway from the walk itself. Something about the human body being more than capable of adapting to extreme weather by doing shit like shivering to produce heat and what not. It was great to know, but you’d prefer not to shiver in the first place.

Sukuna turns his head around before you get the chance to greet him. He had a takeout container full of stir-fry in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, taking his time to finish chewing his food before saying anything. “Feelin’ any better?”

“Mhm,” you nod, turning the corner into the kitchen to quickly drop the bag into the trash. “Thanks again. The soup was good.”

“Yeah,” Sukuna murmurs back— he’s never been the type to say ‘you’re welcome’ to others. He turns back around to focus on the tv screen, exhaling as he leans back further into the couch to get comfortable. 

“What’re you watching?” you ask. 

“Some crime documentary,” he says, clearly unimpressed by it. “Couldn’t find anything else to watch.” 

“Maybe I can find something,” you offer, walking around the couch to sit beside him. Well, not exactly. With all the space he takes up from his current man spread, you make a spot for yourself at the very end of the beat up, albeit comfy, sofa. 

He hands you the remote with zero protest, and you spend a good 10 minutes trying to find something to watch, only to forget about your task as you find yourself more focused on talking to the man. It starts with you making a comment about one of the movie's titles, then Sukuna responding with something it reminds him of, and eventually snowballs into talking about nothing in particular for the next two hours. 

Neither of you remembers falling asleep, but he finds himself waking up at first at around 1:00 am. There’s a message on the t.v screen asking if he’s still watching, and you’re leaning against him, snoring, cheek squished against his shoulder. 

He smiles a little— it’s nothing new to him. If anything, he’s surprised you didn’t get any drool on him. You did last time. 

And just like last time, he scoops you up into his arms and takes you back to your room. He tries to be gentle when he sets you down on your bed, just so you wouldn’t wake up and ask him what the hell he was doing, but you still stir the moment you’re out of his arms. 

“Kuna.”

Sukuna holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to say something else. He quickly realizes you were just talking in your sleep, though, which brings him some relief. 

He’s always avoided getting too touchy after you two reached a certain age. Not because he didn’t want to touch you, but out of basic respect. He didn’t need you thinking he was trying to get something out of it. It’s awkward enough when people mistake you for a couple— he’d rather not add to that discomfort, which is why he got the fuck out of your room while he still had a chance. 

—

Sukuna met you when he transferred schools in the 4th grade. 

The teacher sat him right next to you. You two didn’t really talk at first. His first impression of you was that you were shy and spent half the day looking out the window. He didn’t get why you did it when the teacher was obviously peeved by it and constantly singled you out by asking you to repeat what she had just said. It went on throughout the year— after about a month, he found himself wishing you would just pay attention already. He hated feeling sorry for others. 

His second impression of you was that you weren’t as oblivious as he thought you were, and spoke up when you noticed a kid in another class trying to pick on him when they weren’t in the teacher's view. The bully didn’t listen to you, because why would he? He towered over the two of you. 

So he continued to bug Sukuna, who, believe it or not, was the shortest boy in your grade at the time. And for some reason, he took it. That is until the boy tried to yank his glasses off his face, which ended in Sukuna knocking his front tooth out, an action that could’ve gotten him expelled had you not stepped in and lied, claiming that he was chasing after Sukuna and slipped. Nobody else was there to see— there weren’t any cameras around that time. 

Just your words against the boys. 

It wasn’t until the following summer that you two had become friends. 

Sukuna remembers that day— 7:00 pm, the temperature was finally starting to drop. He had about one more hour before the sun went down, so he decided to make the most of what was left of the day by riding his bike around the neighborhood. 

He soon found out that you lived just one street away from him when he saw you sitting under a tree on your front lawn, sketching in a notebook. 

And of course, you didn’t fucking notice him, even as the brakes on his bike screeched when it came to a halt. 

“Hey.” 

He's always had a stern voice— you almost thought you did something wrong as you looked up to see who barked at you. 

“Hey,” you responded back, sounding slightly confused. 

His brows furrowed as he looked over your house. “You live here?”

“Yeah. Do you live nearby?” 

“Yeah.” He pointed right behind him. “On the next street over.” 

“That’s … cool.” You had no idea how to even respond to that. He was glaring at you, and you were so sure that he was just waiting to say something rude. 

He never did. 

“Do you have a bike?” he asked.

“Yeah.” 

“Wanna ride around together?” 

Looking back, he had no idea how he was able to be so straightforward with you. He was a loner through and through, it took a lot for him to even want to be friends with someone. It probably made him more comfortable knowing you were a decent enough person to stick up for him the way you did. 

Before you were able to say yes or no, you heard your mother calling from inside the house, letting you know dinner was ready. 

“Coming!” You got up, putting your notebook under your arm as you started to pick up your colored pencils. For a moment, he thought you forgot that he was there, but then you looked back up. “I’m not allowed to go outside anymore after dinner. Do you wanna ride bikes tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” A bit of excitement threatened to peak through his voice. “What time?” 

“Uhhh… could you come at 5?” 

“Yeah.” He wasn’t actually sure if he could, but he was determined to make a friend and decided he’d make it happen. 

“Okay, cool!” You turned on your heel, waving at him as you started to walk back inside. “See you tomorrow!” 

After riding around the neighborhood for a couple of hours, he ended up eating dinner with your family that next night, after riding back home and asking his dad, of course. 

There was no separating you from each other after that. 

His favorite thing about you was that you were always open to learning about his interests, rather than shutting him down for not knowing or liking what he liked. He remembers coming over one day with a binder full of Pokémon cards and being able to show you each one despite you not knowing anything about Pokémon prior to that. 

That’s how your friendship went— you’d willingly follow him down whatever rabbit hole he was in, and he did the same for you. He’s aware of how close of a bond he has with you. You two can talk for hours, about anything and everything. You don’t run out of things to talk about, nor do you get tired. 

At least that’s what he thought.

There’s been a shift, and for the life of him, he cannot figure out what’s caused it. The last time you were this quiet was after you went through (another) failed talking stage, but that only lasted a week. It’s been 3 weeks of you turning down his invitations and giving him short answers, slowly retreating back into your bubble that apparently doesn’t have any room for him anymore.

But even then, it’s not something that starts to weigh heavily in his mind until today, when he saw you studying in the library alone. You always let him know whenever you were going there in case he wanted to come along, because that was another thing you two did together— study. From the library, to random coffee shops, to the dining room table where you two could easily stay up until 2:00 AM writing papers and rereading notes for the hundredth time. 

Sukuna would never outwardly admit it, but you were his entire life. He liked it that way.

He thought about going up to you, but decided against it. It was the first time he thought he’d be a bother and decided that he’d rather not feel like one with you— not ever.

Not to sound dramatic, but it was paralyzing in a way. Knowing he should probably give you some space and trying to do so, when literally half of his thoughts are about you. It could be something as simple as finding a new song that he liked, and he’d start to wonder if you’d like it too. So no, realizing that you’ve been distancing yourself from him doesn’t feel very good. 

And he hopes he never has to feel like this again. 

—

Between you and Sukuna, you were honestly more of a loner. While he’s made a handful of friends in the three years of being in college, you’ve only really made one, which was Yuki. Maybe two, if you count Shoko, but she’s always been so withdrawn from everything that you considered her more of an acquaintance.

But even then, Yuki had her own group of friends. You were okay with that and didn’t mind being the friend you catch up with once a month. 

Today is that once a month catch up. Instead of going out somewhere though, you both opted to just make dinner at her place. It gives a sense of coziness that’s needed when it snows for a week straight. 

You thought you could come here to relax, but you find yourself nearly choking on spaghetti when she asks what’s wrong with you and Sukuna. 

You try to act normal about it, but you weren’t fooling anyone, especially with your initial reaction. Stumbling over your words, eyes all wide as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. 

“I mean, look at you,” Yuki starts to go in on you. “You haven’t mentioned his name once, and you look depressed as fuck.” 

You frown. “That doesn’t mean it’s because of him, though.”

“Then what is it?” she asks, twirling some spaghetti around with her fork. 

No answer. 

She sighs at how bad you are at trying to hide it. “C’mon, you can tell me. Who knows, I might even be able to give you some advice.” 

You doubt it, but you tell her anyway— about how you’ve been trying to avoid him, thinking about how the distance will make you get over something that was never even a was. 

At first, she laughs at how surprised you look when she says she already knew you were into him. To her, it was pretty obvious with the way you were around him. Granted, she’s only really seen it once, but seeing the way your eyes softened as you looked at him for a little longer than a friend would was all she needed to see.

Sukuna on the other hand? She had no idea. She’s had a couple of classes with him in the past, and he’s always been hard to read. 

Maybe? Is what she told you when you asked if she thought he liked you back, which may look a little harsh to some people, but you asked her for the truth, and the truth was he was hard to read.

“He clearly likes having you around, though, if he’s been able to live with you for almost 3 years with no complaints,” she adds. 

“Well, yeah… we’re friends, and that’s the problem. He’d never see me as more than that.”

“You don’t know that,” she scolds you for being so pessimistic. “Why don’t you just ask him?” 

You’d rather fucking die. “And then what? Make things awkward if he says no and ruin a 10-year friendship? At this point, I don’t even care if he feels the same or not, I just wanna get over it so I can go back to being normal with him.” 

A little self-sabotage-y, but fair enough, Yuki thinks. “Well… if getting over him is the goal here, why don’t you come to a party with me next Friday? I’m sure meeting new people will help out with that.”

“I dunno.” The mumbled words are followed by a sigh. “Parties aren’t really my thing, but I’ll think about it and let you know.”

They really weren’t. You didn’t mind going to the ones Sukuna took you to since everyone, for the most part, knew how to act right and didn’t drink that much, but a frat party? Just thinking about it gives you a headache. 

But who knows, maybe you needed to get knocked off your axis to forget about it. 

—

Sukuna took an astronomy class in his freshman year. He didn’t talk that much, but was still able to build a bond with his professor since he was one of the very few students who actually showed up during office hours. 

Which is why he came home today with not one, but two telescopes sticking out of his backpack. He couldn’t really afford one right now and figured it’d be worth a try asking if his former professor had any he could borrow. 

And since the professor was more than happy to lend him some, Sukuna figured he might as well grab a second one since you watched the last meteor shower with him and pouted whenever he took it back from you. 

The last few times he hoped you’d be home, you weren’t, so hearing some rummaging come from your room wiped away some of the doubt he felt during his walk back from campus. His heart may have even skipped a beat as he gently set his backpack down on the couch. It’s felt like forever since he actually got to sit down and talk to you. 

Yet the moment you opened your door after hearing a knock, something in his chest tightens. You’ve got a full face of make-up on, tits pushed up in the tightest top he’s ever seen you wear, paired with quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, period.

“Hey.” You try to smile at him, but he still notices the flicker of guilt on your face as you try to pull your skirt down. “What’s up?” 

“Nothin’, I was just wondering if you were free tonight.” There’s a bit of disappointment in the small laugh he huffs out. “There’s gonna be a meteor shower later.” 

He doesn’t even know why he mentioned it when it’s already clear you’re going to be busy. 

“Fuck— I’m sorry.” You knew how much he liked going to that hill not too far from campus to watch them. “I already made plans with Yuki.”

“It’s alright. I asked at the last minute anyway.” He tries to act like he’s happy for you. “You two going to a party or something?”

“Yeah, some frat party,” you try to sound as uninterested as possible. He’s expressed his hatred for frat parties many times in the past. 

He thought you hated them too, but evidently not enough, given how you’re all dressed up to go to one. 

“Nice,” he responds a little too flatly, lips thinning into a fake smile as he nods and mentally checks out. “I’ll uh– let you go back to getting ready then, I guess.” 

“Yeah.”

You wanted to say more, but the words just got caught in your throat as you watched him turn away from you and walk to his room. 

He never came out in the last hour you were home. You considerate saying bye, but what was the point when you hadn’t said that in weeks? 

As you’re walking out the door, something from the corner of your eye catches your attention. His backpack. You had to do a double-take at first, but your eyes eventually landed on two telescopes, and the mere thought of hurting Sukuna tonight made the guilt you already felt spread through every inch of your body. 

. . .

Coming to the party with Yuki was a mistake. 

You hated crowds, especially the one here. Even with a couple of drinks in you, having to be around people plastered out of their minds annoyed you. Just drunk and sweaty and stumbling into everything. 

You found yourself having to step outside, and even though you didn’t get to escape people completely, at least you had some fresh air. You found a wall to lean against and checked your phone— no notifications. You shouldn’t have even expected to have any. Then you do something pretty annoying, go on instagram to see if Sukuna posted anything on his story. He doesn’t have that many people on there, but he’ll still post from time to time. You were hoping to see something, maybe something about the meteor shower.

Nope.

Fuck. What if he didn’t end up going? The thought makes you feel like the worst friend ever. You probably are the worst friend ever at this point. You practically ditched him to go to a frat party. 

Through the window, you see Yuki making out with some guy, and figure it's time to go since it’s with the one she was planning on spending the night with. You really aren’t in the mood to spark up a conversation with somebody else tonight, either. 

The Uber you called was already on its way when you went to say goodbye to Yuki, and got home 15 minutes later with your tail tucked in between your legs. You had no idea what you were going to say to him. You didn’t want him to think he was your backup plan either. 

The silence of the apartment and seeing one telescope left behind felt worse. 

—

Of course he went alone. 

Sure, he was admittedly bummed, maybe even a little irritated that you chose a fucking frat party, of all things, over him, but that didn’t stop him from getting out of the house for the night. He would’ve borrowed the telescopes for nothing if he stayed. 

He was alone, but the night was nice. Clear skies, thick blankets of snow silencing the air around him and muffling the hoots of an owl that was somewhere in the trees. If only there was a little more snow to shut that thing up, too— it was ruining everything for him. Just as he’s about to turn around and yell at it, in hopes that telling it to shut the fuck up himself might work, the sound gets clearer. 

It sounds like someone's calling his name, which spooks him a bit despite not believing in the paranormal. 

“Kuna?!” 

Oh, great. It was something worse than a ghost, you. 

And you forgot to bring your survival instincts, too. You have to walk through a sketchy path to reach the hill, and not only did you decide to go alone, but you are yelling his name, proving to anybody nearby that you are alone and most likely lost. 

He pinches his nosebridge and lets out a disappointed sigh before just barely yelling back. “I’m over here.”

He hears a rushed ‘okay’ right after and pictures you fast-walking through the snow. For some reason, he thought he’d see you in the same outfit he last saw you in and was glad to see you didn’t show up half naked. You’re wearing the same thing as him right now— boots, snow pants, goose down coat. 

You’re a little shy as you walk up and sit next to him. 

He’s not. “What happened to your little party?” 

“Didn’t like it,” you murmured. 

He laughs under his breath, having already known you wouldn’t. “Good thing you had a backup plan.” 

