MDNI/18+ only, nipple sucking
Roommate!Gojo x fem!reader
The heat is getting to you—it has been getting to you, but just yesterday you had AC to survive this horrible, horrible weather. Now that fuckass thing is broken and you have to sit here in the heat, sweating your ass off.
You’ve already put your hair up and away from your neck, a cold bottle of water being currently pressed against your skin, helping you cool down slightly.
It doesn’t work, though. Sure, it’s a nice respite, for two second, before another wave of absolute heat makes you sweat even more. Groaning, you close your eyes.
Satoru walks into the living room, where he sees you sit. A bottle of water awkwardly held against your overheating skin, little droplets of water and sweat beading down your neck. Not just your neck, but your entire body is covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening in low light.
A droplet of sweat beads down from your chin all the way to the valley of your breast, disappearing where he can’t see.
Fuck. Of course you would wear minimal clothing with this heat—just a small tank top, which has your tits almost spill over, and the shortest shorts known to mankind—but it just overheats him more.
Pushing his white locks from his forehead, he walks over to where the AC isn’t blasting.
“Please tell me you can fix it,” you groan from the couch, opening an eye to see your roommate look at the AC with a frown on his face. Sweat is beading down his temple as he stretches, giving the thing a quick tap—as if that would do anything.
There’s a faint reply from him, but you aren’t even listening anymore. While he’s trying to work on the AC—arms outstretched, muscles flexing, more sweat dripping sinfully down his body—his shirt has ridden up just enough for you to see that V-line and a portion of his abs.
Licking your lips, you let your eyes linger for a second longer, giving him some hums in reply to what he’s saying.
Sure, you’ve seen Gojo walk around without a shirt many times, but that doesn’t mean you get tired of the sight. It’s not like you normally get to have a good look. If your eyes so much as wandered down his chest, he would give you a small smirk, subtly flexing his abs, before you turned around with a scoff.
He’s hot, so what? And now he also has it hot, sweat dampening his shirt, clinging to the outline of his body. Maybe he should just take it off. To battle the heat, of course, nothing else!
Your mouth is getting parched by now. And just in time, too, because Gojo turns around with a pout on his face, lower lip jutted out dramatically. “Can’t get it to work.”
“That’s because you can’t get anything to work,” you grumble before taking a sip of your cold water that has warmed up by your skin slightly. Still, the cool water slides down your throat, a little bit spilling from the corner of your mouth, trailing down your neck, leaving behind a wet trail of goosebumps.
Suddenly, Gojo leans into your personal space. The heat of his body is unbearable right now, but you can’t lean away any further, the couch behind you preventing it from happening.
Before you can even say anything, his tongue darts out of his mouth and onto your neck. He licks a broad stripe up your neck where the water trailed down—no doubt tasting all the salty sweat as well—and even onto your chin, before he leans back slightly with a small smile on his face.
“What the fuck, Gojo?! Why would you do that??” you grumble, swiping your hand over your neck which is all wet with saliva now. It’s honestly not a nice feeling, especially with this heat, and it makes you all the more cranky.
“What? I’m sweating too, and we can’t let any of the cool water go to waste!” he easily replies, still leaning in way too close. There’s a hint of amusement visible in his eyes as he looks at your bottle of water before his eyes trail down your neck again, licking his lips when they trail even lower, having a perfect view of your boobs now.
“Just because we’re in a heatwave doesn’t mean we don’t have any cool water. Wasting one drop of it wouldn’t mean we’d die. There’s plenty more in the fridge, so get your lanky ass up and get yourself some.” You end the sentence with bringing the bottle up to your lips again.
Wrong choice.
One of Gojo’s large hands wraps itself around yours, and squeezes. The water that was supposed to go into your mouth is now everywhere—your face, neck, chest, legs and onto the couch.
“Oops. Sorry, it just looked like you were feeling a bit hot, so I was trying to help you cool down—” his words trail off when he looks down. Your tank is now clinging to your body, nipples hard because of the cold liquid seeping into the fabric. And what a fucking sight it is. “But my mom always said I should clean up my own mess.”
His lips descend onto your chest, slurping some of the water that’s still on the hollow of your throat. Gasping out, one of your hands find the back of his head, fingers tangling in his white locks that are absolutely soaked with sweat.
He peppers some kisses onto your skin, tongue occasionally flicking against your skin as he looks up at you with those bright blue eyes of his.
Biting down onto your lower lip, you look down at your roommate now situated between your legs as he absolutely laps you up. You wouldn’t have guessed this actually happen in even your wildest dreams. Sure there have been some where he was in, but even your mind kept cock-blocking you.
Hovering just before your your nipple, he looks up for permission. Giving him a small nod, he surges forward, lips wrapping around the hardened peak through the fabric, absolutely sucking and biting on it.
Moaning, you arch your back for him, hand pushing him further into your chest. His tongue circles around the bud a few times before he sucks again, a wet slurp of which you have no doubt also makes his entire fill with water and sweat, that was seeped into your top.
Your other hand tightens around the bottle of water. The crinkling of it has you snap your eyes to it, and a small smirk immediately stretches your lips.
There’s still a bit of water left in the thing, and without thinking too much about it, you pour the remained down Gojo’s back. The liquid drenching his shirt, the white fabric becoming transparent, clinging to his back muscles.
He gasps as he jolts slightly. Detaching his lips from your chest, he looks at you with wide eyes. “Oops.” you do not sound sorry for even a little bit. “Maybe you should take that off.”
Huffing a laugh through his nose, he shakes his head a little, but easily complies. His hands find the hem of his shirt, and he slowly takes it off. Taking his time with it, you let your eyes wander once more—his abs now fully uncovered, strong biceps flexing as he pulls the shirt over his head, and of course his back rippling with the motion.
Tossing the shirt somewhere into the living room, he notes the way your eyes wander. Smirking he slowly leans forward again, lips trailing wet kisses all the way from your pretty tits all the way to your cheek.
Just as his lips hover centimeters from yours— BZZZTTT. The intercom rings through the apartment, making the two of you look over to the tiny box hanging near the door. “I’m here to fix the AC.”
satosugu are cheating on each other with you, part two.
part one here!
you knew your nebulous position as the other woman was never going to last. when you’re the affair partner of both people in the same relationship, it’s inevitable that the truth will eventually come out. you just decide to have it happen on your own terms.
you escalate your own behaviour; with suguru, who you mostly have sex with and share the occasional drink, you up your antics. you leave behind lip gloss, you kiss bruises in places he won’t immediately notice, keep your nails sharper to scrape lines down his skin. you moan in his ear as he fucks you and ask, “what would your husband think, if he walked in here right now? watching me take you like i’m the one you’re married to?” just to relish in the way his voice strangles on a heavy groan as he comes.
with satoru, who’s far more interested in the emotional side of things, you devote yourself fully to the role of secret girlfriend. with suguru, you might be a nice, illicit fuck for when his husband’s busy. with satoru? you’re the partner he wishes his husband was. he takes you on elaborate dates, he buys you flowers, he flourishes with every sweet kiss and whispered affirmation. when he calls you late at night, paralysed with fear because he just knows his husband is cheating, you leave suguru in bed to console him from the safety of your bathroom. he can barely look at you when he fucks you, refuses to turn the lights on, then shudders in your arms as you nurture him in the aftermath.
it’s manipulative. you’re halfway in love with them from the thrill alone. you let it build and build, watch as their marriage slowly falls apart from their own actions, and, when it’s all coming to a climax, you arrange a threesome.
in the end, it’s easy. you invite them. suguru tells you happily that his husband’s out of the prefecture that weekend, and he misses you so much, sweetheart. can’t stop thinking about you. satoru tells you his husband is definitely with that homewrecker, so why can’t he spend a weekend with you? they don’t even care about the third, so long as you make sure they’re hot.
then they both show up, and it’s glorious.
after all, aren’t you blameless? it’s suguru that told you he wants something casual, satoru who said he doesn’t mind if you see someone else at the same time, since he’s doing the same. it’s not your fault they’re cheating. it’s not your fault they’ve accidentally fallen for the same woman outside of their marriage. it’s definitely not your fault that you accidentally arranged a threesome with both of them. how could you know? it’s not like suguru’s ever seen you snooping through his apartment. it’s not as if satoru has given you any details about his wayward husband, either.
there’s a moment of silence. of shock. they stare at each other in obvious disbelief while you smile cluelessly. you tell them you “just know they’re going to get along!” and they “have so much in common.” they don’t correct you. no, suguru does something better:
“it’s nice to meet you,” he says, perfectly neutral. “i’m geto suguru. i’ve heard a lot about you.”
satoru looks heartbroken. he looks angry. “gojo satoru,” he replies. “can’t say i’ve heard much about you.”
“looking forward to learning more, i hope.”
“something like that.”
you’re giddy with excitement. how couldn’t you be? they don’t even know. they’re playing some secret, private game between just the two of them, unaware that you know. that you’re a witness to it—better yet, that you’re an orchestrator.
they fight over who kisses you first, and when you goad them into kissing each other, satoru bites suguru so hard his lip splits. suguru growls, pulls him by the hair, and tells him that if he can’t mind his teeth like a good boy, suguru will tie him up so he won’t be able to use his hands, either.
somehow, that’s exactly what happens.
satoru bites and scratches as you all undress, a ball of tightly wound feeling he can’t quite get ahold of. when suguru kisses your neck, satoru tugs at his long hair so hard his neck cracks. after that, well, suguru doesn’t let it slide. he sits you in satoru’s lap and watches satoru bite his way across your tits before pulling his arms behind his back and tying him to the headboard. satoru’s legs follow, winding his calves to his thighs. it says something that satoru doesn’t argue.
“you act like you two know each other,” you say breathily, chest sore from where satoru bit your breasts on the wrong side of too hard, skin pinkening and indented with the shallow divots of his teeth.
satoru groans, watching as suguru pulls you away, situating you in his lap with your back to his chest and your legs spread over his thighs, presented to his husband. “never met the guy,” he says lowly, “and if i have, i don’t recognise him.”
“don’t worry,” suguru croons. “we are going to get very familiar.” his hand caresses down your side as he says it, thumbs rubbing strong circles into your skin.
satoru’s eyes stay fixed on your face.
suguru takes you apart with careful efficiency, teasing you until your pussy flutters with each brush of his fingers against your thighs, your navel, just short of the apex of your thighs. when he finally touches you where you want him, his fingers are long and slow and languid as he spreads you open, fingering you with lazy contentment as he sucks wet kisses down your neck and back. he leaves you straining and whining, makes satoru watch until he’s groaning as if he can feel the phantom touch of suguru’s every caress.
suguru bends you forward until you’re on your hands and knees, head just barely brushing against satoru’s knees. satoru parts his legs further, staring down at you with something close to awe. a little scared, a little sad, and very aroused. suguru crowds your back, bending over your figure and biting the shell of your ear as he slowly, slowly sinks into you.
“my good little wife,” suguru says, loud enough for satoru to hear. satoru chokes on his next breath, bordering on a sob. “should’ve married you, sweetheart. i could keep you like this forever.”
“suguru—“ satoru pants.
his skin is red and raw from his shuffling, his dick rock hard and straining against his black boxers. from the way his chest heaves, his eyes burn red-rimmed with tears, you’d think he’s the one being fucked. when he catches you looking, he lurches forward with a low groan, cut off as the rope tightens around his muscular thighs. he murmurs your name on a strangled groan.
a hand moves, grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you to look over your shoulder, neck craning at an awkward angle. “ignore him, sweetheart.” suguru whispers in your ear. “eyes on me. he’s not the one fucking you so good, is he?”
“i could be,” satoru growls. “i have. fucked her hard and fast, like a whore. she must be, if she’s willing to fuck you.”
it’s mean, unnecessarily targeted at you when the ire is really directed at his husband. suguru’s eyes crinkle on a smile.
“that’s not a very nice thing to say, is it? she’s always so sweet, so good. maybe you just don’t fuck her right.”
“i’ll show you—“
you stop listening. suguru thrusts so hard and sure, just slow enough to have you craving more, just fast enough to satisfy you. stamina has always been his strong suit, and he fucks you into over sensitivity. his thumb moves, sitting heavy and mean over your clit, rubbing firmly against you with every thrust forward. you fall apart warbling his name, hands reaching backwards to scratch at his thighs. then he fucks you to tears, keeping eye contact with satoru, muttering filth in your ear all the while.
“should knock you up, so you have no choice but to marry me.” he says, watching as satoru’s mouth drops on a whine. “keep you happy and full in my bed, so you never have to leave. you’d be the perfect wife, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
satoru comes untouched with a breathy whine of your name. your name, as if his husband isn’t right there. as if he hadn’t just watched his husband fuck the girl he’d been playing around with. suguru follows soon after, spilling into you unprotected.
they both stay the night. you share a quiet, almost awkward breakfast, where you play the fool and chatter with your usual enthusiasm. when they leave, it’s at the same time.
you don’t know what happens when they get home. what you do know is that suguru texts you a few days later to come over. satoru asks you out on another date. and, a few weeks later, you fall back into bed with the both of them.
ೀ ⋆.˚ WHY HAVE ONE WHEN THERES TWO ? t. fushiguro + k. shiu
pairings — Grimy Stepdad! Toji x Bratty Fem! Reader x Stepdad’s Bestfriend! Shiu
synopsis — toji is your stepdad and your mother is cheating on him heavily, so you made it your mission to show him what real attention felt like, even if that meant fucking shiu along the way.
wc: 2.8k
warnings/tags: MDNI, NSFW 18+. stepcest, daddy kink, taboo, age gap (toji and shiu late 40’s, reader 22). exhibitionism, voyeurism, brat taming, power imbalance, threesomes, manipulation, teasing, objectification, jealousy, praise & heavy degradation, cuckolding elements (but reverse), infidelity, panty stealing/sniffing, pet names (kid, daddy, slut, good girl, etc.), hidden cameras, choking, p in v, size kink, m!masturabation, sharing, shame play, humiliation, possessiveness, spit roasting, dubcon themes, psychological ownership, spit, creampie, cum eating, throat fucking, aftercare with twisted tenderness. toji is the outwardly gruff but reluctant “moral” stepdad who’s secretly vile and depraved, shiu is casually complicit and just as fucked up.
you loved coming home from break.
winter break, summer break, easter—didn’t matter. the second your mother’s house came into view, that familiar heat pooled low in your belly. not because of her. never because of her. it was because of him. toji fushiguro. your stepdad.
the house always smelled the same—faint cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, and the stale resentment your mother left behind like perfume. she was gone again, like always. another “girls trip.” another week of radio silence while she fucked whoever could pay for her drinks and pretend she wasn’t a married woman while toji sat in the living room of their shared home nursing a beer.
you met him two years ago when you were twenty right after your sophomore year of college. your mother had dragged him home like a trophy after two months of whirlwind dating, flashing the ring like it meant something. toji fushiguro. tall, broad, scarred, thick arms with a lazy smirk and eyes that looked like they’ve seen every sin the world had to offer. he’d shaken your hand that first night, called you “kid” in that low, rough voice, calloused palm swallowing yours, and something shifted in his gaze when you smiled up at him—soft, curious, already a little too interested.
you thought it was politeness. surprise. maybe even a hint of moral hesitation.
you had no idea it was that exact moment he’d make a terrible mistake marrying her… and the exact moment his mind started rotting with thoughts of you.
he married her for the quiet life, he claimed once. a stable home after years of underground work. he was the grimy enforcer type who cleaned up nicely in public but still carried the smell of cigarettes and motor oil. she had money from previous husbands, the house, the lifestyle, and a pretty face. but the way she spoke to him, the constant arguments, the cheating, the way she treated him like he was disposable… it made your stomach twist. it reminded you of the reason you fled to college hours away the second you turned eighteen. to you, she was just the woman who gave birth and checked out.
you never understood how she could treat him the way she did. he was too good for her shit. the more she treated him like an afterthought with a pulse—the more you decided that he deserved better. deserved you.
toji played the moral stepdad part perfectly at first. you ate it up. the tired, reluctant, decent man trapped in a bad marriage who frowned when you flirted too obviously. at first it was little things. lingering hugs when you came home. sitting on his lap during movie nights while she was upstairs on her phone because “there was no more space on the couch.” he was the kind of man who cleared his throat and looked away when you “accidentally” brushed against him wearing nothing but lace panties and an oversized tee that barely covered your ass.
“kid,” he’d grunt, voice rough like gravel, eyes fixed on the fridge instead of your body. “go put some clothes on. it’s three in the morning.”
you’d just smile sweetly, stepping closer until your tits brushed his arm while reaching for water. “oops. sorry, daddy. didn’t see you there!”
or other times you’d whisper to him, lips brushing his ear. “i don’t understand why you stick around. she treats you like shit anyways.” toji stared at you for a long moment, jaw tight, looking ever bit of the man wrestling with morality. “watch your mouth, kid. she’s still your mother.”
he never reacted the way you wanted. never grabbed you. never pinned you to the counter and fucked the brat out of you like you fantasized. he’d just deadpan, sip his beer, and mutter something about not calling him that and “respecting boundaries.” it drove you insane and it only made you push harder. made you bolder.
you loved the game. tight little outfits around the house. “accidental” lap sits while shiu—his bestfriend—was over for cards. whispering filthy things in his ear when no one was looking: “bet she doesn’t even suck your cock, does she? i would. i’d swallow every drop like a good girl.” toji would just stare at you with those flat unreadable eyes. muttering “behave. brat,” under his breath, pushing you off his lap with a rough hand on your hip.
it made you bratty. frustrated.
god, you wanted him to break.
so you fucked shiu.
his best friend—equally older, sharp eyed, cigarette perpetually between his lips. he was always around, watching you with that quiet, calm, knowing smirk. you knew he was hot. you thought seducing him would finally make toji snap with jealousy. you “dated” him in secret for a few weeks. or at least, that’s what you told yourself—stolen kisses in the hallways while toji was supposedly out. quick fucks in his apartment, letting him bend you over the hood of his car when he picked you up for “coffee”, in your childhood bedroom, fucking you raw as you bit your lip to stay quiet when toji had gone to “bed”. sometimes you’d corner him in the guest room, drop to your knees like the little brat you were. he smirked down at you, fingers threading through your hair.
“does your stepdad know his pretty girl is such a slut?” you moaned around his cock, thinking of toji the whole time.
you didn’t know toji orchestrated the entire thing, in fact, he encouraged it. every bit of it. had practically handed you over so his best friend could break you. he got off on that kind of thing. listening to you getting fucked like some desperate slut in your bedroom. he’d stroke himself slowly in the other room, from tip to base, listening to the sound of your gargled moans and sputtering, eyes dark with satisfaction as his best friend used your throat. “that’s it” he’d mutter under his breath. “break her in for me.”
toji had already broken since the day he laid eyes on you. he stayed for one reason only: access. easy, constant, deniable access to you. the sweet little thing who looked at him like he hung the fucking moon while her mother treated him like dirt. he played the part flawlessly. the gruff but decent stepdad who fixed things around the house, who asked about your classes, who told you “no boyfriend this time?” when you came home for break without your usual fling, pretending to be relieved for your sake. he stayed because every time she bitched at him, every time she ignored him in bed, he had fresh material waiting for him in the laundry room.
he was careful at first. moral on the surface. the first time he truly slipped was months after the wedding. you had come home for summer break and left your worn panties out in the laundry hamper near the washer. toji found them. the grimy, disgusting part of him he buried under layers of “i shouldn’t” took over. he pressed the damp fabric to his nose in the dim laundry room, inhaling your scent like a man starved while your mother slept two rooms away. licking the slick from the fabric like a depraved animal before stroking himself quiet and fast. “fuckin’ tease,” he’d growl under his breath, thick cock pulsing in his fist as he imagined ruining you.
he came hard in the seat of your panties, then carefully placed them back like nothing happened.
he was disgusting. and he loved it.
while you were away at university, he’d install a small pinhole camera in your bedroom—disguised as a smoke detector. every break—winter, summer, easter—he’d watch you at night. after a long day you’d peel of your clothes, fingers buried deep in your soaked cunt, moaning his name while you played with your tits. “toji—daddy—please…” he sat in his office, watching the feed on his phone, saving every clip. he’d stroke himself in time with your frantic little thrusts, cumming hard when you whispered how much better he would feel than your pathetic flings.
shiu had been in on it almost since the start. toji showed him the footage one night over whiskey. “look at her go,” he’d said casually, like he was showing sports highlights, phone screen glowing with you fingering your pussy, legs spread wide, whimpering “daddy, want your cock…” shiu exhaled smoke slow, eyes gleaming “lucky bastard,” voice low and dark, not a trace of humor. “look at how she spreads her legs thinking about you. pathetic little thing. you gonna break her soon or keep letting her play her games?” toji grunted, palming himself through his pants. “keep breaking her. i want her desperate when i finally take what’s mine.”
toji let you think you had the power. let you flirt, tease, “accidentally” grind on him. he acted the conflicted moral man—furrowed brow, heavy sighs, the occasional “we can’t, kid. i’m married to your mother.” all while his cock throbbed and filed away every whimper, every flash of skin, every bratty “daddy” you tossed at home when shiu was around.
because he wanted shiu to see. wanted to show off his pretty, desperate stepdaughter like a trophy.
it all came to a head one cold night. your mother was gone again. you had spent the evening teasing toji mercilessly—tiny shorts, bending over in front of him, whispering filthy promises. when he still wouldn’t react, you’d “stormed off” and found shiu in the living room. you dragged him upstairs, loud enough for toji to hear, determined to force a reaction.
shiu fucked you right on your childhood bed, rough and efficient, slapping your ass and calling you toji’s pretty little stepdaughter. you came hard, moaning “daddy” the whole time, thinking it would finally make toji jealous enough to claim you.
you didn’t know they planned this.
toji walked in while shiu was still buried deep inside you, face pressed into the mattress, ass up.
you startled, eyes wide with shock as your stepdad leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the same unimpressed expression on his face. except this time, his eyes were burning.
