— ᨳଓ . kiz . 20 . she/her . writing4fun !
PLEASE READ : this page includes content that is nsfw so if you are a minor (under 18 years of age), DO NOT INTERACT !
જ⁀➴°⋆ current works :
roommate!geto x reader who wears lots of bracelets | 1.1k nsfw
home ── ⟢ gojo x reader | 1.2k
fwb!sukuna x reader when they are both crossed | 0.8k nsfw
ex!sukuna who still has reader's lips tattooed on him | 1.2k nsfw
⤷ pt.2 | 0.9k ⤷ pt.3 | 1.4k ⤷ pt.4 | 2.1k
CEO!Gojo x Professor!Reader who are childhood friends | 0.4k suggestive
One time I came home from uni very upset and my younger siblings asked what's wrong. I said that mutated flies in our lab escaped because someone broke their jar. I didn't even realise how scary it sounded to them until I saw their faces lmao. I was upset because we were short on said flies (they don't reproduce very well) and my siblings thought that some crazy radioactive fly monsters escaped and we are all fucked now. Love being a mad scientist in their eyes lowkey
suguru’s secret visits are like lightning strikes. for a few fleeting hours, he sets your world aglow. and then he’s gone, leaving behind only the sharp scent of ozone and darkness that feels all the more suffocating for having known the light.
the sharp knock on your door disrupts through the quiet rhythm of your evening. three months. ninety-something days of his absence. you’d almost managed to convince yourself he was dead. anger curls in your stomach. how dare he darken your doorstep again ?
you consider letting him stand there in the dark, letting the silence be your answer. but your feet move on their own, traitorous muscle memory pulling you towards your front door. when you open it, suguru getō is standing in front of you.
he’s thinner, the sharp planes of his face more pronounced, weariness perpetually etched around his eyes. his hair is longer, falling past his shoulders in a dark, silken waves, and he’s in his gojo-kesa, cult leader finery. men and their audacity. he should’ve changed at the minimum
you open your mouth to curse him for leaving, for choosing this path, for letting you rot in your lonely apartment while he plays god to a flock of lost souls. but you don’t say anything. you can’t. what is there to say ? ‘welcome back’ ? ‘i missed you so much i thought i would die’ ? ‘fuck you’ ? all of these phrases feel inadequate.
it’s a little too late to deny him entry. he’s already moving, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. “it’s colder in here than i remember.” he murmurs. his voice is like a dream. a nightmare
“is that all you have to say to me?” you glare at him
an almost imperceptible smile touches his lips. a ghost, a memory of the boy who used to grin at you from across yaga’s classroom. “i was waiting for you to decide if you were going to slap me or kiss me. the odds are about even, i’d say.”
“don’t,” you whisper, taking a step back. “don’t you dare stand here and crack jokes. you don’t get to do that anymore”
the smile vanishes, replaced by weary resignation. he takes a step forward, and you take another back, a pathetic little dance in the narrow space of your hallway. he stops, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “okay, okay. . . no jokes. i’m sorry.”
“your apologies are worthless to me, getō.” he flinches. you see it clearly, the tightening around his eyes, the subtle clenching of his jaw. good. you want him to feel a fraction of the void he left inside you.
“you’re right,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, serious hum. “i’m not sorry for leaving jujutsu high. i’ll never be. i’m only sorry that it hurt you.”
sometimes the truth cuts deeper than any lie ever will.
“get out,” you say, the words rendering your throat raw. “get out of my apartment.” he doesn’t move. violet eyes unreadable. “i’ll call satoru. i’ll tell him you’re here. i swear to god, getō, i’ll do it”
“you don’t mean that,” he says, with a certainty that makes your blood boil. “you want me here. you missed me” he’s right. and you hate him for it. you hate him for knowing you so well.
“you’re delusional,” you spit, “you must be. what makes you think you have any insight into what i want ? you left. you chose your cursed ideology over me. so don’t stand here and tell me what i want as if that’s ever mattered to you”
he takes another step closer, and this time you hold your ground, your chin lifted in defiance. he’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill that has settled deep in your bones. his scent, sandalwood and something metallic, maybe blood ? you wouldn’t be surprised at this point, wraps around you, a phantom limb you’ve been trying to amputate for months. years.
“i know you’re angry,” he says, cooing in a way that used to make you melt, but now only makes your skin crawl. “but underneath all that . . . you missed me. just like i missed you.”
“missed you ?” you can’t help but laugh “i miss the boy i thought i knew. i miss the future we were supposed to have.”
he flinches again, harder this time. “that’s not fair.”
“fair ?” you’re shouting now, your voice echoing in the small space, raw and ragged. “you want to talk to me about fair after everything you’ve put me through ? what’s fair about loving someone who chose to become a monster ?”
“say it again,” he murmurs, “call me a monster.” he’s cupping the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you flush against him.
you should be fighting, screaming, clawing his eyes out. but your body remembers him even when your mind wants to forget. “you’re a monster, suguru,”
“i know” his gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. instead, he just rests his forehead against yours, eyes closing, breath fanning against your skin. “that’s why i came to say goodbye,“ the words hit you like a punch to the stomach.
goodbye ? what the actual fuck ? he’s been gone for three months, and now he’s here to say goodbye ?
“what ?” you manage to choke out.
“it’s not safe for me to be here anymore” he says, his voice quiet. “it’s not safe for you if i’m here. i won’t bother you like this anymore”
“no,” you shake your head fervently. “no, you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to just . . . end it.”
