Your best friend Choso accidentally sends you an nsfw video | 18 + minors do not engage | part 2 here!!
.ೃ࿔*:･
A soft "ding!" reverberated through your quiet bedroom just past midnight, announcing a late night message from your best friend Choso; not unusual since the two of you texted each other like you'd die without constant contact. You stirred in bed, unlocking your phone to a new video in the age-long chat you and Cho used so frequently to send memes and talk shit.
But everything changed when you opened it. Labored breathing echoed from your phone's speakers as Choso appeared to prop his phone up on his desk. You couldn't see much of his face but you'd recognize the manga collection and intricate purple LED lights illuminating the background anywhere.
He leaned back in his gaming chair, the one you'd spent countless hours in kicking his ass at Mario Kart, and his caloused hand dipped into the waistband of his sweats–wait, what???
You paused the video, double checked the recipient name. It still read "Cho 👾💜", confirmation that you somehow weren't hallucinating.
Your finger hovered cautiously above your screen a moment, contemplating whether or not to keep watching, countless thoughts swirling around your head before you ultimately decided to hit play.
As soon as the video resumed, Choso's length sprung free from the confinement of his sweats and your jaw went slack. He's huge, information that never came up in your decade of friendship. And why would it? You only saw each other as friends, right?
That's what you thought to yourself as the video continued and his thumb smeared the precum that pulsed from his swollen pink tip. But then you heard your name on his lips, spoken like a dying man's wish while his chest heaved and his body shuddered.
You damn near dropped your phone , catching it mid air before repositioning it inches from your face like you needed to hear every breath and see every detail—every inch, every vein—to believe it was real.
The video still played, your best friend's ragged breaths and desperate moans spilling from your speakers as his hand stroked his veiny length. Choso appeared to lean down, his silver piercing sparkling as a glob of saliva slid off his adorned tongue and onto his tip, cascading down and pooling obscenely at his fist.
You should stop the video. Obviously he sent it on accident, right? But you were stunned. You couldn't look away if you wanted to, and honestly, you weren't sure that you did.
Especially not as his movements became sloppy, erratic, his moans turned to outright whimpers. "Please, oh fuck, oh my god," he was begging to cum, his tattooed arm flexing as his hips spasmed, desperately lifting with each wet stroke to fuck his own fist harder and faster.
With wide eyes and a confusing flutter in your stomach, you witnessed a side of him you never realized you wanted to see. You were mesmerized and hopelessly turned on, unable to tear your eyes from the screen.
You watched eagerly as one large hand grabbed onto the arm of his gaming chair, the other stroking sloppily, desperately, as your best friend chased his high with your name tumbling off his lips like it was an every day occurrence. Was it?
You found your breaths quickening in time with his as Choso's head leaned back, Adam's apple bobbing with each desperate gulp before white, sticky ropes of cum painted his chiseled abs. The video ended when Cho leaned forward enough to stop recording, but your eyes stayed locked on the frozen still of his slick painted body glinting in the purple-tinted light.
It was that salacious image that burned behind your eyelids when you tried (and failed) to fall asleep, thighs clenched and heart beating erratically while the sound of him moaning your name replayed in your mind like a forbidden lullaby.
You knew it was only a matter of time before he realized that he actually sent you that video, and the anticipation kept you up for hours. It wasn't until the sun began to peek over the horizon when sleep finally came for you.
.ೃ࿔*:･
a/n: Part 2 here also 20k likes?! Insane. Soooo happy you all enjoyed this <333
In which you jump out of a moving car to spite Boyfriend!Sukuna
“—because he was just making conversation!”
Sukuna scoffs, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Bullshit. That guy wanted to fuck you.”
“Oh my god. So what!” you yell. “It’s not like I was gonna fucking let him!”
“Coulda fooled me.”
Just like that, your angry face, which matches his, warps into one of calm decision. With speed he doesn’t see coming, you unbuckle your seatbelt, push open the passenger door and jump out of the moving car into the dead of night.
The car screeches to a halt not even a second later.
You’re pushing yourself up and testing the soreness in your ankle when a car door slams shut and Sukuna comes marching over to you. “You crazy, fucking bitch!” he snaps. Sukuna grabs your face, growling when you try to pull away. He inspects every inch of you, brows furrowed, and piercings glinting under the streetlights. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“I got a bitch ass boyfriend, that’s what’s wrong with me,” you grumble.
