torufinity

certified toji freak

[torufinity]

happiness is a butterfly

↳ layla | 19ˎ- ♡ -ˏ | female <3 | toji's favourite ★ | somali mami | enfp | jjk centric blog ✸

masterlist

[torufinity]

GUYS ITS COMING DONT U WORRY

[enjinsbunny]

why those burn book accounts are so dangerous:

they encourage cruelty behind the safety of being anonymous.

their claim about being innocent in this doesn’t count. YOU give them a platform to bully and downright being hateful. YOU encourage them and as consequence the haters will only become more bold to send their hate directly to the writer.

mental health. my god, i can’t stop mentioning that enough. you don’t know what a single person on these targeted blogs going through. people have killed themselves for less.

they create a culture of fear that also will affect smaller blogs and future writers.

valid criticism never goes unheard. yes, big blogs have a large following and many followers would defend them. but if there’s something really problematic about them then you’ll be heard and valid in calling them out. and until now i haven’t seen a valid point.

what we can do against these blogs:

usually after some time they run out of content to post or it’s always the same recycled shit.

BLOCK. DONT ENGAGE.

if you’re a big blog: DONT MAKE POSTS ABOUT THEM.

like that one blog did they send asks to the writers and hours later several posts about these blogs popped up. i get that you want to warn your followers, but as a consequence you lure the haters out of their holes.

inform your friends privately. maybe create a copy and paste private message. it’ll lead to a chain reaction without giving these blogs attention.

stay safe, my writer friends. if you want to talk my blog is a safe space.

[torufinity]

the burn book.

synopsis : at blackthorn university, choso kamo is a pathetic, permanently hungover and chaotic hottie, while you’re the main idea of perfection, holder of the burn book and in all the boy’s wish list at a party. well you like to think it’s for your astonishing beauty, but it’s mostly because of the burn book. when you catch choso, the self-proclaimed definition of feminism, fucking his own best-friends girlfriend… well let’s just say, he’ll have to find a way to get his name out of the burn book and fast. 👀

CONTENT INCLUDES: college au, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, toxic dynamics, slowish burn, miscommunication, smut, fluff, did i say miscommunication??, a lot more warnings in the actual chapters. will include smaus too 🤍

[ chapter 1 🤍 ] : COMING SOON! 💋

please read below! ⬇️

a/n: hiii everyone! so i’ve noticed all the discourse about that horrific page we shall not name. and to stop boosting such a hateful page, i’ve decided i’ll be creating choso x reader fanfic, based all about mean girls. it’s clear this page’s aim is too get rid of all writers in this jjk community, or maybe they’re just unemployed asf. but either way, this whole discourse has just made me decide, we shouldn’t let jjkmblr die this way, and keep on writing. please comment if you want to join this taglist. hopefully now when you search up jjk burn book, this comes up instead! let’s keep shit positive! AND DONT FORGET, REPORT @TOJIOFFLINE !! comment to be in the taglist fyi!! 🩷

[torufinity]

tysm for all the love !!! chapter 1 coming very very soon 👀

[torufinity]

the burn book.

synopsis : at blackthorn university, choso kamo is a pathetic, permanently hungover and chaotic hottie, while you’re the main idea of perfection, holder of the burn book and in all the boy’s wish list at a party. well you like to think it’s for your astonishing beauty, but it’s mostly because of the burn book. when you catch choso, the self-proclaimed definition of feminism, fucking his own best-friends girlfriend… well let’s just say, he’ll have to find a way to get his name out of the burn book and fast. 👀

CONTENT INCLUDES: college au, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, toxic dynamics, slowish burn, miscommunication, smut, fluff, did i say miscommunication??, a lot more warnings in the actual chapters. will include smaus too 🤍

[ chapter 1 🤍 ] : COMING SOON! 💋

please read below! ⬇️

a/n: hiii everyone! so i’ve noticed all the discourse about that horrific page we shall not name. and to stop boosting such a hateful page, i’ve decided i’ll be creating choso x reader fanfic, based all about mean girls. it’s clear this page’s aim is too get rid of all writers in this jjk community, or maybe they’re just unemployed asf. but either way, this whole discourse has just made me decide, we shouldn’t let jjkmblr die this way, and keep on writing. please comment if you want to join this taglist. hopefully now when you search up jjk burn book, this comes up instead! let’s keep shit positive! AND DONT FORGET, REPORT @TOJIOFFLINE !! comment to be in the taglist fyi!! 🩷

[torufinity]

the burn book.

synopsis : at blackthorn university, choso kamo is a pathetic, permanently hungover and chaotic hottie, while you’re the main idea of perfection, holder of the burn book and in all the boy’s wish list at a party. well you like to think it’s for your astonishing beauty, but it’s mostly because of the burn book. when you catch choso, the self-proclaimed definition of feminism, fucking his own best-friends girlfriend… well let’s just say, he’ll have to find a way to get his name out of the burn book and fast. 👀

CONTENT INCLUDES: college au, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, toxic dynamics, slowish burn, miscommunication, smut, fluff, did i say miscommunication??, a lot more warnings in the actual chapters. will include smaus too 🤍

[ chapter 1 🤍 ] : COMING SOON! 💋

please read below! ⬇️

a/n: hiii everyone! so i’ve noticed all the discourse about that horrific page we shall not name. and to stop boosting such a hateful page, i’ve decided i’ll be creating choso x reader fanfic, based all about mean girls. it’s clear this page’s aim is too get rid of all writers in this jjk community, or maybe they’re just unemployed asf. but either way, this whole discourse has just made me decide, we shouldn’t let jjkmblr die this way, and keep on writing. please comment if you want to join this taglist. hopefully now when you search up jjk burn book, this comes up instead! let’s keep shit positive! AND DONT FORGET, REPORT @TOJIOFFLINE !! comment to be in the taglist fyi!! 🩷

[ohimsummer]

and if you’re following that tojioffline account let alone sending in hate asks then you can unfollow and also BLOCK me because I don’t want you BUMS loitering around on my blog

[sweethearticism]

This is so disgusting and absolutely heartbreaking that anyone would even consider making this. So I am asking people to report this blog for bullying. I don't have to tell any of you why creating a place that encourages negativity is awful. And then sending an ask to inform after? Yeah, you all know exactly what you're doing.

not to mention "anons for jjk". yeah. you all must think you're fucking slick huh @tojioffline

[ssorasky]

EYES ON YOU — SATORU GOJO

pairing — idol!gojo x manager!reader

summary — as the main vocal of the world’s most popular idol group, satoru gojo has everything anyone could possibly want—fame, fortune, and a face that could launch a thousand ships, or in his case, screaming fans going to war for his merchandise. you are his manager, and have so far kept your relationship with the group very professional, even with satoru, who takes every available opportunity to shamelessly flirt with you… until satoru plays an incriminating voice recording of that one drunken night, when you woke up with no memory of how you ended up in his home. in bed. with him. now satoru is hell bent on blurring the lines between business and pleasure, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to ignore it. not when your heart beats a little faster every time he's near.

word count — 19k + some smau

content warning + tags —NSFW 18+ ONLY, smut with plot, fem reader, part smau, celebrity au, fluff, slight angst, eventual smut, slow burn, big dick energy satoru, he falls first and is very obvious about it, satoru being sweet and feral at the same time, he's so gone he wrote a song about you, food play, oral sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, praise kink, size kink, three fingers, lots of kissing, multiple orgasms, love confessions, public proposal, happy ending.

a/n — my first fic on tumblr, nervous but also yay! had so much fun with gojo as an idol that i got a little obsessed and couldn't write anything else until this was finished. i really hope you enjoy it <3

Satoru made someone faint again.

Honestly, you were surprised it took longer than usual. In the five years since you became manager for the world’s number one idol group, Domain, you’d long given up on counting how many fans its main vocalist had sent to the hospital.

“So, Satoru, I have a question for you.” The host, Todo Aoi, leaned forward, perhaps conspiratorially. “What type of woman do you like?”

Standing at the side of the stage away from the cameras, you watched the audience unconsciously mimic Todo’s action. It was like everyone was holding their breaths in unison, wide-eyed and secretly hoping whatever description Satoru gave would match up with them. 

Unlike the rest of Domain’s three other members, Satoru was sprawled on the velvet sofa like a lazy cat, as if he was lounging at home with a movie instead of making a guest appearance on the country’s most popular talk show, Boogie Woogie. 

“Easy,” he said without hesitation, but then brought a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret though.”

A collective protest resounded from the audience. Exactly the response you knew Satoru was aiming for. He’d always had a gift for playing the crowd—teasing out whatever reaction he wanted, whenever he wanted. Just another one of his many other talents that read longer than a grocery list.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Todo pressed. “There are seventy million fans all around the world dying to know Gojo Satoru’s ideal type. You gonna disappoint them?”

Satoru smiled, wisps of striking, pure white hair fluttering as he tilted his head at Todo, at the audience.

“You know what? Let’s make it a game,” he said, as if the idea had just come to him. You knew for a fact it hadn’t. “It’s called guess-what-kind-of-person-your-favourite-idol-Gojo-Satoru-likes! I’ll give you a hint—it’s one word.”

Nanami Kento, Domain’s main rapper, groaned. “We have precisely fifteen minutes left before the show ends. I’m not playing your stupid game when I already know the answer.”

A round of chuckles echoed through the audience. You nodded in silent approval. Trust Nanami to never stray from his stoic brand while making fans thirst harder by stating a time limit. 

Your gaze darted to Domain’s leader, Geto Suguru, calm as ever as he shook his head. A perfect mirror to Satoru’s chaos. “Listen, Satoru. Can’t you just tell everyone? Yu hasn’t gotten his chance to speak yet.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Satoru crossed his arms like a petulant child. If anyone else were to act that way, they’d only come off as a spoilt brat. Not Satoru. Somehow, for reasons that escaped you, people seemed to be drawn to his brash nature. He was still bratty, outright rude at times, but because it was Gojo Satoru, it was endearing.

You didn’t see the appeal.

“Oooh, can I go first?” Haibara Yu, the youngest member of Domain, raised his hand excitedly. “I kinda wanna know.”

“See, Yu wants to play.” Gojo extended a hand towards the audience. “How bout it, everyone? I’ll make it better. If anyone guesses correctly, I’ll give you a reward.”

He might as well have said he would strip naked right then and there. The audience went wild.

“A reward?” Todo said, feigning curiosity as he rehashed the script you’d approved before agreeing to have Domain appear on the show. “From the world’s most wanted man alive? Now you’ve at least got to tell us what it is.”

