The first thing đą đđđđđ did when he woke up was order your coffee.
Just the right milk. Just the right sugar. The same way he's memorised a hundred times and over. He got it wrong the first day you moved in with him and still remembered the way your face twisted. He wished he'd framed it.
He switched on the radio. Listened to whatever shitty Valentine's playlist Tokyo put together. Tapped his foot and sang in the kitchen when your song came on. Your song. The one that played on your first date when he'd charmed you all night long just to drop ice cream on his shoe in the middle of the street. Just to nearly tear up over his sweet treat. He remembered how you laughed. Like the sun to the moon shining above. He wished he recorded it.
The second thing Satoru did that morning was stop at the florist. He bought your favourite flowers in your favourite colour. He remembered how he spent months sending you all sorts of variations, dubbing them from 'a secret admirer' and gouging your reaction to see which were your favourite. Because he just couldn't ask. Couldn't swallow his nerves or allow himself to be just some stupid kid with a crush. You made him nervous. You made him feel. The only one who ever could crumble the strongest.
The third thing Satoru did that day was pick up your gift. A ring. Silver and sapphire. He remembered your soft voice to his ear, your softer body pressed into him, your fingers spelling promises between his.
âCan you imagine me in white, toru?â
âHuh? Whatdya mean, sweetheart?"
He feigned confusion. Pressed his nervousness in a kiss to your temple. Held you closer. He wished he'd said yes. Wished he'd pushed the fear down and kissed your knuckles. Got down on his knees then and there and proposed to you with nothing but a smile for a diamond and a hand as a ring.
But it's okay. He's ready now. He's ready to see you in white. To slip his ring on your finger and sign his name beside yours. He's almost nervous. He chuckled at the stutter in his heart.
Ridiculous, really. How even now, you could still make him nervous.
He fixed his hair in the mirror. Practised his smile. Steadied himself. And then set out.
The last thing that Satoru did for the day.
Was visit the cemetery.
He laid down your coffee, in your favourite cup. Then carefully set the roses on the tombstone.
He brought himself to the ground. To two knees instead of one. Smiling, softly.
"Big day today," he whispered, tracing his touch down the stone. Searching for a warmth that the earth had taken back long ago.
"Would you make me the happiest man alive,"
His voice shook. He slipped the ring from his pocket.
No box. No bag. No theatrics.
Just you. Him. And a question he's too late to ask.
"And marry me?"
He didn't cry this time.
He'd gotten used to it.
Brushing the dirt away from the top of your grave and tucking the ring within it, where countless others laid. Covering it in the soil. Holding his hand over. Like he could hold your hand. Just one more time.
A smile. A sting.
Guess there's the tears.
His shoulders slumped. Voice caught. Blunt nails nipping at the soil. Searching for you. Searching for the warmth that was tucked away in a box within the ground.
His tears soaked the dirt. Would you feel him? Just one last time?
"Sweetheart," he shook. Smiled. Pressed his lips atop the stone and missed the warmth of yours, as he whispered:
pairings - hockey player! gojo x figure skater reader
warnings - reader is shy, protective tsundere Uncle Sukuna, satoru likes his snow, he's a damaged pookie, yandere tendencies, he is getting obsessed with us, drug use, drinking, masturbation, sexual tension, eventual smut and angst, size kink. This will be a series commission for my girl @strychnynegirl coming in a cpl weeks. comment to get tagged <3
Hockey Star! Satoru was the top hockey player there was, despite being a little bit - okay a lot - of a partier. When not on the ice, he tended to have just a bit of snow up his nostrils, yet there was not one day he didn't work his ass off to be there. He wasn't the best purely because of skill, there was so much more involved with it, countless mornings at four am before anyone got there, guiding that puck across the ice over and over until it was perfect.