He ignores that. “You break anything? Wrist? Ankle? Dislocated your shoulder?” You shake your head. “Well, that’s a fucking shame.” Though as he says that, he can’t quite hide the tremors in his hands. Quieter now, he mutters with a tight frown, “Scratched your pretty face up. Fuck. Lost your one redeeming quality.”
“Okay, so I’m gonna walk home,” you say, deadpan. “I’ll see you around, asshole.”
Sukuna runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated noise. Then he smacks his lips against yours before you can actually start walking away (not that he’d let you get very far). “Alright, alright. You fucking win. Congrats. Christ. Get back in the car — we’re going to the hospital to get you checked out. Fucking dumbass.”
A hospital visit later, you’re in bed with him, cuddled up like nothing happened. It’s how arguments with him tend to go; neither of you really hold grudges against each other. Not when you’ve fucked any grievances out after. The last mention of today’s incident, however, comes in his sleepy mumble against the top of your head: “push me out instead.”
“Hmm?”
Sukuna’s hold around your body tightens, threatening to suffocate you with his hard chest. “Don’t jump out of the car. It’s stupid. Your body’s weak. Skin bruises easily. Cuts easily too. Just kick me out instead. I deserve it, I know... bonus points if it's into oncoming traffic.”
Nanami’s wife had a big teeny tiny obsession with sundresses. In fact, over a quarter of your wardrobe was occupied with sundresses hung meticulously in colour order along the railing. You looked so happy in them, eyes creasing as you smiled with glee.
It drove Nanami absolutely crazy.
Of course he loved the dresses and he loved seeing you happy even more, but the way the material hugged your chest and hips, the way it flowed beautifully around your lower half and swayed in slow motion whenever you moved had him going insane. He felt his cock hardening whenever you walked out of the bedroom and the self control he had to teach himself was becoming unbearable.
“Kento? Are you okay?”
His head snapped up to your eyes instantly, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m fine.”
“You seem distracted,” you add on.
“Just… work stuff,” he lied, trying to avoid eye contact with your yellow sundress, little blue flowers printed over it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Your adorable concerned expression had Nanami staring down at his lap, counting to ten in his head to try and prevent all the blood rushing to his groin. His jaw tightened painfully.
“I’m okay, darling. Thank you for offering.”
You wouldn’t let up though, unable to move on from the conversation because of how weird your husband was acting. You squeezed his hand gently from across the dining table. “Kenny, are-“
You pause mid sentence when he groans, eyes squeezing shut. With a curious mind, you lean down to look under the table and notice the large bulge forming in his work trousers.
You can’t help but burst out into giggles.
Nanami stares at you like you’re personally offending him.
“Love, it’s not nice to laugh.”
“Aww, you’re so cute, Ken! Why didn’t you just tell me?” One foot outstretches to press against his groin under the table, eliciting another low moan.
“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he grits out.
“Hm? How do you mean?”
“I didn’t-“ His breaths becomes shorter. “-want to make you feel sexualised in your dress.”
You beam. “So you like them that much, huh?”
He groans again when you rub over his hardened cock slowly. “Don’t tease, darling. You know I love them, and you.”
“Oh, I know. Now I wanna see just how much you love them.”
𐚁 ₊˚ʚ c.w | smut :: p in v :: nerd!reader? :: degrading :: hair pulling :: swearing :: dom!toji :: spanking :: nicknames .
WHEN TOJI saw how intelligent you were, he couldn’t get enough of the idea of fucking you till you were too dumb to even answer a question.
“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t you handle it?” He mocked, he had you bent over the bed, pounding deep into you.
You couldn’t even reply, the only sounds coming from your lips were moans, tears streaming down your face from just the sensation of him buried inside you. He laughs lowly, a smug expression on his face. “Poor baby.”
He grabs your hair, tugging it back, your spine arching into the mattress. “Too fucking dumb to even answer me, huh?” He groaned deeply, his thrusts only becoming more erratic from the sounds of your innocent whines. “Mhhmm..” you moaned out, words failed on your tongue.
