.✦ ݁˖ Synopsis — You and Satoru are long time rivals. While you constantly push yourself to your limits Satoru somehow always manages to one up you. Unfortunately for you being paired with him for the upcoming physics assignment means you’ll be forced into a collaboration, along with more endless arguments. Old feelings are forced out and fizzle into something neither of you could’ve expected.
.✦ ݁˖ Content — all characters are 18 (last year of high school), rivals-friends-lovers, slight angst, fluff, slow burn-ish?, academic stress, self-esteem issues, parental pressure, emotional vulnerability, awkward first kisses, physics
wc — 4.6k
a/n: a late thank you all for 1k!! I wanted to post this when I hit the milestone but we got there sooner than expected. I love you all so much I hope you enjoy this! (yes the title is based off of that song about chainsaw man)
The first time you were dethroned was when you were ten. Kids crowded around the bulletin board, scampering to find out their end-of-year marks. Usually, you came out victorious, always leading in terms of grades. Key word: usually.
You sauntered over after the push and shoving died down, pride welling in your chest as you prepared for another year of victory. “Who the hell is Gojo Satoru?!” Your mouth moved before you could process, eyebrows furrowing as you reread the chart.
1. Gojo, Satoru and just below, in second place, was your name — second place.
Your classmates turned to look at you, some giggling, some gasping, some even teasing. “Hey, looks like you aren’t the top nerd anymore!” You turned around with a scowl, shoving the boy to the side in search of your new nemesis.
“Hey, Gojo! You were the top scorer. How did you do that?” Your head whipped around to the source, fury bubbling in your chest. You saw a white-haired boy with another boy, Suguru, from the opposite class. You didn’t recognise the pale one, was he Satoru?
Suguru noticed your scowl from across the hall, and he gave a meek smile in an effort to mollify your nasty look. You marched over, “Are you Gojo Satoru?” Your tone was harsher than needed, face already heating up with a new wave of rage as the boy grinned. “Yeah, I moved here a few weeks ago! But er… who are you?”
Suguru gave a toothy smile, slinging his arm around Satoru before speaking again, “Yeah, Satoru joined recently, he's super smart — maybe smarter than you!” Now, ten-year-old Suguru had no intention of causing harm; he believed that you and Satoru could ‘nerd out’ together.
“Take that back! He just got lucky.” You crossed your arms, snarling at the boys. Gojo puffed his chest out, stepping closer to you in the process, “Well, Suguru isn't wrong. I was one of the top scorers in Kyoto. That's where I used to live.”
Suddenly, all the lectures, all the warnings, and all the lessons that the adults in your life had taught you about ‘bad words’ flew out of the window.
“Fuck you!”
It's no secret that the rivalry between you and Gojo Satoru continued throughout Junior High and into High School; many students were aware of the bickering between the two of you. Classmates often teased you both about it, claiming that you would end up together eventually.
That idea sickened you.
The teasing slowed as you came to the end of your high school years; classmates matured, and university applications were around the corner, so you couldn't even afford to waste time arguing with that dandelion head. However, it was hard not to have him teetering on your last nerve every other class. Being on the same academic frequency meant you and Gojo shared many classes. And most unfortunately for you, he sat right next to you in Physics.
A sing-song drawl of your name lurched you from your focus, a certain white-haired boy being the source. “Hey, are you even listening? I asked when lunch is, idiot.” He slumped onto the desk, holding his head up by his hand as he awaited your response. You rolled your eyes, “There is a clock right there in case you haven't noticed, four eyes.” Gojo clutched his chest with mock offence, straightening up just to dramatically flop back down again. “You wound me, truly.”
You scoff in response, turning back to your physics teacher who was now droning on about particle accelerators — seriously, what? You sighed; now you were going to have to catch up on whatever you'd missed in the minutes Gojo had distracted you. You were supposed to stay on top of everything in this class so it would be easier to study later! Unfortunately for you, Gojo continued his rambling. “Would you shut it? I'm trying to concentrate.”
Gojo grinned, then, in the highest pitch he could muster: “I’m trying to concentrate, Gojo-san, stop distracting me with your good looks.”
Oh, he didn't.
A gasp tore through your throat before you could stop it, eyes widening and fists clenching. “Stop that! I do not sound like that, and I didn't even say that!” you whisper-shouted at him, glancing around to make sure no one heard. He only giggled in response, using his hand to mimic your talking.
You smacked his hand back down, scowling as you tried to turn your focus back to the lesson, but Gojo had other plans.
You felt something hit the side of your head, you jerked to the side and winced in pain. Turning, you found Gojo snickering behind his hand. “Did you just throw something at me?” You gaped at him in disbelief, eyes glancing down to the pen that sat on the floor as evidence.
He only giggled harder, “Now why would I do that?” He batted his milky lashes, putting on a show of acting ‘innocent.’ You snarled in return, “You did! Ugh, you're such an ass!”
Before he could retaliate, you had swooped the pen off the floor and hurled it back at him; it narrowly missed his ear and was sent flying into the wall with a loud clack. The class went silent, aside from you and Gojo’s continued bickering. “Oh, real mature —” He was cut off by a cough from the teacher.
“Since the two of you seem to work so well together, how about I assign the two of you as partners for the assignment?”
Everyone was staring. Gojo’s ears were bright red, and his glasses began to slip down the bridge of his nose; you could feel the heat crawl up your neck. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole then and there.
You timidly spoke up, “Um, sir… do you mind going over the assignment once more?”
The rest of the class was somewhat humiliating. You had to ask your teacher to re-explain concepts for the assignment while everyone just stared — including Gojo! He hadn't even been paying attention. How was he not as confused as you were? And to make matters worse, he was your partner for the end-of-year project. How annoying.
“It wasn't even my fault! He's the one chucking pens around,” you complained to Shoko in your biology class. She was good friends with Gojo, but she always agreed with you when you'd spew complaints about the white-haired boy.
Shoko groaned, “He can be a real pain sometimes, sometimes I think Suguru likes him so much because they flirt with each other every chance they get. I mean, hey, good for you, but at least do that in another room.” You snorted in response to her words, scribbling down notes while doing so.
“But the thing I don't get is how come you and Geto are nice, but Gojo is like… insufferable.” Shoko’s lips twisted into a smile, “You complain about him a lot, y’know? Makes me think there are some underlying feelings.” You gasped loud enough for the table beside yours to shoot quizzical glances over at the two of you.
“Don’t you ever say that again. He looks like a dandelion with an attitude.”
She snickered to herself, turning back to her notes. You bit your lip as you watched her, fingers drumming anxiously against the desk. “Although… could you give me his number so I could text him about the project?…”
Later that night, you lay in bed, phone held awkwardly in your hands while your thumb hovered nervously over the keyboard. You didn't know why you were so scared to message him; it wasn't like you were doing it out of your own will, it was simply a way of communication for the project.