Hockey Star! Satoru was just made for the rink, he could glide on the ice like it was nothing, he lived and breathed it now that he was on the pro team, with it came an insane amount of pressure, but Satoru's whole life was that. Pressure, doing the best, top of his class, top of his team - he was a Gojo, after all, it was expected for him to be perfect. Maybe the partying was the only thing that made him not the complete 'ideal' hockey prodigy.
Hockey Star! Satoru was the captain of the pro team now, Ryomen Sukuna was their coach, and to say the two of them butted heads constantly was an understatement. Sukuna and him literally got into screaming matches at least once a week, and fist fights every couple weeks, the team loved to place bets on who'd beat whose ass that day. Yet Sukuna knows Satoru is the damn best, and Satoru knows he is too - he's a conceited little shit outwardly, so arrogant with his grin as he says how he's the best that everyone eye rolls. But... he is.
Hockey Star! Satoru knows that shit too, and gets away with anything because of that fact. Sukuna smacks him upside the head daily before he sort of begrudgingly accepts that he is the best he's seen - aside from him of course. There's so much damn arrogance it's hard to be in a room with those two, add Toji and Naoya's ridiculously conceited ass to the team, and more humble players like Nanami Kento and Suguru Geto have to drink to just deal with them all.
Hockey Star! Satoru met a little resistance when he started being the captain, but despite talking shit, everyone knows he's the best - even now he's leaned back on the wall with a wicked hangover rushing through his head, throbbing at the temples and spreading. He winces and pops ibuprofen dry - yeah, he can swallow em dry, he's really elite honestly. He sighs and then sees Suguru land a shot with a loud smack across the ice, there are girls all giggling, Suguru gets a little flustered at the attention. The man could have endless pussy but he's just too romantic, Satoru smiles at him. "Good shot Sugu," he clears his throat, eyeing Satoru with a grin. Lemme see it again."
Hockey Star! Satoru glides across the ice, blades gliding through them and leaving fine little swirls, grabbing a drink and undoing the cap, waving at the girls who've gathered to practice skating on the other side of the rink. Pretty frequently they shared one because it was so big and busy - this town was all about the olympic training. Satoru loves the damn attention though, he'll take selfies with any girl who asks him, playing into their flirtations for fun. If it's anything Satoru loves, it's the attention he gets from everyone - except... the new girl who skates by him quietly, focused so much she doesn't notice him.
Hockey Star! Satoru has not ever seen her, she's focused and quiet, skating elegantly across the ice to start spinning, this pretty pirouette that has him stunned for a moment. Something about how you spin, how your leg is placed and your arms are up, like some pretty little dancer in a music box. He realizes his mouth is open as he stares, when the chill of the air hits his tongue, you do a jump and land it perfectly, arms thrust back like a professional. Frozen in place, he only snaps out of it when everyone in his damn team claps or makes some sort of whistle. He blinks a bit, noticing your cute, shy little smile as you spin again, waving over to them with a tiny little flick of your fingers.
Hockey Star! Satoru has never been so damn dumbfounded - sure you're a pretty little thing, and clearly skilled, but it's almost physically uncomfortable to leave his spot and skate back over. Just for you to do another leap and spin, he can't even focus, blue eyes darting across your form in your cute, sparkly little outfit. He hardly notices how transfixed he was until Suguru nudges him with his shoulder, the plastic of their gear clicking with the smack. "She's pretty, isn't she?" Satoru glares, and Suguru chuckles a bit. "You all right, Toru?" "Am I... yeah, okay? I'm um... great..."
Hockey Star! Satoru watches as you're skating backwards, gliding across the ice with more grace than Satoru's lanky ass form could have - he's bulky, powerful, not whatever the fuck your movements were. "She's hot," Toji earns Satoru's scowl. "What, got some dumb claim already?" Satoru scoffs, heat dancing across his cheeks as he keeps looking at you. "I uh... like... yeah she's fucking hot, okay?" "That's my fucking niece you little brat!?" Whack, the first smack to Satoru's helmet of the day, he winces and glares at the tall, pink haired demon he has to call coach. "Your niece is hot-" "Toji, I'll fuck your face up more."