Your whole body jolted forward with each thrust, the headboard repeatedly tapping against the wall. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room.
Your breathing became uneven as you felt your climax reaching you, your eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched tight around his cock. “Not yet..” he ordered, but his movements didn’t slow down, you whined in disapproval, trying hard to push back your orgasm till he said otherwise.
But the way his tip continually hit against that perfect spot inside you, made it hard to hold back. Your pussy gripped around him, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, your orgasm pushing over. Your walls fluttered around him as your body trembled, a loud moan reaching his ears.
“Stupid girl, did i say to finish yet?” He grunts, a punishing slap meeting against your ass, leaving a red mark blooming across your cheek. “Head so empty you can’t follow instructions either, isn’t that right?” He says his breath hitching as his own orgasm caught up to him.
You nod your head frantically, your body sensitive from your previous orgasm but he didn’t stop till he was done. He grabs your chin, forcing your head towards him. “Use your words.”
“Yes..” you sighed out, he spanked your ass again before soothing it over with his palm. Only a few moments later, his orgasm caught up to him. His head tipping back as he buried himself deep inside you. Ropes of thick release filling you to the brim as a groan escaped his throat.
He let out a sigh of relief, pulling his softening cock out of you, both of your releases spilling out your entrance, dripping down your shaking thighs. He leans over kissing your temple possessively. “My dumb princess, hm..”
ᨳଓ * .ﾟ a/n | thank you for 1.3k im so happy 🥹 request from this. ᰔ ᰔ
If Yuji was asked to describe his girlfriend? There was only one way ⸻ pink, glittery, vanilla scented, pretty.
But don't be fooled. Most men would want a way out. Yuji does not. In fact, if he could be anywhere in the world, he'd choose to be with you.
He is exactly where he wants to be.
"Yuji?" You're sprawled on his bed, watching as he games. It's some dumb fighting game he'd insisted on buying.
"Hm?" He doesn't glance up from the console.
"Do you know where my lipgloss is?"
He immediately abandons his game, clocking into his boyfriend duties. "Which one?"
"The clear glittery one." You reply, watching as he searches the wrinkles in his duvet, under his pillows, the floor, his desk.
"Have you checked your bag?" He asks as he peers under the bed.
You glance towards your little pink handbag. "No." You frown. Reaching for the bag, you rummage around a bit. "Found it! Thank you, Yuji. You're the best."
He beams at the praise. "Of course, baby." He tosses himself down beside you, watching as you apply the lipgloss.
As the designated taste-tester, once you've coated your soft, juicy lips in shimmering gloss, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.
You make a small whiney sound in the back of your throat. When he pulls back, your lips are pushed out into a pout.
He licks his lips. Vanilla flavoured. "10/10, baby." He says trying to go in for another taste.
"Stoppp," You giggle, pushing him back. The sound makes him smile.
He is absolutely, undeniably obsessed with you.
"Fine." He relents with a dramatic, mock sigh, rolling over theatrically.
"C'mere." You whine.
The second he rolls to face you, you're on top of him, your thighs on either side of his torso. His hands instinctively find your hips to hold you there. You take his face gently, holding his chin with one hand, as you lean closer, applying the shimmering gloss to his lips. Your breath mingles with his. Yuji stays perfectly still until you're done, then his tongue darts out to lick his glittery lips.
"Yuji!" You huff as he laps up the gloss off his lips. He grins up at you unapologetically.
nanami’s veiny cock stretched you open over the sink, the dishes long forgotten in your hands. you could feel your knees threatening to give out every time he snapped his hips forward, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks as loud moans left your parted lips. “kento—please—”
nanami's gaze never left your body. he observed how it jiggled with even the slightest movement. you could feel every vein of him inside you, his pink tip brushing deliciously against your cervix.
your husband pressed his damp forehead against your shoulder as he slammed his hips into you relentlessly, cock twitching at your tightness. your own slick dripped down your thighs.