You sighed, typing out a few words before deleting them, “No, that's too formal,” you mumbled to yourself, brows furrowing as you began to retype.
Hey, Gojo, I got your number from Shoko.
When's a good time to discuss the topic for our project?
Before you could swipe off the app, a typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then reappeared, followed by a message.
Ig we could go to the library tmr at lunch
Wow, for a kid that smart, he didn't seem to grasp grammar all that well.
You thumbs-upped the message, switching your phone off and preparing to go to sleep when a ping cut through the silence. Rolling over, you groaned, picking up your phone and opening the notification.
Why don't we do a coffee shop instead
Yk so ppl don't steal our ideas
Once again, you reacted with a thumbs up, tossing your phone back onto your side table. He better be paying for your coffee, knowing Gojo, he would pick the most expensive and performative coffee shop in town.
The next day, you realised two things very quickly. One, Gojo looked unfairly good for someone who was approaching their final exams. And two, he had, in fact, chosen the most obnoxiously overpriced cafe in town. “For God's sake,” you muttered under your breath as you stepped through the door.
Soft light spilt across the polished floors, the music hummed softly, floating across the coffee shop while tables filled with students and office workers alike rattled on about their days. The menu hung on the wall looked more like your maths textbook than a list of snacks and beverages.
Unfortunately, Gojo was already there, plopped down in a booth at the far corner. His long legs stretched out beneath the table, circular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. An expensive-looking laptop sat open in front of him, along with what looked to be two desserts.
You trudged over, slinging your bag onto the cushions across from him and sliding in. “There you are! You’re late.” He tutted, wagging his finger in your face, “Oh, be quiet, it took me forever to find this place. Next time, pick a known cafe.” Gojo ignored you; instead, he slid over one of the cups, “Got a drink for ya, try it.”
The so-called drink had an abnormal amount of whipped cream, chocolate drizzle and sprinkles. He himself had a similar-looking beverage, except he had a flake. You rolled your eyes, “What is this? It looks like a cup of cavities.”
Picking up the cup, you analysed it, trying to find what on earth Gojo had ordered for you.
Your name had been scribbled across the cup in scraggly writing alongside what looked vaguely like a very angry cat.
“What is this?”
His grin widened, “You like? I drew you from memory.” You blinked at him, “That is not me.”
“It’s angry, just like you.”
You bit back a smile, trying to wrack your brain for an appropriate insult, but your words died on your tongue when Gojo leaned over and took a scoop of your whipped cream with his finger. “Hey!”
He leaned back, smirking to himself, “Hey, you snooze, you lose.”
Despite the usual bickering and Gojo stealing your drink, the assignment discussion started surprisingly smoothly.
The inverse square law wasn’t the simplest of assignments, especially considering how your teacher expected a practical demonstration alongside the written report. Most of the pairs were doing basic presentations like Ohm's law or refraction.
But of course, as always, Gojo had to be difficult. “You know what? We should do a full experimental model —” he spun his pen between his fingers, “— like measuring radiation intensity mathematically by using controlled distances.”
You blinked at him, “Gojo, as much as I’d love to show off, I’d rather work with you for as little time as possible.” He rolled his eyes at you, turning his laptop to face you. “It’s not that hard, don’t be a baby.”
Equations filled the screen, diagrams and notes followed suit. Your eyes widened at his words.
He already planned it? Within what? Two days.
That familiar feeling that settled in your stomach, that awful sensation that you had carried since you were ten. You had spent hours revising and relearning formulas and facts, pushing your brain to its limit while you studied for every test like it was your last. He was the complete opposite. It was like he could just glance at the revision materials and understand them like that.
People praised you for your discipline, the hard work and dedication it took you to get to where you are now, but with him?
He was gifted. That was something you could never achieve, not with discipline, not with hard work or even motivation.
The fact was that Gojo was miles ahead of you, and you would never catch up.
“Hello? Earth to stupid?” His voice snapped you from your thoughts, “Sorry, I was just uh…” Your mind blanked, eyes scanning over his laptop screen once more. “I know, I know. You were trying to wrap that little head of yours around these complex equations.” He reached a faux sympathetic hand out, attempting to grab your hand just to be smacked away, “Dream on, dandelion.”
A faint smile graced his lips, turning the laptop back, “Alright then, where do we find the materials for our experiment?”
Over the next few weeks, the project became impossible to escape. Casual library meetings turned into cafe meetings, which ran on for hours until closing, which meant the two of you ended up walking home together most nights.
Gojo claimed it was because your house was on the way to his; you suspected it was because he enjoyed having someone to talk to.
He continued to be as patronising as ever, scolding you for getting equations wrong, oversimplifying findings, and even teasing you when you didn’t understand concepts. But you also learned a few things about him.
Like how he ate a ridiculous amount of sugary snacks, possibly enough to kill a small rodent, and how he spun his pen in his fingers when concentrating.
Or how he got strangely competitive, always challenging you to petty competitions like who could finish their food the fastest, or who could recite the phonetic alphabet the quickest.
You hated how fast he was growing on you.
“Hey! Why are you always zoning out? We have a project to finish.” You jolted upright from where you had been absentmindedly staring at him from across the table. “Huh? Sorry, just — uh — tired.” He hummed, unconvinced.
“Just get to work, I’m the one doing everything here.” You snorted at his words, “Seriously? Like, I haven’t been hauling your weight for the past two weeks?” Satoru scoffed, “Well, the deadline is soon, and I work best under pressure.” You kicked his shin under the table, “Ouch!”
A cafe employee passed by and shot the two of you a warning glance, shushing aggressively at you both while doing so. You bowed your head apologetically while Satoru whispered a small ‘sorry’ with pink ears.
You turned back to look at him after the server had left, “Get back to work, dandelion.”
A few more silent minutes passed by as the two of you worked, occasionally catching the other's eye and averting your gaze. Then Satoru leaned over the table towards you, “Let’s ditch this place, I’m bored.” You sighed, eyes staying fixed on the paper in front of you, “No, Satoru, besides, you were the one who said the deadline was soon.”
“Oh, c’mon, we’ve been here for hours.” He whined, propping his chin onto his hand. “Yeah, and seventy-five percent of the time spent here was us bickering over the project instead of actually working on it.” Your eyes finally met his; his bright eyes stared up at you through his thick-rimmed glasses. It was truly unfair how good he looked despite only drinking liquefied sugar.
“You’re such a nerd.”
“You quite literally built an entire electrical system out of Lego and dissected chargers for fun,” you countered.