“i have to . . . you’re so much better off without me. i know. you know” he says, his voice softening. he releases his grip on your neck, thumb stroking your cheek, a gesture so tender it makes your heart ache. he leans in just a fraction more, lips hovering a breath from yours. “so let me be with you one last time.” he whispers, “can i ?”
you pull back just enough to meet his violet gaze. you see the man you loved, the monster he’s become, and the ghost of what could have been, all tangled together in the face of the man who is about to break your heart for the very last time.
it’s the cruelest question he’s ever asked you. because saying yes is an act of self-immolation. it’s agreeing to let him burn you one last time, knowing fully well he’ll walk away and leave you in the ashes. but saying no . . . means extinguishing everything you have left of him. and you’re not sure which will hurt more. you hate him. you love him. you want him to leave. you want him to never let you go. “yes” what even is self-respect ?
he presses his lips against yours without hesitation. drawing you into a kiss that tastes of regret and longing and all the years you’ll never have. he pours everything into it, all the words he can’t say. he kisses you until you’re breathless, until you’re clinging to him, fists bunched in the fabric of his robes.
he doesn’t even try to lead you to your bedroom. he doesn’t have that much time to spare. he nudges you backward until your legs hit the edge of your couch and you tip over, sprawling against the cushions.
he falls to his knees, settling between your thighs, looping his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. the smooth fabric drags against your skin as he bares you to him. he’s starved for it, for you, his movements imbued with hunger that makes you shiver.
the first slow drag of his tongue against your clit is electric. a jolt of pure pleasure shoots up your spine, and you gasp, your back arching off the couch. he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, before dipping lower to lap at your slick. he groans, a sound of pure satisfaction, and the vibrations travel through you, making your thighs tremble. “god you taste even better than i remember”
he borderline worships you. his tongue a litany of apologies, his lips a prayer against your slick folds. he’s trying to cleanse himself of his sins through your pleasure, to find a moment of grace in the sanctuary of your body. to burn himself into your memory, to give you something to hold onto in the long, dark years to come.
“say my name, angel” he pleads, a saccharine string connecting his glossy lips to you. you want to deny him. you want to hold onto your anger, to your resolve. but he’s sucking your clit into his mouth so sweetly and the coil in your stomach is threatening to snap.
“suguru,” you gasp, his name a torn sob. “please.”
“that’s it,” he he hums in approval, his tongue flicking faster. “that’s my girl.” your hands fly to his hair, your fingers tangling in the thick, soft strands. you need to anchor yourself to him as he unravels you. you need to anchor yourself to him so he doesn’t disappear again.
he groans as you tighten your grip, pulling just enough to make him still for a moment. he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your arousal. a slow smile spreading across his lips. “pull it harder,” he murmurs, lowly “don’t be gentle, mhh, i don’t deserve that.”
he really doesn’t. so you let your fingers flit over his scalp and twist them in his hair, harder, pulling his head back, baring the long, elegant line of his throat. he hisses, his eyes fluttering shut, a look of pure bliss on his face. over the years, you’ve forgotten the power you have over him. to hurt him, to make him feel something other than the weight of his own convictions. you use it, your grip tightening as his mouth returns to your cunt
his tongue speaks of a hunger that can never be sated. he’s no longer just worshiping you; he’s using you, using your pleasure to drown out the voices in his head, to silence the ghosts that haunt him. and you let him, because you’re using him too, using his body, his mouth, to fill the gaping void he left inside you.
“i’m sorry,” he murmurs against your clit, voice thick with emotion. “i’m so sorry beautiful” you don’t grace him with a response. you simply pull his hair again, harder this time, a silent punishment for all the times he’s left you, for all the promises he’s broken. he whimpers, a symphony of pleasure and pain, and redoubles his efforts, tongue incessantly flicking over your sensitive cunt.
his veiny hands keep your thighs firmly planted around his head. your fingers are trembling in his hair,?your hips bucking against his mouth. he can feel it, the way your muscles are tensing, the way your breath hitches, and he pulls you over the edge with a harsh suck on your clit.
“f-fuck sugu” you cry out, your thighs clamp down hard around his head as you cum, your body arching off the plush cushions. he laps up your release, leaving a trail of kisses between your folds, saliva becoming one with your slick
you’re well past the point of making a mess on his face but he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even slow his movements. he’s too drunk on you. too wrapped up in making you feel good to care about his cock dripping with pre-cum beneath his robes. he keeps going, the tip of his nose brushing against your bundle of nerves. his tongue relentless against your oversensitive slit.
suguru’s tongue circles your spasming hole as your second orgasm builds, far more intense than your first. your head is spinning and all you can do is tug on his hair, eliciting another low groan from him. “suguru,” you gasp,
he flattens his tongue, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your puffy clit. “i’ve got you,“ he murmurs, slipping two fingers inside you without much of a warning, lithe fingers curling upward justtt right “let go. let me take care of you.”
and you do. you let go of the anger, the hurt, the betrayal. you let go of everything but the feeling of his mouth on you, his fingers inside you. the way his hand grips your thigh, the sound of his voice as he whispers bittersweet nothings against your core.
your second orgasm leaves you limp and pliant in his arms but it’s not enough. suguru can’t get enough of you. he’s a man dying of thirst in the desert and you’re the only oasis he’ll ever know. he knows he has to leave, knows he has to walk back into the scorching sand and the cruel, unforgiving sun, but for tonight, for these few precious hours, he’s going to drink his fill. to absorb as much of you as he can, to memorize the feeling of your skin against his, the sound of your breath hitching, the way your fingers clench in his hair.
“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath hot against your slick flesh. salty tears brimming his waterline “so perfect —hck— i could stay here forever.”
it’s lie, and you both know it. he can’t stay forever. he can’t even stay until morning. but in this moment, you let yourself believe him. you’re too far gone to form a coherent response
he alternates between soft, teasing licks and hard, sucking kisses, a maddening rhythm that pushes you higher and higher. he’s not just trying to make you cum and repend up for lost time; he’s trying to give you both a taste of heaven, “remember me like this.” he begs, “remember that i loved you.”
you want to promise him that you will, that you’ll forget the monster and remember the man, that you’ll hold onto this memory and let it sustain you. but you can't speak. you can only gasp his name, your fingers tightening in his hair as your third orgasm ravages you.
when he finally pulls away, his face is glistening, his violet almond-eyes are heavy-lidded with satisfaction. he moves up your body, his mouth finding yours. you can taste yourself on his lips. his forehead pressed his forehead against yours, “i love you,” he whispers, “i’ve always loved you. i always will”
you don’t say it back. the tears you’ve been holding back for months finally break free, tracking paths down your cheeks. you let them fall, silently.
suguru lets out a wounded whimper, leaning in and kissing your tears away, his lips soft and salty against your skin. a sob tears from your throat and then his arms are around you, pulling you off the couch and onto his lap on the floor, bundling you in his robes, holding you so tightly you can barely breathe.
you cling to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, letting it fill your lungs, your soul. you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, his arms around you, his love.