“keep going. don’t stop on my account. should’ve known you’d go running to my best friend when you didn’t get what you wanted, kid.” toji said calmly, stepping inside and closing the door. “been teasing me for two years, flirting like some shameless whore. thought fucking shiu should make me jealous?”
shiu chuckled darkly, still thrusting slow and deep, making you whimper. “she’s been a brat about it too. kept moaning your name while i fucked her.”
your mind reeled. “w-what… toji—?”
he moved closer, towering over you. one big hand gripped chin, forcing you to look up at him while shiu continued to use you’re cunt. “you really thought you had the upper hand, huh? all those little outfits, sitting on my lap, calling me daddy in front of him?” toji’s thumb brushed your lower lip. “i let you think that. made it more fun.”
he leaned down, voice dropping an octave. “i’ve been watching you. every night you spread these legs and finger this sloppy pussy thinking about me. got the camera feed right here.” he tapped his phone. “showed shiu how pretty you look creaming to your stepdad’s name. he agrees—you’re the best entertainment we’ve had in years.” shiu grunted in agreement, hips snapping harder. “lucky man. she’s so fucking tight. been dreaming of sharing this hole with you.”
the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. all this time… he’d been in control. the moral stepdad act, the deadpan reactions, letting you fuck his friend—it had all been apart of his game. you were never the predator. you were the prey they had been toying with.
tears pricked your eyes even as pleasure built again. brows furrowed, lips pulling into a bratty sneer even as you cunt clenched traitorously. “you… you’re sick—“
“yeah,” toji said simply, unzipping his pants. his cock sprang free—thick, heavy, veined, already leaking. far bigger than you had imagined. “but you’re still gonna take both of us, aren’t you? because you’ve been begging for it.”
you hated how much he was right. the humiliation made you ache.
they used you together.
shiu stayed in your pussy while toji fed you his cock, stretching your throat until your nose pressed against his pelvis. they talked over you like you weren’t even there, voices casual and dark.
“pass her over when you’re done,” toji said, voice steady even as he fucked your face. “i want to feel how sloppy you left her.”
shiu chuckled breathlessly. “she’s been sloppy since the moment she started flashing her panties at you. little exhibitionist whore showing off for you every time i came over.”
“i let her because i knew you’d want a taste,” toji grunted. hips snapping, balls slapping your chin as spit started to soak the bedding beneath you. “been dreaming of breeding this tight cunt since the day i met her. fill you up until you’re swollen with my kid. bet her mother would love that.” he held your head there still for a moment as you began to gag around his length. “you’d look so good ruined, kid. tits leaking, belly round, still calling me daddy while i fuck another load into you.”
shiu laughed low, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded you from behind. “she’s clenching so hard hearing that. pathetic. all that teasing and she’s just a needy little slut for her stepdad and his best friend.”
your mind fractured under the overwhelming pressure. pleasure, shame, betrayal, and overwhelming need mixed until you were sobbing sobbing around toji’s cock, cumming hard on shiu’s dick.
they switched positions—toji finally claiming your pussy while shiu used your mouth. toji fucked you like he owned you, which he did. deep, punishing strokes that hit every spot, pressing down on your lower belly so you could feel him rearranging your insides, pushing shiu’s cum from earlier back inside of you with his cock.
“fuck—been waiting two years to ruin this hole,” he growled, eyes locked on where your pussy was stretched so obscenely around him. “so much tighter than your mother’s. this cunt was made for me.” you sobbed around shiu’s cock, mascara running, body trembling from overstimulation. the powerlessness was overwhelming—humiliatingly and shamefully intoxicating. they had reduced you to nothing but a toy between them, and some broken part of you loved it.
toji’s pace grew brutal. “gonna fill you up, kid. knock you up so everyone knows who this pussy belongs to. say it—tell daddy who you belong to.”
you could only moan brokenly, but they didn’t need words. your body gave them everything. when they finally pulled out, you were a wrecked, cum-filled mess—leaking from both holes, thighs shaking, mind blissed out and empty.
toji gripped your hair, pulling you off the bed and onto your knees on the floor. both men stood over you, cocks still half-hard.
“clean us up, princess.”
you obeyed without thinking, broken, mouth open, tongue lolling out like a good little doll as you licked them clean—first toji’s cock, tasting yourself and his cum, then shiu’s. giving them both small kitten licks, cleaning the mess you made like a good girl. they stroked your hair almost gently, murmuring praises that made you nuzzle into their touch and little degradations that made your leaking hole clench around nothing.
“such a well trained princess,”
“good girl… such a perfect cumdump.”
“swallow every drop. that’s it. look at you, all fucked out and obedient. knew you’d break so pretty, baby.”
when you finished, licking every inch until they were spotless, shiny and spent, toji pulled you into his lap on the bed. shiu lounged beside you, flicking open his zippo, lighting a cigarette in the dim lit room. “she’s even better in person than she is on camera,” he muttered.
toji’s hand rested possessively on you hip, thumb circling the bruise he left. “told you. she’s been mine the whole time. you just got to break her in first.”
“you’re ours now, kid, understood?” he murmured against your temple, voice deceptively soft. “no more games. no more pretending. you come home for break? this is what happens. every single time. but dont worry… daddy’s gonna take real good care of you from now on.”
shiu smirked, exhaling smoke. “both of us will.”
you whimpered as you nodded weakly, too drained and owned to argue. cum still drying on your tongue, mind blissfully blank. deep down, the twisted part of you that started this knew the truth: you never wanted the power anyways. not really.
toji let you play your games because it amused him. because it made claiming you all the sweeter. why have one when there’s two? because two filthy older men could ruin you so much more thoroughly.
and you’d coming home for every single break from now on.
toji had pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple, voice low. “welcome home, kid.”
a/n: i hoped you guys liked enjoyed the filth, it took way longer than expected because i gave up so many times. i always imagine shiu and toji double teaming someone so i thought why not write something nasty. part two of pervy nerdjo is on the way! xoxo, ly loves youuuuu 💋! dividers by @/cursed-carmine
you're crying after a guy bothers you... and your boyfriend isn't about to let it slide.
bleehhh can't sleep and i made up this scenario w fratkuna sooooooooocontains college au frat!ryomen sukuna x midsize!fem!reader; themes of harrassment (the culprit is naoya bc i saw his ass in the manga😐), ryo is like ur knight but not in the toxic alpha male way ew & he punches a guy, & i'm using the hcs that toji, choso, & geto are all in a frat with him + the gojo twins are present (honorable mentions for twins satoshi "fratjo" gojo and satoru nerdjo🫶) and everyone goes to 'tokyo college of jujutsu tech', and dw it turns into fluff n comfort—btw this is noooottt proofread
"girl, you're really cute."
another nervous giggle, playing with a lock of your hair. jesus christ, you just wanted to get out of that fucking western poetry class.
you'd only taken the class because you needed a humanities elective, and it had looked interesting! unfortunately for you, though, every guy who thought they were a major philosopher and the next unbiological love child of nietzsche had also taken the class! and sadly, you had caught the attention of one of those guys—naoya zenin, one of the dean's relatives.
he was toji's cousin, you knew, and toji was your boyfriend's frat brother... so maybe you were fine? you tried to convince yourself you were as you sped walked out the door, naoya hot on your trail with a sleazy grin and a mouth full of harrassment.
"where ya goin'? class just ended, sweetie."
"i can't stay," you said quickly, heeled boots clicking rapidly against the floor. you'd dress so cute that—polka-dot glasses, a pink off-the-shoulder sweater, black skirt, and knee-high boots that really captured the prime look of a college girl! and it was being wasted because this motherfucker was ogling you. "i have to go back to my dorm."
"why? need an escort?"
"no, i know the way."
"well, someone might hassle you."
"somebody already is hassling me."
"huh?" that made naoya pause—but only momentarily. once he realized what you meant, he fell back into step behind you, seeming even more determined than before. "got some bite on you. i like that. lot of women don't know when they should play it easy or hard to get—you do."
you hated when guys couldn't just take no for an answer the first time. because that meant you had to use the next excuse up your sleeve—
"my boyfriend wouldn't like that you're following me. i really can't stay and talk, and i'd like it if you would kindly leave me alone."
you said it as curtly and politely as you could, then, before the surprised naoya could reboot and say anything else, you bolted through the doors of the humanities hall and out into the spring day.
campus was lively in the afternoon. there was ultimate frisbee and football being played, groups of friends on picnic blankets talking and tanning, girls swirling their boba and iced coffee as they commuted from classes and dorms—and there was ryomen's and a handful of his frat sitting on benches in the quad, lounging after smoking.
well, choso and geto were still slightly buzzed. toji hadn't taken a pass, and it took more than a few puffs to get to ryomen.
"oh my god, i can't feel my tongue," choso muttered, rubbing his eyes. his black mullet was shaggy, messed up, and he smelled like he'd been waterboarded in geto's cologne to cover up the post-smell of weed.
geto, sitting wide and strumming his guitar absently, grinned lazily. "you're too easy, man. second-hand molly in the wind would get you fucked."
"nuh-uh."
"uh-huh."
"shut the fuck up," toji muttered, waving his hand dismissively as he rubbed his face with the other. "i still have a goddamn headache."
"not our fault you hit your head on a fucking table last night," ryomen laughed.
toji groaned, turning his head to look off into the distance. the activity on campus only worsened his pulsing skull. "swear to god, 'm concussed or something. shouldn't have on that chair when i was drunk."
"you should've came." choso tapped ryomen's knee. "where were you?"
"with his giiiirrrllll," geto teased.
"yeah, yeah." ryomen didn't care if everyone in all of fucking tokyo knew he was whipped—he was whipped for you, his sweet little girlfriend. "not my fault i wanna spend one night of the weekend watchin' pretty woman again instead of watching toji crack his head open."
like he was summoned by his name, toji started shaking ryomen's shoulder. "dude."
"one sec—" ryomen was about to say something else to choso, but toji wrenched his arm to the side. "what the fuck! what?"
"look where i'm fuckin' looking." toji pointed across the quad. "isn't that—"
"holy shit," geto said when he saw you briskly walking and crying, like you were trying to escape someone—you had been.
choso frowned when he followed everyone's line of sight. "is that your girlfriend? why is she crying?"
"i... gotta go." ryomen got up from the bench without another word and started across the quad. when he realized how fast you were walking, he thanked god that he was an athlete and started running after you. "hey!"
when you hear a male voice, you automatically moved quicker, expecting it to be naoya again—but then it repeated, and you recognized ryomen.
"baby? hey, slow the hell down!"
fuck. you didn't want him to see you crying. think, think, think—
but it was too late. ryomen had reached you, grabbed you by the shoulder, and turned you around in an instant. "shit, thought i was going to lose you. what's—"
you couldn't held but sob even harder when he began to ask you what was wrong, and ryomen gaped at your puffy, round face, smudged mascara, and the salty streams of tears down your cheeks.
"oh god, angel. what's wrong? c'mere, can i hold you?"
as expected, since he had the biggest soft spot and change of attitude when he was with you, ryomen engulfed you in the comforting embrace of his arms and let you bury your face and ruined makeup against his racing jacket.
"ok, ok," he whispered softly against your hair as he stroked it. "deep breaths. in and out, yeah? gotta calm down and take proper breaths. can i see your purse, please, hon? don'tcha keep tissues in there?"
"i—" you wheezed slightly, trying not to choke on tears or words. "i was gonna wait inside until i looked for 'em..."
"all right, well, i'm here now. let me see."
carefully, he slipped your purse off your shoulder, located the pack of tissues inside, then extracted one so that he could dab your face gently. "there we go. better, hm? keep breathing f'me, just like that, pretty girl."
when you had calmed down enough to not explosively weep again, ryomen caressed the side of your face and asked, "tell me what happened."
you crossed your arms, lips pursed in a pout. "no."
you knew what he would do if you told him that naoya zenin bothered you...
"what? fuck you mean—" he inhaled slowly, then tried again, softer. "angel, how can i help if i don't know what's wrong? or—how are you gonna feel better if you don't talk about what made you cry like that? i mean, you were going pretty fast in those heels, i imagine something happened."
after a pause, he hardened. "did someone fucking do something to you?"
"ryo—"
"nah, don't give me that soft stuff. tell me who and what."
"it wasn't anything serious!" you insisted, holding him tightly. "seriously."
"tell. me."
"promise me you won't be mad!"
"no."
"ryo!"
"was it a guy?" he brushed a few hairs out of your face, grimacing. "i'll beat the shit out of him if it was."
"it was a small incident. small, that's it."
"or was it a girl? 'cuz satoshi's brother satoru knows a girl named shoko in pre-med, she'll fight anyone—unless you don't care if i do it, because i'll hit anyone you ask, babe—"
"stop!" you shook him slightly. "a guy kept following me around and bothering me, i just wanted him to go away—and he did! he just... overwhelmed me. i was scared."
ryomen stared at you when you finished speaking. he blinked a few times and nodded slowly, tongue against the inside of his cheek. "ok. yeah, ok."
you frowned, watching as his face contorted. "what?"
"this happened just now?"
"um... like ten minutes ago."
"where?"
you picked at your nails, growing nervous. "...the humanities building."
he'd turned on his heel without a second thought, and you hurried after him, having known he probably would've gone off the moment you gave him all the details, like a bloodhound with a scent for prey.
"wait—ryo! it's not that big of a deal!"
"not that big of a deal my ass." he was practically snarling.
who you didn't expect to see soon after ryomen was on his war path was the culprit himself. naoya was crossing the pavement, staring at his phone—but when he saw the tattooed, six-foot-four jock headed his general direction, he couldn't help but freeze. you also stopping, surprised and wary, was a dead giveaway on who the guy ryomen was looking for was.
ryomen glanced between naoya and you, then pointed. "him?"
you slowly let go of his arm, knowing there was little you could do to help the situation or stop your boyfriend. "yeah..."
calmly—too fucking calmly—he continued down the sidewalk until he was a few yards from naoya, then he nodded once and said, "hey, man."
naoya, contemplating fight or flight, tried to remain casual and nodded back. "hey..."
"wanna ask you—you bother that girl over there earlier?" he jutted a thumb over his shoulder, at your nervous figure in the distance.
"i didn't bother her. i was just talking to her."
"in what way."
"huh?"
"In what way—because you sound like a really shitty guy to talk to if she walked away crying."
"not my fault she didn't—"
before naoya could finish casting off whatever blame onto you, ryomen winded back a tight fist and clocked him in the nose.
naoya yowled in pain the moment the fist connected with his face, and he recoiled, hands snapping up to cover his soon-to-bleed nose. "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"ryomen!" you cried from behind him.
across the quad, it seemed that the others ryomen were with before had witnessed everything.
"ry!" toji waved a relaxed arm, like he knew ryomen had everything handled but still wanted to be nice and extend an offer. "good?"
ryomen cracked his knuckles, then wrung out his pulsing hand. "yeah, he shouted back. "good."
"is she ok?" choso called over, pointing at you.
"i'll take care of her."
"'kay, i guess." geto watched the entire thing with a skeptical look. "see you later."
without exchanging any words, ryomen returned to you and carted you up to his dorm. he was glad that you didn't protest or refuse to go with him—he surely thought you were mad at him, until you whispered the soft "thank you" to him at his door. he simply kissed your head and pushed the door open.
in his dorm, he insisted you clean while he ordered food. lounging in his bed, shirtless now and just in a pair of sweatpants, he scrolled on his phone while resting a hand on you. you'd positioned yourself beside him after cleaning off your tear-streaked makeup and changing into one of his hoodies.
"sushi and boba, or thai?" ryomen asked, rubbing slow circles on your thighs. he loved to grip the plush there, to kiss up from your calf to the softness of your belly—he would later, but right then, he was focused on getting you fed and rested, the two things he thought key in recovering from bad days. "wait. chinese?"
you ran a hand through his hair and leaned over to peck his cheek. "anything."
"you always say that, baby."
"i know."
"ok. sushi and boba."
you smiled. "i trained you right."
taking a moment, ryomen dropped his phone and grabbed your jaw to bring you in for a full, proper kiss that lasted until you were both breathless. and when you pulled away only slightly, hovering closely above him, lips still brushing, he licked his lips and smiled. "you're ok, right? not mad?"
"no," you said, tilting your head slightly. "not mad. maybe a little annoyed that you always jump to violence, but... i really appreciate you wanting to protect me. i know you just want me to be all right in the end."
"damn right i do. i love you, gorgeous."
smiling, you kissed him once more. "i love you too, ryo. now order the food before the place closes."
send me asks <3
buy me a kofi
divider creds to @anitalenia check them out their work is so gorg!!!!
· finding their s/o fatally wounded on the battlefield ft. gojo, yuta, megumi
⊹ summary: they find their s/o fatally wounded, about to die on the battlefield & she barely survives
⊹ warnings: angst, mention of death, injuries, they literally lose it
the report comes through the earpiece but gojo doesn't wait for the coordinates. he feels it. the spike of your cursed energy is flickering like a candle and then it drops—low, dangerously thin.
gojo doesn't arrive; he shatters the space where you are.
the sonic boom of his arrival levels the surrounding debris, he lands with such concussive force it knocks down a group of grade 1 sorcerers nearby but he doesn't hear any of it. all he hears is the wet, stuttering rhythm of your heart—a sound he’s fallen asleep to for years, now skipping beats like a broken clock.
he sees you. propped against a crumbling brick wall, chest barely moving, your uniform saturated in a deep, terrifying crimson. the six eyes are a curse for him in that moment, detailing the catastrophic internal hemorrhaging, the plummeting blood pressure, the precise millisecond your organs are beginning to shut down. every single cell in his body violently rejects the sight in front of him.
"gojo! we have to secure the perimeter before shoko can—"
nanami starts, stepping forward to catch him but gojo moves with a jagged speed. he drops to his knees in the grit, his infinity completely dissolved. he doesn't care.
he rips off his blindfold and the sorcerers nearby recoil at the sight of his face. his eyes are a manic, electric blue, vibrating with a celestial, unhinged panic. he reaches for you, but his hands—the most powerful hands in existence—are shaking so violently he can’t even get a steady grip on your shoulders.
"hey."
he whispers, a sound so thin and broken it cuts through the roar of the fires.
"hey, look at these eyes. look at satoru. stay right here in the blue, okay? don't you dare close them."
he pulls you into his lap, ignoring the blood staining his white shirt and the eyes of his students watching from the rubble.
you don't respond.
"hey, princess. look at me. blue eyes, see? satoru is here, i'm right here."
he leans his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow, terrified hitches that sound more like gasps for air.
"i didn't tell you enough," he chokes out, a sob finally racking his chest, loud and uninhibited. "i've been so arrogant, i thought i could protect everything but all i wanna protect is you. don't leave me, don't—"
with the last bit of strength even you didn't know you had left you reach out, your blood stained fingers touching his cheek.
"satoru..."
the sound of his name—not his title, not his rank, but him—acts like a physical blow. gojo recoils, his breath hitching in a broken, wet sob that he doesn't even try to hide from the sorcerers watching from the perimeter.
"no." he chokes out, holding you so tight it hurts. "no! don't say it like that, don't say my name like that. i don't permit this, you hear me? i'm the strongest and i don't allow this, i forbid it!"
you try to speak again but all that comes out of your mouth is a pile of wet, warm blood dripping down from your lips to your chin. your eyes start to flutter.
"i told you to keep your eyes open, open them!" he roars, his command vibrates in the void, the force of his voice making everyone nearby shudder. "look at me! if you close your eyes, i'm coming with you! i mean it! i'll tear the sky down if i have to, just stay with me!"
there stands the god of the jujutsu world, replaced by a man who is sobbing uninhibitedly into your hair, clutching your fading body as if he can physically shield you from the afterlife. he had spent his life standing above everyone, but as he begs you to take one more breath he is finally, devastatingly human.
he pours his rct into you with such reckless, burning force his own eyes start to bleed from the pressure. he is wailing now in a raw, animalistic sound. his face buried in your neck, whispering.
"i love you. i love you. i love you. i'm sorry i'm so late. just one more breath. for your satoru, for the blue eyes you love so much. please."
hours later the sterile white walls of the infirmary are a stark contrast to gojo who hasn't moved an inch by your side for two days with your blood still on him.
he is sitting in a cramped plastic chair that looks absurdly small for his frame. his long legs tucked awkwardly, his head resting on the edge of your bed.
he is holding your hand. not with his usual light, teasing touch but with a crushing, desperate grip that pierces his infinity. he hasn't put his blindfold back on since the battlefield. he can't. his six eyes which usually process the infinity of the universe are now hyper focused on a single, rhythmic heartbeat which he needs to see for himself in order to put his restraint back into its place.
the door opens quietly. "satoru." it's shoko. "the higher ups are calling. there's a grade 0 sighting in kyoto, they've been ringing for three hours."
he doesn't even turn his head to look at her.
"tell them to go fuck themselves." he rasps. his voice is a jagged wreck, hollowed out by days of silence and sudden, violent bouts of sobbing.
"you haven't even eaten. you're becoming a liability. how can you take care of her if you don't get your shit together?" shoko sighs.
"i said tell them to go fuck themselves." he repeats, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating frequency. "i'm not moving."
the god of the jujutsu world, refusing to take on missions and answer his calls for the last two days. he was supposed to be untouchable but he has cried silently until his tear ducts are inflamed, until his throat is raw, until he started physically trembling from dehydration.
a few hours later your fingers twitch. it's a tiny movement but for him it has the impact of an earthquake.
gojo bolts upright, his chair clattering against the floor. he stares at you, breath catching in his throat as your eyes find him.