Hockey Star! Satoru sees you peering over, frowning a bit in concern, as Sukuna loses his shit. "I've never seen her," Satoru mentions quietly, Sukuna sighs now. "Yeah well, she's moved in with me here, her..." He trails off now, and you're skating up - fuck are you prettier up close? His heart hammers in his chest like he's some teenager, not a twenty something who has a girl or three in his bed every weekend. You look at him curiously, hands clasped in front of you a little nervous, as his pulse decides to spike, hands all sweaty - the fuck is this shit!? He's nervous!? "Uncle Kuna, why are you being mean?" Sukuna glares as the team snorts in laughter. "Uncle Kuna?" Toji's joke has Sukuna shoving his ass on the ice. "You're being so harsh with your team..."
Hockey Star! Satoru can't help but smile at how cute you are. "Don't call me that in front of them?! Stop laughing, you fucks I swear to..." your lips pout just a bit, eyes all glittery, Satoru can't wipe the smile off his face as he watches the big, mean ass pink haired man melt. "Don't pull your puppy eyes on me brat I swear..." the team is snickering. "Then be nice, what was happening anyway?" Sukuna rolls his eyes. "They were saying how talented my niece is, right boys?" "Yes!" that's all of them except Satoru, who your eyes meet then.
Hockey Star! Satoru is the prettiest man you've maybe ever laid eyes on, something about the myriad of blue in his eyes makes your tummy clench up, his lazy lidded smile down at you, so damn tall in those skates you have to lean your head back to meet his gaze. "You're amazing," he murmurs softly, you blush furiously, heat hitting your cheeks until even your damn ears blush. "I uh... oh um... thank you," you barely manage to speak, smiling as he skates just a little closer. "You're amazing, I've watched you a lot." "Oh yeah?" you nod, giggling as Sukuna scowls over at you two, skating over and gripping your arm with his big ass hand, ever gentle even though he's a giant. "That's enough, you have practice, don't you? Got that new coach coming today. Say bye." You frown and look at Satoru, who has the audacitiy to grin at you. "Bye - hey!"
Hockey Star! Satoru clearly has made your uncle madder than usual, he damn near carries you in one arm over to the other side of the rink. "Let me down, what are you even doing?" He places you down and scowls over his shoulder at the team of perverts looking at his damn niece. "Protecting you, don't talk to them," you laugh softly then, poking at his chest. "Don't be so rude, they're special to you aren't they?" Sukuna scoffs. "Tch... special to me? I fuckin' guess that's one way to say it." You peek over at Satoru Gojo, earning Uncle Sukuna stepping in front of you, blocking your view. "I just wanted to uh..." Sukuna moves every direction you do, until you cross your arms. "Stay away from him especially, yeah?" You frown at him. "Why, he seems sweet?" Sukuna turns you around and sort of pushes you to skate. "Just trust me, I'm supposed to protect you. "I'm grown - " Sukuna cuts you right off. "Get to skating, brat, now."
Hockey Star! Satoru watches as you begrudgingly glide across the rink, he can't get that dopey grin off his face till Sukuna almost kills him, but even then - how can he not smile at how cute you are, with big ass, mean Sukuna wrapped around your finger? How can he not come in early to watch you practice, just acting like he needs more himself, and relish every time you come by him, your shy but reserved conversation? He can't help but picture you every night after you give him a little wave goodbye, fuck he strokes it to you like it's his own form of worship.
Hockey Star! Satoru can't get you out of his damn head, but every time he gets close, Sukuna is there - leaving no space for him to even find out more than your name, he thinks he's heard your laugh, a soft little cute one - once. Your nose scrunched up, all fucking adorable, he's not sure when noses scrunching up started making him leak pre - but oh, it did. Sitting at a party with the familiar burn of white up his nostrils, leaning back and hardly noticing the girls kissing on his neck, wondering what you were doing. What you liked. Who you were, the sort of behavior he'd tease Suguru about, made even worse when instead of enjoying them bobbing their heads up and down his cock, he just apologizes for not staying hard and does more coke.