Right on cue, Satoru reached for his sunglasses and slid them off. The studio’s harsh light caught every line of his perfectly defined features, soft and sharp in all the right places. You had to admit, he was insanely handsome. You’d thought that the moment you first met him in person. It was why, in addition to being the main vocalist, Satoru was also the face of Domain.

But what made Satoru’s visual truly exceptional, what had stolen millions of hearts worldwide, were his eyes. 

It was as if the gods had held a conclave to discuss how they could sculpt the most perfect looking human being, and decided to make Gojo Satoru. And the cherry on top? They bestowed upon him the most impossible blue eyes that managed to look both intelligent and mischievous all at once. A recipe for devastation. Worst of all, Satoru knew how to wield them. 

You could see the audience practically melt into their seats.

“The reward—” Satoru’s smile turned feline. “Is a kiss from me.” 

He winked at the cameras.

The studio went nuts in the next second. That was when a girl in the audience passed out cold. 

But you were frowning. A nerve at your temple twitched as you glared at Satoru from where you stood.

This wasn’t part of the script. The idiot was improvising. Again. You’d specifically made sure to remind him that under no circumstances was he to do any ad-libbing.

But of course he hadn’t listened. Again.

“Just follow the damn script for once,” you’d repeated a hundred times throughout the day. “No running your mouth. And absolutely no promising your fans anything other than a hug. Understood?”

Satoru had merely replied the same thing each time. “Will you be jealous if I do, kacho-san?” Or some iteration of it, annoying you further.

The last time a fan uploaded a photo of Satoru kissing her on the cheek, the poor girl had received death threats for three months straight. In the end, you had to get Satoru to publicly announce, again, that he wasn’t dating anyone at the moment because he was focusing on his career, and was simply too busy to commit to a relationship.

And here he was, about to add another person to his body count for you to rescue.

Amidst the cacophony of breathless screams, you spotted Domain’s bodyguard, Toji, plucking up the unconscious fan and hauling her over his giant shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then stalking out of the studio.

“Hmmm… someone with a lot of patience?” Yu guessed innocently, launching the game off. 

Your phone buzzed then. It was a message from Shoko.

Press releases ready. Just say the word.

You sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens for having a publicist like Shoko. Five years working with Satoru had taught you to always be ready for damage control. You’d spent the whole of last night on video call with Shoko and Utahime, Domain’s social media manager, preparing various press releases and posts to counter any sort of situation should Satoru open his damn mouth and set his public image on flames like a pyromaniac. 

Gojo Satoru’s brand was built entirely on the idea of him being so perfect he was unattainable. He belonged to everyone and no one at the same time. The epitome of obsession that kept the heart of his vast fandom pounding on overdrive. Always peering down from a pedestal, always out of reach, yet close enough to dare anyone to try.

In short, he was the dream. 

He even had a nickname—The Honoured One.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand it. What was so honourable about forcing you to drive him down to Sendai twice in a month to buy kikufuku mochi just because he wanted to eat them fresh?

But Domain was Jujutsu Entertainment’s cash cow, and Gojo Satoru was the king of empty bank accounts. He was also the reason you were paid a very, very generous salary.

As such, if there existed any hint that he was embroiled in a relationship with an individual, his whole image would go down the drain. It would become a PR nightmare. Jujutsu Entertainment’s stocks would plummet. Sponsorships would dwindle. Big brands would pull out. Yaga would lose his shit, and then you would be fired. 

All because Gojo Satoru kissed a girl. 

Short of storming up on stage and smacking him in the head—and subsequently getting murdered by fans for it—there was nothing you could do but watch the sea of raised hands, each fighting for a turn at the game, desperate for one measly minute of Satoru’s attention solely focused on them.

But to be fair, Satoru was handling the audience with deft grace. He’d taken over the whole talk show from Todo and had casually walked to the front of the set, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other twirled a finger in the air like a bloody magic wand, picking victim after victim to turn into puddles of mush.

Every time someone made a guess, his answer would satisfy them enough without confirming or denying anything. 

“Ah, that’s kinda cute too. Like you.”

“Nice one. I like what you’ve done with your hair by the way.”

“I never thought of that. I’ll remember what you said.”

“I wouldn’t mind it. Is that me on your keychain? Remember to take me everywhere, ‘kay?”

You checked the time on your watch. Five more minutes until the show ended, and he still hadn’t mentioned a word about Domain’s new single, which was the whole reason they were on Boogie Woogie in the first place.

You were about to signal for Suguru to say something that would cut the game short so they could make the announcement. But when your head snapped up, you found Satoru’s gaze fixed on you, a cheeky grin spread across his glossed-up lips. 

Satoru clapped his hands together. “Thanks for playing with me, everyone. I’ll give you the answer now.” 

His stupid finger swished about, drawing an arc in the air before coming to an abrupt halt in your direction.

And you realised he was pointing straight at you.

“It’s my manager!” he declared, proudly. “My bad, that’s three words and not one. Oh well.”

You froze as the entire studio zoomed in on the forgotten corner where you stood. Heat prickled up your neck, filling your cheeks as every head, every camera, angled towards you. 

“Your ideal type is… your manager?” Todo asked, confused. 

“I said my manager is the answer,” Satoru corrected. “Interpret it however you like.”

You were going to kill him. You were going to pulverise his pretty face the moment you went backstage. Was the moron trying to decimate his career? And yours? 

Think. You had to think. You had three seconds to recall all your media training and come up with a suitable reply that wouldn’t end with either the fans or Yaga roasting your head on a spit. Any longer and they’d be making up crazy theories because of your hesitation.

You forced a light-hearted laugh. “You shouldn’t tease your fans like that, Satoru.” Then you shifted your attention to focus on the cameras. “What Satoru means by me being the answer is because we have something exciting to announce. Domain will be releasing a new single, Limitless, in three weeks! The lyrics are written by none other than Satoru himself, and it’s about dreaming of someone you’ve not yet met. Please look forward to it!”

You bowed to the cameras as the audience squealed in delight, sighing in relief at having successfully spun the conversation away from Satoru’s asinine answer while promoting Domain’s single, effectively killing two birds with one stone. You’d pat yourself on the back later. 

Satoru’s eyes were still on you when you straightened. He tapped his chin. “Oh, right. The single… I forgot. But that wasn’t what I meant when—” 

“Aaaaaand that’s all the time we have left for today’s Boogie Woogie!” Todo’s voice boomed. “Please give a big round of applause to Domain!”

“And my lovely manager!” Satoru added loudly, waving out a hand towards you with a wink, and your chest twisted involuntarily.

You tried your best not to scowl at him on live television. The cameras finally panned away to all four members of Domain as they took their bows and went through the customary farewell motions. 

Your phone buzzed. It was a message from Shoko.

That’s the fifth public confession. Time to pay up, kacho-san.At this rate, you should have your own press release.

You didn’t reply. You were too busy wondering how it was a miracle you hadn’t yet died from a heart attack, courtesy of Gojo Satoru. 

After the show, the boys refused to let you go home, dragging you to their favourite upscale karaoke bar in Ginza where Suguru had a private room reserved. 

Dressed in baggy pants and hoodies, the four members of Domain were acting like a group of hyped up nepo babies with a vendetta to blow through their allowances in a single night. You, in contrast, were still in your pantsuit and looked like their grumpy, overworked nanny. 

Yu had successfully roped Nanami into belting out the female part of a duet while Suguru hogged the playlist, cueing song after song without bothering to consult anyone. You were glued to your phone, catching up on e-mails and going through Domain’s schedule for the upcoming week when you felt a pressure on the cushioned bench, and then someone sliding in next to you. 

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. 

“Come on, you’re not still mad at me are you?” Satoru’s arm pressed against yours as he leaned in, entirely ignorant to the concept of personal space.

It was…distracting, to say the least. You’d rather not think about how good he smelled.

Not so recently, Satoru had taken to always insisting he was placed next to you—in meetings, at restaurants, on plane rides, in the car, walking to the car. Even when it came to hotels, he would request for his room to be next to yours, with a connecting door so he could hang out in your room until you shooed him out to sleep.

“Don’t forget you have that underwear shoot in two days,” you replied, refusing to engage in any conversation with him other than work. “I’ve booked you a facial tomorrow, and a training session in the morning with Sukuna. Make sure you’re there on time.”

His finger touched the top of your phone, pushing it down and away from your face. 

“Do you ever stop working, kacho-san?” he chided, strobe lights glinting off his eyes. “Look at you. Your shoulders are so stiff they might turn to stone.” A corner of his lips curved up. “Want me to give you a massage?”

It was too dark for him to see the flush on your cheeks, but you knew he knew. The nerve at your temple twitched again. 

“Thanks but no thanks,” you said, trying your best to sound unaffected. 

“I assure you I’m very good with my hands. But you already know that.”

“You’re being extra annoying today. Stop it.”

“Really?” His face dipped, inches away from yours. “That’s not what you called me last night.”

Your nerve snapped. “Do. NOT. Speak about that.”

Satoru’s smile only widened. “About what, sweetheart?”

You wanted to dissolve into the bench. 

Throughout your life, you had always been the type of person who could spot a mistake from a mile away, allowing you to avoid it like the plague. You were a safe player. A perfectionist. The kind of person who planned your calendar down to the minute. Someone who loved routine, because adhering to a strict schedule meant less chances of coming across any unwanted surprises. Your inherent traits were what made you an excellent manager, and part of why Domain had skyrocketed to worldwide fame in less than three years since their debut. 

But what you hadn’t accounted for—the one mistake you overlooked that would go on to become the bane of your existence—was Gojo Satoru taking an interest in you, and that the damn thing inside your chest was unable to help itself but beat a little faster whenever he was around you.

It started with a cup of coffee. The free kind, dispensed into a paper cup from the staff machine at Jujutsu Entertainment, which he’d casually handed to you—black, no sugar—while he sipped his own heavily sweetened one. 

Next came the notes, a different one each time, scrawled with a felt tip on the side of the paper cups.

Blue suits you.

Wanna go to Sendai?

So cranky today. Still beautiful.

You know what tastes better than this coffee? Me.

You’d ignored them at first, thinking it was nothing but Satoru being Satoru. He’d always been a blatant flirt, spewing out his particular brand of nonsense to both fans and, really, anyone with a head and a set of lungs.

And it didn’t help that the world loved him for it, as evidence of the truckloads of fanmail flooding the company that they had to dedicate another mailroom solely for Domain.