"satoru?" you whisper, your voice barely a breath.
he doesn't make a joke. he doesn't give you a cocky grin. he makes a small, choked sound in his chest and collapses forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. the weight of his head is heavy, and almost immediately you feel the warmth of fresh, silent tears on your skin.
"don't." he gasps, his voice breaking as he clings to you. "don't ever do that again. do you hear me? i'll kill you myself if you ever try to leave me like that again. don't you dare do that to me again. please."
he is sobbing now like a child who got lost but finally found his way home. his body shaking so hard that the bed vibrates, his hands clutching your shoulders as if he is trying to merge your bodies together so you can never drift away from him again.
"i'm sorry i wasn't there." his sense of pride completely burnt away. "i'm sorry i was late to protect the one thing i actually cared about. i'm sorry i went out in a rush that morning because i thought i was invincible, because i thought i'd have countless days to tell you that you are my home."
he doesn't say the words, he heaves them out. each sentence is interrupted by a sharp, hitched breath.
"everyone looks at me like I’m a god, but i felt so small when i saw you lying there. i couldn't even stop a single piece of steel from touching you. i'm supposed to be the strongest and i almost let my entire world die in the dirt. i'm supposed to be able to fix everything, why did i almost lose you?"
he pulls back just an inch, his blue eyes raw and vulnerable. he looks pathetic. he looks human. he looks like a man who has just been handed back his entire life.
"i'm staying right here until they say you can walk out." he whispers, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek with a hand that won't stop trembling. "higher ups can call anyone but me for a while for all i care."
he kisses your palms, his lips dry and cracked, and he doesn't stop crying silently until he finally falls asleep with his head on your chest, listening to the only heart that matters to him beating.
yuta doesn’t just arrive; he descends like an omen.
he doesn't just find you; he carves a path to you across the battlefield that leaves the earth scorched.
his descent is silent and terrifying. the air pressure drops as rika manifests in her most primal, monstrous form, her wails harmonizing with the low, guttural sound coming from yuta's throat.
he sees you slumped against the debris, your life leaking out through a jagged tear in your torso.
maki and inumaki are already there, trying to stem the bleeding but they step back as they see the look on yuta's face.
it isn't the look of a hero; it's the look of a man who is about to burn the world down.
he drops to the ground.
"no." he mutters a flat, dead sound. "no, no, no i won't let it happen."
"yuta, we have to move her carefully—" maki starts, reaching for his shoulder but he brushes her hand off with a burst of such immense cursed energy that it startles her.
he is not the yuta that people can rely on anymore, he is a boy losing his soul.
he crawls to you, his hands glowing with a blinding, unstable white light. he shoves his fingers into the wounds, his teeth bared in a snarl of grief as he forces your flesh to knit back together.
"i'll tie your soul to mine with iron chains if i have to. i'll turn into a monster to keep you here. just stay. stay, stay, stay with me."
he pours every ounce of himself into you, his nose bleeding from the force of his effort and his face contorted in a silent, heaving grief that makes the other sorcerers back away in respect. he is not a monster yet, he is just a man begging for a future. he whispers into your ear, a frantic, stuttering chant of years old secrets and promises.
"i was gonna ask you tonight, i was gonna ask you to spend your whole life together with me. i was going to tell you how you saved me from the darkness inside my head, i was going to ask if we could finally... just be together. properly. forever. please, don't make me carry that ring forever, stay. look at me, please, please."
he stays hunched over you, a shield of white light and jagged shadows, his body heaving with heavy sobs until the medics have to pull his hands away. he looks at them with eyes so hollow they look like glass.
later, the silence of the infirmary is the second worst thing yuta has ever experienced. he hasn’t even changed his uniform. the dark fabric is still stiff with dried blood, mostly yours. he smells of ozone and sterile gauze.
he hasn't slept in forty eight hours. his eyes are sunken, rimmed with a raw, bruised red from the bouts of silent weeping he did in the hallway when shoko told him it was a touch and go. he has ignored calls from his friends and a direct summon from the higher ups for a new mission. the world outside has ceased to exist in his perception.
"yuta?" your voice a rasp, fragile thread.
he is holding you tightly, face buried in your shoulder before you can even blink. the sob that leaves him is jagged and completely devoid of restraint.
"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry i wasn't by your side the whole time. i'm sorry i couldn't protect you."
he tilts his head up slightly, his eyes find yours and the sight is devastating. the special grade sorcerer, the boy who fought gods in the streets of sendai is trembling so hard he can barely keep his balance.
"i thought i lost you," he gasps, his voice breaking into a wet, stuttering wreck. "i was standing right there, and i saw you go down, and i—i couldn't breathe. i spent my whole life being afraid of my own power but in that moment i just hated it. i hated that i wasn't fast enough."
he looks at you with eyes full of grief that he hasn't yet recovered from, letting you see every bit of the terror he’s been carrying for the past forty eight hours.
he pulls back just a little bit so he can reach into his pocket with trembling fingers and pull out a simple, thin band—not a sorcerer's tool, just a piece of silver he must have clutched in his palm like a talisman for the last two days.
"i didn't have the time to tell you that you're the only reason i even want to be a human being. i've spent my whole life being a vessel for a curse, but you're the only thing that makes me feel like me."
he holds the ring between his shaking fingers, pressing it against your palm as he sinks to his knees on the linoleum floor.
"marry me," his eyes now dry but breath still instable. "i don't want the special grade rank, i don't want a title, and i don't want a legacy. i just want to be yours. i want to wake up and know you're breathing. i just can't do this life if i'm not coming home to you."
seeing you smile weakly at him, his voice breaks.
"i know this is not an ideal way of proposing but i know now that i can't know what's going to happen if i wait to say things like this. i can't, not anymore, not knowing that the worst possibility exists. i'll do this properly when we can walk out of here."
he leans his forehead against yours, the slowly returning warmth of your skin anchoring him.
"i'll never let anything like this happen ever again, i won't do the same mistake a second time. i wanna be the one to protect you forever, i will be. be my wife and let me be by your side forever."
the battlefield is a graveyard of twisted rebar and rising dust, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the fading ozone of spent cursed energy. itadori, nobara and a group of grade 1 sorcerers are several yards away securing the perimeter, their voices sounding distant and muffled.
megumi does not hear them.
he does not hear the sirens or the crumbling of the buildings nearby. his entire world is narrowed down to the small, broken figure lying in the debris.
he makes a small, choked sound in the back of his throat and drops to his knees.
he doesn't use his shadows to clear the rubble. he tears at the concrete with his bare hands until his fingernails are gone, his breath coming in shallow, terrified hitches.
"no." he whispers, a flat, dead sound. he reaches out, his fingers flushing with a frantic, uncoordinated tremor. he tries to stem the flow of blood from your side, but it is everywhere—stretching across his palms, soaking into his sleeves.
"fushiguro! we have to move her, the medics are—" itadori starts, running toward him but he stops dead when megumi looks up.
megumi's face is a ghostly, translucent white, his green eyes wide and vibrating with a primal, animalistic panic. he does not look like a stoic grade 1 sorcerer, he looks like a boy watching his heart being torn out of his chest.
"get back." megumi rasps, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous frequency that makes even the divine dog beside him whine in distress.
he pulls you into his lap, tucking your head under his chin. his whole body is trembling. there isn't a trace of his usual calmness in his attitude.
"i'm here." he whispers, his voice a jagged, low frequency wreck. "i've got you. just... keep looking at me. don't look at the shadows. look at me."
using the last bit of strength left in you, your fingers ghost over his jaw, leaving a faint, copper smelling streak on his pale skin.
"megumi..." you whisper.
his reaction is instant and terrifying. he doesn't sob, he breaks.
his eyes, usually so sharp and disciplined, go wide and hollow, the green irises vibrating with a suffocating grief. he doesn't pull away. he lunges forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his body heaving with a sound that is less like a cry and more like the pain of a physical wound.
"stop." he gasps against your skin. "don't say it like that. don't say my name like you're handing it back to me. you're the one who gave it meaning when i despised it! i can't do this alone, i can't do it, i can't, i can't. don't leave me, don't you first love me and then leave me! look at me!"
itadori and nobara are standing over him, their eyes teary, silently bearing his pain with him.
he is whispering your name over and over like a prayer intended to lure you back from the edge. "i didn't tell you." his breath keeps hitching like he is unable to breathe. "i didn't tell you that i'm finally happy. for the first time in my life i'm happy and it's because of you. you can't leave me in the middle of a sentence! you can't leave me with this silence, you have to hear what i have to say to you!"
he breathes in the scent of your skin so deeply that it's almost like he thinks the deeper he breathes you in the more possible it becomes that you return to him.
"i love you. i didn't say it this morning because i was rushing. i'm sorry. i love you, i love you, i love you! please. just one more breath. for me. just one."
he stays there with you in his arms, not moving an inch until the medics have to literally tear you apart from megumi while itadori barely manages to hold him back.
later, the hospital room is sterile. the rhythmic, artificial beep of the heart monitor is the only sound cutting through the heavy silence.
megumi hasn't moved for six hours. he is sitting in the hard plastic chair pulled flush against your bed. his spine curved, his head resting on your hip. he looks gaunt, the shadows under his eyes matching the dark ink of his uniform.
he is holding your hand with a grip that is both tender and terrified—his thumb tracing absent patterns on your pulse point.
you stir, feeling the warmth of him against your skin. when your fingers twitch against his, his entire body jolts as if he’s been struck by lightning.
he sits up instantly, his green eyes wide and searching. they are bloodshot, rimmed with a raw redness that tells you he hasn't slept since the battlefield. he freezes, his chest heaving with a breath he seems too afraid to let out.
"hey." you whisper. your voice a scratchy, hollow thread.
megumi doesn't answer at first. he can’t. he makes a small, choked sound in the back of his throat and leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his shoulders begin to shake, not the violent, soul shattering sobs in the middle of the debris but a quiet, exhausted trembling.
"you got back to me." he gasps against your skin, his voice muffled and thick. "you actually came back to me."
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your cheek with a look of such vulnerability and desperation that it makes your heart ache.
"i felt like i was losing my mind." he whispers, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your eye. "i spent two days thinking about that morning... about all the things i didn't say, i just walked out. i thought that was going to be the last thing i ever did—just walk away from you."
he leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes tight. "i don't care about the missions, i don't care about anything. i'm not leaving this room until you walk out of it with me. i'm staying right here."
he kisses your lips. a long, lingering press of his lips that feels like a seal. then he settles back into the chair, refusing to let go of your hand. his eyes fixed on yours as if he is memorizing the fact that you’re still breathing. for the first time in years, the shadows around him are still. he is finally home.
@/satoruindahouse's work do not translate/copy on other apps and platforms
After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.
Everything was so much weird.
When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.
You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.
But the real shock came twenty minutes later.
The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.
You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.
"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.
You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.
"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.
Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.
When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.
"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"
You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."
The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.
"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.
"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.
"And do you know where you are right now?"
"A hospital?"
"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."
You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign
So you were married.
"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."
The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.
Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?
"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."
You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.
"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.
The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.
"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.
"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.
To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.
"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."
You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.
An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.
You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.
"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.
"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.
"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.
"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."
"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"
"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."
He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.
"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."
He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.
Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.
As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.
"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.
'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.
"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.
It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.
You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.
Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.
"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.
He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.
"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."
You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.
"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."
"Okay" you hummed softly.
His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."
You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.
"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"
His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.
"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.
He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.
"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"
"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"
"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.
"Why?"
"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."
You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."
The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.
"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."
"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.
"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.
Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."
A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.
Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.
Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.
When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.
And then, there was Sukuna.
Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.
To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.
He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much
His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.
At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.
The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.
Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"
"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.
"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.
"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."
The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"
You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."
You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.
"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.
"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."
You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.
"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.
The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.
As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.
Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.
Crash!
The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.
You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.
You froze.
Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.
You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.
Pink hair.
The backyard.
The jazz music.
The napkin.
A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.
The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.
When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.
"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.
You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.
But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.
As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.
"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.
Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.
Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.
"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."
Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.
"I fucking love you" he whispers
(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)
Fratjo breaks up with you and instantly regrets it - series
The first time Satoru Gojo realizes he made a mistake is when he can’t find you on campus.
At first he thinks it’s funny.
You’ve always been easy to find. The west library corner seat by the window. The campus café at 10:30 with a vanilla latte and that same notebook you pretend isn’t a diary.
But after the breakup?
You vanish.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Your Instagram, phone number, Snapchat — blocked.
He stares at his phone in the Alpha Tau living room while music blasts around him and someone hands him another drink.
Blocked.
“Damn,” one of the guys laughs. “She actually did it.”
Gojo scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “I’ll get her back,” he says cockily.
Like he’s not the one who said it. I need to focus on football.
The lie sounded convincing at the time. The scouts were watching. His coach kept yelling about discipline. Everyone said relationships were a distraction.
So he broke up with you.
Clean and quick.
Two weeks later, he’s drunk at three different frat parties, shamefully sneaking out of sorority house hookups before the sun even rises.
And somehow that’s when he realizes something feels wrong.
———-
The First Attempt
He tries texting.
It doesn’t go through. Still blocked.
He laughs to himself. “Dramatic much.”
But that night he still walks across campus toward the all-girl dorms.
Except the front desk girl just shrugs. “She’s not here.”
Gojo frowns, “What do you mean she’s not here?”
“Means she’s not here.”
He stands outside the dorm building for ten minutes before leaving.
The next day he tries again. Still no sight of you.
Flowers
A week later a bouquet arrives at your dorm. White lilies and baby’s breath.
Attached card: —SG <3
He doesn’t even know if you like lilies. You used to talk about flowers sometimes, but he never listened carefully enough to remember, and now he regrets it.
The desk girl tells him later you picked them up without saying a word.
Still no message back.
The Letters
Then the letters start. The handwritten notes made him feel romantic, he was sure this would get a response out of you.
The first one is simple.
I know you blocked me. I deserve it.
Let me know if you wanna talk
-Satoru <3
No response.
The second one is longer.
I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you. I thought I was doing the responsible thing.
Please unblock me xoxo
The third one is messy.
He writes it at 2 AM after a party he left early because some girl laughed too loud in a way that sounded a little too much like you.
I keep looking for you around campus.
You used to sit by the west library window. I checked yesterday. You weren’t there. Are you avoiding me?
- Toru
Your Favorite Snacks
The dorm desk starts receiving packages. Your favorite chocolate. Spicy chips.
Strawberry gummies you always bought from the vending machine during late-night study sessions.
Deliveries of your favourite bubble tea.
The desk girl starts recognizing his name. “Another one from the football guy. I told him you weren’t here again like you asked.”
Meanwhile
Gojo’s reputation doesn’t change. He’s still the star player. Still the loud one at parties. Still the guy everyone thinks has everything.
But lately he keeps checking doorways. Scanning crowds at football games. Looking for someone who isn’t there.
The First Time He Sees You Again
It’s raining. He’s leaving practice when he spots you across the quad under a blue umbrella.
For a second he thinks he imagined it.
But then you look up. And your eyes meet his.
The look on your face isn’t anger. It’s worse.
It’s indifference.
You turn and keep walking. Gojo’s heart drops straight into his stomach. He can’t let you escape after all this time of chasing you.
“Hey—!”
You stop slowly. You look over your shoulder. “…What?” Your voice is calm.
Gojo suddenly forgets every speech he rehearsed. “I—did you get the letters?”
“Yes.”
“…And?…will you please talk to me?”
You stare at him for a long moment “Goodnight, Gojo.”
Then you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the rain, watching you disappear.
you live your life trying to balance having a stable and healthy relationship, finishing your degree and being a superhero. how much more until your sweet, understanding boyfriend gets tired of your excuses for misteriously dissapearing during dates? tags : sfw, smau, established relationship, little angsty?, satoru is sooooo in love :(, attack on titan spoilers!
playing : cirlces by post malone | masterlist ᰔᩚ
O1
“we don’t know how to thank you enough, spider”
the lady greets you after saving her little daughter from being kidnapped by a suspicious van.
“no need to thank me! just doing everything i can to keep new york city safe and-”
“quick, he’s escaping!”
you turn your head to where the police car was parked and the criminal you just caught was supposed to be, just to find him trying to fight one of the cops while being handcuffed. this motherfucker never gave you no break.
you act fast. you extend your arm and shoot your web in the direction of the enormous raven-haired man until you knock him face down on the floor. the web covers his scarred mouth as he looks at you sideways with that annoyed expression. “not today, buddy.”
you make sure the whole scene is under control and check the time on one of the huge screens in times square. 3.46PM.
you had a movie date with satoru at 4 o’clock. on the other side of town. how convenient. you wrap the thing up with the cops and a few moments later your web clings to the surface of buildings as you swing through the city, praying you arrive on time.
you started dating satoru about three years ago, and exactly four months after that, the spider bit you and your life never was the same again. you were juggling your life as an undercover superhero, trying to finish your studies and getting your degree, and having a beautiful and stable relationship with the boy you were madly in love with. of course, the first thing you asked thee tony stark the first time you met him was if you could tell your boyfriend about you becoming a superhero all of the sudden. and of course he said no.
you were moving as fast as you could. you could not be late today. it was the third time you'd rescheduled this date because of “girl stuff" (criminals and supervillains) kept interrupting your time with your beloved boyfriend.
first, it was fuckass naoya.
the evil little cockroach was planning on blowing up a girls' school while you were in line at the movies with your white-haired boyfriend. beep, spidersense.
naoya had been carrying out terrorist attacks across the country, and the idea of catching the little bastard when he was in your city consumed you. in less than two minutes you managed to think of something: telling your sweet, understanding boyfriend you needed to change your tampon, dashing out to catch naoya and going back to watch the movie with satoru as if nothing had happened. all of that in the time it takes for the trailers to show before the actual movie. that is…15 minutes.
you look to your side to see an excited satoru yapping about how happy he was about this. he was holding your hand with one of his own while the other kept the popcorn bucket close to his chest. he adjusted his black frames on the bridge of his nose as he continued talking.
“i’ve been waiting for this moment since i was sixteen, baby. you have no idea. i haven’t read the last volume of the manga because i wanted to see it on the big screen, and it’s actually happening, like right now!” he looks at you and kisses your cheek. “and i’m so happy i am watching it with you.”
and the winner of worst girlfriend ever goes to you.
“i just really hope armin doesn’t die. he’s the coolest.” he adds.
the lady at the door of the movie theatre looks at you and pays attention as gojo hands her your tickets. behind her the neon lights adorned the movie poster: “attack on titan: the last attack”
“babe, i think my period just arrived. i’m gonna check if i need to grab a pad real quick.”
“but the movie-”
“i’ll be back before it starts! promise!”
except fuckass naoya wasn’t alone. one hour and twenty two minutes later, you came back to the cinema and sneaked into the dark room. you knew you fucked up when instead of listening to the movie dialogue you heard music and the lights were on. you went up the stairs to the seats you had reserved with your boyfriend, just to find an empty seat and a half finished popcorn bucket. you took out your phone and your fingers typed faster than your brain could process what words to say so your boyfriend wouldn't think you were such a shitty person.
and next week, it was sukuna’s fat ass with his little alien friends wanting to burn the fuck out of manhattan bothering your date night.
and you had to think about another lame excuse.
satoru gojo could be a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them.
gojo was starting to find your misterious disapearings quite suspicious. he has never ever been in a relationship before you, and you remember how difficult it was for him to slowly come out of his shell and show you his true sself to you. he started to grow insecurities. were you not in love in him anymore? did you find someone else? were you already seeing someone else?
he tried his best to erase those thoughts. afer all, the man was hopelessly in love with you. he could not think wrong of you even if he tried. but you just kept explaining less each time he asked what you were doing, and he noticed how careful you have started to act around him
and third, just a couple moments ago, it was big bum toji zenin fucking up your romantic plans.
now now, let’s get back to where we were.
you arrive at the infamous movie theatre. finally.
you land on an alley next to the big building to detransform and get back into your normal clothing. you grab your phone and check your time. 4:42 pm. fuck.
you were dying to tell him the truth.
but keeping him alive was more important than anything.
what if someone found out he was important to you? they would use that against you. hurt him, kidnap him, maybe even-
you couldn’t. this was your life to deal with. he had nothing to do with all of this. and it was better if he was not involved at all. it was safer, smarter. you would do anything to keep satoru safe, even if that meant making him hate you.
the next few days passed like a normal week. you noticed gojo a little bit more distant, but nothing really concerning. you thought about ending things with him the second your…job? started to get more serious. when creatures from other planets you suddenly had to finish off came along you understood you were involved in some serious shit. not just helping the old lady from the block get her cat back from the top of the tree (which of course you did too).
satoru spent those days thinking.
with this behaviours of yours, he had to think about a way to keep you. a way to get your attention back from whatever was distracting you from your pretty and thoughtful boyfriend, whatever was keeping you away from him.
he called choso up. he asked him what he thought about the situation. with a tired voice and a sigh, his friend replied:
“i don’t know man..jus’… make her jealous or something. that will piss her off”
choso kamo has never ever been in a relationship before. no one with a functioning brain would follow any romantic advice from him. with the sole exception of satoru gojo, of course.
so, first things first. how to make her beautiful girlfriend jealous? and most importantly, with who?
satoru thought, again.
shoko? would’t make sense, that’s your best friend.
utahime? yeah…no thanks.
it had to be someone he looks up at. someone almost impossible to bag. someone hot and attractive. he just wanted to give you a little taste of your own medicine. a little scold for ignoring him these days. of course he was not even close to thinking of cheating. he just wanted to get your attention, and he was willing to do the dumbiest shit to get there.
so, as he was walking downtown in the crowded new york streets, he found an answer. he looked up at the big billboard in front of him. there it was, he had it just before his eyes. red and blue all over the place.
someone he looks up at? check.
impossible to bag? check.
hot and atrractive? … oh mama, check.
who could be more accurate for this mission than the girl who stealed every manhattan men’s breaths? oh he could already imagine your face, all red and grumpy. he adjusted his glasses and crossed the street towards the magazine shop. the nice man greeted him and asked him what was he looking for.