Hockey Star! Satoru has Toji fucking with him over that fact, as the scandalous rumors of a slut like Satoru not finishing was the talk of the group. Such talk it's a whole challenge of who could maybe get Satoru in bed, but he's too lost in his thoughts of you, how pretty your eyes would look when you're on your knees. Would your tummy bulge when his cock slid inside you? Would you drip, cream, or squirt out of your surely cute lil cunt? He would find every way to make you shatter underneath him, if he ever got you there, see if there's a freak buried deep down underneath your innocent little self.
Hockey Star! Satoru gets to the point he's rushing to the locker room to jerk his thick, veiny cock after seeing you just bend over a certain way, all alone in the mornings like you both were. You'd said something and waved all cute, he feels like a depraved, sick fuck, spitting right on his cock he had half jutted out from his tight pants, tugging his damn gloves off with his teeth to circle his girth. Stroking up and down, head falling back against the door, stifling a moan so he can bust and clear his head, like you're just a haze making his mind swim. White ropes he wishes were shot down your throat, dripping in streams as he sighs in relief, before hearing the crew about to come and panicking.
Hockey Star! Satoru doesn't realize you're curious too - you keep sneaking looks at him, making sure to do every move extra perfect when he's there. You're not sure he watches, but oh do you watch him - so much so your uncle lives to stop you, if he catches it he has no problem skating over. He gets you a new coach and she's extremely hard on you, pushing you so much you're exhausted, as if Sukuna wants you to be so busy you have no time to think of Satoru. Feet aching, eyes lidded, wincing one morning where Satoru sees you, his eyes all bloodshot from the night before. You've heard he parties, heard rumors about your teammates sleeping with him, but you don't judge that, how are you to know what's true?
Hockey Star! Satoru catches you limping off the ice one morning, immediately rushing to check on you, an arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you up and earning your sigh of relief. "Oh I'm fine, Gojo..." he frowns a bit, carrying you over to one of the benches, as people start flitting out. You're practicing late again, you always do he notices, taking your sock off and shoving your little legwarmers up to inspect. "You could have twisted it..." he trails off, you're blushing at the proximity, at being touched even if it's a hand on your ankle, a thumb brushing against it, making you jerk with the slight pain. Satoru's eyes meet yours, he's suddenly too close, it's too intimate. You don't even know how to answer when he says your name. "Sweetheart, can you move it?" you're a mess, unable to think of an answer to an easy question. "I um... you um..."
Hockey Star! Satoru moves your foot carefully up, his other hand slipping up your calf, fingers slipping down across your bare skin, and suddenly you can inhale his scent at his proximity, your throat dry as he looks at you. "You look tired Gojo," you blurt out, cursing and shutting your eyes. "Yeah, I guess I am," he murmurs softly, you open your eyes again. "Hungover more than anything." You swallow now, nodding quickly. "You ever drink? Never see you at the parties." "No, uncle Sukuna would beat my ass," he snorts, before laughing, his pretty grin making you falter, just how beautiful he looks in that moment. "He tries that with me, you should come to one. I'll make sure to take care of you, won't let anything happen." You bite on your lower lip, drawing his eyes to them. "I could maybe..."
Hockey Star! Satoru and you both dart apart when you hear it - "Get your hands off my niece!" Sukuna stomps in, and you gasp, eyes flitting up, before he sees your ankle and curses. "Shit, kid... are you okay?" you look to Satoru and smile just a bit, not moving from where you sit. "Gojo was checking on me, my ankle hurts," Sukuna frowns in concern, walking over but not before Satoru leans over and murmurs in your ear - "Call me Satoru," earning your flushed cheeks, his cute little smile even as he's chased off, and Sukuna checks you with concern. But your eyes lock, and you murmur to yourself in your head...