On the days Satoru came into the company, it was like the air in the building charged up with barely contained excitement. The trainees would flock around him. Half the female office staff would take turns going to the bathroom in hopes of running into him, and the other half would be camped out at the coffee machine. Interns would fight over who got to serve water at his meetings. Someone once told you how lucky you were that you got to spend all day with him.

You almost threw your coffee in their face.

You? Lucky? Wasn’t it him who was lucky to have you as a manager? The guy was a walking PR hazard. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no regard to his image whatsoever, leaving you to run after him putting out anything he set on fire. On a daily basis.

Who did he think you were? The fucking fire brigade?

But it was your job, so you’d taken it all in stride. Managing a reckless brat with a fame level as high as Mount Everest took serious skill and planning, and you’d seen it as the ultimate challenge. In fact, you’d thrived on it. 

Then the idiot had to go and ruin it all by asking you out.

You’d rejected him, of course. But that hadn’t stopped him. In fact, it only made him try harder.

And last night…damn you to hell, he’d finally succeeded. Somewhat.

This was why you hated dinner meetings. But the client was one of Satoru’s biggest sponsors, and despite Satoru insisting he drink most of what they plied you with, your tolerance for alcohol was still abysmal. You’d woken up the next morning in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, with a massive headache, and the embarrassing memory of you lunging at him for a kiss before everything became a blank slate.

“Look,” you said firmly. “Last night was a mistake. I was drunk. I might’ve done some things I shouldn’t have. Let’s just forget it, alright?”

Satoru raised a brow. “But I can’t forget it.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” you snapped. “It’s never happening again.”

“I can’t because you made me promise not to.”

You gaped at him. “I did not!”

Satoru merely shrugged, then slipped out a pair of earbuds from his pocket and gently plugged them in your ears, the noise cancelling function muffling out the karaoke music. He unlocked his phone, swiped a few times, and then you heard it—your voice, whiny and breathless…

“Ngh—Toru—don’t stop…”

“I don’t want to. But I know you, kacho-san. You’ll regret this.”

“No I won’t—“

“I mean you’ll regret recording this. Not me, of course.”

“But I don’t want you forgetting what you said.”

“Trust me, I don’t need it to remember.”

“Say it to me again.”

“You know, you’re very demanding whenever you drink. It’s adorable.”

“Go on. Say it.”

A low chuckle. “I’ll tell as you many times as you want, sweetheart… I, Gojo Satoru, belong to my very hardworking, very beautiful manager.”

“Don’t you dare delete this.“

“If it makes you happy, I promise.”

“Good. Now come here…”

You stared at him, mortified, and yanked the earbuds out, chucking it back at him. You stood abruptly, and made a bee-line for the door. 

“Where are you going, kacho-san?” Suguru called out.

“I’m—ah…I’m not feeling well.”

He must have seen the expression on your face because his eyes narrowed at Satoru. “Did you do something again? I thought I told you to treat our precious manager better.”

Satoru snorted. “I treat her exactly how she likes it. Not that it’s any of your business, Suguru.”

“Satoru, we’ve gone through this a hundred times. If you don’t want a new manager, you should learn to control your mouth.”

You didn’t stay to hear Satoru’s reply, and was out the door before anyone could offer to take you home, practically running in front of the first available cab you saw. 

Your mind was reeling throughout the entire ride home, your palms sticky with sweat despite the air conditioner in the car turned on full blast. All you could think about was that recording. What he’d said. What you’d made him say.

And that you didn’t completely hate it.

“Yes! Just like that… hold that position, Satoru.“ A series of blinding flashes erupted as the photographer clicked away at his camera. “Love that expression, you’re a natural!”

You had your arms crossed like a protective shield as you stood with the rest of the crew, trying your best not to stare at Satoru’s perfectly sculpted abs. That lean, muscular torso. His broad shoulders, and that ridiculous jawline, angled in a way that could cut through glass. Or more importantly, someone’s wallet.

They had him shirtless for the photoshoot, wearing nothing but a simple, grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, the band of his black briefs peeking over the top. But it wasn’t men’s underwear Satoru was selling. 

It was women’s.

The brand had renewed their contract with him a second time at a sickeningly inflated rate compared to what they had paid initially. All so they could have the license to slap the words ‘Property of Gojo Satoru’ on their new lingerie line. Their first release had profited them a bajillion-fold, selling out instantly in every colour. They had to restock thrice to prevent customers from rioting in their stores after Satoru not-so-accidentally held one of their panties up during a livestream. 

The blue one, in particular, was on auction online for twenty times the retail price.

So it was no wonder they had practically thrown the cash at Jujutsu Entertainment when Satoru agreed to model for them again.

But you had to be present to make sure they didn’t over-sexualise him. That they wouldn’t ruin the image you’d meticulously constructed over five years with your blood, sweat and sheer grit. Satoru wasn’t a porn star, he was a fantasy. He was the fine line between charming prince and devastating sex god, and it was up to you to maintain that precarious balance. 

Which was why you absolutely, one thousand percent could not be involved in anything with him other than a business relationship. You, the curator and backbone and engine that kept Domain’s shiny image propelling forward, could not risk their careers and yours over a dumb fling with Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you wanted to tear those sweatpants off him.

No matter that he had a pair of panties hanging from his mouth, eyes heavy-lidded as he ran a hand through his hair, the other crooking a finger at the camera. 

And then those eyes slid over to land on yours.

A tiny smirk formed on Satoru’s lips. Your throat dried out as he let the panties fall, gaze still fixed on you, and licked his bottom lip. 

Was he seriously thirst trapping you while posing as a thirst trap? How shameless could one man be?

“That’s the money shot right there!” The way the photographer was snapping away at the camera button, you’d think he was playing an FPS game and Satoru was the target. “It’s going to be hard choosing which ones make the cut. The camera’s in love with you, Satoru.”

Of course it was. 

Satoru smiled. “Since you have so many good shots, do you mind if I take a short break? There’s something I need to discuss with my manager.”

You stiffened.

“No, no, of course not. Go right ahead. I’ll send makeup to you for a touch up in twenty minutes.”

Satoru nodded and stalked off towards the dressing room, leaving you no choice but to follow.

You hadn’t spoken a word about that incriminating recording to him all day. Not when you picked him up from his home. Not during the car ride. Not while you ran through his schedule for the day, and certainly not when he purposely leaned across you to reach for a water bottle, knee brushing against yours.

And thankfully, he hadn’t brought it up.

“After you, sweetheart,” Satoru said as he opened the door to the dressing room, standing aside for you to pass through first, half-naked, the sweatpants they’d deliberately had him wear two sizes up slipping further down his hips.

“Stop calling me that,” you muttered.

“Why not? There’s no one listening. And you like it.”

You refused to take his bait. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

“Nothing much,” he said, locking the door behind him. “I just wanted to be alone with you.”

Heat fluttered low in your stomach. You made yourself focus on him from the neck up, though it didn’t help much when you saw how he was looking at you, like he was one accidental brush away from pinning you to the door.

Or maybe that was what you wanted.

You cleared your throat, stepping away to put some distance between the both of you… because you didn’t think you could handle being this close to him without losing it yourself. 

“Well, I just received an offer for you to play one of the leads in a movie,” you said, reverting to the familiar comfort of work talk. “It’s a good role, with a respectable director. I read the script last night.”

Satoru leaned against the door, studying you for a moment. “What kind movie?”

“Fantasy romance. It’s a popular genre. You’ll play the main love interest.”

“Nah. Not interested.”

“But you haven’t even read it yet,” you protested. “It’s a good fit for your brand, and we’ve been talking about you potentially breaking into acting.“

“Like I said, not interested.”

“You’re being difficult. At least read the script before you decide any—“

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

You frowned. “As if you’re not going to tell me anyway.”

Satoru pushed off the door and closed the gap between the both of you in a single stride. 

“I don’t want to play it,” he said, voice low and soft, “because I don’t want to kiss anyone but you.”

Your legs threatened to give out in that moment. You blinked up at him, not unaware that he hadn’t yet put on a shirt. “Satoru… please don’t say stuff like that.”

He was too close. His hand lifted to cup your cheek, and for the life of you, you couldn’t seem to pull away.

“Then should I say I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night? That I’ve thought about you for far longer than you can imagine?” His thumb grazed your lips. “That one night doesn’t even begin to cover all the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”

You forgot how to breathe. 

“I—we can’t…” you managed to say, but there was no resolve in your tone. “This isn’t right…”

But his arm was winding around your waist, pressing you against his bare chest. His head lowered. “Tell me to stop then,” he murmured, lips brushing ever so slightly against yours. A question. A dare.

Your heart betrayed you in that moment. All common sense left you as your mouth collided with his, parting instantly like it had been starving for him this whole time and couldn’t bear another second of waiting. 

Satoru’s tongue swept in, tangling with yours, and you lost your mind to the taste of him. Your hands were sliding up his back, his neck, diving into his hair, feeling him over and over again as if trying to grasp that this was really happening. That you weren’t drunk this time, that you felt everything, and this wasn’t just another one of the many wet dreams you’ve had of him after touching yourself on lonelier nights.

The way he moved inside you was as if he was memorising every part of your mouth. His hands were clutching your ass, pressing your hips tighter against his, and you felt him—the hard, straining length of him—digging into your aching centre through the fabric of both your clothes.

It undid something in you.

Before you knew it, you were backing him up against the wall, the kisses growing frantic and messier and breathless the more both you and him couldn’t stop touching each other. 

A sudden knocking jolted your senses. You broke away from him, head snapping towards the door.

“Gojo-san,” a muffled voice called from outside the dressing room. “Are you ready for your touch up?”

“Ignore it,” said Satoru, catching your chin between his fingers and pulling your attention back to him. “Five more minutes. I’ll say I fell asleep.”

But the spell had broken, reality crashing back around you in full force. Dread filled you as you realised what you’d just done with him. Again. 

Fuck. 

You pushed away from him, stumbling a little as you tried to compose yourself. Your blazer was falling off your shoulders, your blouse untucked, your lips still stinging. And Satoru—

His mouth was covered with pale red smudges from your lipstick. His hair was a mess. That damn sweatpants had ridden down all the way to expose the insanely large bulge crammed underneath his tight, fitted briefs. 

“I—“ you rasped, voice hoarse. “They know I’m in here—”

“So I’ll say I was hugging you and you couldn’t move.“

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Go out with me, kacho-san.”

You stared at him. “The hell, Satoru. Now’s not the time for this.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No. Absolutely not. This is just—we are not—“

“Come over to my place then,” he said. He hadn’t bothered coming off the wall you’d pinned him against. “Tonight. You can show me the movie script.”

Unbelievable. He was unbelievable.