“i would like that spidergirl poster, please. yeah, the big one.”
Synopsis. 8010—DOKI-DOKI-GF: Are you a complete n’ utter nerd that just can’t seem to find a girlfriend? Have you lied to your family and told them that you’re seeing someone (when you really aren’t)? Do you need to save face at the next family dinner before your uncle makes fun of you until the end of time? Well, call our hotline NOW to access Tokyo’s #1 rent-a-girlfriend service!
Choso Kamo, unfortunately, is all of the above.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!rentaI girIfriend!reader, nerd!Choso Itadori family shenanigans, meeting the family, fake dating, UncIe Kuna is MEAN, they’re onto you…, getting kicked out of restaurants, Iove hotels, vírgin!Choso, first times (his), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, making him crawI, oraI (f + m), fíngering, spítting, bíting, p taIking, scientific taIk HAHA, commands (from you), créaming his pants, making him cúm earIy, multiple o’s (him), MAJOR overstím, pánty-sníffing, ríding, making him whímper, making him cry, somewhat gágging (him), teaching him, creampíes, sIight cùmfIation, implied marathon, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.0k
A/N. HEHEHEH-
“—I’m so happy you’ve found your person, Cho…” Itadori Jin coos- tearing up.
“P-papa, people are staring.” Choso huffs, spooning the syrupy-sweet cherries on his sundae over to Yuji’s.
“I know, I know.” Jin bats a hand, not-so-discreetly dabbing underneath his eyes using his sweater. “It’s just- your uncle and I were getting so worried, y’know?” He gestures at his younger twin brother next to him—looking comically buff in that pretty pink ice cream parlor seat. Jin had chosen this place. “And although we didn’t lose hope-”
“Who’s we?” Sukuna snorts.
“I uh…well.” Jin adjusts his glasses and looks over at Itadori Wasuke - currently scooping out his own cherries to flick into the neighboring table’s cups when they weren’t looking. “Father and I didn’t lose-”
“I did.” Wasuke looks squarely at his oldest grandson, “No offense, kid- but I bet ¥400 that you’d die alone.”
Sukuna nods seriously, “I bet ¥20,000.”
To which you’re finally…reaching over to intertwine your fingers with Choso’s.
…Choso drops his cherries.
And you’re letting out such a sweet, sweet giggle - even sweeter than the linger of cherries on his tongue - before you duck underneath the table to help him pick them up.
Choso was already on his knees crawling after those damn cherries- and all it takes is a single glance at your face oh-so-close to his, in such short proximity, for him to jolt—and bang his head against the underside of the table. So hard that the glasses clink against one another, and Wasuke groans as he misses in his valiant cherry canons.
So loud that half the parlor stares at your little table.
“Oh no.” You’re reaching out in concern as Choso rubs his achin’ head. “Honey, are you-”
“I-I’m fine—!” Choso turns his face away - and the only things you could make out were the frames of his chunky glasses…and the burning red on the tips of his ears. Blushing. Though you’re not convinced, and once you get a little closer- he’s waving you off more fervently than ever. “I promise, I promise! I can handle it…babe.”
You quirk a brow - “If you say so, sugarplum.”
He almost jolts once more- too much…?
However, before you’re thrusting yourself once more into the stratosphere of emotional fathers (at least, one of them) and glowering uncles, you inch yourself closer to the nerve-wracked man - as quick as a flash. And then you’re pressing your lips to his right cheek—just a graze, just a peck.
But it’s enough for Choso to yelp-
And bang his head against the table once again.
“Easy there, tiger.” You’re giggling at him, “I need you in one piece.”
“N-need me…” Choso whispers to himself- perhaps thinking that you won’t hear.
And it’s a small mercy that you’re handing to him - pretending that you didn’t hear that. Instead, you’re throwing yourself back into your seat, and presenting your most-practiced smile at Choso’s eavesdropping family members.
In little-to-no time, Choso’s popping back up and plopping all those floor cherries into Sukuna’s black coffee. The older man swears.
Jin covers the seven-year-old Yuji’s ears.
And then your boyfriend’s excusing himself hastily to the bathroom. Leaving you alone with them.
Unsure how to proceed, there’s a few minutes of silence before you’re speaking first. “Quite the lovely place, isn’t it?”
“Yes- yes.” Jin snaps out of his little reverie—he’d been watching over your interaction with such unabashed pride. Such loving nosiness. Out of all the fathers of clients that you’d happened to meet, you think he might just be your favorite…He beams. “I’m so glad you like it, dear. I mean- the first girl that Cho’s introducing us to-”
“The only one.” Sukuna coughs.
“-I just knew I had to impress. I picked this one specifically because it advertised itself as a place that’s both family-friendly and open to coup-”
“So you met the wimp…how again?” Sukuna interrupts. And he ignores the look that Jin throws at him.
“Six months ago at university.” Choso’s finally finished up at the bathroom, within earshot of the table. He takes his seat right next to you.
“I hope you washed your hands.” You whisper to him.
“Of course, I did.”
The two of you had already repeated this tried and true story at the very start of your introductions. And it was clear that Sukuna was fishing for something…more.
You make a show of reaching for Choso’s hand on top of the table—intertwining your fingers with his. They were fingers much longer and thicker than yours- that you might not have expected. The most sensual calluses from what you assume to be turning pages of books. The softest touch nevertheless.
You squeeze his hand and shoot him a simpering smile.
Itadori Jin just about faints.
Sukuna scoffs at his overdramatic older brother, “S’that so…?” He then crosses his tattooed arms, “You don’t seem like the type to like ah- biology and hemorrhages.”
“It’s biology and hematology, uncle Ryo.” Choso answers crossly, “And no- we met in the campus library.”
Then you’re the one to pipe up. “Cho here- oh, sorry, Choso-”
“Call him whatever you like—!” Jin cries.
As his brother attempts to wrangle him back into his seat, you smile appreciatively and continue. “Cho here was the one that helped me find a textbook I’d been searching for for weeks.” Just to add a little flare to it, you’re squeezing his hand once more and staring deeply into his big, beautiful brown eyes when you speak. “He knew even better than the librarian! And he was just so nervous- stuttering and- and did I tell you that he almost tripped over himself handing me that book?”
Jin, so very interested in your story, shakes his head aggressively.
Meanwhile Sukuna merely rolls his eyes- though you note that he and Wasuke don’t interrupt you for a second.
“Yeah…that was when I knew.” You conclude. Patting lovingly at his arm, “And of course, it did take a few weeks of being friends for Cho here to finally build up the courage. But he did manage to ask me out in the end—”
Sukuna raises one mean, coral-pink brow.
And you’re elbowing your boyfriend.
“-didn’t you, honey?”
It was rather difficult to convince your boyfriend’s family of the story of you two meeting- especially when your boyfriend himself looked as though this was his first time hearing it…Choso kept an expression of sweet euphoria—something soft. Like he was watching a romantic movie play out.
One that was starring in- and you needed him to say something…
“Huh? Yes?” Choso blinks- sense coming back to him. “O-oh, yes.”
And then he straightens up.
Possessively placing his hand on top of yours, “I saw her and I just…knew she had to be mine-”
“See now, that where yer lying.” Sukuna leans over the table with a devilish smile- pointedly ignoring his brother’s swatting. “There’s no world in which Kamo Ultimate Loser Choso—had his first kiss with a biology textbook, asked out the high school lab skeleton before any real person - would be the one asking you out.”
You’re stiffening as he points at you.
“Are you just someone he’s paying to lie? Because whatever he’s paying, it surely can’t be enough-”
You’re plastering on your smile, “If by ‘pay’ you mean love and cherish me then-”
“Then I know my nephew would no sooner woo a damn lab rat than a real person.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing his arms and falling back into his seat. “Especially one so pretty.”
Jin looked tense- and he’d forgone swatting at Sukuna underneath the table to now openly pinching his bicep. Still, the pain seems to do nothing to bate his suspicion.
“More sundaes, everyone? More sundaes?” Jin asks in a strangely high tone.
The only ones unaffected at the table was Yuji currently plucking at his sundae cherries, and Wasuke who stared at them with the internal debate as to whether or not he should fling those at the neighboring table, too. You almost wanted him to—anything to distract from the terseness that had suddenly taken over.
And to your surprise - it’s Choso who’s the first one to speak. “Why, uncle Ryo…” Those doe-like eyes of his narrow into an expression you’ve never seen made by the sweet, sweet boy thus far. “-jealous?”
Sukuna startles- “The hell did you s-”
“Dagnabbit I almost had it this time-” Wasuke gives up on considering and swipes one of Yuji’s overabundance of cherries to throw into their neighboring tables glass. It’s a hole in one.
“Grandma, do that again—!” Yuji squeals and claps his hands.
“Huh, where? I’m grandpa-”
“Everybody silence!” Jin’s voice raises above than the rest - and into every corner of the ice cream parlor. Echoing. He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but he found himself standing as he stopped the chaos—and rushed to sit down after some apologetic bows at the wider population being subjected to the catastrophe that was…their family.
And his next apology is directed at you. “My dear, I cannot tell you how sorry I am-” Now instead of pinching Sukuna, he outright gives the man a brotherly smack upside the head. Unafraid of doing so; Jin makes it hard enough that even Ryomen Sukuna winces. Now you understand how he kept his title shining as older brother…“-that I am related to a bunch of buffoons, and Yuji.”
“Yuji has been quite the distinguished gentleman.” You’re nodding at Yuji and his ice-cream-covered grin. “But it’s alright, Mr. Itadori. Honestly- promise I wasn’t offended by anything said.”
Your hands have seemed to find a permanent home in Choso’s - at least for the time being - and you squeeze his.
“I understand that you’re just ah- cautious as the first girl to meet you like this but…I get it. Really.” Jin’s expression just seems to melt as you keep speaking. “Cho really is someone special to me. And I want to protect him, too.”
Next to you, you hear Choso suck in a shaky breath.
“Really? And you truly promise that it hasn’t been too much?” He probes with shining eyes. “Ryo here can get a little too mouthy-”
“Hey!” Sukuna starts—then immediately winces as Jin’s fingers twitch towards him again.
“Please do forgive him- it’s in his nature.”
“Absolutely promise. And I don’t hold anything against Mr. Sukuna, either.” You knew to hit juuuust where it mattered - and referring to Sukuna using such a title made the man straighten in his chair a little. “Choso did warn me that his family might be a little…excited. But to be honest with you, I always have had a soft spot for big, loud families.”
“Well…” Jin blushes happily, before reaching across the table and shaking your hand. “You may call me Jin, if you’d like. And I’d like to welcome you into our big, loud family.”
“I’m so honored- thank you.”
“The honor is all ours.”
“Oh no, it’s ours.”
Sukuna glances at Choso and scoffs. Underneath his breath, “That’s as long as that wimp has paid for-”
The table rattles as Jin kicks him underneath it. “The honor is all ours. Isn’t it…younger brother?”
“Ye-yes—” Sukuna wheezes. His large hand comes slamming down- merely something to hold onto his dear life for. “Welcome to the family, girl.”
You beam like it’s the happiest day of your life.
Head rested on Choso’s shoulder, and your head nodding at the flow of conversation. “This is cooler than the Turritopsis dohrnii.” He breathes.
Save for the brief hiccup earlier- you’d consider your first meeting with Choso’s family to have gone swimmingly. And sure, perhaps Sukuna held the faintest inkling of suspicion that what the two of you had was a ruse—but he’d been shot down almost immediately by Jin.
And thank goodness for that.
“Let’s celebrate by getting the double double heart-shaped cones- oh, I wonder how they get them into that shape?” Jin hums. “And then I want chocolate chips, dipped in the bubblegum drizzle and- oh, hello.”
He beams as their server nears the table.
“I would like-”
“Sir, we’ve been getting complaints of cherries being flung into people’s glasses and we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh.”
Because of course…Ryomen Sukuna had been completely correct.
As the group gets up to leave - perhaps to another diner downtown or so - you’re refusing to let Jin apologize. And you’re still holding onto Choso as though he was the dreamiest boyfriend in the whole wide world, and you were the luckiest girlfriend—as dreamy as he may be…you weren’t the girlfriend he’d been dating for the past five months.
In fact, you weren’t his girlfriend at all.
In fact, you’d only met two hours prior.
You were #1 Rental Girlfriend in all of Tokyo. And this time, you’d been hired to save face at a family get-together.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time that you’ve had to pretend your way through such a predicament - more people than one would think had less and less time for love. Especially not in this day and age. Especially not when work and responsibilities latched onto you like a starving tick, and though its blood supply might be modest at first, it only grows hungrier and hungrier—greedier, until you’re bone-dry. Bone-dry. Bone-dry. And it still feeds- what’s next? The bones and all?
And society still looks at you with the same standards—yes, the parasite’s gotten bigger, but why are you so frail?
And before you know it, you’re hiring a rental girlfriend to prove to your parents that yes- you can still be a functional and well-balanced adult still!
This was exactly why you continued being a rental girlfriend.
It’d started out as a side-job during your first year of university—your friends were all getting partners or throwing themselves into their studies. And you needed something fulfilling to pass the time.
Then, your best friend suggested getting a part-time job.
You’re sure she didn’t mean as a rental girlfriend.
But you couldn’t help it - it’d been the first advertisement for Hiring that’d popped up once you’d searched online!
And it was meant to be for a few weeks initially- really, you hadn’t planned on continuing this career for so long. Let alone making it a sort of career.
That morning, you’d opened up your approved application for Doki-Doki-Girlfriend and determinedly made your way to the interview section - promising yourself that you’d run at the first sign of anything off. The interview was being held at the Doki-Doki headquarters: this pretty pink-colored building in downtown Akihabara that had formerly been a host club. It’d been dimly-lit and draped in old perfume and even older sex.
Though you’d been nervous the first time you entered, you’d been quickly taken by the Doki-Doki owner—Tsukumo Yuki.
The first thing she asked you was what your type in men was.
And when you’d answered - through your shock - that it was the shy, stuttering type- she laughed that that was about 95% of their clientele. So you’d be lucky, perhaps.
Yuki, as she insisted you call her, explained to you the ins and outs of being a rental girlfriend. To smile. To simper. To be sweet but not overly so.
To never let them pressure you into anything. They weren’t the type of rental business that offered other sorts of services.
What people were searching for above all was a connection- for at least this brief moment in time. And the both of you would understand this transaction: it was the fantasy of a human bond that you were selling, and they were buying. It was your time. It was your emotional investment.
But later…you would come to genuinely connect with most of those you worked with.
After that interview—which you passed with flying colors, you spoke with some of the other girls working there and decided to continue with the job opportunity. Much to Yuki’s delight, who’d taken a liking to you almost immediately. After that was the training period - during which you accompanied some of the other rental girlfriends on their dates.
You were introduced to some as their friend—and as many guys as expected were actually flattered to be seen with two ‘girlfriends’ in public.
You took notes on conversation topics. You watched their behaviours.
You understood how they’d change their approaches according to the needs of their clients, and you absorbed it all.
After a few weeks of observation, you were finally added to the roster of rental girlfriends to go on your own dates.
You just didn’t expect to shoot to the top of the ranks.
#1 in Tokyo.
Perhaps one of the Top 5 in the entire country—only three years after starting, in your fourth year of university.
The clients adored you.
They draped you in gifts. They went on repeat dates - spending extra just for a minute of your time, though you often refused the additional amounts. Of course, there would be no funny business (and this was something you made quite clear within the first few minutes of meeting a new client). And excluding one or two unsavory clients that were quickly blacklisted from Doki Doki, you’d grown rather fond of your regulars.
There was the older woman who’d practice speaking to women through you- for when she planned on getting her first girlfriend. There was the excitable college student who tested out date spots with you. There was the pensioner who wished to take a monthly stroll through the park, simply talking about their day.
It was the feeling of belonging amongst strangers. Connecting with people you never could have imagined finding common ground with before.
And you believe, through this line of work, you began to understand humans better.
Humans were all just…really, really lonely.
Choso had been the same when he came to you.
It had been a working day like any other - you’d been called to the front desk of Doki Doki in order to be given a briefing of your next date. It was all standard processes, really.
Name: Kamo Choso
Age: 23
Occupation: Student
Prior appointments: None.
Prior love life: None.
Purpose: Client seeks a rental girlfriend to sit through a family dinner with his family, pretending to be his girlfriend. Prior backstory required to be able to maintain the conversation and create the illusion of a loving relationship (5 months). Flirting and mild physical affection.
Extra notes: Client says to please be wary of his extra ‘rowdy’ family.
And so, you’d accepted.
You met up with the aforementioned Choso—and found yourself a little taken aback at just how…cute he was.
Nerdy. Nervous.
Pushing his glasses up as he frantically introduced himself - that, too, messing his name up a few times before actually telling you.
Exactly your type. Yuki had been right.
He was your age, and went to - it turns out - the same university as you. Though the two of you hadn’t seen each other before, Choso confessed that that might be because he was cooped up in the library most of the time.
He bowed at least a dozen times through apologies for the trouble- even though you assured him that meeting a family wasn’t anything out of your way. And then he insisted on paying extra, on coming up with a code should you want to leave, on—you shook your head and grabbed his hand. “So, how did we meet, boyfriend?”
You always did enjoy the ones where big families were involved - sure, they might be more awkward in the long run…but those types of dates always did manage to make you feel so warm inside. Big families. Big emotions.
And the biggest, perhaps, of all had been meeting the Itadori family.
They’d been unlike any other family you’ve ever met.
And that was saying a lot.
Thus, you’re letting out a prolonged sigh the moment you’re stepping outside—it was some downtown diner that the six of you had ended up at after your less-than-ceremonious exit at the ice cream parlor. Sukuna had been craving something hearty after living through that introduction on just sweets and coffee - and Jin had suggested one of their favorite ramen places.
It was only after you’d sat down with them at one of the booths - the one they called their ‘usual’ - that Jin had revealed that when they referred to it as ‘their’ ramen place—they really meant the their.
In everything but ownership.
This was the first restaurant they’d gone to celebrate Choso’s first birthday, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Jin’s mother had passed, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Yuji was born and Jin was granted full custody.
And you couldn’t help but feel a strange sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. What was that you said about family-oriented dates being the most awkward in the long term?
At least the ramen had been the best you’d ever tasted- and the conversation flowed freely. Even Sukuna seemed to forgo his initial suspicion to make some conversation with you on Akihabara’s best spots.
And in the end, you were walking out of that ramen restaurant with a full stomach and an even more full heart.
Waving to the retreating backs of Jin, Sukuna, Wasuke, and a sleeping Yuji—you’re turning to Choso once they were completely out of sight. “Your family is…”
“Abhorrent?” He pushes his glasses up with a crooked smile. Choso had eased up around you significantly compared to your initial meeting outside the Doki Doki building, stammering through an adequate backstory for your faux-relationship, though he still seemed to be the nerve-wracked type.
“No…” You pretend to think.
“Overbearing?”
“No.”
“Savages?”
“Certainly not.”
“The servers at that ice cream parlor would disagree.” Choso mutters, “How about aneurysm-causing?”
“No.” You’re shaking your head once again, before turning to him with a smile. “They’re loving.”
Choso says nothing, but the tips of his ears burn.
“They care about you a lot- even your uncle was making sure I wasn’t some stranger just taking your money.” Well…
The long-haired man pushes his glasses up with a sputter of confirmation- or at least something that sounds like it. “I-I suppose ah- in their own…ways they’re rather…” Choso swallows a few times, and you’re watching his face as he does so—the Sun was dipping past the horizon now, and cracking its golden yolk over the grooves of his worried face. Handsome. Choso Kamo was just so handsome.
With his lashes dark and draping over his cheekbones. With his lips pouty and bitten whenever he was thinking deeply about something. With his stature so tantalizingly tall—though he didn’t even seem to be aware of it, as he navigated the world like a newly-birthed fawn.
He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen - glasses and all.
“—caring.” Choso finally finishes his sentence.
You’re letting a smile stretch across your lips- and before you can think twice, you’re clasping Choso’s hand once more. You’d been doing it so often over the course of the date that it almost feels- natural now.
“You know…you paid for five hours of my time, Choso. Do you know how much more time we have left?”
“Two hours, fourteen minutes and—” He grows ever-redder as he stares down at you. Were you…leaning in? Pressing yourself against him? Fuck. “-f-fifteen seconds.”
“Mmmm, I do love a smart boy.” Beginning to tug him in another direction from the path to the Doki Doki building - though you leave enough leeway that he can stop should he want to. Choso follows you like a dog on a leash. “I don’t usually do this, but if you want to spend the rest of your time with me then…I know this ah- other place we can go to?”
“Like you want me to c-call my family back for another family dinner?” Choso asks, eyes bulging.
“Oh no, no.” You laugh. “This place isn’t family friendly at all.”
.
.
.
“A-a love hotel-”
“One room, please. Standard.” Interrupting Choso, you smile at the receptionist.
“Will that be for an allocated time or overnight?”
“Hmm…” You glance sidelong at the gawking Choso next to you- looking around the hotel lobby as though it was some sort of attraction. “Overnight, please.”
As the woman behind the desk continued tap-tap-tapping away at her keyboard, you take a moment to look at Choso - now adjusting his glasses to make sure that he was seeing right. That really was a bowl of condoms sitting on the front desk. As the heat rushes up the back of his neck, you’re wrapping your arms around one of his own—and pressing your body against his. “Everything alright, Cho?”