"looking so pretty for me—fuck, so tight—like the perfect little wife.” he mumbled, unable to stop himself. sliding his hand down to rub excruciatingly slow circles on your sensitive bud, which you responded by letting out a sharp cry.
you could feel yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm, moaning loudly enough for the entire building to hear (already bracing yourself for the noise complaints you were undoubtedly going to receive tomorrow). you bit your bottom lip, trying your best to muffle the sounds escaping you. "nanami—feels s’good!" you gasped. "so deep, kento—gonna—"
you weren't able to finish your words as a warm wave of pleasure washed over your body, leaving you shaking and gushing on him. "yes, darling. make a mess on kento. such a good girl." nanami gritted through his teeth.
"please, cum inside me. i need your cum" you whimpered.
nanami's cock twitched once, twice, before he came inside you with a loud groan. filling you so deep you were dripping with his cum. his hips snapped forward one last time before he slowly pulled out and held you as you steadied yourself.
"did i leave you unsatisfied last night, kento?" you joked breathlessly, and the two of you chuckled.
“i fear that would be impossible” he replied softly. "i’m sorry, my love. you just looked too gorgeous."
you adjusted your dress, turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your soft lips against his. there was nothing more nanami could wish for.
.
.
.
made by toruslut. idk how i feel abt this one but ugh isn’t he just so dreamy
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ accidentally sending nerd!satoru gojo your nudes.
genre / themes ⸝ college au ⸝ nerd!satoru gojo ⸝ texting based ⸝ nude sending ⸝ smut warning 18+ ⸝ reader cheats on unknown bf ⸝ sexting ⸝ infidelity ⸝ minimal use of y/n ⸝ #esex lol . request !
satoru gojo had been your best friend for years.
years that became inside jokes, shared playlists, late-night diner runs, and an entire shared google drive folder dedicated exclusively to digimon lore, rare cards, and that one powerpoint presentation you two made at 3 in the morning explaining why each of your favorite digimons was the better one. he was the messy blue-eyed disaster of a nerd who stole your food, called you at unreasonable hours to debate whether digimon adventure 02 was peak or mid, and somehow always knew when you needed company without asking.
he was your best friend.
he was also, inconveniently, the most attractive man you had ever seen in real life. even though you knew you shouldn’t think of him that way. six-foot-something of white hair, ridiculously long legs, and a body that looked like it had been designed by someone who hated the concept of subtlety. you had trained yourself not to notice. mostly.
you had a boyfriend. a… perfectly decent, normal boyfriend who did not own a single digimon card and who thought “agumon” was a brand of energy drink. things were fine. fine was good. fine was safe. fine was… boring.
you hadn’t even been together for that long and you were already thinking about breaking up. more than the usual.
which was why the accident felt like the universe personally deciding to fuck with you.
your phone buzzed twice in a row while you were half-dressed on your bed, having just stepped out of the shower.
one text from your boyfriend.
baby ♥︎ : babe. you home? miss you. send me something cute 👀
and one from Satoru, sent thirty seconds earlier.
satoru : yo send me that screenshot of the digivolution chart we were talking about earlier i need it for smth
you were still damp, towel discarded somewhere on the floor, and your brain was still stuck on the post-shower haze of a very steaming hot shower. you opened the camera roll, selected the most recent photos—ones you had taken for your boyfriend last week and never sent, probably forgot or got distracted—and hit send on the first chat that popped up.
then you switched to the other chat and attached the digimon screenshot.
you hit send on both without double-checking.
two minutes later you realized the mess you made.
baby ♥︎ : babe i don’t play digimon
baby ♥︎ : …is this a bit?
and then, almost simultaneously at the same time you got a bombardment of messages.
satoru : .
satoru : …
satoru : what
satoru : the
satoru : fuck
you stared at your phone. the blood drained from your face so fast you got lightheaded and had to sit down. you scrambled to open the right chat, saw the three images you had just sent him—sexy lighting all dim and shit, fully nude, one of them with your hand between your legs—and your soul left your body.
you : OH MY GOD
you : SATORU
you : THAT WAS NOT FOR YOU
you : DELETE THEM RIGHT NOW
his typing bubble appeared. then disappeared. then appeared again. then disappeared. appeared again.
satoru : i
satoru : cannot
satoru : unsee that
satoru : i’m so serious right now i’m forgetting my morals
you buried your face in your pillow and screamed into it. your boyfriend was still messaging, confused and slightly offended about digimon, and you hastily sent him a “sorry wrong chat lol” and then made up for it with the pictures initially meant for him. h seemed to buy it. small mercies.