Another series of knocks on the door. “Gojo-san? Are you there?”

“Fine. Whatever.” You gave up and hurried to make yourself presentable. “Just go wipe your face already.”

Satoru grinned. “But I think I look great like this.”

“God, just shut up. And pull up your pants.”

A heavenly aroma smacked you in the face as the elevator doors opened to the private foyer of Satoru’s penthouse. You removed your sneakers and let your nose guide you to the source that was making your mouth water. 

It wasn’t your first time in Satoru’s home. It wasn’t even your second time. In fact, you’d been here so many times you knew where he kept his car keys, though he never drove, preferring to be chauffeured around by the company driver, or Toji, or you. Like a spoilt little princess.

Mostly, you’d come here to haul his tardy ass out of bed.

Satoru always had a problem with time management. Sick of making excuses for him being late to appointments, you took it upon yourself to arrive at his place an hour before anything important to rush him out the door. You did it so often that a couple of years back, Satoru had given you a keycard to his apartment, stating that he was tired of hearing some angry woman shout at him through the intercom, and that the least you could do is let yourself in and berate him in person.

It didn’t make much sense. Then again, most things didn’t make sense when it came to Satoru.

But no matter how late you stayed at his, whether it was a song writing session with the group or discussing contracts with him alone, you’d always gone home after you were done.

Until that night. 

That one stupid night you couldn’t fully remember, and apparently, was stupid enough to record. And from what you’d heard, it certainly sounded like you did a lot more than kiss him.

“There’s my gorgeous manager.” Satoru’s eyes lit up when you walked into the sprawling, open-plan living space. He was behind the kitchen island, the marble as glossy as his stark white hair. “I can’t decide if you’re more stunning in work clothes or like this, so I’m gonna go with both.”

You were in a ratty old sweater and jeans. Next to him, immaculately casual in a crisp white tee and loose slacks, you looked like you had crawled out of a dumpster. But at least he was fully clothed. For some unknown reason, you were half convinced he was going to greet you in his underwear. 

“Is that—“ You glanced at the collection of mixing bowls cluttered alongside bags of flour and sugar. An electric mixer stood at one side, globs of dark brown batter dripping from its whisks. “You’re baking a cake?”

“Not just any cake,” he said. “It’s Gojo Satoru’s super special delicious chocolate cake for his super special delicious manager! Once you’ve had it, you’ll never want any other.”

“I didn’t know you like to bake.”

“Well, I’ve never tried until now.”

“Then don’t say it like you’ve made it a hundred times.”

He shrugged. “I know you like chocolate, and I know you like cake. And I know you’ll like this one, because you’ll think of me while eating it.”

“I will if it tastes like bullshit.”

“Oh, we both know I taste far better than any dessert. And so do you, by the way.” Satoru smiled “In fact, I think you’ve ruined my tongue for anything else.”

There was a streak of chocolate batter across his left cheek, and the effect was… you were suddenly glad there was three feet of marble separating you from him.

You crossed your arms. “Must you say stuff like that? If you spent half your brain space focused on actual work instead of constantly spouting nonsense at me, you’d have twice as many sponsors and be twice as famous right now.”

Satoru waved a hand flippantly. “I’m famous enough. I don’t need more.”

“You’re an idol, Satoru,” you pointed out. “How many more years do you think your name will last in the spotlight? Another five? Ten if you’re lucky? Someone younger, fresher—better maybe—will eventually take your place. If you don’t start branching out into other industries, you’ll be left behind. Then what?”

“Then maybe you’ll finally go on that date with me.”

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re right,” he said, swiping up some batter with his finger, and then licking it. Your gaze couldn’t help but drop to his mouth. To the way his tongue lapped up the chocolate as his eyes stayed on you. “I don’t really want to wait ten years for you to say yes. I don’t even want to wait one more second.”

“Satoru, I’m your manager.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of hard to miss. Also, I heard there’s this popular cafe in Daikanyama that has really good parfaits—”

“I am not going to a cafe with you in broad daylight.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. In fact, some might say I’m quite the arm candy.“

“Your face is plastered on half the billboards in Tokyo. Do you want a scandal?”

Satoru grinned. “So you do want to go out with me.”

Your patience frayed. “The answer’s no, Satoru.”

“No as in not right now, or no as in you want to go out with me but don’t want the waitress poisoning your parfait?”

“Look, if you want to have a fling, there are a million people waiting in line who will happily jump into bed with you. Just pick one of them and be quiet about it. Preferably another idol or actress who won’t immediately sell you out to the gossip rags.”

You caught the slight falter in his smile, there and gone in half a beat before he was rounding the island over to where you stood. 

“Oh, I know exactly who I want in my bed, sweetheart,” he said, stopping just shy of his broad frame towering over you. “And once I get her in my bed again, I can promise you this time I plan on doing everything I can so she’ll want to stay there.”

Your voice caught in your throat. You should walk away. Get the hell out before your heart stopped beating altogether. Before you did something you knew you’d regret. But your legs couldn’t remember how to move. 

Ding! The oven’s timer rang. 

“Ah, cake’s ready,” he said, so casually as if he hadn’t detonated a nuclear bomb in your chest. “It’ll need some time to cool down though.” A knowing glint danced in his sky blue eyes. “You brought that script, right? I’ll read it while we wait. Then I’ll put the icing on top and blow your mind away.”

The cake was divine. Rich and smooth and moist. Pure indulgence with every bite, just like the smile playing on Satoru’s lips as he watched you scarf your slice down in five minutes, then helped yourself to another. 

“Told you, didn’t I?” He was propped at the edge of the bar stool next to you, half standing half leaning as his gaze tracked each movement of your fork to your mouth. He slid a mixing bowl with leftover frosting towards you. “Have the rest. It’s your favourite part, right?”

You mumbled back something unintelligent. He knew you too well. 

Trust Satoru to make a professional level cake on his first try. What couldn’t he do? And it was more annoying how effortless he made it seem. As an idol, he was the whole package—jaw-droppingly handsome, with a voice that was unique to him yet appealed to the masses, a great dancer, and oozing charisma out of every single non-existent pore that all he had to do was smize those pretty eyes for a whole stadium to start salivating. 

Anything Satoru touched was guaranteed to be an instant success, which was why there was a never-ending line of sponsors banging down his door for a chance to work with him. It was also why Yaga, Jujutsu Entertainment’s CEO, let him do whatever he pleased, from writing his own songs to picking his own contracts. Satoru was the company’s pride and joy, its bread and butter, its stock broker, its reputation, all wrapped up in one stupidly good looking man. 

And it was your job to ensure nothing, absolutely nothing, tarnished his pristine image. No big deal. Except that Satoru was hell bent on making you the very threat to Jujutsu Entertainment’s most valuable asset.

“What do you think of the script?” you asked, steering the conversation back to work. “The character they want you to play has a lot of depth. You won’t be some simpering fool chasing after the heroine. You’ll have just as many scenes as her. It’s a perfect role for you to break into the big screens, and I heard the actress they’re after for the heroine specifically requested for you to be her co-star. Said she’ll sign the contract immediately if you agree to do the movie.”

“Mmm… the story isn’t bad.” Satoru flipped through the pages. He’d spent the last hour skimming through the script while he assembled the cake. Apparently, the gods thought it best to cram a photographic memory into the already abundant arsenal of gifts bestowed upon him. “But there are a few problems with some of the scenes.”

“Really? Where?”

He tapped at the page he’d stopped at, and leaned in as he brought the script closer for you to read. You tried not to think of how good he smelled, his warmth radiating on your skin, and channeled all your concentration on the tiny black words. 

You read the part he flagged. Then read it again. “I can’t see anything wrong with it.” 

“Can’t or don’t?”

“I don’t understand—“

“The line,” said Satoru. “Specifically this line. There’s a problem with it.”

“Reads fine to me. I’m sure you can pull off the emotions. Rehearsing it with your co-star will help.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want to say it.”

“What do you mean you—”

“I’m not going to tell some random girl I’ll die for her when I obviously won’t.”

“She’s your love interest.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Are we reading the same script here? Or are you just being dense?”

Satoru thumbed through the pages to another scene. “And here. This shower scene—it’s shit. As if I’m going to let anyone but you touch me like that.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stupefied. “Are you kidding me? It’s called acting for a reason.”

“I don’t feel like getting wet with a stranger.”

“Stop calling your co-star a stranger. It’s supposed to be romantic.”

“Nah. Not gonna do it. Tell them to switch me with another character.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Then they can scratch the whole scene. Plus all those sappy lines.”

“The fuck, Satoru. It’s not even real!”

“Exactly. I don’t want to pretend.” Satoru tilted his head slightly, leaning closer to you. His gaze softened. “I don’t want to do those things with someone else and pretend it’s you.”

The fork you were holding slipped, clattering on the porcelain plate. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You’d heard him, loud and clear, and though your insides were twisted into knots, your brain couldn’t fully comprehend the gravity of the words that slid so easily out of his mouth. 

“I—please, Satoru… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Don’t make what harder, sweetheart?” He reached for you, hand sliding up your neck to cup the back of your head. His thumb traced your jaw with feather light strokes. “That I want you and only you? That you might possibly want me too?”

“We work together. We can’t—“

“We already are.”

“It’s a bad idea.” But your reply only came out hollow.

“I’ll show you why it isn’t.” 

His lips were inches away from yours. Endless blue eyes fixed on you, unwavering. It was impossible to think.

“One chance,” he said. “Let me show you exactly how I want us to be. All the ways I want to have you. How you’ve imagined having me.”

You felt your resolve melt along with the rest of you as Satoru pulled you off the bar stool and into him. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t have even let it go this far, because now it was too late.

Because instead of pushing away, your hands were sliding up his chest, hooking around his broad shoulders.

“No one can know,” you heard yourself saying. “They can’t find out or else—“

“Is that a yes?”

“I—yes… but we have to be—“

Satoru’s mouth was on yours before you could finish the sentence. Your gasp turned into a sigh that quickly disintegrated as he deepened the kiss, stealing whatever air was left in your lungs.

Satoru devoured you like he was starving, his tongue destroying your mouth and your mind with each possessive flick. Like he wanted to sear the way he tasted into your memory… the heat of him… you didn’t know how you’d survived this long without him. 

You grabbed his shirt, clawing it off his back, needing to feel more of him. He shifted just enough to let you pull it off him. For you to slide your hands up his perfectly toned abs to his chest, feeling his smooth pale skin, every taut ridge of muscle, before he lifted you up and propped you on the edge of the kitchen island. 

“Your turn.” A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. His hands slipped underneath your sweater, dragging up and up and up until your sweater peeled right off. 