He’d been like this ever since you started heading him in the direction of the glitzy love establishment. Pink walls. Fluorescent lights. He’d agreed to going…elsewhere to continue your date- but he’d expected your apartment or something! Choso had been stunned but allowed you to lead him in front of the love hotel, and once outside you turned towards him once more. It was the first time you yourself was doing this with who was supposed to be a client. “And you’re really su-”
“Yes.”
And that was that.
The lobby was quiet…too quiet. In a way that made your spine tingle with anticipation.
“That’s a…a real bowl of condoms.” He exclaims- earning a look from the receptionist.
“That is. Is this your way of saying that we don’t need any?” You joke…mostly. Then the key gets slid over to you - Room 143 - and you’re nodding at the receptionist. “Thank you.”
The two of you make your way down the lust-pink corridor and take the elevator up to your room - jamming in the key to open up a space that looked as if a honeymoon threw up all over it. Rose petals on the floor. Faux candles flickerin’ on the beside cabinet. Rows upon rows of even more condoms lined on the middle of the queen-sized bed.
If you looked at it from the right angle, it formed a few hearts.
“I didn’t mean we shouldn’t use them…” Choso’s the first one to speak- and he visibly gulps as you close the door behind you two. “It’s just…I-I’ve never done this before.”
Your eyes widen—you’d been suspecting this ever since you entered. But to have it actually confirmed…“No fooling around before finals or anything? Nothing to de-stress?”
He shakes his head n’ bites his lower lip. “Nothing. I haven’t even had my first kiss, to be honest…” Choso looks up at you with those nervous eyes. “Is that okay?”
“Okay?” You smile. Walking over to twist your hands into his lapels- and tug him to you. “It’s perfect. And since you’ve shared a secret with me, I’m gonna share one with you, okay?”
He nods.
And so you’re leaning in so that your lips are grazing - just grazing - his pretty, blushing ears. “It turned me on more than it should’ve, seeing you on your knees in that parlor.”
Choso gasps-
And then your lips are on his.
Then you’re tucking his cute, shivering bottom lip into your mouth—and sucking softly. Choso lets out the most guttural groan at the act- and his hands tremble in mid-air not knowing what to do.
“Don’t be shy.” You’re cooing at him - reaching up and guiding one of his hands to be on the back of your neck—the other one on your ass. You lean into his surprisingly firm chest, “Although…I find it really cute when you’re shy.”
His involuntary whimper gets swallowed up by your own lips.
You’re the one that’s guiding him through the sensual motions of your mouth. Kissing and kissing him till he’s senseless.
Till those thick glasses of him have been knocked ever-so-slightly askew.
Till you’ve left him weak in the knees - literally.
Choso Kamo is melting into you—he’s letting his hands grasp your body as though a forgetting man holding onto his last memory, a drowning sailor holding onto a lifeboat. It doesn’t even feel real to him. And he can’t stop himself as his hands, his body, his knees buckle n’ he’s sliding doooooown the expanse of your body- lips breaking contact with yours with a pained grunt.
Before he knows it, his knees are hitting the floor.
And he’s peering up at you with a desperate expression; brows pinched, mouth kiss-bitten and trembling. Expression something of dazed awe. It makes your pussy clench at just how utterly pathetic he looks. “Everything alright, baby?”
“Ngh- yes.” You watch as one of his hands automatically shoots to cover his crotch - he was rock-fucking-hard already.
“You suuuuure?” Teasing. There’s a devilish twinkle in your eyes that’s reflected through his as utter indigence.
And without saying anything more, you step backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Bouncing a few times. You’re sitting yourself down on the plush bedsprings, crossing your legs- and watching him through half-lidded eyes. Not a single word comes out of you.
But it doesn’t take a single word for Choso to realize what you wanted with a jolt—
He crawls to you.
He crawls to you.
Choso’s letting his features twist into something akin to embarrassment - with the tips of his ears so red that they were practically radiating heat - as he edges closer. As he shifts on his knees. As he crawls just as he had been doing in the ice cream parlor—except this time, the only cherry he was searching for was that cute lil’ wet spot between your legs.
Your dress was short and already hiked up to reveal those pale pink panties.
Was that a little bow on top?
Though it seems like an age before he’s finally able to reach close enough to affirm that- yes, that was a little bow on top. Choso finally manages to without combusting, and looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes.
“Please…” He begs.
You’re softly caressing his cheek- almost lovingly. And Choso’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch in an almost feline manner.
Moving to his jawline. Moving to the back of his sweaty scalp.
And then you’re shoving his pretty face between your legs—and Choso’s letting himself gladly be shoved. Manhandled. His chin sticks against the foamy mess of your panties, so wet with all your leaking juices. His nose digs between the plushest parts of your swollen pussylips. And Choso lets out a hallowed breath as he gapes his mouth ever-so-slightly wider-
“Awww, why so shy, baby?” You’re cooing down at him.
With your hand clasped onto the back of his head- you’re guiding Choso’s mouth to better plaster against your pussy. For him to find his balance.
“S-s’like a second kiss.” Choso sputters out. And you’re grinning.
“Naughty, are we?” You had a feeling that this was going to be a loooooot of fun…
Choso’s mouth was parted. And his lips were rubbin’ incessantly up and down the outline of your cunt—up and down, up and down.
That flimsy fabric of your panties was just glued to your sopping wet pussy, and he’s able to slot his lips over your folds perfectly. Managing to string down a line of hot wet kisses where you needed him the most- “Mmmm…” You’re arching your back with a deep groan as his nose fits between your pussylips—the pointed tip pressing on your clit. “Just like that, Cho. You can go deeper if you like, y’know that?”
“H-how, baby?” He rasps. Those pleading eyes of his were just so cute- and Choso can’t last too long speaking without pressing a few more open-mouthed kisses on your cunt.
“You want me to teach you?” You’re asking him, to which he nods. “Mmm, well open your mouth a little wider- just a little wider-”
And he does- his cute canines snaggin’ against the top of your pussylips.
“You can just start off by kissing lightly, baby. Remember how we did all that kissing earlier?” Nodding once more. “Yeah- just try to replicate that.”
“M’gonna do my best, baby…” He’s starting off soft at first- slow. Almost timid in his movements as he properly slots his mouth over your pussy - over your panties - and kisses n’ sucks lightly.
“Fuck- you study biology, so you know where the good spots are, hm?”
“The glans clitoris a-and the…” Kitten kisses. “-the labia minora contain an immense number of nerve endings.” Chaste pecks—but every single droplet of your pussy’s juices splashed onto his tongue seems to leave Choso Kamo reeling.
Eyes drawing to the back of his head. Ragged pants emanating from the back of his throat.
And he’s pushing himself deeper, deeper, deeper - making out with your pussy so desperately, depravedly that his glasses were crushing against your pelvis—“Easy there, baby. Easy.” The only way to even get him to take a breath is to tug him back using his hair. “We have more than ‘nough time, okay?”
“Mhmmmm…” He nods through a pout- lips sucking off the juices seeped into your panties. “All night.”
“Eager boy. Next, I want you to use your tongue, okay?” His expression turns into something startled. “What? Not scared are you, Cho?”
Choso shakes his head furiously—as though he couldn’t stand the mere thought of it. “N-no.” He hisses, hot breath gluing to your leaking core - the way he was just so…greedy to lavish your pussy left you even wetter. And he was gladly allowing the excess residue to land all over his face and end up sliding off, “No no no- not at all. This pretty labia- Mmmpf—”
Whatever else was on the tip of his tongue gets muffled-
For then Choso’s flattening his tastebuds on top of your pussy. Those swollen pussylips. Movin’ his muscle siiiiiiide to the siiiiiide and then up and down the line of your slit.
You whine, “Oh- just fuck me with it.” Tugging on his locks, “Fuck me with your tongue- ngh, the way I know you’ve been wantin’ to since we met. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me…”
“I was…” He pleads. He prays between your legs. Zig-zagging his tongue wildly.
And then after he’s sucked off your panties all clean - Choso reaches one of his hands upwards to try and take off those useless undergarments-
But you’re faster than him.
And you’re stopping him with a searing pull at his scalp. The nerdy man lets out a sudden yelp and looks at you with the prettiest doe-eyes. “Ah ah—” It almost ached your heart to act so mean to him, not giving him exactly what he wanted. But more than your heart- it was your pussy that was throbbing. “Now who said you’ve earned the right to take them off, hm?”
“B-but…” Choso’s peripherals widen - they were glazed-over with lust. “How can I reach the tunica mucosa if I don’t take off—”
“You don’t have to take it off, right?” You hum. “Eat me out through my panties-”
Just the mere sound of that sentence makes Choso moan.
“-and…” And you’re cocking your head to get a better look at where his hips were starting to rut. Against the rickety frame of the love hotel’s bed, he was grindin’ and crushing what seemed to be an aching erection. “-don’t touch yourself, either.”
Choso’s free hand immediately halts in its tracks.
He’s shooting you a pained look- but more than that, it was flooded with pure, unabashed need.
Something dark. Something primal.
Choso’s tipping his head back and letting you plough your pussy against his mouth- in rough, rapid grinds. You don’t wait a single moment for him to catch his breath—and that seems far from his main priority in the first place. He’s merely flopping his lengthy tongue out - so pinkish n’ pretty - and slithering it past your panties.
Riiiiiight underneath, after a few tries he manages to ease it past the rim of your puckered entrance.
You’re letting out a semi-shocked gasp once you feel your convulsing walls streeeeetching at the girth of him. He was thicker than you’d expected- with the ridges of his tastebuds melding to your inner channel. And without any experience, Choso doesn’t know how to ease into it - which works just as well for you as he’s expanding his thick tongue inside of you. And then thrashing n’ thrashing away. “Sh-shit, keep going, Cho.”
“What- hck! what do I have to do?” He manages to somehow ask between heavy gulps. And even that amount of time spent parted with your pussy means that he’s letting out loooong, luxurious licks inside your velvety walls to make up for it.
“H-huh?” You blink down at him through your bleary eyes. “Keep going, ngh- faster, baby.”
“No, I just meant…” Choso blinks those big, beautiful peripherals at you. He kept both hands on your thighs to press himself ever-deeper—he couldn’t get enough. “-what do I have to do t-to take off your panties? I wish to see all of you…that pretty vulva like a flower, the- ngh, prepuce…”
The mere thought has him ruttin’ away against the bed once more.
“How about you make me- haaaah, cum, baby? Hm?” You smile down at the desperate man, “And you have to do it before cumming yourself, m’kay?”
He can’t remove your panties.
He can’t touch himself.
He can’t cum before stuffin’ his face between your legs and making you cum first—
Choso was in heaven.
Even through the obscurement of his now-fogged glasses, Choso’s features twist into something primal- and he lets out a looooow whine before drag-drag-dragging his tongue into your clingy walls again. Thrusting in and out at a frenzied pace—the nerd was eating you out like a man starved.
Almost wolfish.
Choso was suckin’ and biting and snarling deep into your cunt. His glasses stick against your clit, and every single time he was forced to part with your pussy in order to breathe felt like fucking torture to him. “The clitoral nerve network consists of about 8000 to- ngh, over 10000 nerve endings-” Before you know it, he’s spitting. Letting it smear down your panties. Then dragging one of his calloused thumbs down that buttony nub. “-and baby, I need you to feel every single one.”
“Ohhhhh, fuck.” Your back arches deeper into him. Hands planting against the mattress in order to steady yourself, “A man that knows anatomy is dangerous.”
“And then the tunica mucosa…those spots there are also-” Such a priggish smile spreads across Choso’s mouth - one that you’re feeling on your cunt - as he swabs his tongue inside and stimulates some of those sweet nerve endings he was talking about. The hooked end of his muscle pushes apart your clingy walls, and somehow manages to find those sensitive areas so easily- “-effective…”
“Shut up and eat me out.” Pushing him deeper between your legs.
“A-and that’s not to mention—” But of course, you should’ve known that it isn’t easy to shut a STEM major up when it comes to their subject of interest. Choso most of all. And that nerdy man is babbling away whilst he’s slipping his tongue in and out, in and out, of you at a furious pace- until it was nothing but a pinkish blur squeezing away between your pussylips. “-the Gräfenberg spot-”
“You mean the g-spot?!” You’re wailing out.
“My favorite.” Choso nods, with your clit sucked into his mouth. Holding your panties to the side. He now alternates between rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub, and pushing it deep into your hole—stretchin’ you out juuuuust enough for his fingers to slip n’ squelch their way inside.
You’re letting out the shrillest keen as two of his fingers scissor apart your cunt’s walls, pushing up into their spongy surroundings to mold his sheer size into you. He’s softer on the tips of his digits, and rougher against the sides - “Easy there. Fuck, easy…” Choso’s sucking in a harrowed breath.
“I should be the one saying that to you.” You huff. Because Choso wasn’t dry-humping the foot of the bed whilst eating you out anymore - he was way past that.
Now solely keeping himself pushed- wedged in one place because just a little more friction and he’s bound to be cumming. “I-I’m alright, baby.” He tells you, “The Gräfenberg spot is located on the anterior wall, so right…up…”
Just a single press up into the roof of your cunt makes you buck - not having pressed on your sweetest spot just yet but-
“And then about two- three inches deeeeeep—” The loudest, sloppiest squelch! echoes across all four corners of the love hotel room as he eases inside. Roverin’ about inside your tight, wet channel for a few strokes before an explosion of pleasure runs right through you. “-right- there-”
“Fuuuuuuuck, oh.” You simper out. “There- right there- ngh.”
And then he’s thump-thumping his perfect fingers inside your cunt- accurately pinpointing that one spot inside you with his digits like a searchlight. Again and again. And don’t think that his mouth wasn’t working overtime—Choso kept his maw permanently gaped on top of your clit and had his lips hollowed with a constant suctioning motion.
Letting out broken moans off into your cunt all the while-
Choso manages to slip in a third finger- though those damn panties kept getting in the way. “Baby…” There’s a rasping, almost guttural tone to his words that you don’t recognize at first- you’re even raising onto your elbows to make sure that this was the same Choso Kamo.
But it sure was.
Glasses pressed up against your cunt—getting wetter by the second. “Baby, you’re experiencing vaginal contractions and tremors. Your pulse is faster. Your transudate is leaking even more- you’re getting wetter. And your clitoris is growing even, mmm-” He savors the feeling of your nub being pulled n’ dragged into his mouth. “-more swollen.”
“A-and that means…?” Though you already have an inkling of it.
“You’re going to orgasm, baby.” He never sounded more confident than when he was speaking science between your pussylips. “And I need you to cum aaaaaall over my mouth, okay?”
“Was planning to.” You whisper-
And it’s with a few more strokes, with a few more gashes of your pussy against his face, that the pressure that’d been building in your pelvic region finally explodes.
It thrums through your body faster than you can announce it—making every single vein, artery, and axiom within you vibrate until they’re sizzling at the sheer pressure. It felt as though your body was on fire. And the hottest it could get was at your sopping core- shoved against Choso’s pretty plush mouth and getting draaaagged through the violent peaks of your high.
The best you’ve ever had.
Choso manages to locate your g-spot right when the pleasure was hitting you the most - and you’re getting the faint suspicion that he was counting your throb-throb-throbs until he’d timed it just right. “One…two…”
Thrashing his fingers deepest.
Damn-near tearing your panties.
Shoving his erection against the bed.
And his tongue would move over your clit in an almost soothing motion- “Your vasocongestion m-means you’re sucking me up even- ngh, more. Fucking tight.” He spits. “Myotonia and contractions. Your orgasm’s strong, baby.”
“Didn’t need science to tell me that.” You comment.
Thrown through your orgasm.
It’s a crescendo then a plateau, and then when you’re finally done - Choso keeps jabbing his greedy fingers into you just for a few seconds longer. Fucking you through it. Fucking you past it.
You’re so sensitive by this point that you’re sobbing- pushing on his sweaty forehead. “Baby—oh, baby I’m done.”
“Done…?” He rasps. Eyes bleary as he raises them up, seeing you on your elbows. “Oh.”
“And you did as I wanted.” It takes much more effort than you expected to detach him from your quivering pussy - still a little sensitive from your previous orgasm. It was incredible. A part of you almost couldn’t believe that it’d been poor, inexperienced Choso Kamo that pulled that out of you.
He’s setting your cunt free with a whimper n’ a loooooud slurp!
Watching slack-jawed as you peel off your soaked-through panties and throw it right at him- it makes you gasp when Choso catches it with one hand…
Then brings that flimsy fabric riiiiight up to his face to sniff, to suck off the remnants of your syrupy sap. Not a speck of regret.
“Filthy.” You leer.
And then you’re tightening your hold on him—merely than sound was enough to wrench out a yearning croon from him. Preventing Choso from chasing after your cunt once more, “Now now…you don’t want to continue losing that virginity of yours, baby?”
“I-I do.” He eagerly nods.
“Good. Then get on the bed f’me.” You’re patting at the space beside you.
Soon enough, your positions are somewhat flipped - Choso finds himself lumbering onto the bed. Back against the mattress. Skin searing at the heat that your body had left behind.
He lies where you did- and you’re making quick work of discarding his graphic t-shirt (proudly claiming ‘I found this humerus’ next to a picture of a bone) and his trousers. The tent in his boxers was jaw-dropping—Choso stood proudly erect, thick and looking heavy between his legs, his bulbous tip kept trickling out more n’ more precum the longer you stared.
And had he just…
Taking off his boxers to make sure—you’re revealing his cock. Long and rock-hard.
It slaps against his soft core, and leaves a heart-shaped mark of sap. Just about seven or so inches in length- though the longer your gaze lingers on him…the longer he seems to look. Shit, was he about nine inches, maybe? And he wasn’t too thick - just flared enough at the tip that he’s sure to make your walls feel it.
But Choso had an abundance of pretty, long veins decorating down the shaft—underneath the tip, creating patterns down to his base. One which had a few sparse tufts of curly brown - almost black - hair.
Yet what you’re interested in the most was how Choso was so damn hard that his blushin’ red tip looked just about ready to fall off—
“I c-couldn’t help myself, baby.” Choso admits shyly. His hands reach downwards to try and cover his mess- but you’re waving him off. “Having you cum aaaaall over my mouth made me- ngh, want to cum as well.”
“I can see that.” You smirk.
“I didn’t mean to.” He insists, voice growing urgent as the silence stretches - fearing that you’d perhaps refuse to continue as he somewhat broke his promise. “P-promise, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that your tunica mucosa was squeezing me so tight- and your vaginal lubrication just tasted so sweet-”
“Choso?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Shush.”
“I- oh.”
Because, initially, you’d planned on riding the man senseless. But now you were leering yourself closer—almost sake-like in motion.
Staring deep into Choso’s widening eyes once you’re hovering yourself over his shivering legs. His long abdomen. And pressing a cute peck right on the top of his frothing tip—the splashes of his precum were syrupy-sweet. And they were combining with Choso’s cum from earlier to add a salty tint-
“So messy.” You’re whispering as you run your tongue ‘round and ‘round the top of his shaft. Cleaning him off until he was shining. “Are you gonna make a mess like this inside me too, hm?”
“D-don’t say something like that…s’gonna make me cum again.” Choso pleads.
And he really was serious - his words were on the verge of shattering.
You’re letting out a giggle- right into his aching hot cock. The vibrations sprint through his body and make him buck up into you—body before his mind, he doesn’t even realize until he’s doing so with a startled yelp. “My apologies-”
“Mmm, keep going. Get some practice in before the real deal.” You hum once more.
Choso seems as though he’s about to sob - this was too good for him - as he fucks his cock into your mouth a few more times. You relax your throat to take down most of him, and the parts that you can’t get milked with one hand.
Once. Twice. Thrice and quadruple before his flared tip starts twitchin’ wildly—draaaaagging up the soft insides of your throat, he leaves a salty aftertaste behind that makes you realize…
You’re pulling off of his cock with an emanating pop! “But you’ve got to save that up for inside, got it?”
He’s nodding so hard you idly wonder whether he might get whiplash. “Yes, baby. Anything for you, baby.”
“Mmm…” Climbing up the expanse of his body, you’re kissing Choso squarely with the same lips. “Just how I like it.”
And then your knees straddle Choso’s slender hips, your thighs press against his sweltering skin - you reach behind you to grab ahold of his cock’s base—and the sudden squeeze is enough to make him jolt. Bodily. He’s letting out a visceral shiver, “B-baby…”
You guide his ruddied tip to you—and just the barest, briefest smooch of your sweet pussy makes him jolt. Just feelin’ his hardness press up against your softness.
It makes him drive his hips off the mattress suddenly.
“Ah ah-” You warn. “Take it easy, baby. We have all night, don’t we?”
“But…” Choso’s eyes flicker between your face n’ where the two of you were about to connect. Something in him seems to almost break. So close. So close- “That’s so unfair. Your pussy feels like this and you’re expecting me to take it easy?”
A hand claws down your arched spine.
“Not even the textbooks could replicate how good it feels- m’not even inside you yet and I feel like I’m going insane.”
You swipe a thumb down his throbbing tip—catching a bead of white that was threatening to pour out. “I told you. As long as you keep it inside, Cho.”
And then you’re letting your hips lower - aiming to seat yourself down on that toned pelvis of his. “Ohhhh, fuck.” Your back bends, your head tips backwards as you’re taking in the inches of him. It’s a slow process - given that Choso was much larger than average - and you’re wrenching out primal moans as his thick length invades your core. A sweet prodding vein down the side of him was already massaging your insides—“You’re so big, baby. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”
If he heard you, then he doesn’t make a show of it.
Choso’s handsome features scrunch up into something of pure ecstasy as he dives his cock deeper into you. Hands flying to your waist. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Inside-” He whispers.
“Hmmm?”
“Inside- inside.” Choso gets out through heated pants. His mouth was moving a mile a minute- fuck, even his mind was. But he couldn’t possibly juggle any single coherent thought when his cock was sucked between your soft, soft pussylips and getting practically drained already. “A-am I really going inside? Or is this just a dream, baby?”