“Yeah, but I’m not a try-hard, like someone.” He grinned at you, lopsided but still holding the same cocky persona. You muttered under your breath, “Oh, go test the law of gravity on the nearest staircase.” Satoru snorted, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “Seems like I struck a nerve, idiot.”
“I’m going to strike you in the face if you don’t get back to work.”
The day for the final presentation crept closer and closer, and almost everyone in your physics class was on edge. Aside from the obvious Gojo Satoru, of course.
Satoru managed to stay relaxed about the entire thing, cracking jokes while he was supposed to be researching and dragging you on walks to ‘refresh your mind’ when in reality he wanted to stop by an ice cream parlour. You wanted to get mad at him, spit snarky comments and berate him like you usually would, but for some reason, you found his interruptions to be surprisingly helpful.
Each passing day, your project became more refined, and with each edit, Satoru’s ego grew; his teasing made that obvious.
‘Hah, I bet you didn’t catch that mistake in the results,’ or ‘you really need to amp up your mathematical analysis, it’s embarrassing,’ were just some of the many so-called jokes he would make at your self-esteem's expense.
Subconsciously, you began to feel inferior to Satoru, not because you wanted to, but something deep down told you that it was true. Years of hard work and dedication only to come second to him every single time, and each loss would mean being berated by your parents about ‘underperforming.’
You tried to push those feelings down, especially since, for once, you and Satoru had actually been getting along. Shoko had commented on it in biology, and since then, you started to become more aware of the growing friendship between you two.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
He approached you after class, just a few days before the assignment was due, “Hey, uh, do you mind coming over after school to go over the final details? I may or may not have gotten grounded.”
You snorted, “Grounded? At your big age? What did you do this time?” The two of you fell into step as he walked you to your next class. Satoru had memorised your timetable by now, using it to bother you in between classes.
“Ah, y’know, I broke an expensive vase while testing projectile physics. No biggie,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his head away to hide the red creeping onto his cheeks from embarrassment.
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it, and his blush only deepened. “Shut up,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll see you after school, then?” You waved him off as you stepped into the class. Satoru watched for a moment before catching the eye of your teacher and scurrying off.
After school, he met you by the gates, offering a cheeky grin.
The walk to his house was surprisingly quiet. Usually, the two of you would’ve started squabbling by now. Maybe you would’ve insulted his haircut, maybe he would’ve teased you about the accessories on your bag. Instead, you walked side by side, comfortable in the silence.
“Y’know,” he said, kicking a pebble along the pavement, “You’re not half bad.” You scoffed playfully, “What’s that supposed to mean, dandelion?”
Satoru rolled his eyes, turning away. “I dunno, I mean we get along better than I thought.” You let out an airy laugh, shaking your head. “I guess, I mean, it’s hard not to get along with someone you’ve spent practically every day with for a month.”
Another wave of silence passed over the two of you.
You let out a shaky breath, “Do you think we’ll score high enough?” Satoru stared at you as if you had two heads, “Come on, you idiot. When have I ever come second?” His words made something uncomfortable twist in your chest, a feeling you knew all too well.
Before long, you had reached the grand entrance to his house. Tall, pristine white gates circled the property, similar to the gates surrounding nearby houses.
“You’re such a liar! We didn’t even pass anywhere near my street.” Satoru shifted uncomfortably, “Yeah, well… I take a different route from the cafe. It’s quicker.” He nudged past you, punching in the code for the gate.
You followed him in. “This is ridiculous. Why is your house so big?” The garden alone was huge, rows of pretty flowers accompanied by the greenest grass you’ve ever seen, topped off with large trees. Satoru shrugged, unlocking the front door and stepping inside, “My family’s the one who chose it, not me.”
The house itself was beautiful — and even that was an understatement. Although you couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was.
His room, however, was the exact opposite of the rest of his neat, modern house.
The walls were plastered with Spider-Man posters, small figures of what looked to be those Digimon characters he always rambled on about. Your eyes wandered over to a bookshelf which was practically overflowing with textbooks, comics, and what you assumed to be collecting card binders.
His desk was cluttered with Lego projects and half-built gadgets. You walked over, poking at an unfinished Lego set, “Do you ever clean up after yourself?”
Satoru launched himself into his chair, “Nah, we have cleaners who come by. Besides, they’re not allowed in my room in case they mess up my projects.”
You gave a puzzled look, “Girls won’t want to come over if you live like some slob.”
“You’re here, though.”
You felt your body heat up, “I don’t count!” Satoru gave his signature grin, sitting up to pull out the materials.
The next hour passed with the two of you revising and reviewing the final report. At first, everything was going well. Neither of you had made a petty comment, and the assignment had seemingly gone well.
Towards the end of the paper, Satoru frowned, “Hm.” You turned to look at him. “What?”
“Nothing, but your analysis is kinda weak. You should rewrite this; it isn’t up to my standard.” You felt your jaw clench, “Your standard?” He nodded, “I mean, it might be okay for you, but I don’t think it matches the pace we’re setting.”
Your shoulders stiffened. “I think it’s well written.”
That familiar feeling bubbled in your chest. That feeling you tried to ignore all these weeks.
“Honestly, no wonder you missed that,” he laughed playfully. You tried to remain composed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that I caught it first.”
You felt something deep inside of you snap.
“Yeah. No fucking wonder.”
He looked up, “Huh?”
“I said: no fucking wonder. No wonder I’m always behind you because even at my best, I’m still not enough to beat you.”
Satoru stared at you, blue eyes widening in a mix of shock and confusion.
You continued, “It’s just easy for you, isn’t it? You can just be smart, but I’m not like you, Satoru! I’m not naturally like that. I work so, so hard and I still come up short.”
The room fell silent, and the air felt thicker. You felt tears prickle in your eyes from the overwhelming jealousy coursing through your veins.
“What are you talking about?” He said quietly, tilting his head as if it would help him understand better. You stood so quickly that a few of his figurines clattered off his desk.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
His brows furrowed as he stood up, carefully repositioning his figurines before facing you once more.
You felt years of anger — jealousy — resurface.
“I spend hours — days or weeks even — studying, revising, just trying to be better.” You felt the tears fall before you could stop them, “I go over my notes over and over until my eyes sting, I pay attention in every class, I barely take days off even when I’m sick!” You sniffled, “Y-Yet somehow you’re always ahead of me. Every damn time.”
You couldn’t stop the frustrated words that continued to pour out, “Do you know how infuriating that is? To have all your hard work thrown down the drain because someone is so effortlessly smart?”
A small hiccup escaped you, “I’m so jealous of you, Satoru, and I hate myself for it.”
Satoru’s expression slowly changed, his eyes softened as he took a step closer.