“shh, i’ve got you,” he murmurs, his lips muffled against your hair, huge hands stroking up and down your back in a soothing rhythm. “i’ve got you. it’s okay.”
you cry for all the time you’ve lost, for all the words you’ll never get to say, for the future that was stolen from you. he just holds you, letting you fall apart in his arms again. he doesn’t try to justify his choices. he doesn’t make excuses. he lets you grieve.
when your tears finally subside, you’re left feeling hollowed out, limp and exhausted in his arms. he shifts, soft lips finding your temple, his breath warm against your skin. he holds you for a moment longer. then, with gentleness that belies his strength, he eases you off his lap, hands supporting your waist until you’re sitting on the edge of the couch.
and like clockwork, there’s a void where his warmth used to be. you’re used to it, but it hurts all the same. you don’t look up, you can’t. you just stare at your hands, balled into fists in your lap.
this is it — you’re certain — the part where he leaves. the end of the storm. but he’s only shrugging off his gojo-kesa, the dark fabric pooling on the floor. suguru’s not done with you. not yet. and part of you, the part that still loves him after everything, is glad.
💋ྀིྀི | PART four uhhhhhhhhhhh
⟢ reader x ex!sukuna with the print of your lips tattooed on him
— ᨳଓ . pt. 1 — pt. 2 — pt.3 — pt.4 <here!>
wc : 2.1k
[ cw : sfw, naoya feature part TWO (sukuna punches him it's ok) | reader gets called : nothing <3 ]
You hum to yourself as you look around Sukuna's living room. You hear the faint sounds of the shower going as Sukuna rinses off the pink. It's a little bit jarring being back in his space and not having your stuff mingled in with his. Sukuna has never been the messy type, if anything, he was cleaner than you, and this fact shines bright in your face as you realize how minimalistic he is compared to you. His shelves are clean of dust, the cushions on he couch perfectly placed, his kitchen squeaky clean. Your eyes stop at a book on his kitchen island, a book you thought he'd like and bought for him, the book he never got to while you were still dating. You subconsciously reach for it and flip open the cover, you see the sticky note you wrote many months ago for him still stuck on the inside of the cover:
Thought you'd like it :)
Love you the most
You had signed it off with your name and a heart. You cringe at yourself, biting your lip, he must've not seen it for it to still be there. You decide to peel it off the book and crumple the sticky note in your hand, shoving it into your pocket, you didn't need more reminders of you embedded into his stuff, god, you were practically branded on him.
You shove your face in your hands, face heating at the thought of him on the other side of the wall, naked, the tattoo of your lips still on his collar.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
Sukuna runs his fingers through his hair, the water is still running pink as he stands under the cold water. He wonders if this was a bad idea, if he should've been a better man and stayed away from you, god, but you had responded, how couldn't he be greedy?
But now that you're here and have done what you have promised, he wants you to stay longer, to ask you to watch a movie, maybe a drink if you're down. He misses just talking to you — which was the most surprising part for Sukuna when you had broken up. He wasn't the biggest talker but you could bring it out of him, he could say whatever was on his mind and you would always have a response, he didn't care if it was agreement, disagreement, or even criticism but he just loved to hear whatever was on your mind because he would always learn something from you.
You were good for him, and he couldn't even make you happy.
He decides to get out of the shower sooner rather than later, the water dripping from his head is mostly clear and he doesn't have the patience to wash out all the dye while you're sitting on the other side of the wall again.
He steps out with a towel around his waist ruffling an already-stained towel to dry out the remainder of the water in his hair, he sees you look up from the couch and grin and he thinks he might have been forgiven for all his sins then.
"It's a bit of a darker pink this time," you muse, walking over and standing right in front of him. He bows his head like a dog for you, craning his neck down like he always used to do and you instinctively reach up and card through his hair.
"Thought I'd go a bit darker for the fall," he replies trying to ignore the way your nails scratch his scalp. You hum in response, checking to make sure you got all his roots and it looks like you did. You give his head a ruffle of approval before letting him go. When he stands back up again, tall, he has to look down at you.
"It all looks good!" you smile up at him and his mouth dries up.
"Thank you," his voice is low and sincere, watching you step back from him, if only to give you more room to breathe.
"I should probably go," you say quietly and when you look up at him, he's got this look you know of his that says he wants to say something, instead he walks you to the door and holds your bag as you put on your shoes. He opens the door for you, and you step through the threshold into the hallway.
“Thank you,”
“You said that already,” you giggle and he shrugs.
“Not just for the hair,”
“Take care Sukuna,” you nod and wave and he watches you walk away.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
When you had first seen Sukuna, he was this tall brooding figure behind the girl at the reception of a new gym you had decided to try. You think he was training her, a new hire maybe, helping her with whatever needed to be done on screen for you to get a two week membership. You had heard the yoga classes were relaxing and that the atmosphere lacked the creepy men that always seemed to be scattered around all the gyms in your city so you had given it a try.
He had given you a tour, answering all your questions kindly, albeit a bit intimidatingly. His hair was his natural black back then, making the red in his eyes pop. You're back at the front desk at the end of your tour, the large windows indicate how dark it had gotten already even though it was only around six.
"And that should be all, you can always call or come talk to us if you have any questions," he looks down at you with a small smile and you wonder if he has a girlfriend.