then you went back to the bigger fish you needed to fry. a fish named satoru.
you : i’m so sorry. i was texting my bf at the same time and i totally mixed the chats up. please just delete them. i’m dying.
there was a long pause. he didn’t text anything. just the read receipt.
satoru : deleted
satoru : …sort of
satoru : i can’t get them out of my head though ..
satoru : also
satoru : you look really fucking good
you should have left it there. should have just laughed it off—even though that isn’t quite possible given the humiliation— you should’ve just changed the subject to digimon or something else that would get him to nerd out, and never spoken of this again.
you had a boyfriend. satoru was your best friend. the two of you had shared a bed platonically more times than you could count during sleepovers and post-exam crash sessions. crossing that line was a terrible idea.
your body did not care. fuck, your body didn’t give a shit.
heat pooled low in your stomach the second you read those last four words. you shifted on the bed, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were still naked under the sheets.
you : satoru
you : don’t say shit.
satoru : i’m trying not to
satoru : i really am
satoru : but you just sent me these crazy fucking pics and i can’t get them out of my head so i’m sitting here in my sweats with a problem
you bit your lip. again every rational thought, you found yourself typing. you shouldn’t… ah, fuck it.
you : …what kind of problem
the reply to that came almost immediately. a photo.
it was dimly lit, taken from above. satoru’s long legs stretched out on his bed, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. the outline of his cock was definitely there—thick, heavy, and already hard enough that the fabric was strained tented. the head was clearly defined, a dark shadow against the soft gray material, and it looked… big. bigger than you had ever let yourself imagine.
your mouth went dry.
you : shit.
satoru : yeah
satoru : that’s what you did to me
satoru : in like 30 secs
you should have stopped. you knew you should have stopped. and instead you stared at the photo for a long time, pulse thudding between your legs, fingers flying on the keyboard.
you : you know i sent those on accident.
you : but you’ve already seen it, so.
satoru : so…
satoru : ?
you : so
you : maybe
you : you should show more than just the outline
there was a beat of silence that felt like it lasted a year. because for those few seconds, he was contemplating whether he wanted to be a total piece of shit and aid and abet in your infidelity.
then another photo arrived.
this one was way clearer. he’d pushed the waistband of his sweats down just enough to free himself. his cock was flushed dark at the tip, thick and heavy against his lower stomach, a vein running along the underside. he was bigger than your boyfriend. noticeably. your thighs pressed together on instinct. you were already soaked at the sight of it.
you’d never seen a dick this pretty before. how is his dick pretty?
satoru : your turn
satoru : if you want
satoru : no pressure obv
satoru : but fuck i really hope you want to
you hesitated for exactly three seconds before you flipped the camera around. you were still naked. your skin was warm from the heat of the shower. you took a photo lying on your back, one knee bent, the other leg slightly open so he could see the wetness already gathering between your thighs.
you snapped a shameless picture and sent it.
satoru : jesus fucking christ
satoru : you’re soaked
satoru : is that for me?
you : it shouldn’t be.
you : i have a bf.
satoru : i know
satoru : and i feel like a piece of shit
satoru : but i also can’t stop looking at you
satoru : and i really want to know what you’d sound like if i was the one making you that wet
your fingers drifted lower almost on their own. you took another photo—this time with two fingers sliding through your folds, shiny with how turned on you were—and sent it before you could talk yourself out of it. before you could make a decision that isn’t going to totally fuck up your relationship. but… fuck it, right? your relationship’s in the dumps anyway.
you : i shouldn’t be doing this.
you : you’re my best friend.
you : i mean shit we practically grew up together
satoru : and you’ve been looking at me like that for most of it
satoru : don’t pretend you haven’t
satoru : you’re not exactly the most subtle person
your face heated up you could practically feel it warming. fuck… he wasn’t wrong.
you : shut up.
you : your dick is ridiculous btw
you : I didn’t expect… yknow
satoru : didn’t expect what
satoru : say it
you : i didn’t expect it to be that thick.
you : or that long.
you : i’m a little bit scared and a lot turned on and I hate both of those things right now.
feeling emboldened, satoru sent another photo. his hand wrapped around himself this time, stroking slowly, the head glistening with pre.