“I wish — I wish I wasn’t always runner-up every single time.” Your voice cracked slightly as you spoke.
You suddenly felt small in his all too spacious room, and the air felt warmer than it did ten minutes ago. “I hate it, and I wish I could hate you for it too.”
For the first time in years, Satoru didn’t ridicule you. He didn’t crack a single joke at your expense; instead, he took another step closer, until he was staring down at you.
“You’re wrong, idiot.”
You scoffed at the juxtaposition of that stupid insult during this time.
Your eyes met his. “Well, you are right, but not entirely.” He reluctantly held onto your wrist, “I only really try when I’m up against you. You give me a real challenge.”
You let out a watery laugh, “Really?” He nodded all too enthusiastically, “Really! Gosh, it’s so exhilarating having someone to compete with for once. It’s not like I study as much as you do, but you put up a fight.”
His voice was quieter now, “Besides, I’ve always been jealous of you, of your determination, your hard work. I don’t think I’d make it very far if it wasn’t for my brains.” He knocked the side of his head awkwardly.
You choked out a noise of surprise, eyes widening at his confession. “I’m jealous of the fact that you’ve worked for everything you’ve achieved, I just… have it.” You felt your chest tighten.
For years, you had assumed Satoru looked down on you, that he always thought of you as lukewarm at best. But now? He’s telling you he admires your drive.
You stared at each other for what felt like minutes before he turned away, his cheeks taking on a pink tint.
“Wow.”
You giggled, wiping away your tears with your free hand, “Wow?” Satoru’s eyes darted around awkwardly, “I think that’s the most emotionally vulnerable I’ve ever been.” You laughed quietly, earning a soft chuckle from him.
“Yeah, never do that again. It was so weird,” you joked. He scoffed at you, “I take it back.”
You laughed again, louder this time. Your eyes met his once more, your smiles softening into something quieter, rawer.
His glasses began to slip down his nose, and you moved to push them back up. Satoru’s breath hitched, and his eyes flickered to your lips.
“Satoru?” You whispered.
“Yeah?”
His face burned, white hair beginning to stick to his forehead from the nervous sweat. He leaned in closer, his nose barely grazing your own, “C-Can I…?” It was as if the words died on his tongue.
You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in an awkward kiss. His glasses bumped your forehead, causing you to wince against his mouth, then you accidentally stood on his toe, making him yelp.
He pulled away with a chuckle, “Wait, stop, I’m going to laugh.” You burst into a fit of giggles at his confession, intertwining your hand with his absentmindedly.
Suddenly, he stopped, “Oh my god.”
“What?” You asked worriedly, scanning your face for any harm.
“You were my first kiss! Ew.”
You punched him in the shoulder, “As if I wanted you to be mine, dandelion.”
“Ouch! Who punches someone after a kiss?” He winced, rubbing his shoulder. “Who insults them afterwards?” You retorted.
Satoru grinned, that same infuriating face. Loud and bright as ever.
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo and you hiding your relationship from your mom ╱ mdni, dom!yuki, dumbification, degradation, corruption?, size difference ˚.✦
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who picks you up in the corner of your street after you tell your mom you're going to have a sleepover with some friends. Yuki pulls up in her motorbike, with a pretty helmet just for you. She greets you with a kiss on the lips and a squeeze in your ass, helping you put your helmet on. "Hold on tight," she says every time, and she doesn't start up until your arms are around her waist.
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who was the one to convince you to start seeing each other, the way she talked to you, telling you how gorgeous of a woman you've became, it made your thighs press together. She took advantage of the effect she has on you and now she has you wrapped around her fingers.
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who sees you as her cute doll. She's stronger and smarter than you, she easily lifts you up and sits you on her lap so you can grind against her jeans. You're always completely naked and she's all dressed up. You get all shy and whiny, trying to hide your face in her neck but she just grabs your chin and forces you to look at her. "Don't get bashful now, doll. You're the one who snuck out to come get fucked by your mom's bestie."
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who loves corrupting you slowly. At first you were a nervous virgin who didn't even touch her, but now she's got you all stretched out riding her fingers on the couch before dinner is even ordered, hips rolling desperately while you cry into her shoulder.
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo whose favorite thing is making you beg. She'll have you on your knees, pretty mouth stretched around her strap while she pets your hair and mocks you in her sweet and condescending voice. "You can go deeper, sweetheart. You were so loud on the phone earlier telling me how empty you felt. Now you're acting like you can’t handle it?" She pushes her hips forward just enough to make you gag, then laughs when tears prick your eyes.
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who, after she's got you all worked up and dripping, she flips you onto the bed like you weight nothing, the size difference always makes you throb. She's a special grade sorcerer and you're just... you. It turns you on so much you get stupid for her. You end up face down, ass up, whimpering her name while she fucks you hard from behind, one hand fisted in your hair. "That's iiiiiit, moan for me louder, stupid girl. Let me hear how much you love getting that tight pussy ruined."
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo whose aftercare is soft in the filthiest way. She pulls you into her lap, still buried inside of you and makes you cockwarm her while she feeds you snacks and strokes you back. Yo2u get all clingy, nuzzling into her chest, you hear her chuckle and say: "Look at my cute girl. Don't worry, princess, your mom will never find out how much of a whore you are for me."
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who loves the risk. It makes everything hotter. Sometimes she'll text you while you're having dinner with your mom, describing exactly what she's going to do to you later. You have to sit there blushing and trying not to squirm while Yuki sends messages like gonna fuck that pretty mouth until you forget your own name. You always end up excusing yourself early with some lame excuse just to run back to her.
mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who still can't believe how shy you get even after all the times she's fucked you stupid. When you're riding her she'll grip your hips hard enough to bruise and force you to look her in the eyes. "Don't hide that face. I wanna see how dumb I make you." You always end up a teary mess, telling her how she owns you and how you'd let her do anything.
a/n: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH SHOUT OUT TO THE LESBIANS. if i remember well @bat1nsignia once mentioned mom's best friend yuki and WELLL i finally wrote it
i genuinely don't know why i didn't write about yuki
art by kei_zsi
sukuna doesn’t know what it is like to receive a touch that is gentle.
sukuna has spent his life being a man who lived up to every bit of his reputation—terrifying, horrific, menacing, everything befitting a king. a lord. a curse.
everything he’s been on the receiving end of has been tainted with violence, hatred and malice. he is deserving of every bit of it, he’s sure.
but you, his queen, the lady he’s sure he’s conceived from his feverish nightmares, you touch him as if he was a prize.
you eye him like one would eye diamonds, something precious, not a curse. and that has his heart beating a rhythm dangerously akin to a person in love. but a curse’s heart cannot beat for cause other than violence, now can it?