“You can’t be the backup plan if I never even knew there was going to be a meteor shower when I made plans,” you huff out. 

“Right,” he grumbles, noticing something protruding under your coat. He nods at it. “The hell are you hiding under there?”

“Oh.” You look down and reach under your coat to pull the object out. “The other telescope.” 

“Seriously? You couldn’t even stuff it in a backpack or something?” he complains, snatching it from you to take a look at it. “You could’ve dropped it and I would’ve been fucked.” 

“Good thing I didn’t,” you proudly say, and he rolls his eyes, handing it right back to you. 

But not before looking at you dead in the eye and saying, “Don’t break it,” in an authoritative tone that would've scared the living hell out of most people. 

You, on the other hand, are very used to his grumpy side at this point and don’t think much of it as you take it back from him. You do steal a glance at him, though, unable to tell if he has any leftover resentment from earlier. He can try to act as unbothered as he wants, but his original response was telling. The way the interest in his eyes faded, just waiting to end the conversation once he found out where you were going. 

“I’m sorry about tonight.” 

He lets out a laugh. “For what?” 

“I don’t know…” you mumble, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them. “Still going even when I knew I probably wasn’t going to like it.” 

“It’s got nothing to do with me, remember? Those plans were already made,” he murmurs back, adjusting his glasses before looking up at the sky. You’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. 

“I know. I still feel bad, though.” 

Sukuna hums at first, not sure how to even take that. He doesn’t like it when people feel sorry for him. Hates it when people treat him like he’s fragile, like what you’re doing right now. Yet, he still can’t find it in himself to respond in the snarky, passive-aggressive way he usually does to people who do that. 

“Don’t be. I’m fine.” 

“Alright,” you say with a sigh, not pushing it any further. 

And while the night was nice, you couldn’t help but think of how it barely fixed what damage had already been done by your own doing. Sukuna was still kind to you and spoke softly for the most part, but you finally felt the distance you’ve been silently asking for. It was as if he stopped caring about including you, only keeping the thoughts he’d usually share to himself as he looked up at the sky and not bothering to direct where you should look. 

For a moment, you wanted to ask him what was wrong, only to quickly stop yourself. You knew what was wrong, and knew you had no right ask when the problem was you. 

—

Avoiding Sukuna wasn’t healthy in any way, shape, or form. It was childish. You felt like nothing but a coward, but it was the only way you knew how to protect yourself at this point— convincing yourself that maybe the feelings you had for him would disappear if you stayed as far away from him as possible. 

They haven’t, they’re just like any other problem in life— they don’t go away just because you ignore them, acting as if they weren’t there. They get worse, they fester, and in your case, you probably think about him now more than ever. How he doesn’t deserve to be dodged like this, how you’re ruining a perfectly good friendship just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check. 

You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with him, but you’re afraid that more words will slip out. Like how much you miss him, everything about him. From the late nights talking about anything and everything, all the way down to the annoyed look on his face whenever you say something he finds stupid. That yeah, he can be really rude at times, but even in those moments, there’s still nobody else that you feel more comfortable with. There’s nothing wrong with him. He means everything to you.

You wish you never followed him here. You wish you never signed that lease. You are going to lose him because of it. 

That day was bound to happen— you just didn’t think it’d happen so soon. 

Avoiding him didn’t work. You see him now, talking to some girl in front of the library. He doesn’t seem to be looking to get out of the conversation anytime soon with how relaxed he looks. Comfortable. 

You wish you never followed him here. 

Aside from your degree, it got you absolutely nowhere. You could’ve been smiling just as much as the girl in front of him with somebody else had you not spent the last three years pining over him. 

Hell— the last ten years.

. . .

Two weeks later, Sukuna bursts through your shared apartment and bangs on your door so hard that your heart starts to race. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt scared to face him until now. 

“I know you’re home, your keys are still on the coffee table,” he roughly says, continuing to pound on the door. “Open the fucking door.” 

You try to look him in the eyes when you finally do, but you couldn’t handle the weight you felt under his gaze. 

He tries to catch his breath as he walks into your room— it’s as if he ran home just so he could talk to you. With one last deep breath, he speaks. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What do you mean—“ 

“This!” He holds his phone up, hands slightly trembling, showing you the text his father sent him regarding your lease, and how you told him you didn’t want to renew it for the next year. “You couldn’t have told me yourself, so you reached out to my dad? You look like you’re trying to escape me or something! What did I even do to you?!” 

“Nothing! I just—“ 

“Like hell it isn’t— you’ve been avoiding me for fucking weeks, and now you don’t even want to live with me anymore. What the fuck did I do to deserve all of that?!” 

Your eyes began to tear up the more he yelled, growing more and more overwhelmed to the point where you just blurted it out. “I can’t stay here anymore— I need to move on with my life.” 

“What do you mean, move on?” His face twists from confusion. “What is there to even move on from, huh?” 

“From you!” 

He defensively throws his arms out, still completely and utterly confused. “You act like we’re in a fucking relationship!”

“I know— that’s the problem!” you finally snap, a small hiccup leaving your body as you try not to cry in front of him. 

You didn't have to explain any further from there. 

It was clear he understood what you meant by that with his reaction. Going radio silent as he sat down on your bed, resting his head in his hands for a moment while he tried to process your pathetic confession. 

“I-“ he cuts himself off and sighs, looking up to see you just awkwardly standing there, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

He wants nothing more than to hold you right now and wipe the tears away, but has no idea how to tell you that— guess you’re both stupid in that sense. 

“Do you want to be in one?” 

You stop sniffling and look at him like he’s fucking stupid. “What kind of a question is that?”

“I don’t know,” he argues back. “You’re the one crying about not being in one.”

“So you’re going to ask me to be in a relationship with you just to appease me?” Your eyes widen in disbelief. 

“I’m not doing it to appease you— 

You cut him off with a bitter laugh, “Yeah? What is it then?”

“I’m doing it because I love you and I want you to fucking stay.” 

The room grows dead silent, save for the sharp breath you take as you try to come up with a response. 

“What?”

“You seriously want me to repeat that again?” he scoffs, and then spells it out for you quite aggressively. “I love you. You are the most important person in my life, and I want you to stay. Don’t. Leave. Me— is that enough for you, or would you like me to write it down on a piece of paper so you can read along while I say it again?”

You avert your eyes as if you were a child being scolded, picking at your cuticles as you mumble, “I got it.”

A laugh escapes him because you are un-fucking-believable. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” you respond quietly. 

The mattress creaks as he gets up from the bed. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

“Mhm.” 

“Good.”

Your cheeks begin to heat up as he starts walking closer, and by the time he’s standing in front of you, you feel like you can hardly breathe. There’s no telling what’s on his mind when you meet his gaze. Though it’s not like you had much time to think. 

Your brain short-circuits when he gently cups your jaw. 

Then shuts down completely when you feel the warmth of his soft lips pressed against yours. 

There’s a satisfied look on his face when he pulls back— it’s not often he leaves you speechless like this. You always have more to say. Now? Nothing. He’s starting to wonder if you’re even breathing. 

“Was that okay?” he asks, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Yeah,” you nearly whisper.

He hums as he leans forward again, kissing you with more certainty than the last. There’s a light smack, then he deepens it, and you’re left holding his arms as you go along with it, following him like you always do. 

It happens fast. 

One minute he’s bending down, grabbing the backs of your knees to pick you up. The next, your back is hitting the sheets, and you’re reminded of just how big he’s become when he’s on above you, caging you in with his arms. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks again. 

“Mhm,” you’re the one cupping his face this time, watching his eyes soften. “I want you.”

“I want you too.” 

He gives you one last kiss, then leaves a trail of them down your neck and chest. Suddenly, your shirt’s off, and his hands are sliding down from your waist to your hips— fingers hooking around the waistband of your shorts, making your stomach flutter as he slowly pulls the shorts and your panties down in one go. 

You don’t even realize how wet you are until you’re completely exposed to the air, having Sukuna spread your legs wide open as he gets in between them. 

The grip he has on the back of your thighs tightens. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” 

Now, neither of you are virgins, and the number of people you’ve slept with can be counted on one hand. You knew it wouldn’t be awkward or anything with the moderate amount of experience you had, but you did not expect him to bury his face into your pussy and start eating you out like some starved whore. 

He has you gasping and squeezing your legs together, and he just keeps going— groaning as he laps away at your pussy, flattening his tongue against your hole and licking a fat stripe up to your clit before sucking on it. 

It’s so good that you have no idea whether you want more or if you want to push his head away, and you’re not even sure if pushing him away is even possible with the iron grip he has on your waist. Even when you squeeze your thighs together, he just rubs his face further into your folds, letting his nose work against your clit while he starts to fuck you with his tongue. 

It drives you insane. You’re grabbing at his hair, letting out the neediest moans that have ever come out of you in life. None of the guys you’ve had sex with has ever made you cum. 

Sukuna’s making you cum on his tongue— groaning while licking and lapping at the mess you’ve made while you’re disheveled and gasping for air. 

There’s slick dripping down from his chin, glasses somehow perfectly on as he pops his head up, checking to see if you’re okay. “Wanna keep going?” 

“Fuck—“ you’re still trying to catch your breath as you begin to nod, “Yeah, please, need you inside me.” 

He’s already taking off his shirt, revealing the toned body he’s spent quite an effort working on. Then his jeans… and boxers. 

Your eyes grow wide at the sight. 

His dick’s fucking perfect. Long and thick. Couple of veins running up his length. A big red tip perfect for hitting all the right spots— just thinking about it makes you drool.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” he asks in amusement. 

“I am,” you say, looking up at him before your eyes start trailing down again. “Can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding under your pants this entire time.” 

“You’re right— I probably should’ve told you about it a while ago,” he says sarcastically, kneeling back on the bed until he’s above you again, hooking his hands under your knees and dragging you closer. 

You squirm a bit as he rubs and taps the head of his cock against your clit. “Will you go slow at first?” 

His face softens as he looks at you. 

“Yeah, of course.” He was already planning on it, but something about being asked really does something to him. Triggering some need to be extra gentle with you. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” 

You nod, and he lines himself up with your entrance, tip already coated in slick. He pushes in and bites back a groan as he watches you stretch around him, taking him inch by inch. Your eyebrows are slightly pinched together when he looks up, and a low laugh escapes him before caging you in and grabbing your jaw with a gentle hand. 

His lips graze over yours as he pushes in some more. “Breathe for me— there we go— almost there, you got this.” The praise makes you squeeze around him  more, and he finds himself struggling to stay controlled. You’re so tight and look so pretty struggling to take him, letting him swallow up your little moans as he starts to slowly rock his hips back and forth. 

With a low grunt, he finally bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust. “How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you murmur. “Keep going.” 

There’s a sly smile on his face. “You sure?”

“Don’t make me beg for it,” you whine back. 

“I won’t, I won’t,” he lets out an amused sigh, then starts moving again. 

He’s less careful as he starts thrusting into you, pulling his hips back a little more each time, making you feel every inch he’s giving you with the leisurely pace he’s going at. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding on to his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow.

"Kuna—"

"I know," he hums against your temple, hips rolling into you as if he had all the time in the world. "Shoulda done this sooner— feels so fuckin’ good."

“Yeahh– fuuck– m’sorry,” you moan a little too softly in the shell of his ear, so blissfully unaware of just how crazy it drove him in that moment.

“I’m sorry too.”

He wasn’t apologizing about the past, by the way. He was apologizing for the way he drove his cock into you afterwards, just to hear that sweet little sound again and again and again, until your moans start filling the room. 

Getting you to go dumb on his cock wasn’t very difficult at all. Sukuna knew how to fuck— rolling his hips into you just right, his fat tip bullying into your sweet spot until you’re clawing at his back, which does nothing but turn him on even more.

He grabs one of your legs and hoists it up to his shoulder, allowing himself to fuck into you deeper at a new angle. His grip on your legs tightens as he snaps his hips against you harder, faster, until a wet squelch between you can be heard. 

“Oh my god, right there,” you whine out as you start to feel the pressure in your lower belly start to build. “I’m gonna— fuck!”

“Shit– me too,” he groans out, letting go of your leg to cage you in with both arms. He starts pounding into you desperately, letting out low, drawn out groans in the shell of your ear. After one particularly rough thrust, you're crying and cumming all over his cock, unable to hear whatever he’s rambling about in your ear. You can feel his cock absolutely throbbing against your walls though as he starts chasing his own relief, groaning and cursing to himself as he starts pumping you full of his cum. 

It takes you both a moment to process what the hell just happened. There’s nothing but short breaths as your chests rise and fall. Your stomach threatens to drop when he rolls over and falls on his back beside you, afraid of whatever he has to say next. But then he pulls you in, moving you to rest your head on his shoulder, grabbing the back of your knee to pull your leg over him. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, drawing little circles over your waist with his thumb. “Does this mean you’ll finally stop avoiding me?”

“Yeah,” you let out a small but tired laugh— you’ll probably be all over him after this. 

“Good,” he grumbles, shifting as he settles into the bed some more. “Because you’re really never getting rid of me after this, bestie.”

All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.

[yenayaps]

but i'm into it

pairing: boyfriend!sukuna x crazygf!reader

synopsis: sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. he’s calmer, less eager to fight. change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home that’ll tell you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row.

cw: MDNI, toxic relationships, smut, rom-com(ish), sukuna is constantly fucking around and finding out, he likes where he's at tho, even when reader hits him with a car, oral (m receiving), mating press

notes: 5.6k w/c. commission for the lovely @plsstopsworld i hope u likey <3

Sukuna was convinced that you found joy in terrorizing him. 

Do not tell him that he could just simply leave, either— there’s no point. He’ll just go back to you in the end. He always does, that’s the unfortunate part of being in love with you. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s his karma for all the crazy, borderline illegal shit he’s done. He was allowed love, but it came at a cost— a girlfriend who had the ability to make his heart race with fear. Sometimes it gets him hard, sometimes it doesn’t. He doesn’t have much control over it. 

He doesn’t have control over much, really. 

But like he said, he loves you. You are very lovely to be around most of the time, so it makes up for all of your less lovely qualities. It’s not like he has to deal with them much anyway, at least not since you’ve forbidden him from speaking in the first hour you’re awake. If you think about it, he has some control there since there’s always the option to poke the bear, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he chooses peace.

Sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. He’s calmer, less eager to fight. The man who once thrived in chaos now looks forward to the small moments of stillness life has to offer, often he goes out seeking for it. He’s more patient, has more control over himself. 

Many people ask him how he did it, and he just shrugs. “Gettin’ old I guess,” he’ll sometimes tell people. 

Truth is, he’d rather die than admit that change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home who tells you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row. He doesn’t need them thinking that’s another thing he’s not allowed to do. He is. You’ll even say bless you the first time he does it, you just get annoyed after the third one. It’s like Regina George and Satan had a baby when you’re annoyed, so he’s learned not to annoy you. 