Your bra went next. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “I take it back. You look the best without any clothes on, which is why those jeans will have to go… eventually.”

Heat pooled between your thighs at the thought of it.

“But I think I’ll start here first.” Satoru lifted a finger, and a soft whimper escaped you as he idly circled one of your breasts, then the other. Teasing you as each ring he drew closed in tighter and tighter around your swelling nipple. 

“Ngh—Satoru...” you cried, breathless, when he flicked it. 

“Like that? Maybe you’ll like it better if I just…” He swiped up a dollop of frosting from the mixing bowl beside you, and smeared it over each peak of your hardened nipples, the sudden coldness sharp against your aching need. He lowered his mouth, and sucked on one of them. 

Your back arched forward, the heat of his tongue slowly licking, nipping, like he’d found the most delicious meal and wanted to take his time savouring every bit of it. 

He scooped more frosting and drew a thick, gooey line down the middle of your torso. Down and down before stopping right above the band of your jeans. 

Satoru licked his lips, his smile growing devious. “So you don’t forget where this ends.” 

“You’re terrible.” But you couldn’t help smiling back.

“Oh, I promise you I’m very, very good. The best.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Is that a challenge?” He clicked his tongue, playfully admonishing. “Because if it is, I won’t hold back. I’ll have you screaming my name before I’m done, then begging to scream it again after.”

The region below your belly squirmed. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pressing your aching centre against that thick, solid length straining beneath his pants. 

“Try me,” you breathed, and ground against him. 

Satoru groaned, eyes darkening into something feral. Then he was pushing you down flat against the kitchen island, among the clutter of bowls and flour and batter he’d not yet cleaned up.

“Consider yourself warned, sweetheart,” he said.

He yanked off your jeans in one smooth motion, and with your legs still up in the air, he spread them apart.

You suddenly wished you had opted for a nicer pair of underwear instead of the faded cotton one you usually wore at home. Cheeks flushed, you peered up at Satoru, thinking he might laugh at your granny panties, but you only found him staring.

“God…you’re soaked.” His voice came out hoarse, almost in disbelief. “Is it all for me?”

The look on his face, his question, somehow made you a little braver. You bucked your hips up in answer. “Take it off and see for yourself.”

But instead, Satoru pressed a thumb into the damp cotton, right at the centre of your aching nerves, and began stroking. You moaned from the sudden pressure, the friction of fabric burning against your clit. 

“I’ve had a long, long time to think about how I want to have you, kacho-san,” said Satoru as his thumb worked in slow, steady circles, both relieving and maddening you at once. “So you’ll forgive me for not rushing this.”

In the next stroke, his thumb stretched the fabric aside and slid underneath. The heat of his skin finally met all of your wetness, and rubbed right up the centre of your clit. You moaned louder, eyes shuttering from the sheer elation of his bare touch. 

Satoru swore. “You’re killing me with that face. It’s too pretty. Now I don’t want you showing it to anyone else but me.”

“Satoru, please… any more and I’m going to—“

“Not yet, baby.” He plunged his finger into you, and your mind went numb. “Can’t have you coming so soon. Not when there’s so much more for you to enjoy.”

The world ceased to exist save the feel of him rocking inside you. It was torment. It was rapture. It was everything, yet not nearly enough.

You were panting so hard you didn’t realise him bending over you until he caught your mouth with his, swallowing up every wretched sound you released. And just as you were about to give in and beg for more, he tore away, pulling back, and ripped your panties off.

“Finally,” Satoru breathed, and it sounded like awe. Then he was on his knees, clutching your thighs as he splayed you wide open. 

The first lick of his tongue, hot and slick up your clit, completely decimated your mind. You forgot your name. Your very being. Your legs hooked around his shoulders, fingers diving into his hair, pressing him further into you. Needing more, more, more…

Your cries filled the kitchen as Satoru worked you with his mouth in broad, sweeping strokes—flicking, kissing, teeth grazing lightly in a way that drove you insane that each time he did it you thought you might tip right over the edge.

“I was right,” Satoru murmured. “I can never get enough of this.”

His tongue slipped inside you, and you lost it. Lost yourself fully, absolutely, to the feel of him, crying out as release surged up your spine, wracking through your entire body. Your toes curled. Seized. Your hips writhing as Satoru continued fucking you with his tongue to the last throes of your climax. Until you were nothing but a limp heap of flesh beneath him.

You were still heaving as Satoru kissed his way up your body, up the column of your neck. His breaths, warm against your skin, his lips caressing that sensitive spot behind your ear—it only undid you further. 

You reached for him, arms winding round his back, and turned your head to look at him. 

And the moment you met those sky blue eyes, the truth you’d been so stubbornly ignoring for years hit you like a punch to the gut—

That you were so gone for him. You always were. 

“Satoru,” you whispered. “I want more… I want you.”

He stilled, just for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite believe what you’d said. Then those perfect lips curved into a devastating smile. 

“I never said we were stopping, sweetheart.”

It was like the leash controlling whatever Satoru held back had snapped. He’d picked you up as if you weighed nothing, slung you over his shoulder—your bare ass facing upwards, which he smacked playfully when you tried to kick him—and carried you up the stairs straight to his bedroom.

“It’s too bright,” you said, when he flicked on more lights.

“All the better for you to see me,” was his reply before he threw you on the bed, and wasted no time climbing on top of you.

He’d made you come three more times with his mouth alone, each climax topping the one before until you could no longer feel your legs. Until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. 

Still, you wanted more. More of him. More than this.

Now he had you on his lap, facing forward, spread apart as he made you watch him pump three fingers into you at a relentless pace.

“Ahn—Toru! Please…” you moaned, head tipping back, helpless to the pressure that was building up in you again.

“Please what, baby?” Satoru dragged his mouth along the curve of your neck. “Is it too much? Should I add one more?”

“No—ahn! I want—I want you inside me…”

“But I already am, and you’re taking it so, so well.”

“Stop—hngh—teasing…”

“I’d hardly call it teasing when you’re about to come for me again. Look at you—so damn tight. You’re practically eating up my fingers.” 

“Toru—I can’t…”

Satoru only plunged deeper, filling you up to his knuckles. Mini explosions went off in your head as he wrecked that sensitive spot inside you over and over again. All coherent thoughts left you as another brutal climax shattered you apart.

You sagged against him, your body trembling as Satoru’s fingers slipped out and began gently stroking your clit, preparing you for another round.

Bloody hell, what kind of depraved beast was he? You’d never come this hard, this many times, before in your life. You’d never thought such a thing was even possible. Then again, it wasn’t as if you had a prolific sex life. Or a proper relationship for the matter. The longest you’d dated someone was a grand total of three months, and even then you’d been so consumed with work that you spent more time texting the guy than actually going out with him. As expected, he’d grown bored fairly quick. You’d stuck to one night stands after that.

And of course—of course Satoru had to be the best you’d ever had. No one came close. It was infuriating and addictive and utterly irresistible. 

It ruined you for anyone else but him. 

Sick of him having his way with you, you shifted to face him, pressing your chest against his. You wedged a hand between your body and his, and slid it down his ridiculously sculpted abdomen. Down until you found what you were searching for. 

Satoru groaned as you palmed his granite hard cock through his pants. “Fuck, baby—“

You were already unfastening his pants, yanking them down. 

The full length of him sprang free, and your mouth went dry at the sight of it. 

Fuuuuuuuck… what the fuck? What didn’t the gods bless him with? That wasn’t a dick. It was an unholy weapon of mass destruction. You weren’t sure if a quarter would even fit—

“Oh, it will. I’ll make sure it does.” Satoru smirked, reading your mind. Then he was flipping you onto the sheets, his hips between your thighs as he brought your legs up and over his shoulders. “You know, I was going to prep you some more so you could take me easier. But since you insist on being so impatient…”

The tip of his cock rubbed into your dripping wet folds, and you couldn’t help but make a pathetic sound at how good it felt. 

“Keep those eyes open, sweetheart.” Satoru’s lips formed a wicked curve as he continued grazing up and down your clit. “I want to see them when I do this—”

He slid into you, and you cried out from the sheer intensity. It was only the tip, yet he was so thick you were already stretched thin trying to accommodate him. 

“God, Satoru, you’re—“

“Amazing?” He grinned. “Absolutely everything you imagined?”

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed as he eased out slightly, then immediately pushed back in deeper. You couldn’t hear your own moans, all your focus narrowing around the feel of him as he repeated the motion again and again until every inch of him was buried inside you. 

You were struggling to breathe, legs stiffening as you dug your fingers into his back, but each twitch of his impossibly hard cock had you whimpering. And he had yet to move.

“It’s too big,” you bit out. 

Another smirk. “You’re welcome.” Satoru planted a gentle kiss on your thigh. “Try and relax, beautiful. I’ll get you used to me soon enough.”

He gave you all of two seconds before pulling out halfway and slamming the full length of him into you again. Your mind went blank, back arching off the bed. But he gave you no reprieve, pulling out slowly only to thrust in hard and fast. Again and again. 

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well.” His pace increased to merciless, pounding into you until you could no longer close your mouth. Couldn’t care less about whatever lewd sounds you were making. “God, you feel so good I’m going crazy.”

“Ahn—ahn! Toru—“

“Say my name again.”

“S—Satoru…”

“Again.”

“Satoru,” you cried out. “Gojo Satoru!”

“Good girl.” His hand splayed out on your stomach, pinning you down as he fucked you to oblivion. Until nothing existed but the feel of his cock inside you.

You could die. You could die right now and you wouldn’t care. A hot surge prickled up your spine, up and up to fill your head, but as you were about to tip over the edge, Satoru pulled out. 

The sudden emptiness hit you like a brick wall. Your chin snapped down, just as you saw him grab your hips, dragging you forward to the edge of the bed. Satoru stood, half kneeling on the bed, and brought your hips up to meet him before sheathing himself inside you again. 

“And now for your reward, sweetheart,” he said. His thumb found your clit, and he flicked it—

Flicked it as he ground inside you.

“Fuck…” you moaned, eyes rolling back. “Toru…”

“Want me to stop?” he teased. 

“D-don’t—more… don’t stop…”

The increased pressure on your clit was his reply, stroking hard and fast as Satoru continued fucking you at the same time. Feral. Ruthless. Each pound against your ass filling you up to the hilt, the friction of his thumb never ceasing.

You couldn’t tell where one climax began and ended from the other. Nothing could compare to this. To him. To the way you were coming over and over again, crying out his name while he drove into you, letting you ride out your pleasure to the end before he finally gave in to his own release—a deep, guttural groan as he spent himself inside you.