he has you by his side because it’s convenient. because it’s an advantage—or so he tells himself, as he paces around his chambers in the dead of night, staring at your sleeping form, hoping to get close enough to touch you, but he never does.
but once you get to touch him? your hands are gentle, softer than his own calloused palms, as you glide them across his beastly body, slowly making way to his face.
sukuna feels his eyes well up with a sensation he’s never felt before, while you stood before him, studying him, your arms prodding, prying, your nails grazing his skin before they came up to cup his face.
tracing his jaw while your eyes met his, one of your hands finding their way into his hair, slowly brushing past the knots with the gentleness one would use only with something, someone that was adored.
the way your eyes softened as they met his face, your touch indicating nothing but reverence had his eyes pool with the unfamiliar sensation of tears. they pricked at his eyes shamefully—he was a king. he didn’t, nay, never cried, he never had that privilege bestowed upon him.
but before he could swallow the tears, they slid down his cheeks, meeting your palms that cupped his face oh so tenderly—you didn’t question it. it wasn’t your place. you swiped them away with your thumb, his tears pouring out his four eyes while a pair of his arms held on to your waist.
burying his head in your chest while you slowly pet his head—he should’ve had you killed for that. treating him like a common dog. but with his breath unsteady as he fought off tears that’d never left his eyes before, his heart swelled with an emotion he thought he had never possessed—he was grateful.
as the tears that were shed left behind salt tracks to make their presence known, you lifted his head only to plant the softest kisses against them—the saltiness coating your lips while he looked up at your form like you were a goddess that descended before him.
you held him in your arms like you would a baby—and sukuna held himself close to your heart, listening to the sound of your blood rushing through your veins just to make sure that you were here. that you were really before him, holding his cursed heart in the palm of your hands while you softly sighed against his head.
he would stay here, frozen in time if he could. ryomen sukuna didn’t know what it meant to shed tears, he didn’t know what it meant to have your heart swell merely in the presence of someone. he didn’t know what it meant to be held close to a heart without having to rip it out with his bare hands. but maybe, he’d finally be deserving to have this. to have you.
maybe, he was finally deserving of being held by a pair of arms that didn’t wish to tear him apart.
repost from liliklei :p. i loved this fic. @yoonsucks @yorikae @satorusdreamer @kireampie ok bai.
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
You had been folded over your husband’s lap, legs dangling over his muscular thigh. One of his four hands was pressed against the back of your head, keeping you from turning back to glimpse at him. Another sprawled across your back to pin you down.
A third was currently spreading your pussy lips wide for inspection.
“I’ll ask you again, have you been touching what’s mine, brat?” He growled, red eyes focusing on your slicked cunt. You whined into your hands, “I-I haven’t.”
Crack!
A sharp spank landed on your ass, followed by a tut from your husband, “Don't lie to me.” He hissed, his large hand kneading the stinging flesh of your ass.
A sob escaped you, and you felt your cunt clench around nothing from the impact. His grip on the back of your head tightened, “I know what this pussy looks like, my wife. And I know when you have been interfering in my duties.”
Another spank, but this time to your cunt.
You cried out, “I’m sorry! I just missed you, my husband. You had been away for your travels for so long.” He let out an unamused laugh, “Is that so? That’s no excuse to have lied to me.”
His thick fingers pressed against your clit, circling agonisingly slowly on the sensitive nub. “Do you see me pleasuring myself without your presence? Do you think I do not have desires?”
He smacked your clit once more, “You will learn how to be patient.” You yelped at the force, cowering in his lap.
A smirk began to form on his lips as he peered down at your slicked cunt, your essence dropped down your thighs and onto his rough fingers. “So needy,” he murmured, spreading you open once more.
You shivered as cool air hit your clit. “R-Ryomen…” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks. He hummed, signalling for you to continue as he inspected your cunt.
“Please.”
Your voice was barely audible, but he picked it up. A wicked grin crossed his face when he heard you. “My poor wife, so worked up over my absence.”
He slid one finger just past your entrance before retracting it and bringing it back up to your clit.
“Let’s see how pretty you sound when you beg, my wife.”
a/n: something for you guys while I work on something for nerdjo 😇
🏩 "𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑵𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ sfw nanami takes care of you while you're on your period ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა artist credits: official jjk art plz reblog / like 2 support ⠀ ⃘໋ׅ♡ 𝑤.𝑐: 0.4k ⁀ ˳ ⟡
#⃝ 𝓦ARNINGS ◦ ₊ㅤ ㅤ﹙ fluff reader is nanami's wife she/her pronouns used Nanami is the sweetest husband eva only tooth rotting fluff you and nanami were high school sweethearts reader & nanami are mid-early 20s modern au / no sorcery 2nd person perspective
໒ִ 𓈒ིྀ ˚ ℳINA'S 𝓝OTES ⫽ ୧ྀ ─ I actually don't like writing for nanami that much masterlist <3
KENTO NANAMI placed his hand over your abdomen, gently sneaking his hand up your shirt to cup at the pouch where your womb was.
His lips brushed over the back of your hair, while you were pouting, eyes closed in the constant ache. “I feel so gross…” you mumbled, groaning when you felt that one cramp shoot to your rear in eye-watering pain. The first two days of your period were always the worst, you didn’t even want to get out of bed, too tired and sore, not wanting to deal with any daily tasks.
Kento was gentle, the sweetest husband, even.
“I’ll make you warm tea, my love, you can eat it with the chocolate chip bread rolls I bought recently,” He hummed in his deep voice against the back of your neck. Soft lips pressed against where your scalp faded into your neck, warm breath ghosting over the back of your neck in a comforting brush. His thumb moved gently over your skin, pressing just firmly enough to give you some sort of relief.
Kento had always been the person to look after you on your period, even back when you two were in high school, between the lines of friends and dating. He had wrapped his sweater around your waist at one point when you had bled through your school pants. “My tummy hurtsss… and can people still see?” You pouted, turning around so that nanami could check you from the back. His eyes had bored down your figure before shaking his head silently, “you can’t see,” he had said monotonously.
You had sighed, smiling before reaching over and pecking his cheek. His face burned up almost immediately, “thank you, Kento!”
And now, almost a decade later, as your husband, he was bringing you warm tea. Watching over you, keeping you safe, and loving you. Kissing your forehead, still blushing every now and then whenever you kissed him, but he was mostly used to it now.
"Kento... you're really sexy when you take care of me," you whined playfully, rubbing your eyes to turn over in bed to see what he had brought you. Nanami was frozen, setting down the tray on the bedside table, face flushed a deep red.