"Thank you," you smile, pulling your jacket on, "Have a good night!"
He gives you a small smile and a nod, waving back at you as you turn around.
You had seen him every now and then when you went to the gym, sometimes he's at the front desk, sometimes he'd be walking around, making sure things were clean, and sometimes, he'd be working out. It's been four months of going to this gym now, and this was the first time you're seeing him in the boxing ring. You're on the ground doing your stretches, watching the boxers practice and your eyes widen a bit as you see Sukuna duck under the rope, red gloves on. You watch him exchange blows with a taller, black haired man with a scar down his lip.
Your heart drops to your stomach when you see him look up and smirk after taking a particularly rough hit from the other man. You look away as your face heats and you don't catch how his ruby eyes track your face from across the gym.
"All done for the day?" you look up as you grab your water bottle and phone from the ground. You turn to see Sukuna, lopsided grin, and a bit sweaty tilt his head down at you.
"Yep!" god you sound chipper, you clear your throat, "I didn't know you were a boxer," he's walking with you toward the change rooms, boxing gloves dangling from his fingers.
"Just here and there," he shrugs. The two of you stop outside the women's change room, you turn to look up at him.
"Well, you should teach me sometime," you tilt your head up at him.
What the hell made you say that? You have no idea. This was a man you had spoken to how many times? You're not even on first name terms, what the hell were you doing flirting with him?
"Sunday? Place is closed but," he gives you that grin again and matches the tilt of your head, and you thank your lucky fucking stars.
"But you own the place," you can't help but grin back.
By the time you're in the change room, you've got Sukuna's number in your phone and plans on Sunday.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
"I mean, it's not like we ended on bad terms," you say, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you enter a cafe, a faint ding from the bell ringing above your head.
"Yeah, you guys ended on no terms, that's worse," you can hear Utahime roll her eyes as you step into the back of the line.
"It's fine! I just went and did his hair,"
"I just don't want you to get hurt again, even though Sukuna was going through a lot at the time," her voice is sincere through the line and you know she means well for the both of you, "but he's still into you, you know that right?"
"I promise, it's not like that," you bite your lip at the thought of the voice note he sent you.
You put her on hold as you make your order, reaching over the counter for your sandwich and coffee. As you turn to make your way out, your phone starts to slip, you let out a small yelp as you try and catch it while balancing your drink and you feel yourself run into someone.
You hear a grunt, the person in front of you has got a hand around your forearm, you've caught your phone but dropped everything else, the both of you are dripping in your coffee.
"Thank god you only drink cold coffee huh"
Your head snaps up and you see those familiar red eyes and pink hair. It was as if the universe had started spinning the opposite direction and everything stills as you look up at him, he's looking down at you, a faint blush across his cheeks, you think the two of you have stared at each other for a bit too long by the time you snap out of it.
"Shit, I'm so sorry Ryo," you say, stepping back and scrambling into your purse for napkins, you push a bunch to his chest and drop down into a crouch on your heels to clean up the mess on the floor.
You don't seem to catch how you called him what you used to: Ryo, not Sukuna, your Ryo. But Sukuna catches it, it latches on to the back of his mind and he knows he's going to think about it later.
He wills himself to crouch down next to you and as the two of you watch the brown liquid soak the white napkins and paper towels a worker had given you while they fetch the mop. He hands you the soaking package with your sandwich in it and you bite your lip as you look in to see that it was surprisingly not soaked.
"I owe you for dry cleaning," you say, surveying his soaked sweater. It was a grey one you've never seen before.
"No, you don't," he states, nudging you playfully before standing up as someone comes in with a mop. He's grabbed all of the soaked paper towel and is throwing it in the garbage, you stand up and apologize profusely and step out of the shop with Sukuna and groan.
"God, I am so sorry," you bury your face in your hands and you can feel his hands around your wrists as he pulls them away from your face.
"Seriously, don't worry about it," he looks down at you and you feel a warmth in your chest, he's always gentle with you, even still.
"Let me at least get your sweater clean,"
Before he can respond, the two of you turn at the sound of your name being called.
"So you're too busy whoring around with other men? That's why you've ghosted me huh?"
You see Naoya and feel yourself freeze. You had gone on one date and quickly realized that you were not up to entertain a relationship with a piece of shit like him. You had sent him a firm but kind message about compatibility that you truly did not owe him and he had spammed your phone with messages about how you 'led him on'.
"Excuse me, what the fuck?" Sukuna lets go of you and stands between you and Naoya so he can't get close to you.
"What the fuck man? Thought you got sick of her or something, was even willing to take your sloppy seconds,"
Before the black and white haired man can get closer, Sukuna has decked him in the face, and you've got his forearm in both hands immediately pulling him away, because you know Sukuna's strength, he lets you.
"Think before speaking to a woman like that next time, fuckin' piece of shit" he spits out spitefully before following you in the other direction of the street, leaving Naoya crouched over himself on the street with a potential broken nose.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
author's note : I KNOW it's cliché after cliché, let me have this
𝓢𝐇𝐈𝐔’s fingertips ghosted over your bare form, his featherlight touch paired with warm kisses against the exposed flesh of your nape — his hands skidding over your skin in slow, careful passes, each tender kiss making your tummy flutter. you let out a soft sigh, you let out a soft sigh, “mm . . shiu?”, you fingers drawing imaginary doodles on his bare chest as you laid under him
and at the quiet cadence of your voice, shiu pulled his head back just enough for his gaze to meet your eyes, “yeah, love?”