. Ęâ ۶ৠĘË . Ę 18+ | dressmaker!suguru using his measuring tape to see how deep he is inside you
you donât know how you ended up splayed over suguruâs desk with your legs thrown over his shoulders when minutes ago he was taking your measurements for a fashion event.
slutty little glasses sitting on his nose, measuring tape draped around his neck as he wrote in his notebook. pages strewn with sketches of outfit ideas, messy notes and reminders to himself, your name sometimes popping up here and there.
but somewhere in between talking about your dress, he tugged the measuring tape off and replaced it with your legs, your ankles locked behind him as he laid you back on his desk.
âstay-- hahh stay still for me, pretty girl,â he tries to sound commanding but his voice comes out breathy and shaky. his hands trembling slightly with pleasure as he holds the tape above your contracting stomach. âi just need to measure one more thing. fuckâŠâ
with each deep stroke of his cock, he can see the thick head of it protrude through your stomach. he groans, soft and low, cursing something under his breath. it takes everything in him to not speed up the pace of his mind-numbing thrusts.
âbut itâs⊠youâre so ngh d-deep, sugu,â you mewl, squirming against the hardness of the desk. you clench around him each time his bulbous tip drags against each and every sweet spot he somehow manages to find. youâre sure that heâs kissing your cervix at this point, fuzzy stars blurring your vision.
âi know, pretty, i know,â he coos, glasses sliding down his nose as he tries to read the numbers on the tape. âand youâre taking it so well for me. taking me so-- fuck, youâre so tight⊠taking me so well.â
a whimper slips past your lips in response to his depraved praise before it turns in a choked gasp when he presses his palm down on the bulge in your stomach. you quiver violently, fingers finding something to hold onto, grasping helplessly at the wooden surface under you.
the hand that was pushing down on your stomach slides down to grip your waist, pinning you down with a soft click of his tongue.
âstop moving so much,â he chides gently with a subtle, firm undertone.
âcanât, sugu⊠âs too much.â youâre panting, eyes barely half open, going limp against the desk as he drives into you so good that it almost hurts. you canât decide between wanting more or for him to stop because itâs that much overwhelming.
he leans down, your thighs folding into your chest. his hair tickles your cheek, hot breath caressing your mouth, violet eyes locked onto yours.
âyou can take it. i know you can. you always take it for me like my perfect girl,â he whispers, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your lips before he pulls back, straightening again.
his thrusts become torturously slow, taking the measuring tape back in his hands and stretching it over your stomach unsteadily. you try to steady your own breathing, trying to stay as still as you can despite the intimate smooches of his tip to your sweet spot, only making the puddle under your ass bigger.
then, his breath hitches, smirk faltering. cock throbbing against your plush walls. he has to bite back a groan.
8.6 sweet inches.
âgod, look at that, pretty girl,â he breathes out, a raspy strain of his voice as he tries to hold back just how ruined he is at the mere sight. and you follow his gaze to the bulge in your stomach, clamping down on him like a vice which forces him to stutter out a curse. âf-fuck⊠you really do take me so deep. take me so fucking good.â and he sounds proud. almost tame compared to the frantic snap of his hips that follows soon after like he canât help himself.
you cry out his name, throwing your arms around him to hold onto him as he drills into you like a man gone insane. heâs groaning, rough and low, tossing the tape aside to focus on you now.
the desk creaks weakly under you, protesting the force of his hips. though, itâs barely audible over the lewd squelching with each push of his hips and the smacking of skin against skin.
he leans back down again, dragging his teeth over the lobe of your ear, breathing heavily. âyou know, i think i could get even deeper if i had you bent over this desk. wanna try?â
andulkaphoto
kianamaiart
izzy806
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