Words from our Hostess: Congratulations! You've been selected for our Host Club. After reading your application, we decided that your best pairing for you might be Enjin, we prepared a steamy situation between you two.
stoner!enjin x punk!reader ╱ you and him are smoking together when things get heated
cw: dry humping, weed, reader wears a lot of make up, scent kink
He has been inviting you to his apartment for the last few weeks, he complimented your hair once and offered to help you dye it, and now you spend your evenings together. Smoking, giggling, eating and watching weird niche movies in languages you don’t understand.
Enjin loves your vibe a lot, he can’t explain why. Maybe it’s your maximalist outfits filled with jewelry and layers, or your heavy make up with colorful eyeshadows and bold lip combos. He wondered if you wear waterproof lipstick or if his neck and mouth would be stained after a make out session.
The smoke from the joint curls lazily between you two on his couch, the TV flickering some old French film with subtitles you gave up on reading twenty minutes ago. Your legs are draped over his lap like usual, he passes the joint back to you, his fingers brushing yours longer than they need to.
You take a slow hit and laugh softly when he starts complaining about how the last movie had zero plot. The conversation drifts easy, the way it always does when you are both a little high. Somehow it slips into dating stories, then into what turns people on. You tease him about his taste in girls and he just smirks, eyes half lidded from the weed.
“I don’t know…” he says, drifting. The back of his neck hits the couch, he tries to hide his flushed cheeks.
You nudge his thigh with your bare foot. “C’mon, tell me.”
Enjin exhales, watching the way your necklace rests against your collarbone. “I love how people smell.”
“Oh?” You raised your body a little, resting in your forearms, looking at him because you wanted him to tell you more.
“Like… real skin after a long day. I fucking hate the smell of perfumes or soap.” His eyes flick to meet yours.
You try and fail not to snort. “Do you have a sweat kink, Enjin?”
“Fuck no! Don’t twist my words now,” he gasps, rolling his eyes funnily, he takes another drag and then mutters to himself: “I can’t believe I’m saying this.”
It takes him a moment to say what he’s thinking. “I like your smell, alright?”
Your mouth falls open after his declaration because you truly weren’t expecting that. “Oh really?” You shift, your feet leaving his lap so you can get closer to him, now standing face to face and taking the joint out of his hand. Your purple lipstick leaves a mark on it. “Tell me more.”
He swallows, never breaking eye contact. You notice now how big his eyes actually are, even being red and puffy.
“Every time you come over I catch it when you move. That warm smell right here.” His fingers hover near the side of your neck, not quite touching. “It drives me crazy.”
You feel your pulse pick up. The joint is forgotten in the ashtray as you shift closer. “Show me what you mean,” you whisper.
Enjin pulls you into his lap easily, hands sliding up your back and getting rid of a few clothes until you’re just in a top, your bracelets sound as your arms rest on his shoulder and you sigh when his hands slide up your back under your clothes. His face presses into the curve of your neck, breathing you in and not containing the groan.
“Fuuuck, you smell so good.” His lips brush your skin, open mouthed and warm. You feel him getting hard beneath you, the growing pressure making you rock your hips without thinking.
Things get heated fast after that. Your hands fist in his shirt as he grips your waist, guiding you to grind down against him. Every roll of your hips drags your core right over the thick line of his cock through his sweatpants. He keeps his face buried in your neck, inhaling like he cannot get enough, tongue tasting the salt on your skin.
“Enjin, hah, you’re so hard,” you breathe out, your hands sliding down his body and under his shirt, pinching one of his nipples. You feel him twitch and laugh under you. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you tighter so the friction feels even better. You can feel how wet you are getting, the heat building between you with every desperate grind.
“Mm, that’s ‘cause you feel shoo good,” he groans, his mouth trapping yours in a kiss, making it as messy as possible for when you part, to see his marked face in the reflection of your wide pupils.
a/n: he's such a hot dude i don't understand how the mangaka make him this hot, it should be illegal
Jean is the type of person to cum from eating you out, unable to help from grinding his hips onto the bed as he holds your legs open and smothers his face in your pussy. Sometimes he'll make it obvious with the moans he lets out against your cunt and the deep long grinds against the mattress.
He can't help that he gets so turned on from the way you sigh and moan, how your hand pulls and tugs at his hair, it's like you were asking him too at this point. What else is a man suppose to do when he's devouring the sweet cunt of his woman, pretend this isn't the hottest thing for him at the moment and carry on about his day?
No. Jean is expressive in various ways, one of them being letting you know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure, hearing you react as his tongue flattens over your clit and flicks it with just the tip of his tongue so he can watch your back arch.
He'll hum and moan in time with his grinding hips as he dips his tongue in and out of your weeping pussy, gathering the leaking arousal like it were an oasis in the desert. Jean is passionate about your pleasure and needs, putting yours above his but not neglecting himself entirely either.
You'll start to notice the way his fingertips create dips in your thighs as he holds you open, the shutter that will run up his spine as you see the lower half of his body move to it's own rhythm, moaning his name in a sort of question, getting him to look up from between your legs.
"What?" velvet words dancing up to your ears as he kisses your inner thigh, keeping his gaze on your blissed out face.
Whatever you wanted to ask will die in your throat as he teases you with a single swipe of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, laughing softly at the way your head falls back onto the pillow and your hand tightens in his hair. He'll keep the lazy movements going with his tongue until you begin to beg through soft whines and whispers for more, slipping in two fingers at once and focusing his mouth on your clit.
"Moan for me baby."
Requesting selfishly the second he hears you go quiet, needing to listen to the salacious noises that crawl up your throat and go straight to his dick. He's getting close, pulsing against the bed as he pumps his fingers out faster and sucks at your clit harder, wanting to cum at the same time but not wanting to reveal he was getting off by grinding against the bed.
Jean will stifle his moan as he cums against your pussy, easing you through your sudden orgasm and his own, getting so lost in between your legs. He'll make you cum so hard that you reluctantly tell him you don't want anymore, and Jean will gently smile and kiss you, telling you not to worry about it, already coming and perfectly content with just laying with you in his arms.
a/n: jean has been on my brain a lot more lately, so here you go hehe 😚
𖦹 jean kirstein loves strawberry ice cream after sex. ( 18+ )
the first time you and jean became intimate, you casually mentioned how much you were craving strawberry ice cream. without a word, jean rushed out of bed and didn't come back for a couple of minutes. you remember being slightly concerned, wondering if you said something wrong.
when he came back with a tub of strawberry ice cream and two spoons, you knew he was the one. ever since then, it's become a crucial part of your aftercare ritual.
tonight is no different. you stand leaning against his kitchen counter, wearing nothing but his button down you practically ripped off fourty five minutes ago. you've got the ice cream container sat open, twirling the sweat swirls of red against your spoon. the flavor on your tounge feels like heaven on earth. you sway your hips softly to the quiet music playing in your head. jean stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying alongside you humming your favorite song softly.