You were still trying to catch your breath when he gently shifted you back to the middle of the bed, then fell beside you, an arm slung over your stomach to pull you closer. He kissed your temple, then your cheek, then trailed more along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbone while his fingers drew light circles on your skin. 

“Wanna go again?” he asked.

“You can’t be serious.”

Those blue eyes met yours. “I am if you are. Always.”

Despite having been utterly ravaged, your cheeks flushed. “Don’t assume this will be a regular occurrence.”

“Can’t it be?” His fingers traced the underside of your breasts. “From what I saw, you were enjoying yourself as much as me, and that’s only the beginning of what I plan to show you.”

“We work together, Satoru. It’ll only… complicate things.”

“I should think it’ll be easier. Like you said, we work together. We see each other almost every day. No one will suspect a thing.”

“You know all it takes is one photo. One.”

“I promise I’ll behave. At least in public.” 

You hesitated. “It’s—it’s too risky. That recording—“

“I deleted it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What if next time it’s not me who’s recording? They’ll have proof of me coercing you into—“

“Just so you know, we didn’t do anything.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh?” 

“That night… Toji was going to send you home first, but you were one red light away from hurling all over the car. My place was nearer. But when we got here, you just complained your back was sore, and then demanded I give you a massage for all the stress I’ve caused you.”

You gaped at him. “But—but all the things I said—“

“You mean the part when I said I belong to you?” His smile turned playful. “Partly my fault. I may have said I wouldn’t mind switching managers if it means you’ll go out with me.”

“You what?”

“Hey, it was a joke. A bad one, come to think of it. But it got you all worked up, which was why you did the recording. Though your exact words were for me to promise I wouldn’t work with anyone else. I just paraphrased it.”

“So… nothing happened?”

Satoru chuckled. “No, sweetheart. Tonight is the first.” He caught your chin, and brushed his lips against yours. “Come on, say yes,” he murmured. “Say I’ll get to have you like this again.”

“I—“ You opened your mouth to reject him, but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not while he was looking at you like that. Hopeful. Almost… pleading. Not when you knew, without a doubt, that no one could compare to the way he made you feel. He was the forbidden fruit you’d been circling around for years, and now that you’d had a taste, it was impossible not to want more. 

“Fine,” you said at last, before you could regret it. “But we have to be careful. If there’s even the tiniest rumour, we’re stopping this. I’m not going to ruin both our careers over a dumb fling.”

Satoru raised a brow. “A fling?”

“And,” you continued. “You’re going to do that movie.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Satoru laughed softly, then he was pulling you tighter against him. His mouth caught yours, and you knew his answer. You reached for his face, and with your walls finally down, you did the very thing that had been nagging at you the whole night.

“You have a little bit of…” You swiped at the errant streak of batter on his cheek, then brought  your finger to your lips and licked it clean.

Satoru’s eyes darkened, at odds with the indulgent smile he gave you.

“You shouldn’t tempt me like that,” he said, and you felt him hardening against your thigh. “Now the only way you’re going to sleep is if you pass out with me inside you.”

“Satoru, it’s late,” you began to protest. “We have a meeting in the morning to discuss Domain’s tour dates.”

But he was already moving on top of you, arms on either side of your head, caging you in. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead, then nudged that god-tier cock at your entrance. “I’ll make sure there’s time to properly fuck you in the morning too.”

As promised, Satoru fucked you that morning, then again in the evening. He would have fucked you in that meeting if he could. He’d spent the entirety of it playing footsie with you under the table while you repeatedly swatted away his hand each time he tried slipping it under the hem of your skirt. By the end of it, you couldn’t remember a thing Yaga or the other members had said.

It went on like this for the next three months. Satoru would find any opportunity to be alone with you, and when he wasn’t, he’d find any opportunity to steal a touch, a stroke, a brush, or to simply be next to you.

“Stop being so obvious,” you’d scold him when he’d lean his head on your shoulder and pretend to sleep after another gruelling session at the recording studio. He’d fake a snore and then peck you on the cheek when the others weren’t looking.

He’d also interpreted your warnings to be careful out in public very loosely, often catching up or slowing down so he could walk beside you at events. His face would be arranged in a neutral expression as he bent close to your ear, and to everyone watching, it looked like he was merely discussing something with his manager. But the filthy things he’d whisper in your ear would make your knees go weak, and at the same time paranoid that someone would finally realise you were blushing red as a bloody tomato.

Not only was Satoru inept at being inconspicuous, he had zero filter when he spoke to you, especially while describing what he was going to do to you. And when you did stay over at his, which honestly, was most nights, the sex…

Sex with Gojo Satoru was a league of its own. 

“Who’s the best?” he’d demand while pounding you stupid against the panoramic glass window in his living room.

“Ahn! Hngh—you, Satoru…”

“Who’s cock do you want?”

“Yours—I want yours…”

“Say it properly.”

“Gojo Satoru’s cock is the best—ahn!”

In the short span of time since you’d both become more than manager and idol, Satoru had taken you on every possible surface in his penthouse, including the private elevator. His favourite was in the shower. He’d make you use the shower head on yourself while he watched, then lifted you, legs straddling him, and impaled you over and over again. 

But it wasn’t his insatiable appetite that you were starting to find a problem.

It was the quiet nights when you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off. When you were plain exhausted from the week. Satoru would clock it immediately when you trudged into his home, about to tell him you weren’t feeling it tonight, or at least to make it quick. 

“Bath. Pyjamas,” he’d say, pointing you up the stairs. “Food will be here when you come down.”

If it was early, he’d cook simple, hearty meals. If it was late, he ordered takeaway. He’d bundle you up in blankets on the couch, put on a movie, and snuggle next to you while you ate off a tray. He’d comment on the scenes, the characters, the lines, an arm slung over the couch as he mindlessly stroked the back of your neck. And when you inevitably dozed off, you’d always find yourself tucked in his bed when you woke. 

It was the mornings when he’d hug you from behind as you sat at the kitchen island scrolling through your e-mails, his chin resting on top of your head. The way his eyes lit up every time you walked into the room, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. 

You couldn’t explain the flutters in your stomach, the skipped beat in your chest. Why it was that you found yourself wanting to be around him more and more, and not just for work or sex. Maybe you didn’t want to make sense of it, because doing so would mean facing what you suspected was a truth you weren’t prepared for. 

Still, like the gradual yet inevitable shift in seasons, you found yourself in Satoru’s home more and more. Nights became days, and before you knew it, your toothbrush had it’s own cup beside his; your clothes were hanging in his wardrobe; the snacks you liked were in his pantry; you had a favourite chair; the left side of the bed belonged to you. 

Conversations with Satoru became a mixture of shameless teasing and inconsequential chatter. You’d share random opinions, he’d tell you about something funny Suguru had said, you’d both bicker over the best way to piece a jigsaw puzzle. Satoru’s text messages volleyed between flirtation, obscenity, and ‘what time r u coming home’, and ‘will be late, pizza in fridge’.

And you couldn’t help but sink deeper and deeper into this new rhythm. This comfort.

Of being with him.

“Sure, keep doing that. You don’t look suspicious at all,” said Satoru as your head snapped around yet again. 

“But that lady is staring at us.”

“Because you’re staring at her.”

“We should’ve asked Toji to drive.”

“It’s one block, sweetheart. You’ll survive the walk. There’s no parking there anyway, and no one normal takes a bodyguard to get ice cream.”

You grumbled a little and tugged your cap down further. Satoru chuckled behind his mask, his eyes and stark white hair completely hidden under dark sunglasses and an oversized beanie. You’d made him wear the baggiest clothes he could find so as not to draw any attention to his physique, but his height was still an issue. At six foot three, he towered over every passerby on the sidewalk. 

That, and he’d refused to let go of your hand, his fingers locked and intertwined with yours. You could only pray the after lunch hour crowd were too busy rushing back to their offices to stop and really take notice. You’d already passed by two advertisements with his face on them. 

“Let’s go out,” he’d said, yet again. It had been six months since… whatever this was between the both of you, and every week or so, Satoru never failed to try and convince you to let him take you on a date. 

“What’s the point?” you’d made the same excuse. “It’s not like we don’t see each other every day. It’s too risky. You’re too easy to recognise—”

“No restaurants, no cafes. I know a place,” he’d pressed. “Come on, baby. I’ll be away at the filming site tomorrow. I’m gonna need something to hold on to so I won’t miss my pretty girl too much. Also, heads up, I’m going to fuck you really well tonight.”

“I’m sure you can manage two months on your own, Satoru.”

He’d whined and pestered and low-key threatened to not show up for filming, and out of annoyance, you’d reluctantly agreed to let him drag you to the quaint, little ice cream parlour you were now approaching, tucked away in a forgotten laneway amidst the city’s towering skyscrapers and glitzier establishments. 

The bell jingled as Satoru held the door open for you, then flipped the welcome sign around to ’Sorry, We’re Closed’ and turned the lock. 

You raised a brow. “You can’t just do that.”

“Not like anyone comes here, and it’s kind of my shop.”

“You own an ice cream shop?”

“Kind of,” Satoru emphasised, while he proceeded to shed the disguises covering up his face and hair. “I bought it for someone. My name’s on the papers, but I don’t run it. I'm really just a customer.”

In that moment, the door to the backroom opened, and out stepped a young boy who looked to be around high school age. He was pretty, with long, spiky black hair and an expression too serious for the baby blue apron he was wearing. 

“Oh,” he said, deadpanned. Perhaps slightly annoyed. “It’s you again.”

Satoru swept out his arms, dramatically. “Megumi-channnn! Did you miss me? You did, didn’t you? I can tell.”

Megumi ignored him, his keen gaze settling on you. “So this is the manager you can’t shut up about.”

“The one and only.” Satoru grinned, winding an arm around you. “Sweetheart, meet Megumi-chan, my precious little street urchin that Toji dumped on me to babysit.”

Megumi scowled. “Oi, if you’re going to introduce me to your girlfriend, do it properly.”

You flinched. Did he just call you…  your eyes snapped up at Satoru. 

“Ahh… I can explain that.” For the first time, Satoru seemed nervous. “The thing is—I may or may not have told Megumi we’re dating.”

“You what?” Your eyes widened.

“Well, we kind of are. We see each other more than anyone else. It’s just not official yet, but I’m going to change that. Which is why we’re here. I wanted to take you out before asking.”

“She doesn’t know?” Megumi snorted. “You know what, I’m not even surprised anymore.” He took off his apron. “I’m going out for lunch. Use the cups this time—don’t dip your spoon in the tubs and mess up all the flavours.”