Crazy definitely has a look to it, like the eyes or something, but not always. Sometimes you find out the hard way, like Sukuna did, who, at a very ignorant time in his life, didn’t want to do dishes. He thought reminding you of who pays the most in rent and utilities would get him out of it. Instead, he found out that you had a kill switch for the part of your brain that feels empathy. 

He slept on the couch that night, which was pointless because you committed to turning on the fire alarm every time he managed to fall asleep. Then he went out and bought a dishwasher the next morning, since he was going to be the one doing dishes for the next three months. He also had to buy a new set of dishes since there weren’t any to actually load the dishwasher with. You broke them all, save for the one you hurled at his head. You have great aim, by the way. He almost didn’t catch it. 

That wasn’t the end of his day, though. The flower shop was supposed to be his last stop, but then he remembered you said something about feeling sorry for his mother, and thank god for Jin because she would’ve gone through labor for nothing, and thank god for Jin again because every parent needs at least one kid to be proud of, so he went ahead and bought his mother some flowers, too. 

Then he finally went home. Getting the cold shoulder was expected and well deserved. So you could only imagine how unsettling it was when you smiled and welcomed him back home as if nothing ever happened. To this day, he doubts he needed to bring home any flowers.

It’d be nice to say that was the one and only time he’s ever fucked around and found out with you, but he’s not perfect. He still isn’t. The slip ups are rare, but they still happen, and he still never knows how you’ll react— sometimes it’s instant, you’ll blow up right then and there, then get over it an hour later. Other times it’s delayed, and you’ll shell out weeks' worth of time and effort purely for your entertainment.

Like when he got off work on a random Tuesday and spent half an hour walking around the parking garage, all pissed off because he couldn’t find his car. He thought some asshole stole it, filed a police report, and everything. Only to find out that you hid it in some random parking garage in some town a couple of hours away, and spent two entire months acting shocked about it despite shelling out $300 each month for the parking permit.

There was also the time he showed up to work on a Monday and learned that he had sent his boss a particularly nasty resignation email over the weekend. He got his job back, but it took a good amount of convincing since his boss didn’t believe that you’d do something like that. Sometimes he thinks about what would’ve happened if he couldn’t get his job back— you probably would’ve pushed him out of the house the very next day to look for a new one, since you refused to take on any more bills after that first fight.

He was convinced that was it. That your spite had reached its fullest potential when you fucked with his job, a.k.a both of your livelihoods, and it’ll surely make everything else after look like child’s play. He couldn't come up with anything worse than that, and it was a direct result of his limited creativity. There’s always room for improvement. You can alwaysbe worse.

You proved that when you hit him with his car. 

All he was trying to do was stop you from leaving after an argument, and chose not to believe that you’d hit him if he didn’t move. Why would he? It’s not like he cheated on you. He never lied to you. He thought you were only saying that because you wanted to make him feel bad for yelling at you— that wasn’t a good enough reason to hit someone with a car. Especially when he didn’t even curse! 

He had a little more faith in you than that. 

Let’s say you did try, it'd probably just be a small tap. Your love may be questionable at times, but it was there, and you don’t want to send the person you love flying across the street. You care about him. The most you’d do is take your foot off the brake so your car could give him a little warning bump.

Then the smell of burning rubber hits his nose. 

You stepped on the gas so god damn hard that the tires needed a second to gain traction. 

Sukuna is 6 '4, a whopping 250 lbs of pure muscle. The sound of his tires screeching into the air before taking off made his life flash before his eyes. Despite being worried for a moment there, he was physically fine.

Spiritually, however? Not very good. You made it a personal goal to knock the fucking Mario coins out of him and then watched him get up on his own right after, absolutely distraught and barking about how he couldn’t believe you just did that to him. 

He’s so pissed he doesn’t even realize you turned back around instead of leaving like you said you would.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHO DOES SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s like this— so far past the point of shock that he’s outraged, yelling as if he wanted God to truly grasp how bad of a day he’s having. 

You’re still in the car, hand on the steering wheel, casually scanning over his burly frame for any bruising. “I told you to move three separate times.” 

“SO YOU TRIED TO MURDER ME? I COULD’VE FUCKING DIED.”

“I wasn’t trying to murder you, Sukuna.” The accusation sounds ridiculous when you repeat it. Sure, you would’ve understood and agreed if it had come from someone else, but not Sukuna. He’s practically bulletproof with how quick he can bounce back. You wouldn’t have hit him if he wasn’t. “You’re fine, aren't you?”

“THAT DOESN’T CHANGE THE FACT THAT YOU JUST HIT ME WITH MY OWN CAR, YOU FUCKING SLUT.”

“This wouldn’t be an issue if you had just moved.” It’s simple, but the way you laughed while saying it just made you sound cruel. You weren’t trying to make fun of him— you just don’t know what he expected after you told him exactlywhat would happen if he didn’t step aside. 

Sukuna should’ve taken his time getting back on his feet because you did not deserve reassurance in knowing what you did was technically okay. In fact, he shouldn’t have gotten up at all— you wouldn’t be laughing then if you had to watch him getting hauled off in an ambulance.

But no, he got nothing. No broken bones or fractures. No concussions, not even dizziness. Not even a scratch. He was alive and well, and that in itself only enabled your behavior. It pissed him off knowing there was nothing for you to see and feel guilt from as a result.

Instead, he received the complete opposite from you: Lust. 

You took one good look at him later that night in the living room and went from thinking “who cares, he’s fine,” to something fucking crazy and along the lines of, “holy shit, getting hit by a car is nothing for him.” You didn’t even apologize— you just went straight to talking to him like he was some random chick at the bar.

Sukuna naturally thought that getting hit by a car would be a one-time thing. But your sudden shift in perspective made him realize that there’s nothing stopping you from doing it again if you wanted— he was done for, yet it wouldn’t be much of a surprise coming from you.

“What about your ribs?” 

“Dunno. M’sure they’re fine.” 

Your hands were already bunching up the bottom of his t-shirt, and like an idiot, he was allowing it, raising his arms so you could strip him down and pretend to “look” for bruises. You could’ve tried a little harder. Instead, you’re shamelessly running your fingers down the lines of his abs with some unhinged and sexually explicit thought running through your head.

“Evil whore.”

“What?”

Well fuck. He didn’t mean to say that outloud. No use in backtracking now, though. 

“You heard me,” he grumbles, looking away. “Hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Oh no— never.” It’s not very convincing when you’re running your hand down his skin. “You sure you’re not in any pain?”

“Nope,” he boredly says. 

“Good.” You try not to smile at how butthurt he sounds. “....Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Nope.” He repeats himself.

“You sure? You seem kinda pent up.”

“Positive.”

“Mad maybe?” You hummed as your fingers reached his waistband, tracing along the elastic. 

He laughed in disbelief. “Now what could I possibly be mad about?”

The sarcasm easily slipped out. He was still pissed, rightfully so, throwing a miniature fit in the way he does best. By being condescending.

His laugh was met with a lighthearted shrug. “Well… at first I thought it was because I hit you. But I did tell you exactly what I’d do if you didn’t move, so I guess there is no reason to be mad.”

“Sure.” He continued to smile despite his tone flattening. “Even though you don’t actually need a reason to not hit someone.”

As if he wasn’t already annoyed, you decided to send him over the edge with a contemplative hum, as if it’d ever be up for debate. “I guess. A snake doesn’t need a reason to bite you either, but you still wouldn’t count on not getting bit because of some principle.”

He takes a deep breath in an attempt to push down his frustration. You are really testing him right now with that smart ass mouth of yours. “Yeah, but are you a wild animal?”

“Nope,” you smile, snapping the waistband of his boxer against his skin. “Wild animals don’t give you verbal warnings.”

“How kind of you,” he mutters, tone laced with sarcasm. “I’ll make sure to remember that next time you threaten to hit me.”

“Smart. It probably won’t happen again, though.”

He deadpans and stares off into space for a moment over how bleak and underpromising you made the statement sound. “...You say probably as if you don’t have control over the vehicle?”

“I mean, I do… but—”

“There is no ‘but’, that’s a fact,” he stutters out of frustration as he begins to argue. “You put it in drive and smashed your foot on the gas pedal.”

“So you are mad?” Your lips purse together, innocently drawing circles over his stomach.

His brows pinch together, once again looking at you with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief. No shit he’s fucking mad, can still smell the rubber burning off his tires. You laughed at him once, and it is still haunting him. “Wouldn’t you be mad?”

“I don’t stand in front of the cars, so I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, pretending to be blind to his bubbling frustration. 

He steps back and runs his hand down his face, fighting off the urge to gouge his eyes out. He knows exactly what you’re doing right now, and the answer’s no. You’re raigebaiting your way into getting dick. You don’t deserve it— plain and simple. There was no way in hell he was going to reward today’s behavior. 

“That’s not the point. You don’t hit people with cars just because you can.” You’re lucky he’s even letting you touch him right now— you should be in jail. He leans in and taps his temple, eyes zeroing in on you. “How is that not getting through your head— it’s fucking wrong.”

“I know it’s wrong, I never said it wasn’t.” You tap at your temple the same exact way he did, and spell the next words out nice and slow. “That’s why you should move so it doesn’t happen.”

“I’m your BOYFRIEND,” he finally snaps, forgetting that’s what got him in this predicament to begin with. “I TAKE CARE OF YOU AND YOU SENT ME FLYING ACROSS THE STREET GOD DAMN IT.”

He wasn’t sent flying across the street, the reason for that being directly tied to how heavy he is. Not that you tell him that, the idea of you being the reason behind that is already tearing him apart enough. He’s also most likely embarrassed at those 2 seconds his feet were off the ground. Those must’ve been the longest 2 seconds of his life, given how he doesn’t get his world rocked too often.

“Alright, fine. I’m sorry–”

“FOR?”

Definitely embarrassed. You find yourself having to keep yourself from looking annoyed at the thought of him dragging out as big of an apology as he can from you for the sake of his bruised ego. 

You close your eyes and sigh in preparation. “For thinking it was okay to hit you with a car when it shouldn’t even be a consideration in the first place.” His arms are crossed as he soaks up each and every word. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a mental list of points that needed to be brought up to make the apology valid. “It should’ve been off limits. You deserve to have peace in knowing our arguments won’t end with you getting struck down like a bowling pin.” 

His face drops as he watches you needing to look away to keep yourself from laughing. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” you clear your throat. 

“Tch– I don’t believe you anymore,” he grumbles. 

“No! I’m being serious,” you swear, grabbing his arm with both hands as you try to get him to look at you. “I really am sorry.”

He takes one look at you and feels nothing but reluctance. “And you’re never gonna pull that shit again, right?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head, knowing you don’t actually know the answer to that. It doesn't do much in terms of setting him straight— all it did was make him more dramatic, but it was satisfying. You can’t see it happening again in the foreseeable future, but you can see yourself randomly remembering how durable he is after you two have forgotten this incident, and doing it again. You place your hands on his chest as you part your lips to make a promise you don’t mind breaking. “That is not something you have to worry about from here on out.”

“Alright.” 

There’s a certain satisfaction missing from his tone when he mutters the word, and you realize it’s not just your imagination when he pulls his arm away from your hold to cross both of them against his chest. You’re not sure what more he could want, but the contemplative look on his face tells you he’s thinking about it right now. 

He got the apology he wanted and your word that you’ll never do it again, yet he can’t help but feel like it came too easily, and that you should’ve worked a little harder. He’s pushing his luck again, he knows, buuut maybe today’s one of the days where he can get away with that. Sukuna just doesn’t  exactly know what he wants. 

Did he want to grill you some more, get some revenge over the new (and traumatic) memory you gave him? Or did he want to rid himself of some of his pent up tension that you pointed out? Fuck, then that’d mean his punishment for you would end before you even knew about it. He wanted to see your face after being told no. 

Decisions, decisions. 

Well he could also have you—

“Kay’,” you break him out of his thoughts, the satisfaction missing in his tone is crystal clear in yours. “I’m gonna go wash my face now.”

Whoa, hold on a minute?! It’s only been a few seconds, you see him thinking. 

“No. Stay,” he murmurs. 

There was a part of him that was hesitant about that working— there was a chance you’d slap the shit out of him for ordering you around like a dog. Seeing you murmur a little ‘ok’ and actually staying was a pleasant surprise, and confirmation that he could push it a little today. The only thing missing was some sort of regret or guilt on your face. It’s more like you’re just listening to him because you figured he deserved it for once with how bored you look. 

Whatever. He’ll take what he can get. 

He sighs. “The apology was nice and all, but I think you’re gonna have to prove how sorry you are with this one.”

You look at him like he’s a clown and huff out a laugh. “You want me to prove how sorry I am?”

“Mhm. You don’t have to, though,” he shrugs, voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Just figured you’d like the option since it’s either that, or wait until I actually forgive you to get fucked.”

He nearly laughs at the way that instantly wipes the smile off your face. It’s not often he tells you no— it shows in the way you struggle to come up with an answer. Not because you're speechless, you’re just trying to figure out what can be said to change his mind. 

“So it’s either I beg for forgiveness or get punished because you can’t accept my apology?” You force out a small laugh, the regret that Sukuna’s been looking for finally peeking through in your voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You and me both, princess,” he says in amusement. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to beg when you’re trying to prove something. I wouldn’t call it a punishment either. It’s more like a boundary— had to set one with you since I don’t really like you right now.” 

You scoff as you watch him start to walk away. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Your failed attempt at guilting Sukuna pulls an airy, satisfied laugh out of him as he walks back to the bedroom. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. You know what to do if you decide to go with the first option.”

—

At first, you’re disgusted and refuse to prove how sorry you are. If he didn’t want to accept your original apology, then that was his problem. He can have fun fucking his fist for all you care. You looked at the bright side of things— you got to have a quiet evening since he decided to stay in the room the entire time, save for when he came out to eat dinner. 

He had the audacity to ask if he could have some of the food you cooked, but that’s how he found out you had decided to retaliate by giving him the silent treatment. It didn’t come as a surprise, nor did it make him question his decisions. If anything, he was quite pleased with how bothered you were. That just meant you’d reach a point where you’d fold and come to him. 

He just had to wait, guessing it’d take around 5-6 days until you grow tired of throwing a silent tantrum and start to miss him.

It took 2. 

Now you see why he doesn’t bother leaving? Dealing with you can be a nightmare sometimes, but that was only 10% of it. The rest of it was smothering him with affection, which you clearly love to do and miss if you’re sitting at the edge of the bed 2 days later. 

His back’s against the headboard, arms folded over his chest, looking a little too pleased to see you break your silence. 

“Missed me?”

“Please don’t tease me right now,” you murmur, clearly struggling with the defeat. 

“I’m not,” he hums, though the laugh he had to suppress said otherwise. “Anyways, what's up?”

You question your decision each time he opens his mouth. He’s making this so much harder than it should be right now and enjoying it way too much while he’s at it. 