it's the quiet moments like these that you crave the most. you feel nothing but the calm satisfaction coming from your core and the warmth in your chest knowing that you've found your soulmate already.
sometimes, like tonight, jean doesn't use a spoon, he can't keep his lips off yours long enough to find it necessary.
wrote this while eating strawberry ice cream in my kitchen at 1am. he's always in my head i need help
the first time your son learned how to walk, you and your husband satoru were over the moon. it was on a random saturday afternoon with you all in your son’s playpen. already a seemingly rare occasion where satoru finally had a break from all of his missions.
at just 6 months, your baby could already crawl and stand up by using objects above to grip onto — satoru argues that the gojo genetics has him so incredibly advanced for his age.
but that wasn’t enough for your son. now at 9 months old, he kept attempting to walk only for his little legs to give up halfway. but you were determined for today to finally be the day.
satoru was sprawled out like a starfish whilst replacing the batteries for your son’s bubble machine. that which you had shoko to thank for — all of your friends collectively made sure that your baby was beyond spoiled than he already is.
you were also sat further away with all of the toys beside you to motivate your son to walk over.
“come on baby! don’t you want teddy back?” you chirp at your son.
he slowly stands up, already making improvement since he wasn’t holding onto anything for the first time. “ma–ma!” he happily claps his tiny hands as he takes two small baby steps.
“that’s it! come to mama!” you encourage him into your arms whilst he’s still deciding if he should try to walk or not. your son has a cute pout and furrow in his eyebrows painting his dedicated face as his wobbly steps grow more steady.
“oh my gosh! satoru, look!” you shake his shoulder repeatedly to face your son who was slowly but surely padding his way over to you both.
“wooow~ look at our little munchkin go!” he cheers on. you pull out your phone to commemorate the special milestone.
“dadadadada” he babbles on until stumbling over a lego block. you and satoru immediately share a look that says ‘do not react’ before he gets back up waddling and continues his string of babbles right into satoru’s arms.
“awww my smart baby! we’re so proud of you! and i think this may call for some mochi ice cream to celebrate if mama allows it…”
“alrighttt.. just this once. our baby deserves it after all.” you say in between peppering your son’s face in kisses.
little did you know how much of an adorable menace your son would grow into once learning how to walk…
fast forward to now at 12 months old, and it feels like your son was placed on earth for the sole purpose of acting as your personal trainer with the way you’re relentlessly chasing after him non-stop.
it’s early in the morning when satoru’s soft snores have once again woken you up — but he’ll always deny it. his arms are wrapped around your waist to cage you in from starting the day way too early.
“toru, let go…” you whisper whilst caressing his hair to gently wake him up.
“mmm.. five more minutes if you love me...” he croaks, reluctantly letting go eventually — but not before whining immediately when you do get up. god, sometimes he acts more like a baby than your actual infant.
when you groggily check the baby monitor on the bedside table, your heart drops. why is your baby not… in his crib? maybe you’re running on a lack of sleep which is causing you to hallucinate? you rub your eyes and focus on the screen again only to be met with the same sight.
at this point your mind is going to the worst of places. what if the gojo clan were right and you weren’t cautious enough and now your baby was made a target?
“hey– hey, what’s the matter sweets?” satoru’s words snap you out of your overthinking. it turns out you were hyperventilating without even realising which was enough to awaken the now worried sleepyhead.
“toru, he’s not in his crib! where the hell could he be?!”
“shh, it’s okay. i can sense his tiny cursed energy still in the home. let’s just get up and look for him, can you do that for me?” he softly kisses your cheek.
“o-okay, yeah. i can do that.” you get out of bed and head to the living room, satoru trailing from behind. you won’t lie and admit that you’re out of breath when you get there. ugh, curse satoru for insisting on spoiling you with a mansion after moving in together!
you scan the empty living room all over “okay so, he’s not here..” you mumble quietly, trying to compose yourself from freaking out.
“let’s not panic, we still have fifty something other rooms to check!”
you shoot him a glare, “that is not helping me right now. what if he accidentally hurt himself? a-and it’s so bad that he can’t even call out for us?!” your voice cracks as tears threaten to spill out. yeah. you were spiralling.
“stay calm sweets. i’ll check the other living room, kay?” he kisses at your pout. you hum defeatedly in response, pacing mindlessly into the kitchen until you suddenly stop in your tracks.
there you saw…your baby? sat on the floor hugging the jar of homemade cookies whilst munching away. crumbs and chocolate chips smear his face and clothes as a sign that he’s been here for a good minute.
“what on earth…” your son just giggles like he understands your confusion. “mama cookie!” he stretches out his grubby hand to show his half–bitten cookie, almost like a peace offering.
“uh, one second baby.. ahem– SATORUUU! come take a look at what your son is up to!” you have to yell knowing he’s somewhere on the other side of the massive house. your son who is completely unfazed by your shouting goes back to joyfully munching on his cookie.
satoru frantically spawns there within seconds, “you found him?” you nod, gesturing him to look down at the sight you just walked into. “oh wow–” he can’t help but burst out laughing, “that’s my son alright!”
you scoop your baby up into your arms and prop him on your waist. he whimpers when you separate him from his beloved cookie jar. “really? you couldn’t tell when he came out with glowing blue eyes?”
“heyyy! i can’t help that my genes are insanely overpowering! but you never know, perhaps our next one will be your carbon copy~” he playfully winks at you.
you roll your eyes, “how smooth of you. seriously though, how did he even end up here and reaching the jar?”
“hmm..” satoru points at the tiny stool, “he must’ve pulled out this stool to get to the jar. and as for how he got here, you must know by now that he’s an ambitious walker.”
“oh trust me i know. gosh, he’s getting way too smart for us. i think we need to lock away the goods before this continues..”
“good idea, i’ll look into investing in a safe. you go back to bed and i’ll sort out a bath for this cookie monster.” he pokes your son’s chubby cheeks which makes him squeak before you hand him over. “after all, he probably developed his newfound sweet tooth from me.”
“probably? oh please– it was most definitely you! my pregnancy cravings were the only time i was consistently having sugar to make my pickles and ice cream combo.”
“hehe– remember when you would wrap the pickles in fruit roll ups” satoru chuckles at the memory. he would taste all of your unique cravings with you as a means of showing his support in any way possible — even if he found it absolutely repulsive.
“of course, that was heavenly.” you sigh dreamily before turning to your son and holding his pudgy hand in yours “and baby, cookies are only allowed for treating good behaviour. if you have too much then you’re going to be sick. we don’t want that now, do we?”