“how mad would you be if i started fucking around with toji?” and just like that, the soft kisses he had been pressing to your skin came to a slow halt. shiu only let out low laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile — equal parts amused and exasperated. “well, your timing’s impeccable . .”
and in part, shiu was right, of all names to fall from your lips while he was balls deep inside you, it just had to be toji’s.
truth be told, you weren’t actually interested in pursuing toji fushiguro.
sure, you were interested in the bounty hunter, but somehow (much to shiu’s surprise) . . you decided the handler was far more appealing.
shiu had never been under any illusion that he was the obvious choice. between him and toji, most people would choose toji without hesitation.
though, it didn’t make him any less of a man. if anything, that was something you had come to learn very, very quickly.
you scoff, your nails finding his forearms, tracing lightly as he hovered over you. “c’mon, scale of one to ten,“ you insist.
shiu let out a low sigh before rolling his eyes, “what, you want me to throw a fit? is that what we’re hoping for now?” he murmurs, his voice nothing but a lazy rasp.
you only nod, blinking up at him.
“fine,” he hums, corner of his mouth twitching at your insistence, “i’d give it a two.”
your brows lift as your head quirks to the side, “a two? only?”
“don’t look so disappointed, you’re a grown woman. you can do whatever it is that you want,” he began as he leans in to you; the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and expensive cologne making your pulse flutter and your head swim. his mouth wanders from beneath your ear, down to your pulse point, softly sucking down on your flesh.
“toji’s no good for you darling,” he coos, settling back into his gentle thrust, his pelvic bone softly nudging into your clit, making you gasp, squeezing down on his forearms. “you can do much better than that . . like to think i’d spoil you enough, no?” the teasing lilt in his voice only making your walls clamp down harder on his cock.
unfortunately for you, shiu wasn’t bluffing.
somewhere along the way of your strange relationship with shiu kong, shiu had spoiled you rotten.
he bought you whatever you wanted, paid for your meals without mentioning it, drove you home instead of letting you take the train, keeps your favorite snacks in stock at his place . . .
the man even surprises you with various gifts throughout the month: delicate pieces he thought suited you, your favorite flowers to brighten up your place, hell, even stone cold cash.
but most importantly, shiu kong dicked you down whenever you wanted, however you wanted.
and he was pretty good at it too.
either fucking you so sweetly, whispering sweet nothings into you ear while his lengthy cock stretched you out, or pounding you until your brain turned into mush. regardless, he’d always have you a babbling mess; legs trembling, eyes hazy, cunt helplessly spasming around nothing. exactly as you were now.
his hips snapped against yours at the perfect pace — not too fast, and not too slow — cock pumping in and out of you as your soaked cunt tried to keep him in with a lewd squelch.
“s-shiu!” you cry out despite yourself, your brows scrunched up in bliss as your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders for support, burying your face in the crook of his neck, nails leaving behind pink crescents on his back.
a low amused hum escapes him, soft and effortless, eyes half lidded as one hand slipped down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “there you are darling . .” he purrs, “you remember whose fucking you now?”
you open your mouth, probably to tell him that he’s too “full of himself,” except the only sound that escapes is a pitiful moan. which is ironic . . considering you’re walls are stretched around his cock, his tip nudging into you sweet spot with each deep, lazy, roll of his hips.
“should i go faster?” he asks, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he caged you in with his body. and somehow, shiu feels even deeper when all his weight is pressing you down into his mattress.
“no, j-just like that—“ you mewl, coating his cock with your slick, “fuck, so good,” you slur as he cradles your head against his chest, hips snapping in a steady ‘plap, plap plap,” against skin.
“hmmm, so pretty darling,” he chuckles as his free hand slips between you both at your point of connection, his thumb lazily drawing circles around your clit. your lips pursed together, trying to hold down a breathless cry.
“go ‘head baby,” he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your scalp, “cum all over my cock.”.
his girth continued to stir up your pussy, the incessant coil of pleasure building up as he hit your sweet spot, over, and over, and over, a white froth streaking over his cock, threatening to tread down his sack. and without a word, the coil in your tummy snapped — your pussy spasming around his dick helplessly, fucking you slow through your high as you clung onto him, shiu stifling his breath from above you.
and for a minute, the only sounds that filled the room was the soft, low, pants escaping you two, breaths mingling before he captured your lips in a slow lazy kiss, soft tongue pressing against your plush lips . . breaking off from you with a reluctant huff.
69ing with Simon, but that motherfucker is a large fucking geezer, greedy as bloody hell too, and he has you draped on top of his massive body, coaxed you into trusting him with this.
And now he is spreading your ass cheeks in an iron grip, thick fingers digging and bruising your flesh while his relentless tongue laps and slurps at your puffy cunt like a rabid wolf—all while you're too short and wrecked to even touch his rock hard cock, let alone suck it, so you opt to watch it throb and drool precum into his ashy blonde pubes like a leaking faucet.
💋ྀིྀི | PART THREE OF EX!SUKUNA WITH PRINT OF YOUR LIPS TATTOOED ON HIM, I HAVE MOTIVATION TO WRITE YAY
— ᨳଓ . pt. 1 — pt. 2 — pt.3 <here!> — pt.4
[ cw : sfw, there's more of sukuna lore, SLIGHT themes of abuse, naoya mention | reader gets called : nothing <3 ]
By the time Thursday comes, Sukuna has taken a cold shower twice, answered two of his hundreds of emails before giving up and cleaning his house, not once, but twice. His house wasn't particularly messy or dirty, so cleaning really meant he had rearranged his furniture twice and re-shelved his bookshelf maybe four times. You had agreed to come on the pretext of "just friends" and he had agreed, scouts honour, if only to see your pretty face up close again. It was the mature thing to do anyway, he had no intention on opening up old wounds with you.
However, looking presentable to you was important to him, so by the time he opens the door for you, all you see is a clean, tidy apartment past his shoulder. And when he looks down at you, he knows you haven't changed with those pretty eyes and that perpetual glow. He thinks is unfair that you're allowed to always just look like that all the time, the universe just lets you.
"Hi," you look up at him.
"Hey," he breathes out at the sound of your voice, "C'mon in,"
He watches you set your bag down on the coffee table before settling on the couch; on the spot you always used to take. Your bag is spilling out onto the table, your scent is lingering in the air, and he thinks he's getting deja vu of an old memory, of when you used to be his.