You pick at your cuticles at the other end of the bed— the lack of eye contact you’ve made with him leads him to believe you’re more nervous than you let on. He’s wrong. It’s a little hard trying to mask your annoyance at the moment, and cowering in place does a decent job of hiding it.

“I thought about what you said.”

“Yeah?” The smug grin across his cheeks grows. 

“Yeah. I’m tired of fighting,” you look up and say, crossing a leg over the other. “I miss how we normally are.” 

“Me too,” he hums, already undressing you with his eyes because he’s a fucking pervert. “Glad it didn’t take too long either, missed hearing your voice.”

You nod, holding back a smile. “Not really sure what you’re looking for, though.”

“Nothing crazy,” he hums, the shrug he followed it with wasn’t too convincing. “All you gotta do is be nice to me— extra nice.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” he confirms, sinking back some more against the headboard. “You know how to be a good girl, I’ve seen it. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“No,” you softly say. 

“Let me see it then— come here,” he hums, curling his finger in to beckon you closer. You start to stand, but he stops you. “Crawl.”

And crawling, at least right now, doesn’t feel very degrading. It’s the way he looks at you when you do, you’ve never wanted to smack him more. Once you’re kneeling beside him, he reaches over and slowly runs the back of his finger across your jaw. 

“So you miss how we normally are, huh?” The broad question gets a nod from you, already knowing where he was going with this. “You’re normally pretty touchy— you miss that, too? Getting to touch me whenever you want?”

“Mhm.” 

His finger traces down the side of your neck and across your shoulder, making your breath catch. 

“Bet you miss having your mouth on me too, huh?”

You give a soft smile when his hand traces back up, cupping your cheek. “Yeah.”

“Think I might just miss that more,” he slips his thumb into your mouth, lightly pressing down on your tongue. “You know how much I love stuffing my cock in here.”

You still out of surprise. That’s what he wanted? Head? What an idiot, he could’ve just said that instead of making it seem like getting his forgiveness was some sinister task.

“Is that what you want?” you ask when his thumb pulls back.

“Mhm,” he smiles. “Look at you. I didn’t even have to ask.”

He continued to be stubborn, making you be the one to pull his sweatpants down by his waistband. You didn’t mind all that much. He may be a little shit, but it’s easy to wave it off when you're freeing his cock from his boxers. Just looking at it, how long and thick it is, sends heat in between your legs. Littered with thick veins, big red tip already smeared with precum, throbbing, begging for attention.

“Spit on it, get it all wet,” he murmurs, lids lowering at the sight of the thick string of saliva falling from your lips and landing on the thick head of his cock. “Yeahh— you know what I like.”

The sight’s filthy from the start when it’s just him telling you to spit on it some more, and more, and more. The entire time, there’s a slight pinch in his brow as he spreads it all from base to tip in a way that was slow and controlled, and hard to ignore. By the time the wet sounds of him stroking his cock could be heard, you were desperately squeezing your thighs together. 

Watching his hand slow to a stop was a shame at first, but what followed took over your mind completely. 

“Stick that tongue out for me— yeah that’s it, let me see it,” he murmurs, cock throbbing in his grip as he starts to tap the heavy tip of it against your tongue, hearing the weight of it behind each one. “Ready to put this pretty little mouth to work?”

“Yeah,” you murmur all sweetly, already in a daze. 

“Good,” he chuckles. “Swirl your tongue around it.” 

He watches you lean forward and do just that. Biting the bottom of his lip as you slowly drag your tongue all around his swollen head, salty remnants of precum hitting your taste buds with each flick and drag. Sukuna groans, abs tensing at your fingers digging into his thighs. 

“Fuuck yeah.” He moves some of your hair out of the way to get a better look. “Suck on it for me, the tip— shit, just like that.” 

As much as he loved the idea of making you beg, you really won’t ever have to. Watching you hollow your cheeks and pull away with a wet pop was enough. He rubs on the back of your neck as you do it again. “Feels fuckin good when you do that— so sweet with it, too.”

A soft hum passes through your lips, pulling back with another pop. He had plans to drag this out, but grows impatient at the sight of your glossy lips and the string of saliva connecting them to his head. His hand slightly tightens on the back of your neck and pushes you in closer, rubbing his tip over your lips. 

“Open up,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he watches your lips part. “Go deeper. Show me how sorry you are.” 

You feel both his hands go to the back of your head as you wrap your lips around his tip, gently bobbing your head as you inch further and further down his length, beginning to breathe through your nose the deeper you go. 

His grip tightens as he starts hitting the back of your throat, throwing his head back with a gravelly, drawn out groan. For a minute, it felt like there was something missing, only for his ears to perk up just moments later when your nose hits his base with a small gag. 

“There you go,” he huffs out a condescending laugh. At first he thinks to tell you to keep gagging on it, but then he has a better idea. “Open wide, princess. Gonna stretch this throat out.” 

You pull up for air, revealing your teary eyes and wet lashes as you take a moment to breathe, and Sukuna thinks to himself how he’s never seen anyone so beautiful. Kinda like a Ursula in her human form type of beauty, given how much of a monster you are. Just cruel and evil. 

He grins and pushes your head back down. 

“Mmm, that’s it— relax it for me,” he says with a low rasp. “Gonna fuck this tight little throat of yours.” 

Holding your head in place, he starts snapping his hips up, stuffing his fat cock down your throat with each thrust. Obscene slurping sounds mixed in with some of your moans fill the air as drool poured out of your mouth, making a mess around the base of his cock, earning his nasty praise. “Look at the mess you're making, you love this, huh? Such a good girl with my cock stuffed in your mouth. Keep it up and I might just stuff your pussy next.”

You make a sound, and it’s almost hopeful, as if you were asking, “Really?” 

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” He thrusts up harder, enjoying the fact that you physically can’t talk right now. “Shit— m’gonna cum,” he murmurs through ragged breaths. “Look at you, did so good and now you get to have your throat filled.”

A low groan vibrates through his chest, swallowing thickly as he picks up the pace. Your nails dig into his thighs, hardly able to keep up and nearly drawing blood once you feel warm, thick spurts of cum begin to coat the back of your throat. 

You’d think he’d be more spent with how hard he fucked your throat, but nope. The cocky, blissful sigh that slipped through his lips as you tried to get yourself together was all you needed to know. 

He’s not the best when it comes to staying mad, at least with you. It’s pretty clear by now that this entire thing was just a ploy to make him feel more wanted, because he’s annoying. And pathetic. 

Not that you get much time to simmer on the thought. It’s like you blink and suddenly you’re on your back, folded in half underneath him. Knees pinned to your chest, ankles up to your ears. Mentally, he’s gone. Too focused on rubbing the fat head of his cock against your hole, spreading your slick up and down your folds. Slow and intentional, enjoying the way you squirm in his hold.  

That’s about the last of his patience, because seconds later, he’s bottoming out and you’re gasping from the sudden fullness. 

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans through a clenched jaw. His hips draw back, only pulling out halfway through before shoving himself back in with a resounding squelch. “Soaked, too. Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-yeah,” is all you could get out with all the weight he’s putting on you, keeping you locked down in the world’s meanest mating press. 

“Two days is all this slutty pussy could take, huh?” He barely suppresses a laugh as he snaps his hips forward again, pulling another gasped moan out of you. “Better not start crying about how it’s too much then.”  

It’s always too much, but this time he fucks you in a way where you can’t even get the words out. He just has you in straight up tears while he spends the next hour drilling into your sweet spot as if it were your punishment for making his life a living hell every few months. 

While you spent your two days annoyed with him, he spent his saving enough energy to be able to pull back to back orgasms out of you like it was nothing. Going as far as taunting you when he felt you starting to tighten around his cock again, and then laughing after making you squirt once more after god knows how many times, talking about how, “that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Fuck him.

You clearly didn’t hate him that much, though. Yeah, you did go radio silent a couple of times, and there may have been a moment where you truly thought you were going to pass out, but that didn’t stop you from begging him to cum inside of you in the end. 

He may have also teased you at first, asking if you deserved it, forgetting his place for a moment there. 

But you always get what you want. 

Even in the end, when you’re cuddling, and he’s murmuring sweet words into your ear, not knowing what the hell he’s even talking about when he says how much of a sweet girl you are and how you were his sweet girl.

Sukuna gets nothing but a curt “shh” in response. 

“What?” he snorts, still in a lovesick mood. 

There's a smile when you sigh. “The sound of your voice is ruining it right now for me, baby. I need you to be quiet or get lost.” 

All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.

[yenayaps]

Accelerate

pairing: gojo x milf!reader

synopsis: a story in which a depressed satoru gets sent to the future and sees just how bright it eventually becomes. meanwhile, you're reminded of how much of a brat your husband used to be when you first started dating.

cw: MDNI, time travel, smut w/ a touch of angst bc we LOVE plot, satoru's actually so mean at first lol, dad!jo (him and reader share a daughter together)

notes: hiiii we got 6.5k words for this one ❤️ comm for the lovely @sadlittlecucumber i hope u like!!!!

song rec: drag path — twenty one pilots

Satoru’s life ended up being a fucking bummer. 

His best friend’s a mass murderer. Shoko’s gone off to do her own thing with medicine. Nanami left to go become a banker or whatever. Ijichi’s… Ijichi. Oh, and Haibara’s dead. Everyone who’s alive seems to have moved on— so should Satoru, honestly. But times proved that to be quite difficult. 

He’s starting to understand where Suguru was coming from with the whole exorcise-absorb mantra. Except for him, it was exorcise and destroy, leaving every cursed site he’s stepped foot on looking like god himself decided to hit the reset button to obliterate the place.

Nobody says anything about it. He’s probably the closest thing to a god. Despite having tried his hardest all throughout his youth to fit in and act as if he was just like everyone else, people were still terrified to fuck with him. 

And despite the chaos he’s constantly surrounded by— mainly from his own doing— the days still find a way to bleed into each other, morphing into a never ending cycle of boredom and violence. It’s quite the combo. The higher ups are lucky he’s too tired to plot anything behind their backs. 

He’s exhausted. 

The past is too blurry. The future’s too bleak. 

Gojo was bound to fuck up sooner or later. The thought of him finally snapping like Suguru did, dangling in the back of his mind, taunting him. 

He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things? 

One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark. 

That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way. 

“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery. 

He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this. 

“Oh hey, you’re home.” 

Home? 

He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.

You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago. 

You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”

First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?

Second, who even are you?

Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger. 

Fuck.

“Honey–”

Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again. 

“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”

Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth. 

There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru. 

Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.

“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”

He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”

“You also liked to argue, too.”

“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?” 

“No.” 

“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“

You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?” 

“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you. 

“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.” 

– 

“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere. 

“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”

Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”

“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”

“31.”

Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.” 

Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.  

“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”

“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody. 

Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude. 

“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion. 

He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”

Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?” 

“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”

“I tried my best! I swear!”

“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”

“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”

The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.

“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.

The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed. 

—

You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand. 

“Is the food good?”

“Sure.”

“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement. 

“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.” 

Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”

“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?” 

Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.

“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being. 

A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.

“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”

It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital. 

“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.

“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake. 

“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”

Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.

“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”

Sai wasn’t having that. 

Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite. 

But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.

“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”

“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself. 

You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous. 

“What?” 

There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”

“She’s weird.”

“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”

“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid. 

He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind. 

“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious. 

He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad. 

For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear. 

—

It’s been over a month. 

Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.

But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort. 

Over his dead body. 

Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.

So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.

Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising. 

Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married. 

Satoru looks over your body once. 

Twice. 

He totally understands his future self. 

He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks. 

It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you. 

You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure. 

“Hey… any good news?”

“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.” 

“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“

“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”

You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.

After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”

“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”

The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine. 

But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him. 

You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?” 

“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.” 

It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here. 

“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered. 

He’s always had a thing for milfs.

Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now. 

“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”  

You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you. 

“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you. 

And you fucking miss that. 

He opens his mouth to respond. 

Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you. 

Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid. 

His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”

Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”

It’s starting to sound more natural.

“Y-yeah,” she sniffles. 

Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried. 

His little girl was a dream. 

—

Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.

It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world. 

He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does. 

It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.

With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table. 

The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions. 

You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off. 

“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”

He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?” 

“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.” 

You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact. 

Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.

It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake. 

Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”

Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now. 

“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone. 

Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”

“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“

“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”

“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“

“Kay’ good night.” 

Click.

Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head. 

He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning. 

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?” 

“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.” 

“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him. 

“So is waking me up.” 

“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”

“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?” 

“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.” 

Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.” 

“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden. 

And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.

You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?” 

“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.

“I can take care of that, you know.” 

“What?” 

“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.

“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?” 

“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?” 

“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.” 

“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.” 

Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock. 

“Feel good?” 

His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”

You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.

“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask. 

“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient. 

His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”

“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”

You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are. 

His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all. 

"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.” 

“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.

It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that—  lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him. 

"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."

You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out. 

You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort. 

"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."

You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder. 

He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”

“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yeah.” 

Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper. 

“Better?”

He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”

“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.” 

He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. 

Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”

“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”

He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch. 

Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you. 

“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself. 

When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him. 

You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.

And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.

—

It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back. 

What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?

He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.  

Acceptance. 

He likes his life here. 

You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.

No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second. 

With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life. 

You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache. 

He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start. 

You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.

“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.

There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”

He’s back.

“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”

—

Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.

Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers. 

Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly. 

Satoru was fucking devastated. 

Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo. 

God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point. 

One Year Later

“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone. 

It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job. 

“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”

“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.” 

The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable. 

He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit. 

It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him. 

The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time. 

“And what can I get started for you today?”

His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.

“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie. 

“Name for the order?”

“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”

He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”

“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind: 

He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number. 

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai.

[mrsblaileen]

thinkin about Sukuna who doesn’t let you suck him off properly, doesn’t even bother fucking your mouth at all. he just slaps his thick cock against your cheek before he starts to rub it over your face all slow and lazy like. rutting back and forth in long thrusts, grinding each bumped vein over your brow bone until your cheeks are slippery and pearly little threads of pre are strewn over your face from your chin to your forehead. You peer up at him through clumped lashes, eyes glassy, winking whenever his heavy balls nudge at your chin. You lick and suck at whatever slip of skin your greedy mouth can reach just to hear his breath hitch above you, low rumbled groans just as unhurried as the slow rock of his hips. sometimes he drags the blushed tip over your lower lip, lets your tongue dart out to steal a proper taste before he lifts again just to rest his balls over the hollow point of your eye socket while he dribbles ropes of pre cum into your hairline.