Without waiting around for an answer- he’s pinching his arm.
It leaves an angry red mark that proves to him that no…life really was this sweet.
“I am?” As though still in disbelief.
As though this in and of itself would be enough to make him cum and- oh, shit.
He really was cumming.
It seems to take the both of you by surprise, and Choso’s lunging his hips completely off the mattress - slamming his cockhead into the springy back of your cunt.
Bouncin’ off at the sheer force for a few seconds- it isn’t long before he’s then scouring deep into your walls and letting his bawling divot run free. Cumming in less than a single stroke inside you. “Oh- oh, shit.” Choso’s mouth waters, a single line of spittle running from the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry I…”
But he doesn’t have an answer.
He really, truly doesn’t.
“Pussy got your tongue?” You giggle.
This was his first time - and your pussy just felt that good all wrapped ‘round him and keeping him hostage.
His cum’s flooding you with a warmth, spreadin’ from the in-betweens of your legs and then right upwards. The satiny tresses of it rush uuuuup your walls n’ then right back down—those goopy layers then getting fucked back in by his desperate semi-thrusts.
Squelch after squelch as he accumulates the cum like frosting on top of his swirling tip. Shoving.
Choso scrunches his eyes shut and tears start to well up behind- now he was crying, too? Crying just by putting it in?! Buried like this, he feels like he’d do anything for you right now. He feels like he could lay his life on the line for you right now. He feels like—like—he could really truly ask you to become his real girlfriend now…
“Baby, I think I love you.” Choso blubbers up. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Let’s get dinner first.” You giggle, lovingly patting his cheek.
“Oh…”
If you could feel the way his ruddied tip twitches inside you (and you could) then you’re not teasing him for it…much. Simply a smirk before you’re veering your hips down until he’s bottomed-out.
Clit massaging against the scruff of his happy trail. Pussylips struggling to squeeze around his sheer size. “Fuck.” You’re groaning, starting up a lecherous pace that keeps Choso’s toes curled - his head thrown back into the pillows, his skin blushing. He was flustered.
But more than that- he wanted more.
And sending a silent word of gratitude to the chance of the universe and science itself, Choso slithers that same right hand of his between your sultry legs. Sheened with slick.
You were making such a mess fucking him whilst you’re still keeping his cum inside you—he scrapes his calloused thumb up, up, uuuup the few inches of his cock still left to fit inside. Collecting the slimy layers of slick up until the folds of your pussy. Reaching it up to his mouth-
“Now, now.” You tut. “Are we just going to waste that, hm?”
“Oh…you’re right.” With a quiver of his lips, he then plunges it back inside. Then repeats the motion again and again until you’re feeling stuffed to the brim—with both his cock n’ his sappy fluid. Like you said before, it all deserved to stay inside.
And you better keep it.
The rickety bedsprings creeeeeeak—! as he meets your pace.
Choso continues, “Not just cum.” His curvaceous thumb swipes your inner folds again, “But that bulbourethral fluid deserves to stay inside, too. How else m’I gonna fill you up, baby?”
“Oh, of course.” You coo, something sensual. “But don’t think that that’s going to be your last time cumming tonight, Cho.”
His eyes damn-near bulge out of their skull. “E-excuse me?”
“It’s not even your last time cumming in this hour.” Oblivious - or so you pretend to be - to his growing concern n’ his gaping mouth. You’re bowing your body into his—manoeuvring your hips in somewhat of a circular motion, the slightest figure-eights and curves, that drag his tunneling cock juuuuuust right against every nook and cranny of your walls. Every hidden spot. “You’re gonna cum for me at least twice more, right?”
“I-I—I don’t know if that’s even possible!” Choso sputters, pushing his glasses up with his free hand- it was glossy with the excess of your slick from earlier.
And without warning, you’re leaning down to lightly lick off a bit of that glittering sheen.
Choso moans n’ feels his overly-stimulated length jolting away inside of you. “Baby, just consider the refractory period. Has it even been a few minutes since I last…?”
“Just about.” You’re smile. “Should be enough, no?”
“Though it varies based on age and health- when I can cum next depends on the blood redistribution, and how long prolactin and serotonin lasts in the body.” Choso admits then, albeit a bit sheepishly. “And I’m still fuh-feeling so goooood, baby- fuck I can’t—”
“But my smart boy’s gonna find a way, right?” Even if he couldn’t cum again, however - it was just too cute to watch Choso squirm like this. “When I said I wanted it inside, I wanted it stuffed inside, Cho.”
“S-stuffed…” He breathes - almost hypnotized by your pussy.
You’re grinding and swervin’ and clenching around his vein-loaded length in ways he could’ve only ever dreamed about before…“Mhm. Need it pouring out of me.” You beg, putting your best pleading expression on. “Need it up until…”
Hands scouring up his front to press down on your stomach- almost up to your chest.
“-here.”
You pout.
“If m’not bloated with your cum, Cho, is there even a point?”
“No there isn’t.” Choso’s jaw drops—as though the epiphany had just dropped on him. And no sooner are the words leaving his worry-bitten lips, he finds himself pumping wispy ropes of cum deep past your entrance.
He doesn’t even know how he did it.
His body just seems to listen to you more than himself - and Choso jerks his pelvis up in synchronization with the faintish strings of cum that escape him. Thoroughly into your cunt. Thoroughly coating it on top of your womb.
You’re shivering as you feel the thin excess thwack! against your deepest innards. Such a lecherous feeling that cannot be replicated.
Every time he strikes your spongy cervix, Choso lets out a sudden whimper. He sobs. He groooans. He’s fighting to clamor onto your body in any possible way that he could - your waist, your legs, your tits. It doesn’t matter where, Choso just needed to grab ahold of you and perhaps try to get you to fucking slow down—
“Please.” Every single letter in that word is botched with a cry, “P-please. Baby, keep riding me like this and you’re going to make me cum again-”
“Isn’t that the point? Third time’s the charm?” You ask.
“Oh…” It’s then that he remembers that you’d said twice more- he has to cum twice more. Hiccuping, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Cocking your head with a smile, “And would you like to stop?”
“Not at all.”
Then you’re planting one hand in the middle of his defined chest for balance. Throwing your head back and ridin’ him silly.
Choso cries beneath you. Choso babbles. Torn between the pleasure of having those sweet, sopping lips wrapped ‘round him- and the insanity of his orgasm just barely bating before you’re attempting to hurtle him into another one. This was almost too much for his just recently-lost virginity, but Choso begs for more, more, more. “Please- please- that anterior wall of yours is so clo-”
With your other set of fingers then shoved into Choso’s pretty mouth- spit splashes from the sides of his lips. But he’s taking you so happily—“No no, keep going.” You tell him once his brows raise in surprise, “I just wanna watch my poor boyfriend struggle just a bit.”
“Mmmmpf- soooo good.” He lets out an agonized moan, muffled through the intrusion of your digits. You’re swirling them ‘round his mouth and watching him lightly choke on them. “I need to c-cum just once more, huh?”
Choso’s tears were enough to wash off the fog from his glasses lens.
And he blinks those teary eyes up at you - a few times before one of his hands slithers between your legs. Almost difficult, considering how the space between your two sweaty, crashing bodies was practically non-existant—but his long fingers find a way to thumb apart your puffy pussylips. Nearly swollen shut.
He runs the doughy tips of his digits across your clit, “Around it…just light kisses.” Choso murmurs to himself. “Juuust a little- ngh.”
A single squeeze of your fluttering walls leaves him reeling.
“And then the good spots-” Peering down at your glossy cunt through his glasses, his half-lidded eyes. “The primary erogenous zones are the clitoris and introitus. Then the periurethral surrounding the urethra is also…oh…” Alternating between bashin’ his swollen cocktip against your g-spot, and thoroughly massaging every good spot he’d memorized.
“Shit…” You suddenly clench around him. “Keep going.”
He was seeing stars at the mere action. “And then the- hngh, even the perineum…” Fingers dipping just a liiiittle downwards to roll over that spot. He was unabashed - not in the state to be as he usually would. “And then fucking- at least as much as I can…here…” Slack-jawed, gaze unfocused. “My favorite is the clitoris.” The nerd presses the crescent pad of his thumb down on that knob.
Your hips are stutterin’ at the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Choso has taken up stimulating your clit in constant circular motions now. “I th-thought you said your favorite was the g-spot?”
“Both.”
As if on cue, he’s banging his thick tip against that ooooone spot.
Choso was stimulating you almost too well. Leaving you the one speechless as he drills his hips into you at a relentless pace—almost painfully desperate.
“Good boy.” You whisper.
“Just need to make you- mmm, cum soon.” He states. “Because if you cum…then I’m sure to cum, too.”
Shoving a third finger in his mouth, he moans as he sucks. You hum, “And you’re sure you’re a virgin?”
“S’just everything you t-taught me.” He insists, mouth full yet listening to every word you said - if you expected an answer, then he was giving you an answer. “And sometimes…I’d search up…things online…”
“Online? Poor, innocent Choso Kamo watches porn?”
“Not that, I get too shy.” Choso responds. He blushes all the way down to the roots of his hair, “But using my textbooks, I’d- hah, read through them…study them…look at all the diagrams…”
You smirk. “Ever jerked off to a textbook, Choso?”
His jaw drops. “No…” Although you remain rather suspicious of the ever-deepening blush that seems to invade his cheeks—all the way down to his collarbones. “But I did jerk off just today.”
“Today?” One of your brows raise, “Don’t tell me this was- hah, before we met or…?”
He shakes his head. “After. After.” Big, bulbous tears make their way down his cheeks - and Choso tastes the salt on them as they splosh across his lips. You do too, as you kiss him. “S-snuck right into the bathroom at that ice cream parlor and- oh—”
“And what for? Saw a pretty someone at the neighboring table?”
Shaking his head even harder- “It was…you.”
“Me?”
“You said that thing- fuck, you said you needed me.” Choso’s dark chocolate-brown eyes glaze over as if he’s reminiscing the very moment. Living in it. “Under that table. And I couldn’t run to the bathroom faster to r-relieve myself.” Ah, this was that time then…
Your faux-boyfriend’s brows are then knitting.
His cock tunnels into you at an even more accelerated pace - one that leaves your head dizzy. Flinching at every run of his thumb down your pulsing clit.
Choso finishes, “But I only lasted two pumps- the thought of you, ngh—” Thrusting in so deep that it felt as though, if he could go past your gooey cervix, then he long since would have. Choso thumps against the back of your cervix and remains there, “-wrapped around my cock and usin’ me to make your anterior- pussy feel pleasure was just too good of a fantasy for me.”
It’s a lewd admission.
It’s almost startling to hear this from Choso above all.
And it’s exactly what’s making you cum—just in time that he is. Your orgasm is prolonged and has been building up ever since he tickled your g-spot for the first time- “C-cumming—!” Belatedly, the announcement leaves your lips.
But Choso already knows.
He can already feel the rhythmic clenches of your sopping wet walls - the soft thing he’s ever felt. They’re tightening around him and tuggin’ on his pistoning cock like you didn’t fucking want him to leave.
Toes curling. Back arching.
The bang after bang after bang right on that target of your g-spot meant that your orgasm was being intensified. Every peak left your thighs clenching around his waist, and you bounce your hips up n’ down furiously. Up n’ down. Up n’ down. “Yes- yes, yes, yes—and you’re c-cumming too, Cho.”
“I am?” Choso blinks his teary eyes down at your lower halves. The smacking of skin-against-skin was deafening, and Choso’s pelvis was rawly red due to the sheer friction.
But more than that…he was feeling his even redder tip twitch a few times. Once. Twice. Thrice- before the warmth of bliss takes over his body. It’s a wave of euphoria even stronger than the last few, and it makes the nerdy boy flinch his hips up into yours- agonizingly good. He was hammering into you so animalistically- jabbing short, sloppy semi-thrusts. “I am.” Choso gasps out. “I’m cumming-”
He’d predicted as much earlier, but it actually worked?!
“M’filling you up, aren’t I?” Choso blabbers, a crazed smile on his face. “This virgin…I was able to stuff this pussy full.”
Lovingly patting your cunt.
“So much so that- hah, look she’s even struggling to- ngh, take me. That cervix uteri is all flooded, huh? All drenched in me?” Through the waves of your high, you’re feeling your orgasm fizzle and pop as he rolls his thumb doooown your clit a few more times. “And these pretty labia of yours are all swollen- bloated with my cum, hm?”
“Mhm…” Before you blink a few times. “Oh- this one was shorter than the last though, wasn’t it? Maybe we need to go again- heh.”
“S’it already done? I…but I’m still…” Choso jabs out numerous more thrusts before he’s pulling out.
And whilst you’re interested in the squelch! and the feeling of hot, wet cum splashin’ out of you and onto his toned hips—Choso himself is more interested in the way his cock twitched n’ feels like he’s cumming…but nothing is actually coming out.
“Orgasmic anejaculation?” He states in shock. “Baby, you’ve made me cum dry—”
“Oh.” Lips parting, you look down to watch as his pretty reddened tip jolts about irritatedly as though he was in the throes of his orgasm - and he was. It’s just that nothing was coming out.
“I-it’s likely that this is due to the lack of semen replenishment. Thus, if there’s none left to-”
“So fourth time’s the charm, right?” You cock your head down at him with a smile.
Another time?!
His half-hard length twitches in interest.
“You really are going to be the death of me.”
Choso really, really needed to ask you out after this.
.
.
.
Ryomen Sukuna knew that the two of you weren’t dating.
He knew it.
He just had no way to prove it.
That is…until one day, just a week after that initial introduction to you, Jin had bothered Sukuna into visiting his nephew. He’d made some cookies—some of your favorites that you’d briefly mentioned at the ramen place, and Jin had immediately gotten to work scouring through his recipes. Flipping through some of grandma’s old cookbooks - he really did get his love for cooking and baking from her.
And then trialing batch after batch of cookies in order to make the perfect one.
And Sukuna hadn’t minded, of course - no one in the house had. They each got to scarf down the ones that Jin deemed as ‘failed’ and they turned out as great as ever. Sukuna honestly didn’t know what more perfection Jin was searching for—especially not for someone he knew Choso was surely paying you in some manner…
There was no conceivable world in which his nephew - as much as Sukuna respected him, for the sole reason that he was related to him (and anyone in some proximity to the great Ryomen Sukuna can’t be all that bad…) - would ever have enough courage to ask a real person out. Let alone someone as electric as you?
Let alone have you say yes?!
Something was up. And Sukuna was on the case.
At least after he finishes this mountain of cookies…
Either way, it took an entire week for Jin to perfect his cookies. And once completed, he’d thumped Sukuna over the head with a couch cushion and told him to go deliver them to Choso.
Unfortunately they hadn’t managed to catch your address or anything of the sort - and there was no telling when Choso would have enough time between his studies and library-haunting to visit. Thus, it’d be easier to just have Sukuna (who was far too busy doing a whole load of nothing) drop the cookies off at Choso’s apartment and let him give it to you.
Jin could trust Choso with handing them to you safe n’ sound.
He couldn’t trust Sukuna not to swallow them whole on the way, however…
So it was with a tonne of brotherly intimidation and threatening brandishes of that cushion that Jin waved Sukuna off—‘you better not eat those cookies, Ryo.’
But Sukuna promised. He promised.
He had other, more important, things on his mind - like cornering Choso into admitting that the two of you actually weren’t dating. Maybe if he didn’t relent so easily, he’d even look around the apartment to check for signs of you or anything you’d left behind—after five months of dating, surely, there’d be some evidence, wouldn’t there?
And then maybe he’d eat the cookies- hah!
The perfect plan.
Ryomen Sukuna what a genius you were, what a mastermind—who said that Jin was the smarter brother?! It was Sukuna that liked literature and poetry (wait, was nerdiness genetic?) No one should underestimate the sheer underappreciated brilliance of a prodigy like-
“Choso’s uncle?” He gapes as you answer the door- and you’re just as beautiful as he remembered you. And oh, alright—Sukuna admits you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually.
Which is also why he found it hard to believe that Choso could ever manage to bag you- sure, he wasn’t bad looking…but that’s only because Choso was related to him.
Then again, he wasn’t any Ryomen Sukuna.
A Ryomen Sukuna that was feeling rather…a lot…small as he looks at you.
Your eyes widen as you recognize who your visitor was, though your smile never falters.
“Oh, Cho should be right out. Please come in, have you eaten breakfast yet? You should join us!”
Opening the door even wider, though he stands as still as a statue.
“Is…everything alright.”
No movement once more. No answer, either.
“Ummm, maybe it’s more comfortable there then?” You’re awkwardly smiling at his lack of a response - this certainly wasn’t the Ryomen Sukuna that you’d met at the family dinner…And perhaps at the same time, you’re realizing why.
Because you weren’t just answering Choso’s apartment door—you were doing so in nothing but sleep shorts and a humerus-related t-shirt that was most definitely not yours. And above the hem of that ratty t-shirt were a series of bite marks, nail marks down your neck…such an obscene display that makes you immediately yelp and tug your neckline upwards.
Though Sukuna remains gawking. “I uh…”
“I am so sorry.” You’re blubbering away, and when your neckline fails to cover you adequately without showing off the similar marks on your midriff- you’re reaching your hands up instead. “We’d just been making breakfast, and I’d completely forgot-”
“No, that’s fine uh…” Goodness, when has the rough n’ tough Sukuna ever floundered like this? “It’s my fault for coming unannounced um…”
“What’s this?” Another voice sounds from inside the apartment.
Soon enough, Choso’s joining the two of you at the door—he’s in JBA sweatpants and pulling on a t-shirt as he walks. With whatever mercy that the universe had granted Sukuna, Choso sneaks up behind you, so he doesn’t see whatever similar markings might have been left on him as Choso finally wears his t-shirt properly.
There’s amusement in Choso’s tone as he adjusts his glasses and speaks, “I never thought I’d see the day that you apologize to anyone, uncle Ryo.”
Choso throws an arm over your shoulder - the intimacy was palpable. Something far more different than at the ice cream parlor, and yet…Sukuna should’ve recognized the same admiring glint in Choso’s eyes back then, too.
The apartment behind was messy in that domestic way. There were eggs frying on the stove.
“Sh-shut it.” Sukuna spits. “This is all your…girlfriend’s fault.”
Ah, you really were his girlfriend. The great Ryomen Sukuna has been wrong. How could this be? How could he fathom such a thing?
Ryomen Sukuna was having the kind of day that made him want to commit a felony.
Work had been an absolute, unmitigated disaster. His clients were being brain-dead idiots, his emails had been piling up since 6:00 AM, and his boss had the audacity to drop a massive, last-minute project on his desk right as he was packing up to leave. By the time he finally unlocked the front door to your shared apartment, his jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. He was exhausted, he was pissed off, and he was fully prepared to pour himself a massive glass of whiskey and not speak to a single soul for the rest of the night.
He pushed the door open, dropping his keys into the bowl by the entrance with a loud, aggressive clatter. He shrugged off his suit jacket, loosening his tie with a harsh yank.
“I’m home,” he called out, his voice a low, gravelly grumble.
He expected you to be in the kitchen, or maybe curled up on the couch watching some trashy reality TV show. He expected you to ask him how his day was, which would inevitably lead to him ranting for twenty minutes straight.
Instead, there was silence.
Sukuna frowned, his bad mood spiking just a fraction. He walked down the hallway and stepped into the living room.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, hunched over the coffee table. The entire surface was completely covered in hundreds of microscopic, brightly colored plastic bricks. You were wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, your hair tied up in a messy bun that was slowly falling apart.
But the best part? The absolute most ridiculous, endearing part?
You were squinting so hard your nose was scrunched up, and the very tip of your tongue was poking out of the corner of your mouth in pure, unadulterated concentration. Your fingers, which were currently trying to snap a tiny, translucent green piece onto a microscopic brown cylinder, were trembling slightly from the effort.
You hadn’t even heard him come in. You were entirely, completely consumed by your task.
Sukuna stood there in the doorway, his suit jacket dangling from his fingers. He didn’t say a word. He just watched you.
You were a serial hobbyist. Every month, it was something new. Knitting, painting by numbers, making weird little clay frogs that currently haunted his nightstand. He usually just rolled his eyes, funded your little hyper-fixations, and let you do your thing.
But this? This tiny, intricate Lego flower shop you had apparently bought today? It had you in a chokehold.
Snap.
The tiny green piece finally clicked into place.
You let out a massive, dramatic gasp of victory, throwing your hands up in the air like you had just won the Super Bowl. “Yes! Take that, you stupid little plastic bitch!”
Sukuna let out a sudden, loud snort.
You jumped, spinning around so fast you nearly knocked over a pile of pink bricks. When you saw him standing there, your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. The sheer, radiant joy on your face was blinding.
“Babe!” you squealed, scrambling up onto your knees. You carefully scooped up the tiny, completed structure in your hands and held it out toward him like it was the Holy Grail. “Baby, look! Look what I did!”
Sukuna slowly walked over, dropping his jacket onto the sofa. He looked down at your hands.
It was a tiny, incredibly detailed Lego flower shop. And sitting right in front of it was a single, slightly lopsided plastic rose that you had clearly customized.
“I made you this one,” you beamed, your chest puffing out with pride. You were practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s for your desk at work! Because you said your office is depressing! Do you like it?!”
Sukuna stared at the tiny plastic flower. Then, he looked at you.
You had a faint smudge of left over dinner on your cheek. Your oversized shirt was slipping off one shoulder. You were looking up at him with such pure, unfiltered adoration and excitement over a piece of plastic that it actually knocked the breath out of his lungs.
And just like that, it happened.