Fuck, you're saying something about the dye and he hadn't been listening, your eyes looking up at him expectantly.
"Sorry, say that last part again?"
"I was asking if you had any plastic bowls we could use to mix the dye,"
"Oh, yeah, it's all in the bathroom," he says, tilting his head towards the bathroom.
"Cool," you say quietly and follow him into his rather small bathroom. He has opted to sitting on the toilet making space for you to stand in front of him. He watches you open up the box and read through the instructions, humming to yourself and it feels so domestic. Like some god in the universe plucked the two of you and put you back in time two years back — this used to be routine for the two of you.
You put up your hair and he ignores the slope of your neck, he puts on a playlist you like, still in his spotify library and sees you smile, the quiet song filling the echoey walls of the bathroom.
"Okay, I'm ready," you say pulling the gloves on and you look down at him, head tilted. It's a feeling akin to the relief he used to feel when he would get caught breaking something as a child and look up to see his mother instead of his father. You give him that relief even when he isn't in any sort of danger. So he turns his back to you, lets you slide out of his sight, lets himself be vulnerable with you once again.
You run your fingers through his hair, the thick strands give away and create divots where your fingers trace his scalp. You feel him let out a breath as his eyes flutter shut. His knees are pressed up uncomfortably against the bathtub and the temperature in the small bathroom is increasing rapidly, but he cannot let a complaint fly out of his mouth as long as your fingers stay on his scalp. You haven't even used anything yet and he should question you about it and you should start the process before it gets too late, and—
Your phone dings loudly in the silence, you can practically feel it ringing in your ears. You see Sukuna's eyes flash to the screen before looking away. It's a message from some guy you matched with.
"Naoya Zenin?" Sukuna murmurs.
"I, uh, yeah?" you're glad he's not facing you, how awkward is it to talk about the other men you've been talking to, with your ex? "Do you know him?"
You hear him hum in response, as if he's thinking about how to word what he wants to say.
"Just make sure he's treating you right," he turns his head up to look up at you, "Better than I made you feel, yeah?" you frown.
"Sukuna I—" he gives you a look, the one he used to give you when he thought you were being stupid, "Yeah, okay, I will, promise,"
He grunts in response, apparently pleased, before looking down. You let out a silent breath of relief.
You jump back to the task at hand as a distraction, grabbing the brush from the bowl and pouring two bottles of pure chemical in and mixing them together. The chemical odour is strong in the small space even with the door open, it hits you hard and you have to blink and step back.
"Jesus christ," Sukuna coughs, you giggle before stepping out of the bathroom and going to his room across the hallway on instinct and opening his window. When you turn around, you see him leaning on his doorframe staring at you.
That's when you realize you're in Sukuna's apartment, doing his hair, and now you're in Sukuna's room, the same room that used to be yours once too.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I should've asked before coming in,"
"No it's fine," he murmurs quietly, "You never used to anyway, it'd feel weird," he is shrugging and is coming towards you in large steps, his eyes are on you and your feet are frozen and he reaches behind you and fixes the handle.
You forgot it would be at an angle to fall and break.
You blink, watching Sukuna narrowly avoid touching you, you're twisting your body to make space for him in the small space between his wall and his bed, he turns the handle down and makes sure it's sitting on the ledge so it doesn't fall.
"I forgot, I'm sorry," you say quietly.
"Stop apologizing," he turns to you and you look up at him, meeting ruby eyes. "You're doing me a favour remember?"
"Yeah, okay," you, stop to think before giving him a nod, "Yes,"
He thinks you're cute.
Your eyes catch on a picture on his table that you haven't seen before. He turns to look at what you're looking at.
"'S a picture of Yuji and I," he steps back to let you walk past him and look. You gasp, excited, grabbing the small frame standing on the desk. It's of when the two were boys, Sukuna has Yuji on his back in a piggyback, the kid shooting the camera a smile as Yuji reaches for the fireflies just above his head.
"Oh my god, you two were such cute kids," you practically squeal. Looking closely at the frame, Yuji still toddler sized and Sukuna only a bit older. "Does this mean—" you look up at him and he meets your eyes knowingly.
"Yeah," he nods, "we're good, been going to the gym together and shit,"
"That's great! I'm happy for you Sukuna,"
Sukuna wishes he hadn't lost you in the process so he could agree with you.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
He had been snappy and distant. You had known he was struggling with communication with Yuji and the situation with their father, his relationship with his father. You had listened to all he had to say one night and hugged him while he tried not to cry on your shoulder. He should've known to be grateful for the space and time you were giving him.
Instead he had snapped at you about something mundane, something you know he didn't care about at heart because you knew his head was occupied. But you had slapped him, it was — in Sukuna's opinion at the very least — well deserved, and you weren't going to let any man talk to you like that, let alone a boyfriend.
You remember going to your shared room, locking the door and crying about it. You didn't know that he was just on the other side of the wall, head between his knees on the couch, another beer in his hands, trembling at the thought of losing you, he knew it was coming and knew he deserved it with how he'd been with you for the past month.
You had broken it off the next morning, having packed all your essentials from the bedroom as best as you could the night before because you couldn't sleep. He had nodded, didn't say anything and went to the gym to give you the space to take the rest of your stuff and leave. You weren't quite sure if he even realized at that moment, but it had hit him hard. He had sat in his car in the gym parking lot a long while before entering, just trying not to cry.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
author's note : I HAVE A PLOT I PROMISE, WORK WITH ME NOW — *fucking explodes*
stealing your husband’s chocolate and finding out it was laced with an aphrodisiac!
[content: MDNI, crack smųt, a very unserious piece of work, piv, hair pulling, use of aphrodisiacs, sukuna’s sour but then he’s sweet]
Never in your life have you been so horny it hurt.
“Kuna, please—harder,” you cry out.