[dolcemisu]

frat!kuna finds reasons to talk to his tutor outside of sessions ! (shy!reader)

it was currently three in the morning and for some reason, your phone was going off. you lifted your head up and reached over to grab it. you winced as the bright screen blinded you, squinting and groaning softly. after you recovered, your jaw dropped. to your surprise, sukuna of all people was blowing up your phone.

sukuna: hey, you busy right now? sukuna: and it’s alr if you are, nws sukuna: or like, if you’re not in the mood to talk too, that’s fine. sukuna: just lmk

you were baffled. he quadruple texted you within five minutes. part of you wondered what was so important. you shot a glance at your roommates bed. it was empty. before you lost your nerve, you hit the call button on his contact.

he picked up after the second ring. despite you being the one to call him, you froze. what do you say? do you tease him for waking you up and quadruple texting? you were so in your head you didn’t release a good couple of seconds went by without a word from you.

“hello? you there?”

your stomach twisted in knots. it was just a phone call, why were you so anxious? he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you met. the way you presented yourself didn’t seem to really matter to him. yet it mattered so much to you.

“yes, sorry,” you swallowed hard.

“soo… i’m assuming you’re not busy?” he asked, his tone slightly teasing. your lips curved into a smile and you quickly cleared your throat. you weren’t sure why you felt this way about someone you tutored. you didn’t mind them usually, but you never spoke outside of sessions, let alone did you look forward to them. you wondered what he wanted to talk about so badly. was it school related? what is it wasn't? either way, the butterflies in your stomach made you even more nervous.

“nope!” you immediately winced at how enthusiastic you sounded. you probably sounded like an obsessive dork. which you weren’t, not at all. you were above that. even though everything pointed to that.

"so i'm doing tonight’s homework and i'm lost. the process is long and stupid, and i don't really understand it. i was wondering if you could explain it maybe...?"

huh, of course he was contacting you because of schoolwork. you scolded yourself for even entertaining the thought that it was something else.

"yeah no worries." you said carefully. your enthusiasm has since faded. you felt like a clueless idiot.

"let me facetime you and show you." you froze, facetime? you were in your embarrassing pajamas, hair up in a bonnet, no makeup on. crap. the sound of the facetime request blared from your phone and your heart stopped. with a shaky breath, you hit accept and braced yourself.

"aw, your bonnet is pink. cute." he grinned at the phone. he was laying in his bed with his arm behind his head, no homework page in sight. you blinked at him. his compliment made your brain short circuit.

"yes it is, uhm, thank you." you cringed and moved out of the frame. you heard him chuckle and the embarrassment alone ate you alive.

"anyways, as i was saying..." he droned on about the problem and yet, there wasn't a notebook in sight. was he reciting it from memory? you offered some input and he thanked you, praising you for your help. you couldn't help but frown though. the problem sounded oddly familiar. that's when you realized: the two of you had gone over the exact problem last session.

"correct me if i'm wrong but, didn't we already go over this problem?"

it was his turn to freeze up. "oh? we did?" he asked all innocently, eyebrows furrowed. you gaped at him before giggling.

"yes, yes we did sukuna," you giggled.

"oh? then that's my bad then." he shifted and you could see a worn stuffed animal on his bed. adorable. "hey, those highlighters you used last time, where'd you get them?" he ran his fingers through his hair, a smirk tugging on his lips.

oh, so he did remember the last session. all of this was making your head spin. so was he doing this on purpose? was he making fun of your highlighters too? that was a low blow...

"from this stationary shop in town." you replied. your tone wasn't rude or anything, but there was definitely a shift. you didn't have it in you to hide your disappointment. you thought the two of you had somewhat of an understanding of each other. you thought it wasn't all in your head and that you got along pretty well.

"hmm. i want some, we should go sometime," he suggested. "i think they'd help me focus better." he shrugged.

together?!? you tilted your head at him. "oh no, it's okay, i can give you directions, you know..." you said timidly. first calling you at an ungodly hour, then asking to hangout? did tutors hang out with their mentees? you were pretty sure that didn't happen. like ever.

"i clearly have terrible, terrible memory, so i'd think it would be best if you went with me, you know? just in case." he wasn't even trying to hide his grin anymore. you could see all 32 pearly white teeth. you couldn't help but mirror his smile. the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't let up as it all sunk in. he's asking you out.

"okay then," you agreed, failing to contain your excitement. "just in case."

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

[applepilvrr]

texts with frat!sukuna except you’re scared of him

note : this is part three! view part one here.

masterlist

[applepilvrr]

texts with frat!sukuna except you’re scared of him

note : this is part two! view part one here.

masterlist part three here!

[applepilvrr]

texts with frat!sukuna except you’re scared of him

note : you were working on a group project with him plus four other people, till you two got assigned to finish the last part together.

masterlist part two here!

[dolcemisu]

frat!kuna likes to fluster his shy tutor !

“so that’s our answer?” sukuna asked. he didn’t understand why he had to basically beat around the bush just to find the correct answer. math was beneath him.

“not quite… we’re almost there,” you said, trying to keep your voice upbeat. he’d gotten all the questions wrong on the same topic, so you didn’t want to discourage him. plus, the allotted time for tutoring sessions ended in—you glanced at the clock—around ten minutes. maybe only a miracle could help him.

sukuna groaned softly, dragging his hands down his face. “does any of this make sense to you? it’s idiotic.” he gestured to all the work on the page with his hand.

you blinked at him, trying to not let your face falter, but it was hard with the way his eyes bore into yours. you quickly looked away and cleared your throat. “we’re almost there.” you glanced the clock again before grabbing your pencil again. “now, do you remember what to do…here?” you tapped the tip of your pencil where he left off. he frowned at the page and grunted.

“i can’t even see from over here,” he complained. he moved his chair closer to you, scooting over to the point where your arms were touching. now, you were painfully aware of his presence. your heart stopped as he leaned in even closer to see where you were pointing. the smell of his cologne wafted through the air. to your surprise, he smelled good. you thought frat guys hardly showered. sukuna smelled fresh and clean in a way that was oddly comforting.

sukuna smirked, realizing he had thrown you off track. “you were saying?” he asked, not even trying to hide his amusement. you cleared your throat. where were you again? your mind blanked as the numbers stared back at you.

“you alright?” his voice was practically in your ear.

you nodded, swallowing hard. the way your heart pounded frustrated you. you only had a few minutes left to make sure he left the session understanding the content. yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think straight.

“i think we were here,” he leaned in and pointed on the page. the way you froze as he inched closer didn’t go unnoticed by him. you nodded frantically and put your head down, writing frantically.

“woah woah, slow down. geez, i’m struggling here, remember?” he chuckled as your hand slowly came to a stop. you lifted your head up, ashamed you’d left your mentee behind in the dust.

“i’m so sorry, i have no idea what’s going on with me today.”

“i think i might have an idea of what it might be.” he grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

your heart dropped to your stomach. he couldn’t know—could he? were you that obvious?

“i am so sorry. i promise it’s not like that at all. i’m just not used to being super close to people during sessions—or like, ever—so that’s my fault for not being as focused as i typic—”

“woah, slow down. i meant the way you kept checking the clock. you got somewhere to be?” he tilted his head slightly and studied you. “boyfriend?”

“what? no! i uhm—” you stammered. you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. somehow, within the span of thirty seconds, you exposed yourself to your cute classmate under little to no pressure from him. that had to be a new world record.

he grinned at you. “okay good, i’m glad to hear that. now, can we please finish the problem?”

“of course we can and—wait what?”

sukuna checked the time on his phone. “shit, looks like we’re out of time. same time next week?” he raised an eyebrow at you. you could only nod and watch as he gathered his things. he waved goodbye before walking out of the library. you slumped your head on your textbook and let out a frustrated sigh. now you had to spend the next week trying to figure out how to wipe someone’s memory. starting off with your own.

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

[dolcemisu]

opposites attract ❤︎

frat!sukuna has a massive crush on his shy tutor ! ⟡ : college au : flirting : sukuna has a soft spot for reader : pining : teasing . . more as updated dc: @ tsumiinum ◞ ac: @ winterrbluess

࣪ ۫𓂅 taglist: 29/50 ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟　. . . fluff﹕ ❤︎ ◞ smut﹕ ✦ ◞ angst﹕ ×

# ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ title ⠀ ⠀ category

001 𓂃 frat!kuna likes to fluster his tutor ! ❤︎

002 𓂃 frat!kuna finds reasons to talk to his tutor outside of sessions ! ❤︎

003 𓂃 frat!kuna wants to hear your pretty noises ✦

tba 𓂃 shopping for stationary supplies w frat!kuna ❤︎

tba 𓂃 frat!kuna is a reward based learner ✦

TBA ...

© DOLCEMISU

[tays-writing]

If you were sober | part 4

Satoru Gojo x Reader

part 1 here! . part 2 here! . part 3 here!

CW: NSFW. Oral (fem receiving), fingering, belly bulge, creampie, pussy drunk gojo, size & height difference, satoru gojo has a big dick, messy rough kissing session. Fluff and smut.

cr: _3aem

“No?” A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped you. “I just told you I blew up my entire life because I’m in love with you, and your response is that you’re hallucinating?”

Satoru opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The silence stretched, and somehow, that made everything a thousand times worse. Finally, he whispered, “Oh my God.”

You looked away, humiliation washing over you in suffocating waves. “Satoru, just—”

“I’m in love with you too” The words left him before he could think. Too. The word echoed inside his own head. Too. As if this was real, as if you had actually said it first.

“God.” He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

You stared at him and suddenly nothing else mattered. Not Kyo. Not the two weeks of silence. Not the years wasted dancing around each other.

He said something, maybe your name. Maybe another confession. You couldn’t tell, your pulse roared too loudly in your ears.

You crossed the room in a second, grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.

For a fraction of a second, Satoru froze.

His hands hovered uselessly at his sides, his brain struggling to catch up to the reality of the sensation. Then something inside him snapped. A broken sound escaped him and suddenly his hands were everywhere.

Your waist.

Your back.

Your face.

Like he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. Like he was terrified you’d disappear if he let go.

The force of it sent both of you stumbling.

You crashed into the hallway wall with a dull thud.

Neither of you cared.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, like he still hadn’t caught up to the fact that you were kissing him back.

That you had chosen him.

“Toru—”

The moment you said his name, whatever fragile restraint he’d managed to find shattered completely.

He kissed you again, this time as if he was trying to erase every day, every minute, and every doubt that had kept you apart. His lips were hungry, desperate, moving against yours with an intensity that felt like he was finally reclaiming his own sanity.  

He stumbled back, pulling you with him, and you collided with the bookshelf. Neither of you broke the kiss. Instead, you tilted your head, deepening it, his breath hitching in a way that sounded dangerously close to a sob. His movements were jagged, uncoordinated, and his heart was hammering against your chest so violently you couldn't tell where your pulse ended and his began.

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching yours. He looked stunned, his lips slightly parted, his breathing uneven

“Say it again.”

He didn’t need to mention what, looking at his expression you already knew.

“I love you” you whispered “I’ve been in love with you for a really long time.”

He looked at you like you’d hung the stars just for him. Pure, raw adoration in those impossibly blue eyes, lashes fluttering once as the words sank in. His lips parted, something reverent and overwhelmed flickering across his expression, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

You didn’t give him the chance to speak.

You surged up on your tiptoes, closing the distance again, and kissed him hard. The height difference made it clumsy—you had to stretch, fingers curling into his shirt for balance—but Satoru immediately bent to meet you, one large hand sliding to the small of your back to support you. 

Your mouth moved from his lips to the sharp line of his jaw, then lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. He shivered hard under your touch, a low, broken sound rumbling in his chest. He was so tall that even on your toes you barely reached his collarbone comfortably, and the realization made you embarrassingly wet.

Your hands started roaming—first over his clothes, tracing the firm planes of his chest and stomach through the thin fabric of his shirt. Then, greedy, you slipped one hand beneath the hem, fingertips gliding over warm, bare skin. The muscles there jumped at your touch. Your intention was crystal clear.

Satoru’s breath hitched sharply. 

“Don’t think too much, Toru” you whispered against his lips “I know you. I can practically see the gears turning in your head. Don’t” then you hooked a finger into the waistband of his pants and tugged him forward—hard—pulling his body flush against yours again.

The motion snapped whatever remained of his hesitation. A wrecked groan tore from his throat as he captured your mouth once more as he pressed you back against the shelf, hips rolling into you with a desperation that made heat flood through your entire body.

His hands were everywhere again—sliding under your shirt, gripping your thighs, tangling in your hair as he kissed you like a man starved. Every touch felt reverent and frantic at the same time, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to have you like this. “I love you,” he breathed between kisses, the words spilling out like a confession and a prayer all at once. “Fuck— I’ve loved you for so long. So goddamn long…”

You tugged at the hem of his shirt impatiently. He helped you, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of his bare torso—broad shoulders, defined abs, that stupidly perfect V-line—made your mouth water. You ran your hands over his skin, and the second your hand ventured lower to palmed him through his pants, he shuddered hard, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

Satoru hissed, hips jerking into your touch, his large hands shaking as they gripped your waist.

“Fuck—” His voice cracked.

You kept stroking him over the fabric until he was panting against your neck. Then, without warning, Satoru dropped to his knees.

He looked up at you with pure desperation, eyes dark and pleading, cheeks flushed.

His hands slid up the back of your thighs, fingers trembling slightly as they reached the hem of your shorts.

“Can I?” he whispered hoarsely, voice rough with need. “Please”

You nodded quickly, breath caught in your throat. 

The moment you gave permission, he let out a shaky exhale of relief. He hooked his fingers into your shorts and panties and slowly dragged them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. He helped you step out of them carefully, then looked up at you again like you were something sacred.

With one smooth motion he hooked his hands behind your right thigh, lifted your leg and draped it over his broad shoulder. The stretch made you gasp. You had to grab onto his hair and the bookshelf beside you for balance.

Instead of diving in immediately, he leaned forward and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your knee. Then another, and another — slow, worshipful kisses trailing higher up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His breath was hot and uneven against you, his large hands gently holding your leg in place over his shoulder.

The higher he went, the more you trembled. You couldn’t help it — your pussy clenched hard around nothing, aching and empty. You were so wet already, and he hadn’t even touched you there yet.

Satoru kissed higher, just inches away from where you needed him most… and that’s when it happened.

A thick drop of your arousal slipped out and slowly dripped down your folds 

“Fucking shit—” Satoru cursed, voice hoarse and broken. His eyes widened, dark with raw hunger as he watched it trail down your thigh toward the floor.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and dragged his tongue in one long, slow, filthy stripe from the bottom of your pussy all the way up to your clit — like he was savoring a melting popsicle he’d been craving for years. The flat of his tongue was hot and wide, collecting every drop of you with a deep, guttural moan that vibrated straight through your core.

He didn’t stop there. He licked you again, even slower this time, savoring the taste, his eyes fluttering shut for a second like it was the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he whispered, voice wrecked, lips shiny with your arousal. “I can’t— I can’t believe how much you’re dripping”

His hands tightened on your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he dove back in, licking and sucking with desperate hunger. He alternated between long, broad strokes of his tongue and focused, needy attention on your clit. The leg draped over his shoulder trembled uncontrollably.