The stress of the last fourteen hours? Gone. The anger at his clients? Evaporated. The tension in his shoulders, the pounding headache behind his eyes, the overwhelming urge to burn his office building to the ground? It all just melted away, completely washed out by the sheer force of your ridiculous, beaming smile.
He didn’t just love you. That wasn’t a strong enough word anymore.
He looked at you, sitting on the floor surrounded by plastic bricks, offering him a fake flower to make his bad day better, and a single, crystal-clear thought rang through his head like a bell.
I need to marry this girl.
Not ‘I want to.’ Not ‘someday.’ Need. He needed to marry your crazy ass. He needed to lock this down permanently, because if he had to go through the rest of his miserable, stressful life without coming home to you poking your tongue out over a Lego set, he was going to lose his fucking mind.
“Sukuna?” you blinked, your smile faltering just a little when he didn’t immediately respond. You lowered your hands slightly. “Do you… not like it? I know it’s kind of dumb, but—”
“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice thick.
Before you could even process the command, he dropped to his knees right in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that he was crushing at least ten Lego pieces under his expensive suit pants.
He reached out, his large hands gently cupping your face. He didn’t even look at the flower shop. His red eyes were locked entirely on yours, burning with an intensity that made your heart stutter in your chest.
“Babe?” you whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. “Are you okay? Was work bad?”
“Work was a fucking nightmare,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “But I don’t care anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. He let out a long, shaky exhale, the last of his stress leaving his body. “I love it, baby. It’s perfect. I’m putting it right in the middle of my desk.”
Your smile instantly returned, brighter than before. “Really?!”
“Really,” he chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your skin. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, desperate kiss. It wasn’t heated or rough; it was incredibly soft, filled with a kind of overwhelming reverence that made your toes curl.
When he finally pulled back, he kept his face inches from yours. He looked down at your lips, then back up to your eyes.
“I’m gonna marry you,” he said.
It wasn’t a proposal. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of absolute, undeniable fact. He said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather, but the weight behind his words was heavy enough to anchor a ship.
Your brain short-circuited. You sat there, frozen, the tiny Lego flower shop still clutched in your hands. “What?”
“You heard me,” he smirked, his usual arrogant confidence bleeding back into his tone. He leaned in and pressed a loud, wet kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m gonna marry your crazy ass. Put a ring on your finger so big you won’t be able to lift your hand to build these stupid little toys.”
“They’re not stupid!” you squawked, your face flushing bright red as his words finally registered. “And you can’t just drop that on me while I’m holding a Lego!”
“I just did,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, completely ruining your posture. He buried his face in your neck.
You let out a breathless, watery laugh, carefully setting the flower shop down on the table before wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You ran your fingers through his pink hair, feeling the last of the tension bleed out of his muscles.
“Okay,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay, Ryomen.”
“Good,” he mumbled against your skin. He shifted slightly, his knee crunching against a pile of plastic. He winced. “Now, help me up. I think a fucking Lego is embedded in my kneecap.”
accidentally baby trapping satoru while riding him
the room is thick with the smell of sex and sweat. gojo is sprawled beneath you on the ruined sheets, his usual infinity long gone, silver hair sticking to his damp forehead. his chest rises and falls rapidly, pale skin flushed pink all the way down to the sharp v of his hips. you’ve already made him cum once, but you never stopped riding him. now he’s overstimulated, cock still rock-hard and throbbing inside your soaked pussy, every drag of your walls making him twitch and curse.
“fuck—baby, slow down,” he groans, voice hoarse and broken. his fingers dig bruises into your hips as you grind down on him again, taking every inch until his tip kisses your cervix. “i’m too sensitive—shit— you’re gonna kill me.”
you’re not listening. not really. your own orgasm is already building again, hot and vicious, your clit grinding against his pelvis with every roll of your hips. you’re dripping down his cock, creamy white streaks of both your releases coating his shaft and dripping onto his balls. the wet, filthy sounds echo with every bounce.
“you feel so fucking good, satoru…” you whimper, bracing your hands on his abs and lifting yourself until only his flushed tip is inside you, then slamming back down hard. his cock stretches you so perfectly, thick and veiny, pulsing against your walls like it was made for you.
gojo’s head tips back, white lashes fluttering, mouth open in a silent moan. “princess—ahh—fuck, i’m serious. i’m gonna cum again if you keep—ngh—keep squeezing me like that.” his abs tense under your palms, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet your rhythm.
you lean forward, pressing your tits against his chest, and start riding him faster. the new angle makes his cock drag right over that spongy spot inside you with every thrust. your pussy flutters and clenches greedily around him, milking his overstimulated length without mercy.
“shit—wait, baby—slow— i’m close again,” he gasps, voice cracking. his hands slide up your back, then back down to grip your ass, trying to control your pace. “you gotta pull off— i can’t— fuck, i’m gonna cum inside if you don’t—pull out—!”
the words barely register. everything feels too good. his cock is swelling even thicker inside you, twitching wildly, the heat of him overwhelming. your thighs burn, your clit throbs, and another orgasm is rushing up on you like a freight train. instead of lifting off, you grind down harder, rolling your hips in tight circles so his cock stirs deep in your pussy.
you cum with a broken cry, walls clamping down around him like a vice. your cunt spasms violently, rhythmic pulses squeezing and fluttering around his cock as pleasure whites out your vision. gojo chokes on a moan, hips stuttering up into you.
“fuck— no, wait— i’m cumming— i’m—!”
he tries to pull you off at the last second, but your thighs lock tight around his waist, keeping him buried to the hilt. thick, hot ropes of cum flood deep inside you as he cums harder than the first time. pulse after heavy pulse, his cock jerking and spurting against your cervix while your pussy keeps milking him through your own orgasm. you don’t stop moving—riding him through it in sloppy, desperate strokes, prolonging both your highs until his cum is leaking out around his cock with every bounce.
gojo’s eyes roll back, a wrecked, broken sound leaving his throat as you keep fucking yourself on his oversensitive dick. “too much—fuck— you’re still going—hah— you little menace…”
only when your orgasm finally ebbs do you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting, trembling, and covered in sweat. his cock is still buried deep in your cum-stuffed pussy, twitching weakly with aftershocks. you can feel how full you are—his warm seed sloshing inside you with every tiny shift of your hips.
gojo lets out a breathless, slightly delirious laugh, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you flush against him. one hand slides down to press firmly on your lower belly, right where his cum is settled deep.
“you… you didn’t pull off,” he murmurs against your hair, voice rough and sex-drunk. there’s a dark, possessive edge beneath the amusement. “i told you to pull out and you just rode me harder. greedy girl.”
you hide your flushed face in his neck, smiling against his skin as you give one slow, lazy roll of your hips. his cock twitches inside you again, pushing more of his cum deeper.
“oops,” you whisper, clenching around him on purpose.
gojo groans, hips bucking up weakly. “yeah… real convincing ‘oops.’” he kisses the top of your head, then tilts your chin up so he can claim your mouth in a messy, tongue-heavy kiss. when he pulls back, his blue eyes are half-lidded and hungry. “guess you baby-trapped me, huh? fuck… why is that so hot?”
his hand rubs slow circles over your belly. you can feel his cock starting to harden again inside your messy, cum-filled cunt.
“you’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice dropping lower as he starts rocking up into you again, slow and deep. “not until i fill you up at least one more time. since we’re already making a mess… might as well commit.”
you moan softly, already moving with him.
looks like you’re keeping every single drop tonight.
A little roll of your hips has got Satoru whining beneath you
MDNI: based on this request <3 :dry humping, satoru being somewhat needy
Click.
Satoru's eyes snapped open, that devastating blue gaze zeroing in on you with laser focus. "Did you just—"
"No idea what you're talking about." You're already pulling your phone close to your chest, grinning like you've gotten away with one of your best coup.
But you absolutely haven’t.
"Liar," he drawls, and before you can even think about scrambling away, his hand shoots out and plucks your phone right out of your grasp without any type of struggle. "Let's see what we have here, hmm?"
"Satoru, give it back—"
He's holding it high above his head, that insufferable smirk spreading across his face as he lounges back against the pillows. The bastard looks like some kind of god reclining on a cloud, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips with his shirt messily ridden up from sleep, white hair mussed up and looking absolutely edible.
Which is exactly why you took the photo in the first place, this was truly a sight to keep in memory.
"Come and get it if y’want it so bad," he sing-songs, waving your phone tauntingly.
You narrow your eyes. "You're such a child."
"And you're a little creep, taking photos of me while I'm sleeping." His grin widens. "What were you gonna do with that, huh? Add it to your collection?"
Heat floods your cheeks. You didn’t have an official collection, no, but you should consider it at this point with the hundreds of pics you had of your boyfriend. "I don't have one"
"Sure you don't." He's enjoying this far too much, the smug asshole.
Fine.
You shift onto your knees, eyeing the distance between you and your phone. He's got his arm stretched up, and even lying down, his reach is annoyingly long, but you're not about to let him win this.
"You asked for this," you mutter, reaching up toward the phone.
He just laughs as you stretch, your body arching upward. "Getting desperate, are we?"
"Satoru, I swear—"
You're climbing onto his lap, your knees settle on either side of his hips, your focus is entirely on that phone dangling above you—so close, just a little higher—
"Oh, come on—" you huff, stretching upward. Your chest is pressed against him as you reach up, but you barely notice, too focused on your poor phone.
He could only laugh at your failing attempt, pushing his hair back with his free hand. "What's wrong? Can't reach?"
You rock forward on his lap, using the momentum to push yourself higher. Your fingers brush the edge of the phone case.
His breath hitches, his smirk faltering slightly, but of course you don't notice.
You freeze for a split second, then push up again, grinding against him as you stretch. So close.
"You can—" His voice comes out strained. "You can do better than that."
You glance down at him, confused by his tone but assumed that he was just being his usual taunting self. "Oh, I'll show you better—"
You shift your weight to have a better grounding, rocking against his lap as you make another grab for the phone. The angle gives you more height, more reach, just as you're about to touch it your swing gets complete disturbed by Satoru’s loud, obnoxious, moan.
You stop immediately, hands dropping to his chest as concern floods through you. "Wait—Satoru, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
That's when you feel it.
Oh.
He's hard—achingly hard—pressed right up against you through his sweatpants, hot and throbbing beneath you, and suddenly his breathlessness made perfect sense.
"Well shit,” He lets out a tight laugh, cheeks flushed red as his free hand comes up to grip your hip, keeping you pressed right on him. "D-Don’t stop—" His hips buck up, seeking that tasty friction. "M'so close already—"
Your face is burning, feeling yourself getting worked up from his lewd expression only. "Are you for real—"
"Don't you dare stop now." He warns, that infamous Gojo Satoru, always so in control—reduced to this trembling hard mess beneath you all because you wiggled a bit on his lap.
"I didn't mean to—" you stammer, but his grip on your hip tightens, keeping you firmly in place, your phone now hanging loosely in his hand.
"Sure you didn’t." That grin returns, still very devastating despite the flush spreading up his neck now. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide and making sure to look at all of you. "Just a little more?"
"Satoru—"
He rocks his hips up against you, and you gasp at the delicious friction, so so close yet so far. "Come on baby, you can’t keep grinding that perfect ass like that right on my and—fuck—"
His head falls back against the pillow as you shift slightly, your body responding as your mind tries to catch up.
Both his hands grip your hip now, your phone long forgotten somewhere on the bed, guiding you into a slow roll against him. "There you go, just like that—"
You bite your lip trying to suppress a whimper, and his grin turns absolutely feral.
"That's my girl." His voice drops with a whine. "Keep going, please." He’s looking at you with those puppy eyes, a glint of dare shining through.
Your hands are still braced against his chest, clenching around the fabric of his black shirt; you can feel his heart hammering beneath your palms. He's completely at your mercy despite his cocky attitude, which is honestly no surprise to you.
You roll your hips deliberately this time, grinding down onto his throbbing length with purpose, tearing a low groan from his throat.
"Yes—god, just like that," His fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements as his hips buck up to meet you. "Don't stop, don't you fucking stop— come’ere"
His hand slides up under your shirt from behind, palm hot against your bare skin as he yanks you down flush against him.
"fuck, right there—"
The angle shifts and suddenly he's grinding directly against your core. The sudden shift had you panting over him, catching your clit just right through your pyjamas.
"That's it, baby, grind on my cock just like that—" Both hands grip you possessively now—one still beneath your shirt, nails dragging down your spine, making sure to keep your body pressed against him, the other digging bruises into your hip as he rocks you against him with desperate, filthy strokes. "Hah…you feel so fucking good—"
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth opening and dragging against your skin, tongue laving over the sensitive flesh before his teeth scrape and bite. "Fuck you look good with those—hah—"
You can already feel the bruises forming—deep purple proof of his tiny obsession with you.
"Satoru—oh god—"
Your fingers twist in his shirt, holding on as he grinds you down harder. The friction is absolutely maddening, you can feel it now—the wet spot forming on his sweatpants, hot and slick where his cock is leaking through the fabric.
"Say it again—" He groans against your neck, sucking another bruise right below your ear. "Say my name again baby please.”
You roll your hips to counter his thrusts, giving him right back what he’s been giving you.
“‘Toru, need more–“
You feel him throb against you, hands and arms holding you down on him like a body pillow. "Fuck—keep doing that—"
The hand under your shirt slides around to your front, grabbing, groping, anything he can reach. "So fucking perfect—ngh—gonna come—" The wet heat of his bulge is absolutely sinful even through layers of fabric.
"Gonna make me—shit—" His teeth sink into your shoulder as his whole body goes buckles beneath you. "Sweets oh fuck—"
You feel him pulse against your sensitive core, your own hips never stopping their long and steady strokes, his cock jerking as he spills into his sweatpants with a long, broken moan muffled against your skin. "Yes—fuck yes—keep going—hah—"
He’s rolling his hips against yours in contrast, smearing his mess everywhere—being extremely bold absolutely filthy about it. He's twitching against you, soaking through the fabric as he rides it out.
"Fuck—" He's gasping, trembling, still clutching you against him like a support plushie.
His chest heaves against yours, breath coming in ragged pants against your neck. You can feel his heart absolutely hammering, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.
"Fucking hell sweets," he breathes, his grip on you loosens just slightly, hands sliding down to rest more gently on your hips.
He lifts his head from your neck, those blue eyes unfocused and hazy, still drunk on his release until his eyes land on yours. "What?"
"My phone." You're already patting around the rumpled sheets beside him, trying to ignore the mess between your thighs and the way he's still half-hard beneath you. "Where'd you drop it?"
"You're—" He lets out an incredulous laugh, head falling back against the pillow. "You're asking about your phone right now?"
"Yes?" You shift off his lap, and he makes a wounded sound at the loss of contact.
"Unbelievable." But he's grinning now, that satisfied cat-like expression as he watches you search. "I just came in my pants because of you and you're worried about your phone?"
Your fingers close around it, wedged between the pillow and headboard. "Found it!"
"Of course you did." He's propped up on his elbows now, watching you with pure amusement. "What's so important that you—"
Click.
His jaw drops. "Did you just take another picture?"
You're already scrambling off the bed, phone clutched protectively to your chest this time. "Payment for not helping me finish, you gentlemen."
"Oh, you think you're clever—" He's already moving, swinging his legs off the bed despite the obvious obstacle. "Get back here—"
But you're already halfway to the door, laughing as you hear him stumble—still shaky-legged and sensitive, cursing under his breath in the process.
idk why i struggled so much with this but i did ahhh, i might be going through a writer's block (i hope not cuz holy shit)
✿ ~) synopsis: finals are arriving, and you can't help but notice how distant your boyfriend is being.
✿ ~) taglist/warnings: college! au, modern! au, fake texts, jjk smau, female! reader, mentions of drinking, angst!, begging, implied relationship, cheating, (i am just goign to go ahead and put this here. i do NOOOOOOOOOT condone cheating what so ever!, aged up characters, cursing, mentions of the spicy tango, i thinkkkk that is all.
tags ꩜ 1.7k words ， fluff ， lots of tomodachi life? i guess? ， mutual pining ， romcom stuff ， crack treated seriously ， gojo but in a game being humiliatingly in love and controlled by a giant hand
taglist ꩜ @nightmarenyxx | my taglist
notes ꩜ this is based off this fic (can i tomodachi you?) ， part 2 of that nerdjo mess is in the works ， may have slight tense errors oopsies
mii!satoru didn’t realize how obvious his crush on you is. the day you moved in, going into town with your cute frilly dress, it was love at first sight. well, not really. you moved into the island very hastily, the giant hand that usually picks him up and throws him around everywhere helping you out. he distinctively remembers the hand going into where & wear immediately after your house was constructed out of thin air.
you walked with this cute charm to your footsteps and the first time he took a proper look at you was at the wishing fountain. you were sitting on the fountain, swinging your legs, pondering. you were a cheerleader personality type through and through it seems, and mii!satoru, while initially uneasy at your bubbly personality, still wanted to be your friend. some interest was involved.
mii!satoru was dragged to the fountain by that realistic hand. Big Boss. you turned over and he’s stammering out a ‘hi’ the next second and told you his name—he tells the omniscient god in his universe, Big Boss in his beach–themed room that he wants to be friends with you. mii!satoru although not in love yet, he is sure of it, has suddenly piqued an interest in you!
the next second, mii!satoru is asking Big Boss whether or not he should go talk to you. the all-seeing hand nodded along at his want to be your friend, and it's not long until it suggests to go approach you and talk about Elden Ring lore. there's actual hearts fluttering around his mind when you excitedly chirp about how you love Elden Ring lore. too.
mii!satoru is ecstatic when he learns that the purple house right next to his is yours and not someone else's—he was confused who it belonged to of the two new residents, nanami or you, but now he's so happy that it's you.
it's not that he's obsessively checking if you're outside of your apartment because he likes you, no. that's ridiculous. he quickly figured out that your favorite spot to hangout was at the fountain, and taking a detour from his usual trip, has decided to go to the fountain just to pass by. you're friends now, that's just what people do.
mii!satoru spent twelve minutes choosing between two shirts before visiting your apartment. keep in mind, this was not because he liked you. Big Boss just kept putting him in ugly outfits.
on a random day, Big Boss told mii!satoru to give you sardines as a gift. he had hated sardines but apparently you liked them. he likes fried rice more. upon being thanked by you for his gift, he immediately contracts a tummy ache for no apparent reason.
mii!satoru who, upon confiding with Big Boss, telling the omniscient being, God, that he liked spending time with you more than anyone else, realized he is in love. it only makes him more determined upon hearing Big Boss confirm that it is in fact true love.
mii!satoru who starts visiting you constantly and giving you random gifts, not knowing if you even return his feelings. you've became his favorite person to hangout with. it's not uncommon for you to be dragged and dropped to enter a conversation with him as well, chittering and chattering with your stompy little twirls.
mii!satoru who gets irrationally jealous when he sees you talking to mii!nanami for too long at the café. there’s steam rising from the coffee mugs between you both while you laugh at something the blond mii says, and mii!satoru, from three tables away, nearly combusts on the spot. Big Boss later finds him pacing circles in his beach-themed apartment muttering that nanami’s “too serious” for you anyway. when Big Boss asks him if he’s jealous, he denies it immediately. then, after three seconds of silence, asks if he should give you sardines before talking to you tomorrow.
mii!satoru who starts asking Big Boss increasingly humiliating questions about you. what food do you like? do you like funny people? should he wear the black shirt or the white shirt? do you think his apartment looks cool? Big Boss answers all of these.
mii!satoru who begins appearing outside your apartment nearly every morning. sometimes he visits you just to sit on your floor and talk. sometimes he brings gifts. sometimes he forgets why he even came over in the first place because he gets distracted staring at you while you ramble excitedly about literally anything. the moment you smile at him, little pink hearts violently explode around his head and he has to physically turn around to recover.
mii!satoru who cried and rolled around on his floor for hours because mii!nanami confessed to you. that prick.
mii!satoru who accidentally writes a song about you during a concert hall event. it’s supposed to be about fried rice. somehow it turns into three full verses about your eyes and the cute way you stomp your feet when you’re excited. mii!ieiri nearly falls asleep halfway through the performance. mii!geto cries laughing. you tell him afterwards that it was sweet and mii!satoru spends the next six hours staring blankly at the ceiling of his apartment with sparkles floating around his body.
mii!satoru who realizes with dawning horror that every single one of his daily thoughts somehow loops back to you. he wonders if you’ve eaten. he wonders if you’d like the ribbon he saw at where & wear. he wonders if you’d think the clouds over the beach looked pretty today. Big Boss checks his relationship chart one morning and it has gone from “good friends” to “completely in love," head over heels overnight.
mii!satoru who starts genuinely believing Big Boss is trying to set the two of you up together. there is no other explanation for why the omniscient hand keeps dragging him directly into conversations with you. why your apartments are right beside each other. why every time he asks to hang out with someone, he somehow ends up with you anyway. Big Boss even gave the two of you matching sweaters once. mii!satoru laid awake that night staring at the ceiling of his apartment wondering if God ships him with you.
mii!satoru who gets a giant pink heart over his head one evening while watching the sunset at the beach. he immediately panics. Big Boss taps on him instantly.
“I think I’m in love with [Name],” he admits miserably, like he’s confessing a crime. “What should I do?”
The giant hand hovers over the options for exactly three agonizing seconds before selecting:
Confess your feelings.
mii!satoru who is so nervous as he walks to the beach and finds that you're already there. the ocean behind you glitters in chunky little pixels beneath the setting sun and there are stupid cartoon seagulls circling overhead. you turn around the second he approaches and smile at him so brightly that he nearly turns around and walks directly back home.
he can physically feel his heart bouncing around inside his body like one of those spring toys Big Boss keeps giving him for level-up rewards.