“I’m going as hard as I fucking can, you little slut,” he snaps, each thrust matching every harsh word that gets spat through his teeth. “THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T EAT RANDOM. CHOCOLATE. ON. THE. COUNTER.”
“I’m sorry! Fuck!! I didn’t know!”
“There was a note saying DON’T eat it—you just didn’t give a shit because you’re a thief and a glutton. A liar now, too,” he continues to scold you over the chocolate bar he was going to give to Jin so he’d stop groveling over his ex. It’s been 6 fucking months, he’s tired of having to listen to him go on and on about Kaori. Enough is enough—he needs to go out and sleep with someone.
And now Jin’s never going to shut up. Sukuna doesn’t even want to look at you right now—let alone reward your behavior with dick.
“And now you’re cryin’ like it’s my fuckin’ fault.” It’s him who should be crying right now. “It’s simple: Leave my fucking snacks alone. I always get multiples of each so you’d keep your grubby little hands off them. Why can’t you just be normal and go in my wallet?? Fuck—Arch that back some more.” He cracks his palm over your ass. “Yeah, hike it up nice and high.”
“I can’t!” It feels like it’s about to break with all the weight he’s putting on it! Both of his hands pinning you down, burying every last inch of his cock inside of you.
He scoffs, nudging for you to close your thighs, then planting his knees right next to yours so they stay that way. “Do you want to cum?”
“…yes,” you whimper.
“Then fucking arch it.”
You sniffle. “Okay.”
He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.
“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.
It has his attention now.
The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.
“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.
“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“
“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”
“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.
“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”
“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.
“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”
His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”
“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”
“I… I don’t know—“
“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”
“Please.”
“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”
And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.
"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”
Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.
“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”
Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.
He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.
The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.
headcanons .ᐟ ⸝⸝ wlw ⸝⸝ fluff ⸝⸝ smut ⸝⸝ mdni 18+ ⸝⸝ art by @verazpberry
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who, even though she’s pretty good at hiding it, still worries about you all the time. she won’t hover or smother you, but the second you’re running late or out on a mission she’s already imagining the worst. she’s lost nearly everyone—she’s not about to lose you too.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who loves smoking with you. she always offers you one first and lights it for you, then she lights her own. no big talks, just her head against your shoulder and that comfortable silence she’s gotten used to..
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who gets turned on when you wear her lab coat and nothing else. she’ll push you against the counter, hands sliding under the fabric, voice raspy, “looks better on you anyway.”
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who wakes you up all slow and lazy, latching her soft lips onto one of your nipples, tongue flicking over the hardened nub while she listens to your little sleepy whimpers. she’ll suck gently on one while her fingers trace lazy circles around the other, humming contently. when your eyes finally open she’ll pull back with a little smirk and kiss you deep, murmuring a husky “morning, pretty” against your lips.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who doesn’t really care about wearing makeup but lets you use her face as a canvas. she pulls you into her lap, arms loosely around your waist, and sits there perfectly still while you work. she watches you with those half-lidded eyes through her lashes, chuckling low when you take forever. “you done yet?” she’ll tease, voice warm. “can’t show up to work looking like this, babe.”
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who teases you about your taste in snacks but still brings home your favorites after night shifts and convenient store runs. she’ll hand them over with a smirk and say “don’t say i never spoil you.”
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who sucks at confrontation. if you two argue or you’re mad at her, she’ll slip out for a smoke to cool down, then come back softer with a clear mind. she’ll hug you from behind, press slow kisses to your neck, and sigh into your skin, “sorry… didn’t mean to snap. it’s been a rough day.” she’s not great at flowery apologies or talking about feelings, but she always comes back and tries for you in her own lowkey way.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who totally melts when you massage her shoulders after a harsh work day. she groans softly, eyes closed, and later repays the favor with her mouth between your legs until you’re shaking and finishing on her tongue.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who loves making you watch her. she’ll lay back on the bed, legs spread, tank top pushed up so her tits peek out, and slide her hand down between her thighs while keeping those tired eyes on you. she moans on purpose—low and breathy, just to tease you—fingers moving lazily. if you try to touch her she’ll put a foot on your chest and gently push you back. “not yet,” she’ll rasp, voice hoarse. “i like it when you watch.”
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who is an absolute sucker for lazy morning sex where she’s half-asleep, lazily grinding against your thigh while kissing you all slow and sloppy, hands wandering wherever they land.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who shows she cares more through actions than words. after a long night shift she’ll kick off her heels, crawl into bed with you, and pull you close, fingers tracing random patterns on your skin while she unwinds. she might crack a dry joke about her day or complain about the higher-ups, but the way she melts into you says everything. you’re her safe place in a world that’s taken way too much from her.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who gets handsy after a couple drinks. she’ll pull you onto the couch, fingers slipping under your shirt, groping you murmuring “c’mere” in that low, smoky voice while she kisses down your throat.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who falls asleep fastest when her face is buried in your chest. one leg thrown over you, arm wrapped tight around your waist.
girlfriend!shoko ieiri who is the best and only girlfriend you’ll ever have if you know how to keep her.
💋ྀིྀི | a continuation of ex!sukuna with a print of your lips tattoed on him, i am hungry for this man
— ᨳଓ . pt. 1 — pt. 2 <here!> — pt.3 — pt.4
[ cw : sukuna is STILL pathetic for you, this part is sfw | reader gets called : princess ]
Sukuna had thrown his phone across the room in shame and hopped in the shower as soon as he saw that you read his message. He thinks you to be some sort of angel for not having blocked him after all this time but it makes sense because you always seem to see the good in people, including him.
The cold water hits his back as he runs his hands through pink hair. He remembers when he first dyed it, so long ago, and how you squealed in delight when you saw the large, tall man with biceps that may or may not be bigger than your head with light pink hair. You had ran your fingers through the thick stands of hair and made fun of his uneven roots and hands dyed pink for the next two weeks. You had made sure to help him whenever his roots had grown out, so it didn't look so choppy. He wishes he had the excuse of being drunk in response to your inevitable questioning text but he could never bring himself to lie to you.