When you felt two thick, long fingers slide inside you, you gasped sharply and gripped his snowy hair tighter, the other hand braced against the bookshelf. His free hand gripped your thigh hard enough to leave marks, holding you open while the other fucked you steadily with his fingers, curling just right against that spot inside you.

He looked massive between your legs — tall, broad-shouldered, completely lost in you on his knees. The sight combined with the relentless work of his mouth and fingers made your orgasm hit you fast and hard.

You came with a broken cry of his name, thighs shaking violently, the pleasure crashing through you in waves. Satoru kept licking you through it, gentler now, drinking up every drop like he couldn’t get enough.

Only when your leg started shaking too much did he finally pull back. The pussy-drunk look on his face — lips swollen and shiny with your arousal, eyes hazy and dark — nearly wrecked you all over again.

Without a word, he rose and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down on the bed carefully, but his hands were still trembling with barely contained need. You sat up immediately, reaching for him, and tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

It slapped heavily against his stomach — painfully hard, flushed a deep, angry red at the tip, veins prominent along the thick length. He was leaking steadily, the head glistening with precum. The sight made your mouth water. He had clearly been holding back this entire time, painfully hard and neglected while he focused completely on you.

“I really wanna suck you off,” you breathed, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

Satoru groaned loudly, a wrecked, desperate sound that came from deep in his chest. He cupped your face with both large hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks almost reverently.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You’re so dirty.” The words sounded almost pained. “But I won’t last,” he rasped, voice strained “I was already barely holding it together while I was eating you out.”

You bit your lip, still staring at his throbbing cock. Before you could insist, he continued, forehead pressed against yours, breathing ragged.

“You’re underestimating how fucking obsessed I am with you,” he whispered, voice cracking with raw honesty. “I haven’t touched anybody for a long time… because I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. About this. And I can assure you… no imagination prepared me for how good this actually is.”

Your heart stuttered at his confession.

“You… really haven’t been with anyone?” you whispered, eyes wide with surprise and affection.

Satoru let out a shaky, almost embarrassed laugh, his cheeks flushing darker as he nodded. His fingers trembled where they gripped your hip.

“I told you. You’re underestimating my obsession" 

The words hit you hard, flooding your chest with warmth and a fresh wave of desire. You pulled your shirt off in one smooth motion, revealing your bare breasts. Satoru’s eyes dropped instantly, darkening even more.

“Fuck me then,” you whispered, voice low and needy.

Satoru’s breath hitched sharply, a broken groan tearing from his throat. His hips jerked forward instinctively, and his thick, leaking cock brushed heavily against your tits as he leaned over you.

“Fuck… say it again,” he begged, voice completely wrecked.

“Fuck me, Satoru.” you repeated, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “I want you inside me. Now.”

Satoru didn’t waste another second. He gently but firmly guided you back until you were lying down on the bed, then crawled over you, that massive frame completely covering yours. 

He reached down between you, gripping himself. The flushed, leaking head of his cock rubbed up and down your soaked entrance, teasing your clit with every pass.

You looked down between your bodies, biting your lip at the sight of his size. 

“We’ll go slow, okay? I’ve got you.”

You nodded, legs spreading wider beneath him

Satoru cursed under his breath and slowly started pushing in. The stretch was immediate and intense — he was so thick that even with how wet you were, your walls had to part around every inch. He went painfully slow, trembling with the effort of holding back, eyes locked on your face the entire time.

“Shit— you’re so tight,” he gasped, forehead pressed to yours. 

He sank in deeper, inch by inch, his size making you feel deliciously full and overwhelmed in the best way. When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours, he stayed there, shaking, letting you adjust while pressing desperate, open-mouthed kisses to your lips, your cheeks, and your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely against your skin, voice cracking with emotion. “I love you so much…”

He stayed like that for a long moment, letting you adjust to his size, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. Then, softly:

“I’ll start moving, okay?”

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

Satoru let out a relieved groan and began to move — slow, careful thrusts at first. But it didn’t take long for him to find a rhythm. His hips rolled deeper, smoother, and soon he was fucking you with long, desperate strokes that made your back arch off the bed.

You adapted quickly, the initial stretch turning into pure, overwhelming pleasure. Every thrust made you feel so full, so completely claimed by him.

“Fuck— baby, I’m not gonna last,” he gasped, voice wrecked as he buried his face in your neck. “You feel too good… too tight… I can’t—”

“I’m on the pill,” you moaned, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Cum inside me, Toru. Please.”

The words hit him like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened, a broken, almost feral sound ripping from his throat. “Fuck—!”

He lost control.

His pace turned frantic, hips snapping harder and faster, driving his thick cock into you with desperate intensity. The wet sound of skin against skin filled the room as he fucked you deeper, chasing his release. You looked down between your bodies and moaned loudly at the sight — there was a visible bulge in your lower belly every time he bottomed out, the shape of his cock pressing against your insides.

“Shit— oh my god…” His voice cracked. He pressed down gently your lower stomach with his large palm, feeling himself move inside you, and the added pressure made your eyes roll back.

The sensation was too much. Between his brutal pace and the way he was pressing on your lower stomach, your second orgasm crashed into you without warning. You came hard around him, clenching and pulsing, crying out his name as your whole body shook.

Satoru followed right after, hips stuttering.

With a deep, guttural moan he buried himself as deep as he could go and came hard, pulsing inside you. Thick, hot spurts of cum filled you up, and he kept grinding slowly through it. The sheer amount made your stomach feel even fuller, some of it leaking out around his cock as he gave a few final, shaky thrusts.

He collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you completely. Both of you were breathing hard, sweaty, and trembling.

Satoru pressed soft, exhausted kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

“I love you…” he whispered again, voice hoarse and raw. “I’m never letting you go. Never.”

“I love you too” you said, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose 

Satoru exhaled and finally moved, settling beside you. He turned onto his side, and you mirrored him, the two of you ending up face to face.

You reached up, your fingers carding through the damp mess of his white hair. It felt strange—intimate in a way that surpassed everything that had just happened. It was the same touch you’d used a thousand times before when he was crashing on your couch after a long week, but now, the static of suppressed desire was gone, replaced by a deep, resonant hum of belonging.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Satoru’s hand remained at your waist, absentmindedly tracing the same path over and over again.

“You know,” you said eventually.

“Hm?”

“You made this way more complicated than it needed to be.”

Satoru groaned instantly. “Oh, we’re doing this now?”

“You spent years suffering in silence.”

“You spent months dating that asshole.”

You narrowed your eyes. He narrowed his right back. Then both of you burst out laughing.

Then his gaze drifted toward the bathroom door.

His gaze drifted toward the bathroom door. “We should probably shower.”

You blinked. The tips of your ears immediately turned pink.

“Oh, now you’re embarrassed?”

“Don’t.”

“You literally just—” you covered his mouth, but he kept talking through your fingers. “—and now you’re shy?” he managed to get out before you covered his mouth again.

You shook your head.

Even after years of wanting each other, even after the confession, he was still impossible.

Your chest tightened with affection, the kind that had survived years of friendship long before either of you had been brave enough to call it love.

A smile tugged at your lips.

Maybe you had finally confessed.

Maybe everything had changed.

But as you watched Satoru Gojo continue annoying you through your own hand, one thing felt reassuringly, wonderfully the same.

He was still your best friend.

The only difference was that now, neither of you had to pretend it stopped there.

I've actually had this chapter written since I posted part 3 yesterday, but I wanted you to suffer a bit more, lol, I'm sorry. But these idiots finally got their happy ending!!! I also have a bonus chapter that I might post.. featuring a certain submissive Satoru (but I still need to edit it) Anyway, thank you so much for reading :)

masterlist

taglist: @wiserion @woonhaesan @thegirlwhowaited5everok @pandoras-boxof-secrets @mechun-blog @pjselee @cateleya21 @catkuna

[tays-writing]

If you were sober | part 3

Satoru Gojo x Reader

part 1 here! . part 2 here!

cr: _3aem

The rain against the window of your apartment was a steady, rhythmic tapping that usually helped you focus, but tonight, it only sounded like a cry.

Kyo was standing by the bookshelf, his back to you, looking at a framed photo of you and Satoru from an escapade two summers ago. The silence in the room was thin and heavily charged with the things you had been avoiding for months.

"You weren't there, Kyo," you said, your voice steady, surprisingly calm. "Again."

He didn't turn around. His shoulders were tense, a sharp line against his sweater. "I told you, something came up. Work doesn't just stop because you want to go to some stupid party."

"It wasn't just the party," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s been months. You're physically present maybe thirty percent of the time, and mentally? You’ve been gone. You cancel plans, you forget anniversaries, and when you are here, you're constantly checking out of conversations before they even start."

Kyo finally turned. His eyes were hard, devoid of the warmth they used to have—or maybe you were just tired of pretending they did. "And you? Are you really going to stand there and play the victim?" He started pacing toward you, the small space of the living room suddenly feeling claustrophobic. "Let's drop the act, shall we?"

"What act?" you asked, though you felt a sinking sensation in your gut.

Kyo let out a sharp, bitter laugh, stepping closer until he was invading your space. He walked over to the coffee table, leaning down to stare at you. "You act like this is all about my 'negligence,'" he said. "But you’re always waiting for someone else, aren't you?" He pointed to the bookshelf. "Even when I’m right in front of you, your head is somewhere else. It’s always him. It’s always about what he’s doing, where he is."

The air left your lungs.

"Don't lie," he spat, seeing your hesitation. "I see the way you look at your phone when his name pops up. I see how you practically light up when he’s in the room. You’ve been in love with him for as long as I’ve known you. Maybe even longer. But you’re too much of a coward to admit it. I was just the placeholder, wasn't I? The guy you settled for so you wouldn't have to face the fact that your best friend doesn't want you."

Every word was a slap. It hurt not because of the words themselves, but because he was painfully, undeniably right. The realization had been simmering beneath the surface—a quiet pressure you had learned to ignore—but hearing it out loud turned it into something suffocating. You didn’t have time to feel bad because something else surfaced: anger. He wasn't saying it because he cared; he was saying it to hurt you, to make sure that even as he walked out, he took a piece of your peace with him. He had neglected you for months, prioritized everything over you, and now he was blaming his failure on your feelings for someone else to absolve himself of his own indifference.

“Get out,” you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"You think this changes anything?" he scoffed, his posture still arrogant, still refusing to take a single ounce of responsibility for the wreckage you both had caused. "You’re his best friend. That’s the box he put you in years ago, and he’s never, ever going to take you out of it. You’re the person he tells everything to, the one he trusts, the one he relies on—but you will never be the one he desires. He’s going to keep doing exactly what he’s always done: charming everyone, taking what he wants, and leaving. Go ahead. Chase him. Maybe you’ll get one pity fuck at least."

"I said get out," you repeated, your voice shaking, though this time with a mixture of cold rage and the sharp, jagged fear that he might be right.

He let out a dry, humorless chuckle—the laugh of a man who needed to feel superior in his defeat. He didn't look back as he walked out, slamming the door shut, the sound echoing through the apartment like a final verdict.

The silence that followed was absolute. You stood there for a long time, the words ringing in your ears, sharp and stinging.

You didn't reach for your phone. You didn't want to talk to anyone.

You sank onto the couch, the apartment feeling suddenly vast and empty.

—

The two weeks that followed weren’t just silence. They were avoidance disguised as caution. For you, the silence was a shield. Every time your phone lit up with Satoru’s name, your chest constricted, the memory of Kyo’s words—the box he put you in—playing like a broken record. If you answered, if you let him into your space, you couldn't bear to see that look of pity or polite confusion on his face when you finally told him the truth. The truth you were still trying—and failing—not to name.

The thought buried itself somewhere deep inside you and refused to leave. The problem was that once it was there, everything started looking different.

Every memory.

Every conversation.

Every moment.

You would be halfway through answering emails at work when your brain suddenly dragged you back three years to some random afternoon spent with Satoru. Then four years. Then six.

You started noticing things you had never questioned before.

How he was always the first person you wanted to call when something good happened, how his voice would make a terrible day better. How you knew the exact shape of his laugh, the way he’d roll his eyes when Suguru scolded him making you laugh,

The realization was slow and horrifying. Because none of those things felt normal anymore. Not after Kyo had said it out loud.

Fuck, nothing was normal after that night. Not after waking up in Satoru’s shirt with the memory of his skin beneath your fingertips.

The worst part was that the more you examined it, the painful the ache in your chest was. Because Satoru had never given you a reason to think he felt the same.

Quite the opposite.

Every time your thoughts drifted somewhere dangerous, your brain immediately supplied evidence against you.

Girls hanging off his arm at parties.

Satoru flirting without effort.

Satoru treating romance like something complicated.

And through all of it, you. His best friend.

The pattern felt impossible to ignore once you saw it. Which was exactly why you started avoiding him.

Every time your phone lit up with his name, your chest tightened.

At first, you answered. A few hours late, then the next day. Then sometimes not at all.

Coffee tomorrow?

“Busy, sorry” you’d text back

Call me?

“Can’t. Working late.” you’d say, even as you sat on your kitchen floor, staring at a wall.

Everything's okay?

You’d stare at that message for nearly five minutes before typing: “Just tired”

You weren’t tired. You were terrified. Terrified that one conversation would be enough for him to look at you and know. Terrified that years of carefully maintained friendship would collapse the second he realized how hopelessly, embarrassingly in love with him you are. How you broke up with your boyfriend because of him.

So you kept retreating.

—

On the other side of the city, Satoru was slowly losing his mind. The first three days, he had been annoyance masking as concern. “Lightweight, you alive?” he’d sent, followed by a dumb meme of a cat. He convinced himself you were busy. Then came the short replies, then the unanswered texts.

By the end of the first week, dread had settled deep beneath his ribs. The kind that sat beside him while he stared at his phone at two in the morning. He replayed that night constantly. The more he replayed it, the worse it got.

Because now, with the benefit of hindsight, he could see every mistake.

Every moment his composure had cracked. Every moment he had looked at you a little too long. A little too obviously. The way his hand had trembled on the wheel. The way he had stood there, frozen, when you touched his cheek. 

She saw it.

The thought came more often every day.

She finally figured it out.

The distance suddenly made perfect sense.

You weren’t busy.

You were escaping. Escaping him. You were distancing yourself because you were horrified. You had realized that your best friend was a man secretly nursing a pathetic, years-long obsession with you, and now you were looking for a way to phase him out of your life without a messy confrontation.

Suguru asked him what was wrong twice, and both times Satoru had nearly snapped his head off. He couldn't talk about it. If he said it out loud, it meant it was real. It meant he had finally lost you. 

By the second week he stopped texting, because every unanswered message felt like another confirmation. Another reminder that you didn’t want him there.