satoru : i’d go slow
satoru : if you ever let me
satoru : i’d get you so wet first that taking me wouldn’t hurt at all
satoru : i’d eat you out until you were shaking and then i’d push in inch by inch and make you feel every single one
your breath hitched. fuck fuck fuck. this is so wrong—so terribly wrong. you’re getting off to your best friend while your boyfriend’s probably getting off to you. you didn’t know which was worse—that you were this turned on or that you didn’t care you were—you pushed two fingers inside yourself and took a short video this time—just a few seconds of the wet sound and the way your hips rolled up to meet your own hand with a few whimpers in the background. you sent it with shaking fingers.
you : fuck satoru
you : i’m so wet for you
satoru : yeah
satoru : that’s it
satoru : keep going
satoru : tell me how good it feels
you : it feels good. so good. i keep thinking about how much thicker your fingers would be. or your dick. god I shouldn’t be thinking about your dick.
satoru : but
satoru : you already are aren’t you
satoru : and i’m over here touching myseld thinking about how wet you’d be
satoru : how pretty you’d look stretched around me. i bet you’d look so pretty.
you were properly fingering yourself now, two fingers, middle and ring, messy and desperate. another photo of your hand working between your legs.
you : i’m so close already. i want to cum for you so bad
satoru : come for me then. record it pls
satoru : i need to see
satoru : please
you did. oh, yes you did. you came with his name half-swallowed in your throat, thighs shaking, phone still recording the last few seconds of it. you sent the video without thinking, still breathing heavy and coming down from your orgasm.
there was a longer pause this time like he was busy (you wonder why).
satoru : fuck
satoru : fuck fuck fuck
satoru : i just came so hard watching that
satoru : it’s all over my stomach
satoru : you have no idea what you do to me
you lay there breathing hard, phone clutched to your chest, the aftershocks still rolling through you. reality was already starting to creep back in—boyfriend, best friend, years of history, the fact that you had just crossed a line you couldn’t uncross.
you : we probably shouldn’t have done that.
satoru : i know but we did.
satoru : and i don’t think i can pretend i don’t want you now
you stared at the ceiling for a long time.
you : …I’m keeping the pics
satoru : good
satoru : because i already saved every single one you sent me
satoru : and i’m going to be thinking about them every time i jerk off from now on
satoru : idc if ur my bsf
you : fuck this is going to be a problem, isn’t it.
satoru : yeah probably.
satoru : 100% your fault
satoru : now go text your bf before he gets suspicious
satoru : and then maybe… text me again later
satoru : if you want. i gtg clean up. cya
you didn’t answer right away, but you also didn’t put the phone down. you couldn’t.
and when your boyfriend messaged again asking if you were free this weekend, you told him you had plans.
you just conveniently forgot to mention with who.
the next evening was, in theory, completely normal.
your families had been doing this for years—the whole rotating dinners, shared holidays, the occasional “we should all catch up” that always ended with you and satoru fighting over the last of whatever dessert your mom made (she makes a mean dessert) and your little sister declaring him her favorite person who wasn’t related to her by blood. the gojos were coming over. nothing new…. nothing strange.
except everything was strange now.
you had spent the entire day pretending the night before hadn’t happened. you texted your boyfriend something bland and affectionate but kept it to a minimum because texting him made you feel guilty. you went to class. you stared at the back of satoru’s white head three rows ahead in the lecture hall and definitely did not think about the way his cock had looked in his hand or the way your own fingers had been shiny when you came for him. You failed spectacularly at the last part.
by the time the doorbell rang at 6:40, your stomach was a knot of dread. what would seeing him after that even be like?
satoru walked in first, taller than both of his parents, glasses settled on the bridge of his nose. he was wearing a soft black sweater and baggy jeans that seemed to suit him unfairly well. when his eyes found yours across the entryway, the smile he gave was the exact same one he’d been giving you since you were fifteen.