“Hey, Satoru!” you chirp happily, completely unaware that he is seconds away from spontaneous combustion. “Big Boss said you wanted to talk to me?”
traitorous. absolutely. Big Boss had snitched immediately.
mii!satoru stares at you for three full seconds before the game forcibly zooms in on his face dramatically. his tiny mii hands clench at his sides.
“I…” he starts, voice wobbling horribly. “I really like spending time with you.”
The sunset sparkles aggressively behind him. The music swells like like an edited scene in Windows Movie Maker.
“You make me really happy,” mii!satoru blurts out all at once. “And when you talk to Nanami too long I feel like throwing up a little.”
You blink at him, then your face softens into something unbearably fond.
“Oh,” you say quietly, the little blush effect appearing across your cheeks. “That’s actually really cute.”
mii!satoru thinks he has died.
“I like spending time with you too,” you continue, rocking back and forth on your heels shyly. “A lot, actually.”
Pink hearts explode violently around both of your heads. mii!satoru barely has enough time to look stunned before you throw your arms around him and the relationship status changes immediately.
Sweethearts.
The island music erupts into the most obnoxiously cheerful tune imaginable.
mii!satoru who spends the next week in a permanent state of euphoric shock. he visits your apartment every single day now without shame. he brings you gifts constantly. ribbons, hairclips, ruined omelets, bath sets, an entire desk lamp once. Big Boss catches him staring dreamily at you at least four separate times.
mii!satoru who almost faints the first time you call him your boyfriend.
mii!satoru who starts sitting impossibly close to you everywhere. at the café. at the fountain. on the beach. there’s always this microscopic little gap between your shoulders that lasts all of five seconds before he scoots closer unconsciously. whenever Big Boss drops the two of you into conversations together, he instantly lights up like someone plugged him into a power source.
mii!satoru who becomes concerningly domestic about the relationship very fast. he asks if you’ve eaten today. he remembers your favorite foods. he gets genuinely upset if you’re sick. once, Big Boss walks into his apartment only to find him carefully redecorating his room because “the lighting looked bad when [Name] came over.”
mii!satoru who discovers that being loved by you is apparently the greatest thing to ever happen to him. every single problem in his life immediately becomes manageable the second you smile at him. he starts sleeping easier. he sings while cleaning his apartment. even mii!ieiri notices the behavioral change.
mii!satoru who still thinks Big Boss is orchestrating all of this somehow. especially after the omniscient hand starts giving the two of you couple outfits. and especially especially after Big Boss upgrades your apartments (lets you move in together) on the exact same day.
mii!satoru who gets another giant pink heart over his head only three weeks into dating.
Big Boss taps him immediately.
“I want to marry [Name],” he says without hesitation this time.
呪術廻戦 › nerd!jo will always put you first
SFW. fem!reader. very self indulgent fluff. college au. ✶
it’s 2:34 in the morning, and the only light in your dorm room comes from your glowing laptop screen. your history paper, a fifteen-page monstrosity on the socioeconomic impact of the second world war, is due at 8:00 am. you’ve been surviving on a combination of caffeine and sour candy for the past six hours, and you can feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones
you’re typing the topic sentence of your conclusion, when without warning, without so much as a flicker, your screen goes completely black and the low hum of the fan ceases. your heart hammers against your ribs, a beat of pure panic. no. no, no, no.
you spam the spacebar. nothing. you mash the power button, holding it down until your finger aches, then releasing it and pressing it again. nothing.
you try every combination of keys you can think of, hands trembling so badly you can barely type. nothing. the screen remains a void mirror that reflects your own, tear-streaked face back at you. the document. your sources. hours of work. . . gone.
a choked sob escapes your throat. tears spill over your waterline, blurring your vision until the dark screen is just a smear of nothingness. you can feel the panic building in your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs.
your roommate, shoko, is dead asleep across the room, her soft snores the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. you can’t wake her up. you can’t bother anyone with this. with the sole exception of satoru gojo, of course.
with trembling fingers, you grab your phone and pull up his contact. thumb hovering over your keyboard.
it’s almost three in the morning. satoru is meticulous about his sleep schedule. he needs his eight hours or he’s insufferable and cranky all day. and he has his biochem final today. you can’t. you shouldn’t.
but the thought of starting over from scratch, of facing this alone, is more than you can bear.
toru i’m gonna cry
[ 02:36 am ]
you stare at the words you’ve typed up, they’re so dramatic and unserious but you send them anyway.
i hate my fucking chungus life
[ 02:36 am ]
three little dots appear before you can even wipe the fresh tears from your cheeks.
toruuu ❤︎ :
What’s wrong baby?
[ 02:36 am ]
the simple text is enough to make another sob wrack your body. you type out a response, your fingers slipping on the screen.
my laptop isn’t working
i was working on my history paper
AND THE SCREEN WENT BLACK
[ 02:38 am ]
toruuu ❤︎ :
Everything’s going to be okay
Did you try restarting it?
[ 02:38 am ]
his calm, logical response is simultaneously comforting and annoying. of course you tried restarting it.
mhmm
i tried like six times it’s not working
idk what else to do
[ 02:40 am ]
toruuu ❤︎ :
Okay. I’ll come take a look at it
Give me a few minutes
[ 02:40 am ]
you’re sniffling quietly, trying to muffle the sound in your palm so you don’t wake shoko up. you feel so helpless, so stupid for not saving your work to the cloud more often.
ilysm you’re the best ❤︎
[ 02:40 am ]
toruuu ❤︎ :
I love you most Princess
Hang in there
[ 02:40 am ]
true to his word your phone buzzes again, eight minutes later
toruuu ❤︎ :
I’m here
[ 02:48 am ]
you slip out of bed, socked feet making little to no sound on the cold linoleum floor. you crack open the door just enough to see him standing in the dim hallway, a silhouette of messy white hair. he looks exhausted, eyes hazy with traces of sleep, hair sticking up at odd angles. his expression softens when he sees you
he steps inside, closing the door quietly behind him, and his arms are immediately around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. he smells like patchouli dreams and his clean laundry detergent. his large hand comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers smoothing over your hair as he presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead.
“shhh, hey, none of that,” he murmurs, wiping at the tears on your cheeks with his thumb. “it’s just a computer. we’ll figure it out.”
you nod into his chest, “i’m sorry i woke you up ‘toru.”
he just shakes his head, pulling back to look at you. “don’t be silly. you know i’d rather be awake with you than asleep without you.” he gestures with his chin towards your desk. “let me take a look at it”
you lead him to your desk, where your macbook sits. a 2017 pro with the glowy touchbar, decorated by a myriad of stickers from your favorite bands and cartoons. you can’t imagine parting with it.
satoru sets his own laptop bag down on your bed. the one he uses for gaming, a beast of a machine that he treats like his firstborn child. “here,” he says, unzipping it and pulling out the sleek laptop. “you can use mine to finish your paper. i’ll see what i can do.”
you want to protest, but he’s already booting it up. the screen lights up, and you can’t help but smile through your tears.
his lockscreen is a picture of you, fast asleep on his shoulder. he has dozens of widgets centered around you — your wishlist, your shared calendar, one that says ‘days since i last told my princess i love her: 0’. he types in the password ( your birthday, of course ) and hands it to you.
“try and finish your paper baby,” he says softly, already turning his attention to your dead laptop. “i’ve got this”
you settle on your bed, pulling the heavy laptop onto your thighs. you can hear satoru muttering quietly to himself as he gets to work. you sign into your microsoft account and pull up your most recent cloud backup to find that you’ve only lost the last few paragraphs. it’s salvageable.
you’re still sniffling occasionally and every time you do, satoru glances over at you, brows furrowed in concentration. “you okay over there?” he asks after a few minutes.
“yeah,” you murmur, not looking up from the screen. “i’m okay.”
he works in silence for a while longer. you can hear him humming to himself, technical nerdy stuff that flies completely over your head. “flex cable . . . backlight. . hinge.” he examines every port, every seam, long fingers moving delicately
finally, he lets out a long, heavy sigh. “oh, baby,” he exhales, and his tone is so full of pity your stomach drops. “i’m so sorry.”
“what?” you look up from his laptop, your heart starting to pound again. “can’t you fix it toru? you fix everything.”
he shakes his head slowly, “come here, look at this.”
you get up and move to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder at your laptop. he opens the lid just a tiny crack, a couple inches wide. for a split second, the screen flickers to life. you can see your desktop background, a picture of the two of you at the beach, and the thin sliver of light from the screen illuminates his face. then, as he slowly opens the lid further, the light sputters and dies, plunging the screen back into darkness.
“see?” he frowns quietly, closing it again. “your lcd cables are all shredded. they run through the hinge and over time they break. it’s a super common issue with this model.”
“no clue what any of that means,” your voice quavers, “can you replace it?”
“i mean, yeah, i can,” he says, leaning back in your desk chair and running a hand through his already messy hair. “it’s just . . it’s a risky repair. i’ll have to order the parts, and even then it’s a crapshoot. if i mess it up, i could damage the logic board, and then it’s really gone”
“so what do we do?” you whisper, feeling the panic start to creep back in.
he looks at you for a long moment, blue eyes heavy lidded and drowsy. “i can order the new cable and try the repair. if it doesn’t work. . .” he hums, trailing off as he considers the options, “i’ve backed up your macbook so i can transfer all your files to a new one.”
“i’m not buying a new one ‘toru,” you sigh, the thought of the expense makes your head spin even more than the lack of sleep.
a slow smile spreads across his face. the look he gets right before he does something completely unnecessary, all in the name of ‘taking care of you.’ “who said anything about you buying it?”
“you can’t just buy me a new macbook, satoru,” you scoff, your voice firm even as your heart does a little flip
“can’t i?” he raises a brow, leaning forward in the chair. “why not?”
“because it’s too much even for you! i can’t ask you to do that”
“it’s a good thing you didn’t ask then,” he shrugs, gently closing your broken laptop for good and setting it aside on the desk. he stretches as he clambers to his feet. padding over to the edge of your bed and patting his lap. “come here.”
you hesitate for a second before obliging. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face in the crook of your neck. his breath is warm against your skin and you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your back.
“how much of your paper do you have left?” he murmurs against your skin.
“almost done writing my conclusion,” you sigh, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “it’s probably not even that good.”
“don’t say that,” satoru tuts, giving you a gentle squeeze. “none of that self-deprecating stuff tonight. you’re brilliant and you know it.”
“i guess” you sigh, skimming through your body paragraphs
he shifts, maneuvering you both until you’re situated more comfortably on your bed. he’s propped up against the headboard with you nestled between his legs, your back to his chest. he places a tender kiss on your shoulder.
“you’re on the dean’s list for a reason,” he says quietly “finish up your paper. i’ll stay up with you.”
with him soothing you like this, the panic in your veins finally subsides. you type the last few sentences of your conclusion. you proofread your essay once, twice, then format the bibliography.
when you finally hit ‘submit’ on the university portal at 3:29 you let your head fall back against satoru’s shoulder with a soft thud.
“done?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “done,” you sigh.
“so proud of you” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “time for bed, then.”
he gently takes the computer from your lap and sets it on the floor, then shifts you both down until you’re lying properly under the sheets. he doesn’t even try to walk back to his own dorm. he just pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin to keep you close.
“toru?” you whisper into the darkness. “hm?” he murmurs sleepily
“thank you. for everything.” he just holds you tighter, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “any time, princess.”
you know he’ll probably scold you for staying up so late in the morning but he’ll also make you matcha and help you look for a new macbook. one with the same specs as your now useless one.
you fall asleep knowing that this is just one of many nights. that there will be other disasters that feel like the end of the world. but you also know that satoru will always be a text away.
nerdjo’s high maintenance gf is his prettiest distraction !
I. DISTRACTION #1: NO KISSING IN THE LECTURE HALLS !
time: 8:46 am location: Curtis Lecture Hall I (CLH-I)
gojo satoru is typing one handed because his other hand is pressed between your thighs.
not that he minds. 8AM thursday means excel sheets & a cup of hot coffee to keep his bleary eyes open. gojo satoru is trying—trying to focus, but his pretty girl is talking a mile a minute and he’ll be damned if he didn’t reply to your every word.
“it was so hard getting out of bed today, toru,” you pout up at him, chin on his shoulder & gloss sticky on his sleeve. “i told kento to stop by and wake me up on his way to class. can you believe he didn’t?”
“i’m very proud of you for getting out of bed regardless.”
“thank you. it was very hard.”
you sigh against his shoulder. “he’s probably still mad i cussed him out,” you huff, reaching up to twirl the hairs on his nape. “all because i put him on cherry crush and he tried to act like he discovered it first.”
satoru’s eyes are still on his screen, so you squeeze his palm between your thighs to bring him back to you. “he’s so petty, toru.”
“very petty, baby.”
you frown. it’s been exactly thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds since satoru looked at you last. he’s been on this stupid spreadsheet since class started, and it’s really starting to piss you off.
so you block his view.
“look at my fingers, toru,” you breathe, lifting your hand in front of his face. “i was in such a rush i forgot my rings. my hand looks so ugly.”
he lifts his head—just slightly, just enough that he can focus on the screen & not your hand in front of him—& replies without a beat. “looks pretty, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. “so gorgeous.”
oh, that’s enough.
“toru.”
“hm, baby?”
“kiss me.”
gojo satoru chokes on his tongue. he freezes, blue eyes leaving the screen only to dart around the crowded lecture hall in alarm. he lets his eyes drop to you, and perhaps he shouldn’t have, because you’re looking up at him with glossy lips & too-big eyes & lashes that flutter in that way that means trouble. gojo gulps.
“we can’t do that right now, sweetheart,” his voice catches. you’re pouting up at him but satoru only cups your cheek and tries to reason with you. “we’re in public. can you wait for me, angel?”
your brows furrow, lips wobbling into that pout that only spells out gojo’s demise.
“are you ashamed to kiss me in public?” you croak, fake sniffling. “am i that ugly?”
you’re not ugly. you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know it, satoru knows it, & he also knows you’re doing this on purpose. but your eyes are so glossy. your breathing’s all hitched. your shoulders shake like you’re about to sob—
gojo satoru folds under zero pressure.
he cups your face, thumb brushing faux tears off your lashes as he presses his lips to yours. you taste like strawberry candy & something too sweet to have a name. gojo sighs into your mouth. cocks his head. pulls back just to lean in again when your lashes flutter up at him all pretty. he lets his thumb tug your lip and tongue lick your teeth and—
“ahem.”
you both freeze.
in the row in front of you the nanami kento is there, frown on his face & completely unamused. there are pens littered on his desk & his laptop is wide open—is he reading semantic error?
he eyes you both, lips curled in disgust.
“this is not a love nest.”
you & satoru are blinking in disbelief when nanami turns back to his laptop. he slams it shut in embarrassment when he’s met with an inappropriate panel onscreen.
II. DISTRACTION #2: NETWORKING ❌ NOT WORKING ✅
time: 7:14 pm. location: Bergeron Center for Engineering Excellence
⎚-⎚
gojo satoru has five minutes until the most important meeting of his life.
an opportunity to pitch one of his latest projects to some high-class engineering recruiters—lucky him! he’s in a private office with his speech in his hands, and his beautiful girlfriend kicking her feet on the office table.
you’re supposed to be his supportive plus-one. and gojo does feel supported—how could he not when the love of his life is here for him, dressed up like a midsummer dream? but gojo thinks he’d feel even more supported if you weren’t bracketing his thighs & tugging on his tie every time he tries to speak.
“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity—“
“satoruu,” you coo. “i miss you.”
gojo satoru knows better than to sigh. he does it anyway, collapsing into your neck in resignation as he squeezes your hips. you’re pressing a glossy kiss to his jaw. “i’m right here, sweetheart,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “will you let me focus?”
you nod sweetly, squeaking a little when he presses a kiss to your neck in thanks.
“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity to present—“
“satoruu,”
thirteen words this time. fairs.
“yes, sweetheart.”
“my feet hurt,” you pout, kicking your feet up to show him. for once, you’re not being dramatic. even with your heels on satoru can see the sides of your feet reddening, flushed & slightly swollen against the material. his brows furrow. “how’d this happen, angel…?”
he kneels down to slip your heels off. you pout: “i got new heels so i’d look pretty for your presentation. now my feet hurt and i’ve ruined everything.”
satoru frowns, but you’re still spiraling. lips wobbly, eyes all glossy & nose wrinkled in lament. gojo’s heart goes sticky in his chest. how could you possibly ruin everything when you are everything?
he reaches up to wipe a tear off your cheek. “look at me, baby,” he murmurs, other hand rubbing circles on your ankles. he looks devastating like this—hair messy, tie loose from all your tugging & knees on the floor for you even though he’s in his finest dress pants. “you didn’t ruin anything, okay baby? look.”
he slips off your heels, then his own leather shoes, & laces them onto your bare feet. “wear these.”
you blink as he lifts you off the table, kneeling back down to adjust the shoes better. you wiggle your toes. your feet don’t even reach the middle, and you almost fall trying to walk two steps, but the gesture alone has you beaming. you turn to him with your lips bent in a clumsy smile.
“they’re huge, toru,” you giggle, twirling around in the office. satoru only smiles. his heart goes sticky in his throat. he pulls you into a soft kiss because trying to speak might make his chest hurt.
knock knock.
one of satoru’s classmates—nerd #1—peeks his head in, expression slightly terrified. “uh, gojo? they’re ready for you in the boardroom,” he gulps. “you’re up.”
satoru nods, gathers his speech papers. you’re practicing walking around in his shoes now, arms stretched out to help you balance as you waddle around with a grin on your face. gojo satoru looks down at his feet. they’re in nothing but a pair of socks.
right.
he sucks in a breath, then turns to kiss your forehead. “stay here where it’s warm, okay?”
you’re still entranced by his shoes, but you chirp out an okay! regardless. satoru bites his lip. it’s showtime.
——
the faculty is looking at satoru like he’s grown two heads.
have they never seen a shoeless man before? how rude. he’s standing on the boardroom’s stage now, clipboard in hand, projector lighting up the board behind him. some of the recruiters are nodding. the others are trying not to look at his feet so they can’t be accused of classism. gojo satoru is not even poor. a glance at his suit should tell you that.
but gojo doesn’t care. he presents without issue—even though the entire time, his mind is on you.
the boardroom door has a center made of glass. through the pane, satoru can see you back in the office—you’ve somehow found music controls for the office’s boombox, and you’re dancing—oh god, you’re dancing—twirling around with a clumsy smile & laughing when you stumble in his much larger shoes.
satoru’s heart swells. his lip twitches.
gojo turns his focus back to his presentation. he’ll work hard to keep you smiling for the rest of your life.
III. DISTRACTION #3 : WHY IS MY GIRLFRIEND IMMUNE TO TUTORING…
time: 6:14 PM location: The Quad, Satoru’s Apartment.
⎚-⎚
“who discovered the americas ?”
“Martin Luther King.”
You are going to fail this exam.
“that’s enough general history today,” gojo mutters, voice croaking in alarm when you give your answer. you’re tucked in his lap, fingers curled in his collar, nose in his neck & completely unbothered. your perfume is sticky in his lungs. “let’s try math. you like math, baby?”
“mhm,” you kiss his jaw. “love it.”
no you don’t. gojo flips open a book with one hand, the other rubbing circles on your thigh. “let’s practice some integration…” he scans the page for questions while you twirl the hairs on his nape. “okay, this one. can you try this for me, princess?”
your lips tug into a bored frown. “okay,” you lean up to glance at the page, “done.”
he blinks, “done?”
“yes,” you flop back against him, soft & pretty & tired & his. “i solved it in my head.”
satoru bites his lip, brows knit in concern. “baby, you can’t solve integrals in your head.”
“i have a very strong brain.”
satoru prays for some strength of his own. okay—okay. he purses his lip. “so strong, baby. do you want to walk me through your process?”
you frown in his neck.
“first of all,” you tug his collar, lashes fluttering, “i looked at the numbers.”
“good job.”
“then,” you tug his earlobe, “i got bored.”
“oh.”
satoru sighs—of course you did. he purses his lip, blue eyes flitting across the page as his spoiled pretty angel hugs his neck; dreary and tired and ‘bored’ in his lap. finals are coming up and things are not looking good for you. he prays for strength (again).
you seem to have found some strength of your own. gojo’s not sure when you pick up your phone (which he had confiscated from you earlier), but while he stares into the distance and laments your guaranteed failure, you scroll through your phone with a grin on your lips.
“toru, look at this bag,” you coo, pushing the bright screen to his face. “it’s so pink and pretty, just like me.”
“just like you,” he repeats, still staring into the distance.
“wow, nine-hundred-and-fifty dollars,” you kick your feet in his lap. “baby, can i buy it?” you coo, voice sweet.
satoru blinks out of his daze. he glances at the phone screen—then at you, suddenly sweet & bright & brimming with energy. his thumb brushes your inner thigh. “baby, you’re supposed to be studying.”
“i am studying,” you frown, and gojo wants to kiss it off again. “i’m studying consumer behavior. can i have your card?”
there are three reasons gojo satoru should not give you his card.
you are going to fail your exams.
you haven’t double-checked if the price is in CAD or USD.
you are going to fail your exams.
gojo lets you have his card.
you squeal, hopping off his lap to retrieve his wallet in the other room. satoru leans back against his desk chair. in front of him, his desk is a mess of opened books & littered pencils, a ‘get good grades!’ subliminal playing on your mini speaker because you insisted the whispered affirmations would guarantee your success. gojo sighs.
“thank you, toru!” you sing as you pad back into the room, a skip in your step. you lean down to kiss his cheek & flop onto his bed to open his laptop. you have his wallet in your hands, and gojo satoru already knows you will not double check the currency.
gojo closes your textbook with a sigh. better luck next time.
ac: (see alt text!) @ to00fu
DISTRACTIONS, end.
HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