“nooo…” your son shakes his head.
“alright mister, let’s get that bath ready then make some breakfast in bed for mama. you gave her quite the scare wandering off like that, so give her a kiss before we go.” something about satoru in dad mode always leaves your heart skipping a beat, from the very moment he carried your baby in the hospital.
“otay! bye bye mama” he cups your face with his sticky hands and places a sloppy kiss on both of your cheeks. “dada turn!”
“well, don’t mind if i do~” he catches you off guard as his lips smoothly connect to yours. you naturally melt into the kiss until a few moments later when your son has had enough and starts pounding at his dad’s chest to stop.
“hey– ow! why’re you hitting papa, hm?”
“no more! all done.” your baby shrieks in a somewhat stern tone, and satoru could’ve sworn that he saw his son’s bright blue eyes narrow at him. you only snort at his silly attempt to protect you.
“alright, let’s not be too mean on daddy. or else who’ll buy your sweets and toys?”
“GASP– is that all you think i’m good for?”
“yes.” you immediately deadpan, your baby watches you nod and copies. “yesh.”
“oh god– i never thought i’d see the day where the love of my life and my spawn are both turning against me! i– i can’t take it!” he clutches at his shirt dramatically making you and your baby giggle.
“hey! don’t call our precious son a spawn!” you lightly slap his shoulder, of course your baby follows and shoves him too. “you sound like the higher ups..” you pettily grumble under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.
“eugh– you’re right. sorry mochi, but let’s go take that bath. something seriously stinks now–” satoru grimaces, giving one last kiss to your forehead before you go back to bed for a nap whilst he cleans your baby up.
you may joke with him all the time but one thing for certain is that he’s always been an amazing husband and father. ≧◡≦
notes: i luv reading dad jjk men so writing this was soso fun, don’t be shy to req more guys, technically gojo could have teleported to the baby but i wanted to long things out 🥰, but yeah i didn’t know how to end it so hope this was okay
When Satoru bought a new bed for you two to share, you had assumed it meant you would finally regain some personal space.
This was proven to be, in fact, false.
This was the third night in a row that you had been awakened by your husband's long limbs smacking you in your sleep. One lanky leg flopped over your own shorter legs while his arm draped over your stomach. It had become a routine of sorts; he would join you in bed around 4AM after finishing his duties, then around 5AM, he would begin his shenanigans.
At first, it was smaller, less irritable things like accidentally nudging you in his sleep, or snoring, but as time went on, his unconscious body seemed to turn restless. Satoru began to spread out on the bed, taking up around seventy five percent of the mattress, leaving you a sliver of space to occupy.
His lanky frame lay sprawled on the bed, limbs stretched out on top of your own as if you were his personal body pillow.
It eventually became insufferable; you couldn’t sleep with his constant invasion of your personal space, so you begged him to buy a bigger bed.
And that he did, except it somehow made the problem worse.
Now you lie awake, 5:17AM, with your husband snoring happily next to you, his leg draped over your hip, arm stretched over your collarbone, and face tucked into the crook of your neck. You didn’t understand how he managed to somehow take up the entire king-sized bed.
You huffed, trying — and failing — to push his body off of you, “Gosh, why are you so damn heavy?” You muttered under your breath, hand moving to nudge him awake.
“Toru, get up!” You whisper shouted, “You’re suffocating me, you oaf.” Gojo blinked groggily, bright blue eyes piercing the dimly lit room, “As much as I adore you, I’d like to get my three hours of beauty sleep, babe.” He groaned, nuzzling further into your neck, “Yeah, Toru. Me too, get off.”
He whined, pulling you further into his embrace as if he was trying to trap you. You rolled your eyes at him, hands still trying to push him away so you could actually enjoy your sleep. “Why do you hate me? I’m just trying to cuddle my wife,” he peeked up at you, blue eyes widening in faux puppy eyes.
“No, you’re suffocating me. Seriously, baby, how do you take up so much space?” He lifted his head, gasping in mock offence, “Are you calling me overweight? That’s so hurtful, I’ll have you know I have an amazing physique.” You stifled a laugh, brushing your fingers through his snowy hair, “Yes, Toru, I can see that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if all those sugary snacks caught up to you.”
“I’m just saying you sprawl out a lot, Toru, I’m trying to sleep, and I feel you practically on top of me.” He hummed into your neck, seemingly contemplating how to respond, “I just enjoy being close to you, is that a crime?”
You giggled, “It is when I’m practically being strangled.” Satoru whined louder this time, “It’s not fair, you deprive me of physical touch, babe.” You swatted his shoulder lightly, “Be quiet, you big baby. No one said we couldn’t cuddle. I just said stop confusing me for the mattress.” He pouted, “But you’re so soft.”
Leaning down, you kissed his pursed lips, “Just cuddle me like a normal person, okay?”
“But I’m not normal,” he sleepily argued.
You laughed, tugging lightly on his messy hair, “I know, baby. I know.”
you wake up drenched in sweat. your chest heaving, your eyes bloodshot while you try to remember what got you in such a frenzy in the first place. you couldn’t feel your limbs, the walls closing in on you while your mind seemed to spiral over what seemed to be nothing.
you hated when this happened. always running away and hiding in your room curled up in on yourself until the feeling disappeared. rotting until you found the next best distraction to just. run away from it all.
you found yourself seated on your kitchen counter, gasping for air, praying to god sukuna, or worse—yuji didn’t find you.
but alas, your luck only lasted so long, sukuna making way from the room, his eyes still full of sleep before he found you in the dim lights.
“baby, what’s wrong?”
“it’s nothing, kuna, go to bed before yuji wakes u-up.”
you tried to hold back your sobs, forcing them back into your throat.
“too late the brat was awake the second you got out of bed.”
he didn’t ask questions, just silently wrapped his arms around you while you hiccuped into him, your body still shaking from whatever it was that seemed to have awoken you.
yuji made his way to the two of you, his tiny arms tugging at the hem of your pants.
“are you okay auntie.” he squeaked out, while you picked him up, cradling him against your chest.
“wass it a scary dream? i have those too!!” he yelped trying his hardest to make you feel better his tiny arms trying their best to wipe away your tears while sukuna had almost a death grip on your waist, slowly tracing circles on your skin until your breath evened out.
“it was, yuji.”
“i’ll protect you!!” is all he screamed before hugging you by the neck while you softly giggled against him.
“you see that? you aren’t really alone anymore, doll.”
“y-yeah. i guess so, huh?”
your heart started to beat a steady rhythm again, drowned with overwhelming amounts of affection by two of the strangest pink haired men. but gods you loved them to death.
i repost. @yoonsucks @yorikae @satorusdreamer
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
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pixelskylines
origamiaround