“yo,” he said, easy and bright. as if nothing happened. nothing at all. “brought the good wine. your mom’s gonna love me even more.”
your mother laughed and took the bottle, charmed, of course. your father clapped satoru on the shoulder. mrs. gojo pulled you into a warm hug and told you that you looked lovely. mr. gojo asked about your midterms and your plans for after college. everything was totally normal.
everything was a lie.
you sat across from him at the dining table. directly across. your mother had done the seating the way she always did—alternating families so conversation flowed easier. which meant every time you lifted your eyes from your plate, satoru was right there. gorgeous white lashes and pretty blue eyes that kept catching yours and then sliding away like nothing was wrong.
your boyfriend’s name came up once. Your mother asked how things were going. You choked out a “good” and stuffed your mouth to avoid talking about him. satoru’s fork scraped against his plate for a second. no one else noticed.
conversation went on the way it always did—work, school, the new restaurant downtown, whether your little sister was allowed to get her ears pierced yet. satoru was charming. he made your dad laugh twice. he refilled your mom’s wine without being asked. he stole a piece of broccoli off your plate when no one was looking and popped it into his mouth.
you kicked him under the table.
he didn’t even flinch. just looked at you with that same open, friendly expression and said, “what? you never eat the stems.”
you just rolled your eyes and muttered a grumpy “whatever.”
dessert tonight was your mother’s lemon tart. satoru took two slices and somehow still looked innocent about it. your sister chattered at him about some anime she was watching. he listened. genuinely listened and actually engaged in conversation with her. satoru made for a good best friend, a great older brother figure for your sister, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d make for a good boyfriend. you shoved the thought away instantly. you watched his mouth move as he talked to your little sister and remembered, vividly, the way he had described pushing into you inch by inch.
you stood up too quickly when the plates were cleared, looking for any excuse to get the hell out of there.
“i’ll help with the dishes,” you announced.
your mother pointed at satoru, all playful and sweet. “satoru, darling, make yourself useful for once.”
he chuckled and stood immediately, all long limbs and easy grace. “yes, ma’am.”
god, no… the last thing you needed was to be stuck doing dishes next to him.
the kitchen was only half-separated from the dining room by a wide archway. voices and laughter still carried through. you and satoru ended up side by side at the sink—him rinsing, you loading the dishwasher—close enough that your shoulders almost brushed every time one of you moved.
for a full minute neither of you spoke.
“you okay?” he asked, not looking at you and instead focused on the task at hand.
you stared at the plate in your hands. “define okay.”
he huffed a soft almost-laugh. “fair.”
another pause; water still running. the low murmur of your parents talking about summer plans. something about a beach house together. you’d have to find a way to get out of that.
“i kept thinking about it all day,” he said, still so quiet only you could hear. “in class. the walk over here. when your mom hugged me just now i felt like the worst person alive.”
you stacked another plate with more force than necessary. “you are not allowed to say things like that while my entire family is in the other room.”
“i know.” his voice was lower now. “doesn’t stop it from being true, though.”
you risked a glance sideways. he was staring at the sink, jaw tight, the tips of his ears faintly pink. the black sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows to avoid getting them wet. you could see the flex of his forearms as he rinsed a glass. you remembered those same hands wrapped around himself last night.
heat coiled low in your stomach, unwanted and immediate.
“satoru—”
“i know,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “boyfriend. best friend. family. i know all of it.” he shut the water off and dried his hands on a dish towel, movements careful. “i’m trying to act normal. i really am. but you keep looking at me like you’re thinking about the same thing I am, and it’s making it really fucking hard.” his voice lowered as he turned to face you, a cheeky look on his face, “it’s making me really fucking hard.”
you swallowed and instantly tried your best not to conjure the image of his dick. “i am not looking at you like anything. and stop talking about your dick!”
he finally turned his head. peeked at you through the rim of his glasses before pushing them back up with his middle finger. “liar.”
the word was soft. almost fond. like he thought you being flustered was cute.
from the other room your mother called, “you two almost done? we’re thinking about tea!”
you both answered at the same time—“almost!”—and the perfect, practiced synchrony of it made you chuckle just a little.
satoru stepped a little closer under the guise of putting the dish towel away. close enough that you could smell his cologne. close enough that if anyone walked in right now it would look just a fraction too intimate.
“i meant what i said last night, y’know,” he murmured. “about not being able to pretend I don’t want you. but i’ll try. for tonight. for them.” his gaze flicked toward the dining room, then back to your mouth for a half-second too long. “just… maybe don’t look at me like that again when we’re alone. i’m only human.”
you should’ve stepped back. you should’ve laughed it off or told him to shut up or reminded him that your boyfriend existed.
his mouth curved into a knowing, teasing smirk. “besides, you’re the one who started it. all i asked for was the digimon chart.”
your face burned. “you know that was an accident!”