With that, Megumi gave you a small nod you couldn’t fully understand, and left without another word. 

“Satoru, I…” you began, but your words trailed off, at lost of what to say.

But Satoru was steering you gently behind the counter. He pulled open a drawer and took out two spoons, handing you one, then slid open the glass of the ice cream display.

“Megumi makes them himself,” he said. “They’re pretty good. Go on, try them all.”

“But he said not to—“

“I’m going to tell you a story,” he continued. “When I’m done, you can tell me if you liked the ice cream. Or not.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew what he was asking—to hear him out. To listen to what he had to say, to everything he hadn’t yet said.

And at the end, for you to make a choice. About him.

Your hand dipped into the cooler to scoop a spoonful from the chocolate tub. “Alright,” you said. “Tell me.”

Satoru sucked in a quiet breath, his gaze fixed entirely on you. Then in a tone so tender, he began. “There’s this girl I met eight years ago. When I wasn’t an idol. When I wasn’t a trainee. When I was just…me. She probably doesn’t remember this—at least I don’t think so. But I do. Every second of it.”

Your spoon froze mid-bite.

“Suguru was the one who wanted to be an idol,” Satoru went on. “He was always going on about us forming a group together and changing the world. I wasn’t interested. I’d just gotten the acceptance letter from Harvard, and all I wanted to do then was bum around before my parents shipped me off to med school. Suguru convinced me to accompany him to audition at Jujutsu Entertainment—said I’d be there for moral support. I knew he was hoping I’d change my mind at the last minute, but as his best friend, I couldn’t say no.”

As if on cue, Domain’s chart-topping single, Limitless, came on the speakers then. Satoru’s magnetic voice, crooning the first verse of the song he wrote, filled the tiny shop.

I was fine just running blind,

Living fast, leaving things behind

“I told him I’d wait outside the building until he was done. I knew he’d pass the audition and was thinking if I should finally buy him a meal. That’s when I see this girl, all sweaty and red-faced as if she’s about to drop dead at any moment from the heat. I’ve never seen someone run so fast while balancing six trays of coffee… it was hilarious.”

Vaguely, you felt the world slipping out from under your feet as a memory, thin and distant, jogged into your mind.

The song had progressed into the pre-chorus. 

No map, no end, it’s by design,

My eyes see only clear blue skies

“She was so focused on those coffees she ran right into me before I could stop her. Made a mess on the both us. She panicked, of course. Didn’t even look at me as she apologised and was already about to rush back the other way, all drenched… I assume to buy more coffee. She was mumbling something about not keeping the trainees waiting…”

The chorus played.

I’m limitless, no boundaries,

Gravity bends so easily

“So me being me, I told her that the trainees were assholes for making her carry so many coffees by herself. You know what she said?” Satoru chuckled, fondly. “She scolded me. Quite loudly, I might add. Said I had no right to talk about them like that—that their lives are hard enough as it is. That they never asked her to do this for them, and I was the real asshole for assuming so. That I wouldn’t be thinking this way when I became a trainee myself. Guess she thought I was there for auditions. Don’t blame her though, I am very handsome after all.”

Nanami’s rap for the second verse had ended. Chocolate ice cream was dripping down your spoon, melting on your tongue. But all you could do was stare at Satoru as the memory became clearer and clearer. 

“Seriously, I thought, who does this girl think she is? Telling me off when I’m just trying to be nice for once. I got offended. So I told her that if I do become an idol, I was going to make her run errands for me every hour whether she liked it or not until she takes back what she said. I’ll never forget what she told me then.”

The second chorus flowed out the speakers. Satoru reached for you, lifting the cap off your head. His hand cupped your face, warm and steady. 

“She told me if I did become an idol, and if she was my manager, that she’ll make sure she’s always on my side. That I will never, ever, have to feel like I’m alone.”

Lives one voice, so right, my guide,

Saying I’ll never stand alone, it’s become my home

Every song I write, it’s you I find

You’re the heart in every line

Ever so softly, Satoru stroked your cheek. “You weren’t the only one who fell that day, kacho-san.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past everything he’d said. The way he was looking at you, the way he held you, as if you were going to disappear the moment he blinked. As if he was afraid this was nothing but a dream. 

He’d written that song for you. Every song Satoru had ever written for Domain… they were about you. And you never once realised it. 

Through the speakers, Satoru sang his final solo.

If forever’s taking time,

I will still be here for you to find

“So,” Satoru’s voice was quiet, but his eyes stayed on you, unwavering. “How’s the ice cream?”

You didn’t need to think for your answer.

“It’s good,” you whispered. “But it’s not my favourite.”

He winced a little. His hand retreated. “Oh, I see… sure. We’ll just… go home then, I guess…”

“It’s not my favourite because you are, Satoru.”

You watched his eyes widen, stunned. For a long moment, Satoru just stared at you. 

“Wait… say that again.”

You couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, Gojo Satoru, I’ll go out with you.”

“Thank God.” He was lifting you up in his arms in the next second. Your spoon clattered onto the floor as Satoru’s lips found yours. 

His kiss was tender. Deep. Unhurried. Like a long held sigh finally let loose. Like you were a desperate wish coming true at last.

When you broke apart, out of breath, Satoru was grinning from ear to ear. So bright. So beautiful.

“Damn, I’m really, really going to miss my girlfriend tomorrow,” he said, before pulling you back in for another kiss. 

You forgot all about ice cream after that.

You’d gone and done it now. You were officially dating Gojo Satoru. The world’s number one idol was now your boyfriend, at least in secret.

And Satoru couldn’t help milking it. In fact, he’d taken it upon himself to call you his girlfriend every chance he got. 

“What would my lovely girlfriend like to have for dinner? I’m the dessert, of course.”

“Come and take a shower with me, my beautiful girlfriend.”

“God, my girlfriend’s tight, little pussy is the best.”

You’d continued staying at his place while he was away filming. Most of your stuff were here anyway, and it was closer to work and the rest of Domain’s members. Suguru lived in the penthouse two doors down, while Kento and Yu were in the same building around the block. 

You’d thought it odd at first that they would choose to live so close to each other, but you’d quickly learned that the bond between them was as unbreakable as steel. It had been that way since their trainee days, and you had no doubt it played a role in their meteoric rise to fame, and why they worked so well as an idol group.

Satoru had wanted to tell them about you immediately, and somehow, you couldn’t deny him. They were his friends. His only real friends. Truth be told, it wasn’t much of a risk. You’d suspected Satoru was already keeping them updated to some extent. 

It would definitely explain why, like Megumi, they had showed no surprise when he’d video called the group the moment you got home from the ice cream parlour.

“Congratulations you two!” Yu had cheered, as if Satoru had popped the question.

“Hmm, didn’t think you’d stay professional for this long,” remarked Kento.

“Finally,” Suguru said, calmly. “Now we won’t have to watch you mope around for days whenever she rejects you.”

Besides Megumi, perhaps the only other non-group members who had some idea were Shoko and Toji. You’d never explicitly mentioned anything to Shoko, and she’d never asked, but a shirtless Satoru walking around in the background whenever you had late night video meetings was proof enough. And Toji—

Well, Toji would have to had lost both his ears to not hear all the lewd sounds coming from behind the car’s privacy screen as Satoru ate you out on the way to the airport. Either that, or he simply didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know you’d been staying at Satoru’s for awhile now. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Satoru was away at filming, giving you time to catch up with work and the rest of Domain. But something had shifted within you. Each time your phone rang or buzzed with a new text, you found yourself hoping it was him, and when it was, you couldn’t help smiling. At nights, the bed felt awfully cold and empty. Your days, your activities, your work, your thoughts, Satoru became the first person you wanted to tell.

No matter how late it was, Satoru would always make sure to call you, even if it was just to say goodnight, and it was no different tonight.

“Baby, are you free to talk?”

You were in your pyjamas with the blanket pulled up to your neck. “Don’t you have to be up at four in the morning? You should get some sleep, Toru.”

“But I can’t sleep without you hugging me.”

“You just finished a ten hour shoot. I’m sure you’re tired enough.”

“I hate it here. I miss you too much. That dumb actress is always trying to worm her way into my trailer to go through lines together. It’s annoying. Can’t I just tell her I have a girlfriend? The prettiest, most gorgeous, irresistible girlfriend I happen to be crazy in love with.”

Your breath hitched. “You—you love me?”

“Hopelessly. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

You didn’t expect your heart to melt the way it did. For the warmth in which he said those words to make you feel so…safe. So complete. Like the last piece of a puzzle finally fitting into place. 

You didn’t expect him to feel like home. 

“Satoru,” you found yourself saying. “I—I think I—“

Your phone flashed with another incoming call. It was Shoko, and if she was calling this late instead of texting, then it had to be something urgent. 

“Call you back,” you told Satoru, and switched lines immediately before he could protest.

“Have you seen it?” Shoko said without preamble. “The netizens are going nuts, and Yaga’s lost his shit.”

“Seen what?” But a cold had started to creep up your spine.

“The text I sent you five minutes ago. Check it.”

Your phone flashed again. It was Satoru. But you ended his call and tapped into Shoko’s message. She’d forwarded a link.

Nothing could prepare you for what you saw the moment the post loaded. Ice bled into your veins, and all you could do was stare at your screen…

The photo was grainy, snapped hastily through a glass window. But there was no mistaking the white-haired man behind the counter of a familiar ice cream parlour, his lips locked with a woman whose back was facing the camera. 

Below was another photo, of you and Satoru at the airport. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary. You were just his manager sending him off. But then you spotted it—the glaring evidence like a slap to your face.

You were wearing the exact same cap you had on at the ice cream parlour.

The comment from the original poster only confirmed it:

’Coincidence? I think not. Thought of deleting, but it isn’t fair to y’all.’

They’d posted it barely an hour ago, but the comments section had already blown out of proportion.

All the blood drained from your face. Your phone flashed again. It was the fifth time Satoru was calling. You just stared at his name until the call ended itself.

Why did you ever think things were going to be okay? Somehow, along the way, you’d lost the plot in favour of your feelings. You’d let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. You’d become too soft. Convinced yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy with Satoru.

That he could be yours.

But the bubble you’d created with him had always been made of glass, and now the glass had shattered.

Text messages upon text messages were flooding your phone. From Shoko, from Yaga, from the Domain members. From Satoru. 

Fifteen minutes. That was all the time you gave yourself to ignore everything and spiral. To wallow in your panic.

You took a deep breath, then hauled your feet out of bed and went to grab your laptop before calling Shoko. There would be no sleep for you tonight. 