So he gave you the space you were clearly demanding, waiting for the final text that would tell him to stay away for good.

—

By the fourteenth night, the silence in Satoru’s apartment felt heavy enough to crush him. He couldn’t sit still. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick with the ghost of your absence. He needed the noise, the chaos, the mindless distraction of a crowded room where he didn’t have to think about why his phone hadn’t buzzed with the custom ringtone he set for you in two weeks.

He ended up at a dimly lit, upscale bar in the heart of the city. He didn’t want the alcohol; he just wanted to drown out the voice in his head that kept telling him he’d finally pushed you too far.

He leaned against the bar counter, swirling his drink, his gaze fixed on the reflection of the crowd in the mirror behind the bar. 

"Well, if it isn’t the main event himself."

The voice cut through the low hum of the bar. Satoru didn't need to turn around to recognize the sharp, irritating cadence. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his bourbon before turning his head just enough to acknowledge the man standing a few feet away, a bitter, lopsided smirk playing on Kyo’s lips.

Satoru’s eyes went dead. He had zero patience for this tonight. "Kyo. Shouldn't you be out disappointing someone else?"

Kyo let out a dry laugh, taking a step closer. “You mean her? Is that what you’re looking for?" Kyo smirked, his eyes glassy with resentment. "It must be satisfying, finally getting exactly what you wanted." 

A cold, heavy dread settled in Satoru’s stomach. "Speak clearly, or get out of my sight."

Kyo frowned

“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?” he asked, studying Satoru’s face. “That she finally broke up with me?”

Satoru didn’t react. At least, not the way Kyo expected. There was no satisfaction, no relief. Only confusion.

Satoru felt the world tilt. His heart slammed against his ribs, not with triumph, but with a sickening jolt of alarm. She cut him off? When? Why didn't she tell me?

Kyo, realizing that Satoru truly hadn’t known, scoffed. “Of course she didn’t tell you. That would mean having to face the sad truth.” He paused, his gaze darkening. “That she’s miserable. And it’s entirely because of you.”

Something inside Satoru snapped. He didn't think; he just moved. In a blur of motion, he grabbed Kyo by the collar, slamming him back against the bar with enough force to make the glasses rattle. The bar went deathly silent.

"You are going to wash your mouth out before you speak about her again, you pathetic piece of shit," Satoru hissed, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that made Kyo’s eyes widen "You don't get to comment on her, and you certainly don't get to drag her name through the mud because you couldn't handle being a man. If I ever hear you utter her name with that filthy tongue of yours again, I will make sure you regret it."

He tightened his grip for a heartbeat before shoving him away with such force that Kyo stumbled back, hitting the floor hard.

As he turned to leave, the adrenaline began to recede, leaving behind a cold, hollow terror that hit him harder than a physical blow. He didn't even process the implication of what Kyo said—his brain was stuck on a loop of she’s hurting and she didn’t tell me.

You broke up with your boyfriend.

You spent two weeks suffering through it.

And you hadn't reached out to him. Not once.

He didn't finish his drink. He threw some cash on the counter and headed for the exit, his movements sharp and panicked.

—

The drive to your apartment had been a blur of white-knuckled frustration. Satoru hadn’t bothered with speed limits or traffic lights; his entire reality had narrowed down to the suffocating silence of your two-week absence. When he reached your building, he took the stairs two at a time, his chest heaving, his mind racing through a thousand catastrophic scenarios, yet entirely unprepared for the one that was about to unfold.

He pounded on your door, his knuckles striking the wood with a desperate, frantic rhythm.

"Open up," he commanded, his voice raw, stripped of its usual melodic playfulness. "Now."

When you finally opened the door, the air in the hallway seemed to vanish. You looked pale, eyes rimmed with the exhaustion of long, sleepless nights. Your hair was pulled back in a careless, messy bun, and for a moment, Satoru just stared, his heart stuttering at the sight of you.

"Satoru?"

He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped into the apartment, the space instantly shrinking under the sheer weight of his presence, and clicked the door shut behind him.

"You broke up with Kyo."

You froze, the breath catching in your throat as your hands instinctively gripped the hem of your sleeves.

“I had to hear it from him,” he said, his gaze searching your face for an explanation he wasn’t ready to hear “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you reach out to me?” He asked, but deep inside, his own insecurities whispered the answer: Because she’s disgusted by the idea of you being in love with her 

Your stomach dropped. Kyo told him. Of course he did—he’d left you with the wreckage, and now he was ensuring the debris hit the people who actually mattered. For two weeks, you’d been dreading this exact moment. You looked at the bookshelf, the walls, the floor—anywhere but his eyes.

“I didn’t know how,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, thick with the weight of your own embarrassment.

Across from you, Satoru’s expression tightened. Of course. You didn’t know how to tell him you’d realized the truth. 

“I know how it makes you feel,” Satoru said, his voice dropping, heavy with his own internal agony. “But did you have to cut me off like this?”

You let out a jagged, shaky breath. “What was I supposed to do? I thought it was for the best. I wanted to avoid this exact conversation.”

The answer sounded painfully obvious to him. How were you supposed to look at your best friend after realizing he was hopelessly in love with you? Meanwhile, your own brain was arriving at a completely different conclusion: how were you supposed to look at him when you finally let yourself acknowledge the terrifying, all-consuming ache you’d been harboring for him all this time?

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Neither of you realized you were having entirely different conversations, both of you trapped in the solitary confinement of your own assumptions.

“You should’ve talked with me” Satoru said quietly, his eyes searching for yours with a hurt so deep it made your own chest ache.

You swallowed hard, the tears finally pricking at your eyes. “Would it have changed anything?”

The question lodged directly in his chest. For him, it sounded like: Would it have changed the fact that you’re in love with me? For you, it meant: Would it have changed the fact that you don’t love me back?

"No," he admitted, his voice hollow.

The answer settled heavily between you. For two weeks, some stupid, desperate part of you had kept searching for loopholes. Tiny cracks in reality where Kyo had been wrong. Where the way Satoru looked at you sometimes meant something. Where waking up in his shirt had meant something. Where the memory of his frozen expression after that stupid childish kiss wasn’t something you’d imagined because you wanted it to be.

But reality has always been simpler than that. It hurt so much that your body seemed to have given up trying to fight it.

Your gaze dropped to the floor. For a moment, you wondered how many times you’d replay this conversation in your head afterward. How many times you’d think about what would’ve happened if you’d just kept your mouth shut and pretended none of this existed. 

Maybe you could’ve kept him. Maybe you could’ve stayed his best friend. Maybe that would’ve been enough.

Your throat tightened, the air in the room turning thin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, forcing yourself to finally meet his eyes. The guarded distance in his gaze made your skin crawl with shame. “I ruined everything.” The words hurt less once they were out in the open, but the finality of them made you want to vanish. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Satoru stared at you like you’d suddenly switched languages halfway through the conversation.

“What?” he frowned “What are you talking about?”

You looked away. Humiliation burned hot beneath your skin. God, this was pathetic.

“You don’t have to do this, Satoru”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t know.”

Satoru blinked. His brow furrowing deeper. “Pretend I don’t know what?” 

You closed your eyes “Please,” your voice cracked, the sound humiliating you instantly. “Please don’t make me say it.” 

For the first time, Satoru’s frustration melted into genuine concern. “Say what?”

You laughed—a miserable, jagged sound that scraped your throat. Something inside you finally snapped under the weight of the last two weeks.

“Fine,” you said, wiping angrily at the tears spilling over your lashes. “You want me to say it?”

Satoru froze, his posture rigid. Your chest heaved, every breath hitching.

“I broke up with Kyo because every time I looked at him, I was thinking about you,” you confessed, the words pouring out like blood from a wound. “I spent years pretending, Satoru. And then Kyo said it out loud, and suddenly I couldn’t stop seeing it. I couldn't deny it anymore.”

Satoru didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. You barely noticed. The words had been trapped for too long, and now they were spilling out whether you wanted them to or not. This was the cliff. The point of no return. You closed your eyes, took a breath, and let it out.

“I’m in love with you,” your voice shook, trembling with the force of the admission. “So there. Congratulations. Now you don’t have to wonder why I’ve been avoiding you.”

Satoru went deathly still. He simply stared at you, like his brain had stopped processing information altogether. You watched the color drain from his face.

One hand came up to his forehead, fingers splayed, and he dragged them slowly down his face in a gesture of pure disbelief.

“I don’t think I drank enough for this,” he muttered to the empty air.

He took a shaky step back, his eyes never leaving yours, his movements uncoordinated. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

For a second, the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Then, the last of your restraint shattered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you shouted, your voice raw.

Satoru blinked, startled out of his trance.

“Is this a joke to you?” you demanded, the hurt in your voice hitting him like a physical slap.

“No”

“No?” A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped you. “I just told you I blew up my entire life because I’m in love with you, and your response is that you’re hallucinating?”

Satoru opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The silence stretched, and somehow, that made everything a thousand times worse. Finally, he whispered, “Oh my God.”

part 4 here! masterlist

taglist: @wiserion @woonhaesan @thegirlwhowaited5everok @pandoras-boxof-secrets @mechun-blog @pjselee

[tays-writing]

Don't fall for me

Satoru Gojo x reader

CW: angst (with happy ending), emotionally constipated reader, fear of commitment (reader), SMUT!! Satoru is really pathetic in this one (but there's payoff, i swear) 4.8k words

The music thumped heavily through the walls of the engineering frat house. The birthday party was pure chaos— red cups scattered everywhere, people grinding in the living room, and the air thick with the smell of weed. 

You were in the kitchen, leaning against the island with a gin tonic in hand. You weren’t trying to get blackout drunk, just wanted to forget the disaster that was your last final. 

Suddenly, a tall figure appeared beside you, reaching for a bottle of rum.

“Mind passing me that?” he asked in a smooth, confident voice

You turned and looked up.

Satoru Gojo.

Even under the shitty party lighting, he stood out. Tall, with that signature snow-white hair, striking blue eyes, and an aura of effortless charm that screamed trouble. Put simply, he was stupidly attractive.

You handed him the bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” he said, but instead of walking away he stayed, studying you with curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around much. Friend of the birthday guy?”

“Friend of his girlfriend,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “Only here because she dragged me.”

Gojo let out an amused chuckle, his grin widening “I like the honesty”

The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was quick-witted, funny in the right way, and didn’t try too hard. One drink turned into two, then three. The flirting became more obvious — lingering looks, teasing remarks, his body slowly inching closer to yours.

An hour later you were both upstairs in one of the empty bedrooms. You pushed him against the wall the moment the door clicked shut, mouth crashing into his while your fingers tugged urgently at his belt.

The kiss was hot, messy, and intense, tongues sliding together as his hands roamed down your sides. You tugged at his shirt impatiently. 

“Off.”

He chuckled against your lips, pulling back just enough to yank the shirt over his head, revealing a toned, lean torso. You ran your hands over his chest as he worked on your clothes, peeling your top off and unhooking your bra with practiced ease.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muttered, mouth latching onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened.

You moaned softly, fingers threading through his white hair “Just fuck me already”

“Yes ma’am”

He lifted you effortlessly and dropped you gently onto the bed. Then he yanked your pants and panties down in one swift motion. You heard his belt buckle, the zipper, and the tear of a condom wrapper.

He rubbed the thick head of his cock against your soaked entrance, teasing you for a second before thrusting in deep.

“Fuck,” you both moaned at the same time.

He was huge, just as the rumors said. Everything about him was big — that tall figure hovering over you, broad shoulders, and the way he stretched you so deliciously full.

He gave you barely a moment before he started moving. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he fucked you, one hand gripping your hip, the other reaching around to rub your clit.

“You feel so fucking good” he growled, pounding into you faster.

You were moaning loudly, pushing against him with every thrust. The pleasure built fast and intense, and your orgasm crashed over you without warning, walls clenching around his cock as pleasure ripped through your body. 

Gojo groaned at the feeling, fucking you through it before his own pace faltered. He buried himself deep and came with a low, rough moan.

For a few moments, the only sound was your heavy breathing.

He pulled out carefully, disposed of the condom, and collapsed onto the bed beside you, still catching his breath.

You, however, didn’t stay. You sat up almost immediately and started gathering your clothes.

“Already leaving?” he asked, his eyebrows slightly raised

“Mhm,” you muttered, pulling your top back on.

Gojo propped himself up on one elbow, watching you quietly as you fixed your clothes. Before you reached the door, he spoke again.

“At least tell me your name?”

For the first time since getting out of bed, you actually looked at him. “Maybe next time.”

And with that, you slipped out of the room, leaving him lying there naked on the bed, staring at the door with a furrowed brow

—

Three weeks later you were at your best friend’s apartment for a small get-together. You walked in carrying snacks and froze in the doorway.

Satoru Gojo was sitting on the couch, long legs spread, wearing a black compression shirt that should be illegal. Next to him was your best friend’s boyfriend… and apparently, Gojo had become pretty close to him. 

Your best friend grinned. “Oh good, you’re here!”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you, but didn’t say anything. The night went on normally, at least on the surface. You laughed with your friends and played stupid games. But you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. Every time you moved, every time you laughed, he was watching.

Later, when people started leaving, he caught you in the hallway.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

You raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.”

“It was one night. We had fun. That's it.”

He stepped closer, towering over you, but his voice was surprisingly gentle. Almost cautious.

“What if I want more? You left without even telling me your name. I had to ask your friend”

You stared at him for a long moment, caught slightly off guard.

“I don’t do relationships. And I don’t do exclusivity. If you’re looking for something serious, I’m not the girl for you”

His jaw tightened, but after a second he shrugged, that easy smirk returning.

“Then I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

You should have walked away right then. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into the bathroom.

That became the pattern. Days turned into weeks before either of you realized it. You’d text him late at night, and he’d show up at your dorm or you’d go to his fancy off-campus apartment after classes. The sex was incredible every single time — sometimes rough and desperate, sometimes slow and teasing. But every time he tried to stay the night or asked to see you for something other than sex, you shut it down.

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” you’d remind him.

And every time, Satoru would smile like it didn’t hurt and say, “I know.”

But it did hurt. He was falling hard, and he knew it. He started turning down other girls without hesitation. His friends teased him about how whipped he was getting, but he didn’t care. He just wanted you — in any way you’d let him have you.

One night after you’d ridden him until both of you were shaking, you tried to get up and leave like always.

His arms tightened around your waist.

“Stay,” he whispered against your shoulder. “Just this once.”

You froze, then gently pried his hands off.

“I can’t.”

You got dressed in silence. When you glanced back before closing the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered, white hair falling over his eyes. He looked… defeated. And yet he still texted you the next day.

—

“So… there’s a university couple’s event next weekend. You should bring someone!” your best friend said

You laughed. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “What about Gojo?”

“We’re not together.”

“Right. Maybe he’ll bring someone else” She shrugged 

The thought of him showing up with another girl made something ugly and sharp bloom in your chest.