“happy accidents,” he shrugged.
footsteps approached. your sister’s voice, loud and bright. “mom says if you don’t hurry she’s giving satoru your piece of tart!”
you both instantly moved apart like you’d been burned. by the time your sister poked her head into the kitchen, satoru was leaning against the counter with his usual lazy smile and you were wiping down a perfectly clean section of the island.
“coming,” you muttered.
satoru ruffled your sister’s hair as he passed her on the way out, easy and big-brotherly, and she squealed and swatted at him. he glanced back at you over her head for just a second.
the look he gave you was quick. full of everything you weren’t allowed to say out loud with both families in the next room.
you followed them back to the table with your heart still racing. you majorly fucked up. astronomically, even.
tea was poured. conversation resumed. your sister brought up digimon unprompted and satoru launched into a passionate defense of the original adventure timeline like nothing in the world had changed. like you hadn’t seen his dick and he hadn’t seen you touch yourself and you both hadn’t cum to the sight of one another. what a fucking mess.
you laughed at the right moments. you passed the sugar. you let your knee brush his under the table once—accidentally, of course—and felt the way he went very still for half a breath before continuing his sentence without a single stumble.
one thing you knew for sure? you needed to break up with your boyfriend. asap.
i wish satoru was my best friend (who i fuck on a daily basis) there was supposed to be smut but i can’t lie i got too lazy and didn’t feel like writing it so there’ll probably be a part 2 LOL
sukuna was scary — many people on campus made sure to try not to cross paths with him. the face tattoos, the rough,deep voice and his pure hight and muscles attracted many girls while still scaring away half.
there was really no inbetween being inlove with him or hating him. not that he cared about that anyway. because since he laid his eyes on you for the first time something clicked in his brain — he wanted, no, needed you to be his.
to his surprise,you, the sweet, shy girl, weren't scard of him — the opposite, you always looked at him with this loving expression it made him feel strangely warm.
to many people it didn't make any sense how he got with a sweet girl like you. everytime someone asked you why in the hell you would choose someone like sukuna your eyebrows furrowed in confusion becuase, what's wrong with sukuna?
well, they probably wouldn't expect the king of fratboys to spend his day tasting the sweets you baked, or watching a badly written romance movie under a baby pink blanket.
" you made this for me?"
he was sound asleep when you decided to knock on his door an a saturday morning, still hungover from the night before. he was ready to lash out on the person who decided to wake him at this hour, quickly desregarding any anger he felt the moment he openend the door — seeing you stand there in a cute outfit, hair styled and a fresh batch of cookies in your hands.
you're looking up at him smiling, letting yourself in when he stands at the side to make space for you to come in. "yeah, i know you're always hungry after partying all night so i wanted you to have somethning fresh to eat!"
and bless your heart, you don't realise what you're doing to your boyfriend, his chest warming as he trails behind you back to his room, where you put the cookies down.
"do you have a headache? i can get you some painkillers if you need some." the way you'Re worrying makes him almost smile if he weren't so tired. he unexpectedly pulls you into a hug, burrying your head into his chest, his head ontop of yours inhaling the strawberry vanilla shampoo scent.
you let out a quiet surprised squeal, quickly adapting and trying, keyword trying, to wrap your arms around him. "are you alright babe?" voice muffled against his chest.
he lets out a huff, thightening his embrace before pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up to make you look at him with those adorable eyes he loves. "what did i do to deserve such a sweet girl like you hm?" his voice is sleepy, but full of honestly, like he seriously can't wrap his head around how he got you.
you blush, shying away from the eye contact. "i just made you something to eat it's nothing special." you mumble but he still hears you cleary.
"f'course it is." he doesn't explain further, dragging you back to bed with him, laying ontop of you. "let me sleep with you and after i'll eat your cookies." it's not a question, his arms trapping you under him, making it impossible to escape, and he's already snoozing off.
so yeah, you're confused when someone says sukuna couldn't possibly be nice enough for you because he's not just nice he's actually caring.