When he steps out of the bathroom he ignores his phone and opts to harshly drying his head with a stained towel, another towel sitting low on his hips as he opens his bedroom window and lights a cigarette. You used to curl up beside him on his ratty couch on late nights, taking the occasional drag and sitting in the smoke with him. He hates how he can't seem to do anything without the lingering thought of you in odd corners.
When he finally decides to bite the bullet, he opens his phone with teeth gritted, forearms on his knees gripping the device.
you : sukuna ryomen.
He thinks that's just like you. Not cussing him out, not questioning, not blocking, just his stupid name as if you didn't already have him in a chokehold.
His hands are shaky, to the point where he thinks he might drop his phone. It's been a year and a half and he's sure you've moved on, sure you don't deserve his stupid ass texting you at god knows what hour.
sukuna : wasn't lying though
you : glad you know you're an idiot
you : if you're having a tough night i can talk but i'd rather not talk about us
His thumb hovers over the call button. He knows he shouldn't, knows you're probably happy, dating, living your best life without him. But he's always been a greedy son of a bitch.
💋ྀིྀི
You pick up the phone like it's second nature, his contact photo is still the same because you haven't been able to bring yourself to change it. It's a picture of the two of you someone took, it must have been Gojo or Shoko, you're at an amusement park, laughing at something he said and he's got this stupid grin on his face, looking at you. You used to have the picture framed on your wall somewhere before it hurt too much to even know it was there so you had thrown the frame out and shoved the picture in a drawer.
"Hey," his voice is gruff, low like you remember.
"Hi," you say evenly, "You're lucky I haven't reported and blocked you,"
You hear him snort and it brings you a smile.
"Don't know why you haven't yet," he sounds like he genuinely doesn't know. You hum in response, thinking through the question. You hadn't broken up on bad terms per se, but you hadn't broken up on good terms either.
"I don't know why either," is all you can offer him.
"I should probably get that tattoo covered up," he says, and you know what he's talking about without an explanation. You pause, you had assumed he would've covered it up already, it's not the best look, especially if he's been seeing other women and decides to be honest with them about who's lips are actually marked on him.
"I'm surprised you haven’t yet," you say with a small voice.
"Turns out people don't like it when you have your ex branded on you permanently,"
"They must think I'm crazy," you snort.
"Would never let them think that," he says and it makes you quiet. He says it so casually. As if the two haven't been avoiding each other at all of the group hangouts, as if this is the first time you've even had a proper conversation since the breakup.
"Is that why you messaged me?" you try and change the subject and he lets you for the sake of being able to hear your voice for a while longer.
"Was seeing a girl, she was upset I didn't have any plans to cover it up and broke it off with me tonight,"
"Shit, I'm sorry,"
"'S not your fault,"
The two of you sit in silence for a while. It makes you think how it doesn't even feel awkward, it's as if the two of you picked up right where you left off, except for the weeks leading to your breakup.
"My roots are growing out," he murmurs into the speaker not knowing why.
"Have you been keeping it pink?" he hears you smile and just wishes he could be in the same room as you to see that smile.
"Yeah, it's my look now I guess,"
"I think it suits you,"
"That's part of why I still keep it," he says and you ignore how it makes your heart flutter.
"Do you need help with the bleaching?" you ask and regret it when you're met with silence. You can tell he's thinking, and you're glad one of you is because you seem to be making mistake after mistake tonight by even interacting with him.
"Are you sure?"
"Mhm,"
"I'm free thursday night if you want to come over,"
author's note : reader has more grace and patience than i would have, but i would fold
⊹܀˙ | a slice from my CEO!Gojo x Professor!Reader who are childhood friends that I am currently writing...
“I want to,” Satoru says lowly, his eyes meet yours and it sends a shiver down your spine.
“You want to what?” you frown and tilt your head.
“I want to be allowed to get jealous of the people that want you,”
You stare at him and take a step back with shaky legs as he takes a small step forward.
“I want to take you on dates, I want to see you more than I already do, I want to make sure you don’t overwork yourself, I want to know you’ll be my gala date no matter what, I want your coworkers to know me as yours,”
You stare at him, his sparkly blue eyes, his messy hair, god, the crazed look to him as if he’s letting you hold his heart, trusting that you wont rip it right out of his body.
“Satoru we can’t,” you whisper and he just shatters in front of you. He thinks you must be some sort of divine entity with the way you can absolutely just crush him. “I don’t want to lose you,”
“We can make it work, we’re not kids anymore,” his voice cracks.
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“But what if it does?”
“We can’t know that, it’s not fair to our friends if it doesn’t, our families? The connections we have, Satoru—” you’re desperate now, afraid, just so terrified of the idea that you might lose him.
“So it’s not that you don’t feel the same,”
That silences you. You open your mouth and close it, he’s got you backed up with your hips pressed against your kitchen counter now.
“Tell me you wouldn’t like it if I kissed you right now,” his voice is still low but this time you can hear a hint of something that sounds like a growl in the back of his throat. It’s the kind of stubbornness you see in the CEO when he decides to take what he wants.
“That doesn’t matter,” you frown, just as stubborn yourself. He takes a step closer to you, you’re almost chest to chest, you have to tilt your head up to look at him and you feel his large hands cup your face, it feels gentle compared to the storm you see brewing in his eyes.
“So this doesn’t matter,” he whispers as he cranes his neck down so your lips are almost brushing. “This?” he tilts his head so that your mouths would fit perfectly if only he’d lean in a bit closer, your eyes flutter shut and he lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re fucking unfair,” he pulls away. You blink as he steps back, trying to ignore how you had wanted him to kiss you. “I’m going away tomorrow for a month in Paris for work,” he’s backing away now, adjusting his suit lapels and tie, stepping on the other side of your front door before you know it. “I’ll be busy so,”