You hated that feeling. Because you weren’t supposed to care.

—

The event was louder than you expected. Couples were everywhere: kissing in corners, dancing way too close, feeding each other snacks like they were in some cheesy rom-com. It made your skin crawl a little.

You hadn’t brought anyone. Instead, you showed up in a tight black dress that showed just enough cleavage and skin. You told yourself it wasn’t for anyone in particular.

But when Satoru Gojo walked in wearing a loose white button-up with the first few buttons undone and black pants that sat low on his hips, you knew you were lying to yourself.

His eyes found you instantly. That bright blue gaze dragged slowly down your body, then back up. He didn’t even try to hide the hunger. He made his way over, hands in his pockets.

“You didn’t text me to come with you.”

“Didn’t think I needed to. We’re not together”

Something flickered across his face — quick, sharp, gone in a second. But his smile stayed.

“Right.”

The rest of the night continued like that. You talked with people, laughed, and danced a little. Gojo stayed nearby, always watching. Every time a guy approached you, you felt his stare burning into your back.

At one point, a tall guy from your literature class leaned in to say something in your ear over the music. You laughed at his joke. 

Later, you slipped outside to get some air. The backyard was quieter, only a few couples making out in the shadows. 

You reached a darker spot behind a tree when you heard footsteps behind you.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” Satoru said

You turned. He was standing too close, his eyes dark

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m just existing in the same place as you”

“Existing while other guys whisper in your ear?” He stepped even closer, towering over you. “While you laugh at their shitty jokes?”.

“We’re not exclusive, Satoru. I told you that from the start.”

“I know what you said.” His hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw. “Doesn’t stop me from hating it.”

The possessiveness in his voice should’ve annoyed you. Instead, your gaze dropped to his mouth.

That was all it took.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down into a hard kiss. He groaned into your mouth, hands immediately sliding down to grip your ass, his leg sliding between yours

Your breath hitched against his lips. 

“You drive me crazy,” he growled between kisses

You rocked your hips against his thigh, your panties already soaked. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it around his waist, pressing his own higher to give you better friction.

“Satoru— fuck—”

“Come for me, soak my pants. I know you can do it”

His words sent a dark thrill through you. You came with a broken cry, walls clenching around nothing. He kissed you softly this time — slow, almost tender. His fingers brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “My place’s closer.”

You looked up at him. Those beautiful blue eyes were wide open, vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten. For a second, you almost said yes.

“I can’t. I have an early class tomorrow.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you smoothed down your dress, turned around, and walked away.

He didn’t try to stop you.

—

The next weeks nothing changed; you’d have incredible sex that left you both exhausted and satisfied, then you’d slip out the door before either of you could pretend it meant something more

But then, jealousy crept in. You started noticing how other girls still flirted with him — especially a girl named Mei Mei from the business department who was bold and gorgeous. You hated how it made you feel.

So you did what you always did when feelings got too complicated: you pushed back harder.

You hooked up with someone else. Just once. A random guy. It was mediocre at best.

When Satoru found out — because of course he did — something in him cracked.

That night the sex was different — rougher, almost angry. He fucked you like he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else inside you. He had you on all fours, your back arching as he thrusted deep and hard, whispering filthy things mixed with soft pleas.

“Only me… fuck, please let it be only me…”

You came harder than you had in weeks. Afterwards, he didn’t try to make you stay. He just lay there, an arm over his eyes, breathing uneven. You dressed in silence, but before you left, you hesitated at the door.

“Satoru…”

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Just… go.”

You left. And it felt like shit.

—

The following week was hell. You threw yourself into classes, assignments, and parties — anything to keep your mind off the way Satoru had looked at you that night. The quiet defeat in his voice still echoed in your head. You hated it. You hated how it made your chest feel tight.

You didn’t text him. He didn’t text you. The silence was worse than the fighting. Your best friend noticed something was wrong and cornered you on campus

“Okay, spill. What’s going on with you and Gojo? He looks like shit and you’ve been acting weird.”

You shrugged, pushing food around your plate.

“Nothing. We’re just… casual.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Casual doesn’t usually make two people look miserable.”

You didn’t answer.

That night, around 10pm., your phone lit up.

He showed up at your dorm in fifteen minutes, wearing a black hoodie and sweats, looking exhausted.

“I try, I really try to stop thinking about you, to stop wanting to see you. ‘Cause you’re killing me” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Slowly, painfully”

You froze.

“I told you from the beginning what this was.” you said quietly, not looking at him

He let out a bitter laugh. He looked wrecked — hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

“Yeah. You did.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t stop me from being in love with you though.”

The words hit you like a slap. You stared at him, heart hammering.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” His voice cracked. “It’s true. I’ve been falling for you since that first night. And you know it. You’ve always known it.”

You felt panic rising in your chest. This was too much. Too real.

He stepped closer, cupping your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed your cheeks almost tenderly.

“I know you’re scared. I see it. But I’m right here. I’ll keep letting you use me if that’s what you need… but fuck, it hurts.”

This time, the sex was slower. He took his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin he exposed. When he finally pushed inside you, it was deep and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“I love you,” he whispered as he moved inside you, voice raw. “I love you so fucking much.”

You closed your eyes, refusing to say it back. But your body betrayed you — clinging to him, nails digging into his back, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

He made you come twice like that — slow, deep, devastating — before he finally let himself finish.

Afterwards, he didn’t let you leave the bed. He pulled you against his chest and held you tight, even when you tried to pull away. He didn’t ask, but you stayed.

When morning came, you slipped out of his arms again while he was still sleeping. You left a note on the nightstand:

Lock the door when you leave

He read it three times, then crumpled it in his fist. For the first time in months, he didn’t text you. He didn’t chase. 

—

You spent the next five days pretending everything was fine. You went to class, laughed with friends. But nothing felt right. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped, hoping it was him. It never was.

On the sixth night, your best friend dragged you to a big party. The moment you walked in, you saw him.

Satoru was in the living room, surrounded by people as usual. But something was different. He had a drink in his hand and Mei Mei practically draped over his arm, laughing loudly at something he said. Her fingers traced circles on his chest.

Your stomach twisted violently.

You told yourself you didn’t care. You grabbed a strong drink and forced yourself to flirt with the first decent guy who approached you. But your eyes kept drifting back to him.

When your eyes met across the room, his expression went blank for a second. Then he pulled Mei Mei closer, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle.

That was the breaking point.

You stormed upstairs, heart pounding with anger and something that felt dangerously like heartbreak. Two minutes later the door opened.

Satoru stepped inside and locked it behind him.

“You really moved on fast,” you snapped before he could speak.

He laughed bitterly, walking toward you.

“Me? You’re the one who left a fucking note telling me to ‘lock the door when you leave’ after I told you I loved you.”

“You were letting Mei Mei crawl all over you, that’s how you love?”

“Because you keep pushing me away!” His voice rose. “What the hell do you want from me? You fuck me, you leave, you tell me not to fall for you, but the second I give someone else attention you lose it?”

You were breathing hard, chest tight with emotions you refused to name.

“I never asked you to wait for me.”

“No, you didn’t.” He stepped closer until you were inches apart. “But I did it anyway. Like an idiot.”

Something snapped between you. You crashed into him at the same time he reached for you. The kiss was violent — teeth clashing, tongues fighting, hands grabbing desperately. He shoved you onto the bed, crawling over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. “I hate how much I need you.”

“Shut up” you hissed, but your voice cracked.

He ripped your dress open, buttons flying. He didn’t bother with gentleness. He shoved your bra down and sucked hard on your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive bud while his hand pushed your panties aside. Two thick fingers plunged inside you without warning, curling instantly against your g-spot.

You arched off the bed with a loud moan.

“So wet already,” he muttered against your skin. “Always so fucking ready for me.”

He finger-fucked you roughly, thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit until your thighs shook. When you were right on the edge, he pulled his fingers out, ignoring your frustrated whine.

He freed his cock — rock hard, flushed dark, already leaking precum. He rolled on a condom in record time and slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

“Fuck!” you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t hold back. He fucked you like he was punishing both of you — deep strokes that made the bed slam against the wall. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure-pain through your body.

“Look at me,” he demanded, grabbing your chin. His blue eyes were wild, glassy with lust and heartbreak. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

You locked eyes with him as he pounded into you. The intensity was overwhelming. He leaned down, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.

“I’ll say it again because I mean it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you.”

Tears stung your eyes. You didn’t answer. Instead you pulled him down into a desperate kiss, legs wrapping tighter around his waist.

He changed angles slightly, hitting even deeper. Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — hard, shattering, leaving you sobbing his name as your walls clenched around him.

He groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he came right after you, burying himself as deep as possible.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. He stayed inside you, face buried in your neck. You could feel his tears against your skin.

He pulled out slowly and started dressing. When you noticed his hands were shaking you sat up, chest aching.

He looked at you one last time, eyes red-rimmed. “If you ever figure out what you actually want you know where to find me. But I’m done chasing.”

He left.

You stared at the ceiling for ten minutes, feeling emptier than you ever had, silent tears streaming down your face.

—

The next two weeks were the worst of your life. You avoided parties. Avoided friends. Threw yourself into studying until you burned out. Every night you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

You missed him.

Not just the sex. You missed his stupid jokes, his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

The denial finally cracked on a rainy Thursday night.

You showed up at his apartment soaked from the rain, banging on the door at 2 a.m.

When he opened it, he looked like shit — bags under his eyes, hair messy, wearing only sweatpants.

You didn’t say anything. You just stepped forward and kissed him. This time it was different.

The kiss was desperate and messy, rain dripping from your hair onto his bare chest. Satoru froze for half a second, then his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear again. He pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you without breaking the kiss.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips, but he didn’t let go. His hands slid under your wet shirt, gripping your waist like he needed to feel you were real.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were tired, guarded, but that familiar softness was still there underneath the pain.

“I’ve been scared. Scared of how much I want you. Scared that the second I stopped pretending I didn’t care, you’d have the power to break my heart. So I pushed you away. And in the process, I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

He searched your face, as if trying to figure out whether this was real or just another moment that would disappear by tomorrow.

“I meant what I said. I’m in love with you but I can’t do the back and forth anymore. I need to know if you’re really here… or if you’re going to run again in the morning.”

You looked straight into those beautiful blue eyes and finally stopped lying to yourself.

“I’m here. I want you. All of you. No more running. No more pretending it’s just sex”

Your throat tightened, but for the first time, the words didn’t terrify you.

“I love you, Satoru.”

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Like he couldn’t quite believe he’d heard those words.

A shaky laugh escaped him, and he dragged a hand over his face. When he looked at you again, his eyes were bright.

“Say that again.”

You smiled through your tears.

“I love you.”

He pulled you into a deep kiss, holding your face between his hands like you were the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’ve waited so long to hear that.”

Without another word, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bathroom.

He set you down gently on the edge of the large bathtub and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was perfectly warm.

Neither of you spoke while he helped you out of your soaked clothes. The wet fabric clung stubbornly to your skin, and more than once his fingertips brushed bare skin, making your breath catch.

He tossed the clothes aside and poured a generous amount of bath oil into the water, watching as fragrant foam slowly filled the tub.

“Come here, baby.”

He helped you into the tub first, then slid in behind you, pulling your back against his chest. The warm water enveloped both of you, soothing and relaxing.

Satoru’s hands started moving slowly over your body.

He began with your shoulders, his long fingers pressing firmly into the tense muscles, massaging them in slow, deep circles. You let out a soft moan as he worked out the knots you didn’t even realize you had. His hands traveled down your arms, then back up, rubbing gently.

Then he scooped up handfuls of foam and spread it across your chest, his palms gliding smoothly over your breasts. He massaged them tenderly, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. The combination of warm water, slippery foam, and his careful hands made your body melt against him.

His hands moved lower, rubbing slow circles over your stomach, then your hips and thighs under the water, massaging with firm, loving strokes. Every touch was gentle but deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You were breathing heavier now, arousal mixing with the deep relaxation.

“Satoru…” you whispered.

He hummed against your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your skin while one of his hands slipped between your thighs. His fingers found your clit easily under the water, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice husky. “All mine.”

The tension built quickly. You turned your head to kiss him, needy and deep. He groaned into your mouth as you shifted, turning around to straddle him in the tub.

Water sloshed over the edges as you sank down onto his cock in one smooth motion. Both of you moaned loudly at the feeling. He was so deep like this, the warm water making everything feel even more intense and slippery.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly.

“I love you,” you breathed against his lips as you started riding him slowly at first, hands braced on his shoulders, eyes locked on his.

Satoru’s breath hitched. “I love you too,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “I love you so fucking much.”

The foam and water moved between your bodies as you rocked against him. Satoru’s hands roamed everywhere — squeezing your ass, sliding up your back, cupping your breasts again while you moved.

Soon the pace quickened. He thrust up to meet you, water splashing rhythmically as he fucked you deeper. One of his hands slipped between you again, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“I got you” he murmured 

Your orgasm hit you hard, crying out his name as your walls clenched tightly around his bare cock. The feeling pushed Satoru over the edge right after you — with a deep, broken moan he buried himself as deep as possible and came inside you, spilling hot and thick into your pussy.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck. You held him close, fingers running through his damp white hair while the two of you slowly came back down.

Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“No more running?” he asked quietly.

“No more running,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m yours. If you’ll still have me after everything I put you through.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I was always going to take you back. I’m pathetic when it comes to you.”

“You’re not pathetic,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “You’re patient. And kind. And way too good for me.”

Satoru smiled — that real, bright smile you hadn’t seen in weeks — and kissed you softly.

“We’re going to do this properly. Dates. Actual dates. I’m taking you out tomorrow night. No excuses.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Deal.”

—

Seven months later

“Stop that”

Satoru looked up from his phone, where he had just taken yet another candid photo of you, and grinned unapologetically. That bright, boyish smile still made your chest flutter even after all this time.

“I have a hot girlfriend,” he said with a shrug. “Sue me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve taken like twenty pictures already. Delete some.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with zero shame. “These are going straight into my ‘how did I pull this’ folder.”

You threw a pen at him. He caught it effortlessly, laughing.

“Well, actually, I know how,” he said, counting on his fingers. “Relentless dedication. Natural charm. Soft hair. Being more emotionally available. And my amazing dick, probably.”

“The fact that you think that’s the reason is genuinely concerning.”

“So you’re saying there was a chance even without the amazing dick?”

“Satoru.”

He laughed louder, clearly pleased with himself, and then he stood up and walked over, dropping down behind you on the floor where you were studying. He wrapped his long arms around your waist and pulled you back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice soft and warm against your skin. “Even when you pretend to be annoyed by my photos.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, smiling. “I love you too, Toru”

THE END

cr: @_3aem on X for the art used in Satoru's text :) masterlist

If you enjoyed it, reblogs and comments are always appreciated ♡