You were going to fix this. Even if Yaga fired you tomorrow, you were going to make sure you did everything you could so Satoru wouldn’t be dragged through the mud along with you. You were going to save his reputation, and if it meant setting yours on fire, so be it. 

One and a half months later...

“Kacho-san, are you watching this?” Shoko said as soon as you answered.

Of course you were, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. As you watched the livestream of the press conference play out on your laptop, the camera zooming in on Satoru, your heart fell out your throat as he gave a dazzling smile and repeated what he’d said, as if for emphasis.

“She won’t let me be her boyfriend anymore, but she’s still my girlfriend. Does that answer your question?”

Chaos erupted among the reporters. Cameras were flashing non-stop. A million questions were thrown at Satoru all at once. 

“Wow, he’s really driving it home, huh?” said Shoko.

“We have to cut the livestream” you said, panicking.

“Too late. There are ten thousand fans watching this. It’ll only piss them off more.”

“Fuck. Why can’t he just stick to the damn script?”

“I don’t think he’s ever known what the word means.”

Throughout the media frenzy, Satoru remained calm, waiting until the questions died down before speaking again. 

“I apologise if this has disappointed my fans. Hiding a relationship was never my intention. If I’m being honest, I never wanted to hide her. Not before. Not now. Not ever. But for her sake, I did.” Satoru laughed. “Oh, she’s going kill me for this.”

His gaze shifted to look directly into the camera. At you.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry okay? I’m going to tell them everything. Forgive me?”

Your hands clapped over your mouth as Satoru proceeded to tell them exactly what he’d told you at the ice cream parlour—the day he met you, and how you got mad about what he’d said. That if he were to become an idol, you would make sure he was never truly alone. That he hadn’t realised he’d already fallen for you until you became his manager. 

“So you see, this isn’t a fling to me. I’ve waited years for her, and I’ll continue waiting if that’s what she wants.”

Satoru loosened a breath, camera flashes bouncing off his handsome face. When he looked up again, there was only determination in his sky blue eyes, as if he was daring the viewers. Challenging them.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today without my fans, and I love them for everything they’ve given me. And I also love her. Badly. Immeasurably. She’s my guide. The reason I’m an idol. The reason I’m able to give myself so freely. So… can’t we all just get along and share me?” He winked. “That’s all I have to say. Suguru will share the details about the tour.”

And with that, Satoru stood up, so casually as if he hadn’t just broke headlines for the weeks to come, and walked out of the conference hall. 

The press was going wild, and so were the comments underneath the livestream. 

“Uhh, kacho-san? You still alive?” Shoko’s voice pulled you out of your trance. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“Shoko, can I call you back?”

“Sure, take your time. I think I might have to call that ambulance anyway. Utahime looks like her soul has left her body.”

You mumbled a quick goodbye, your feet already moving out your office, then running out the entrance of Jujutsu Entertainment to hail the first taxi you saw. 

You knew his schedule by heart. He had a meeting with Yaga after the press conference, but you also knew Satoru well enough that there was no chance he’d bother turning up. Not after the media storm he’d unleashed. 

The taxi had barely braked in front of Satoru’s apartment before you were out, flinging a wad of cash at the driver. You didn’t care if it was rude. You didn’t care to greet the doorman. Didn’t care as you fumbled for your keycard while slamming a hand repeatedly on the elevator button. 

You didn’t know why you were rushing. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. All you knew was that you had to see him. To tell him. 

You didn’t want him to wait anymore. 

When the doors pinged open, you found him. Pacing about the foyer in the same clothes he’d worn at the press conference. Satoru halted, eyes finding yours as you stepped out, heart pounding. 

“You came home,” he said, almost in disbelief. 

This time, you didn’t hesitate, and closed the gap between the both of you.

“Yes,” you said, reaching to cup your hands around his beautiful face. “I also came to tell you that I love you too.”

For awhile, Satoru didn’t speak. He simply… stared, a flurry of emotions fleeting through those infinite blue eyes, unguarded. 

His throat bobbed. “Say it again. Please.”

You kissed him then. Softly. Gently.

“I love you, Gojo Satoru,” you whispered against his lips. “Shall I say it one mo—“

His mouth was on yours again. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you tight against him, like he never wanted to let go. A tender, desperate kiss. Deep and slow. Devastating and warm. The kind of kiss that only told truth. Of days and months and years chasing the finish line. An endless wait finally seeing light. 

“You taste like heaven,” he said when you finally tore apart, the silence of the foyer filling back around you.

You laughed at his cheesiness, but you liked it all the same. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Satoru was smiling. “An idiot you love.”

“Yes,” you said, pulling him back in for another kiss. “And for quite some time now.”

After successfully spinning the narrative with his super sincere public declaration in the way only Gojo Satoru could pull off, it didn’t take long for the public’s sentiment to switch from outrage to undying support.

Once again, Satoru had wielded his magic and it had worked. His gamble had paid off, sealing his image and reputation in a whole new stratosphere. The name Gojo Satoru was now untouchable, his influence undeniable. His value in the entertainment industry skyrocketed to boundary breaking heights overnight, and so had Domain’s. 

It was the kind of viral whirlwind every idol company dreamed of inciting. You’d prepared for the backlash. For the call from Yaga to fire you. You’d predicted bedlam, and had Shoko and Utahime prepare every possible kind of press release and social media post to hopefully assuage the onslaught. 

But you’d made your choice, and this time, you had no regrets. 

What you didn’t expect was to end up in hair and makeup, about to do your fifth magazine photoshoot with Satoru this month alone. Six page spread. Multiple outfits. Theme: Devotion.

And no one was enjoying it more than Satoru himself. Now that he had free reign to flaunt your relationship in public, flaunt he did. Boldly. Shamelessly. 

“If you keep blushing like that, sweetheart, you’re going to look like a tomato in the photos,” he teased as he held you in pose under the heat of the glaring studio lights, his lips pressed up against the column of your neck as the photographer clicked away at the camera. “A very adorable, very delicious tomato.”

It was no different at interviews. You’d be talking about the tour when he’d suddenly throw out lines like “Your dedication is so sexy, kacho-san,” and “Anyone thinks my manager looks especially beautiful today?”, and completely derail the entire conversation. 

Jujutsu Entertainment, for its part, wasted no time in capitalising your relationship with Satoru, marketing the both of you as the ideal, fantasy couple. That the public was aware nothing about you and Satoru was fabricated only sold your new image harder. Not like Jujutsu Entertainment had a choice unless they wanted an angry mob of fans out for their blood, and though the brand pivot was Yaga’s idea, it didn’t stop him from grumbling about the power Satoru now held over the industry. 

“Justice for Satoru my ass,” he’d complain. “You know what deserves justice? My damn headache for the last eight years.”

Privacy became a luxury for you, but it was a small price to pay if it meant holding Satoru’s hand whenever you wanted. And it made the days and nights when you and Satoru were finally, truly alone, tucked away from the rest of the world, that much more precious.  

“There’s a mistake with the order,” you said, as you stood in the sparsely furnished room Satoru had cleared out to turn into your home office. Since his place was bigger and closer to work, you both had decided you’d rent out your apartment and move in with him. “They sent two chairs instead of one.”

“Nah, it’s correct,” Satoru replied with a boyish grin. “Unless you’d prefer to work sitting on my lap, that is.”

“I thought you said you’d give me a space of my own.”

“Baby, this whole house belongs to you. Do whatever you want—change the furniture, throw out anything you don’t like, paint all the walls pink if it makes you happy. I don’t care. Everything here is yours, including me.”

How could you not melt to that? You let him pick you up and set you on the edge of the large study desk, your legs wrapping around his hips.

Satoru hooked a finger around the necklace you wore, tugging your face inches from his. “Nice piece of jewellery you got here.”

You laughed. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”

“Boyfriend?” His lips grazed yours. “Well, if he managed to get someone like you, he must be very handsome, and very lucky. And very, very good in bed.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about the bed part.”

“Oh? Would you like a reminder?”

And as he worshipped your body like a prayer answered, the half unpacked boxes with all your stuff temporarily forgotten, home no longer felt like a place to you.

Because the home you kept coming back to was always him.

It was the last concert of Domain’s eight month long world tour, and though a little unorthodox, Satoru and the rest had made a last minute request to add one more performance in Tokyo as the finale. In appreciation of their fans, they then went the extra mile and gave up a portion of their concert earnings for the ticket prices to be slashed in half. 

As expected, the website crashed. Tickets sold out in less than five minutes. 

“Toru…” you panted as he buried his face in your neck, kissing and nipping hungrily. “You’re going to—ngh—ruin your makeup…”

He had you on the dressing table in the green room. Your sleek, tailored pants were unbuttoned and pulled low, panties stretched aside as his hand worked between your thighs, two fingers pumping inside you at a pace he knew you couldn’t resist unravelling to.

“They’ll fix it up,” he murmured against your heated skin. “Besides, I need a little motivation to get me through the next three hours on stage.”

He slipped another finger inside, and you bit back your moan as he stretched you out. 

“You’re on in—hahh—thirty minutes… ahn—we should stop—“

“I promise we’ll be done in less than ten, my love.”

“God, Toru…I’m—I’m—“

“That’s it, baby.” His thumb pressed down on your clit while he hooked his fingers inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over again. “Show me that face I love.”

Release surged up your spine, and your mind went blank from pure bliss. You whimpered as he continued stroking you through the waves of pleasure, showering you with soft kisses at the same time. 

Breaths hot, he licked up the curve of your ear. “Want more?” 

Your hand moved to yank down his zip. “Just… be quick, okay?”

It was all the confirmation he needed to flip you around and shove down your panties. His first thrust was deep, filling you completely. You stifled a gasp, clenching around thickness of him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, slamming back into you again. “You’re so perfect, baby. I’ll never get enough.”

“T-Toru—ahn! Not so loud—“

He only fucked you harder. Exactly the way he knew you liked it. Rough. Mind-numbing. It didn’t take long for your second climax to come exploding, his following soon after. 

Satoru’s arms wound around you, hugging you from behind until your breaths evened. Then he was gently turning you to face him, brushing the hair from your face.

He kissed you on the forehead. “Round two when we get home?”

“Seriously, where do you find all that energy?”

“Don’t you know?” He grinned. “You’re my fuel, sweetheart.”

“So I’m your guide, and your heart, and your soul, and now I’m petrol?”

He laughed, pulling you closer. “I’ll make it simple for you,” he said, low and tender. “You’re my everything.”

Of course you had to kiss him then. Almost a year of official dating and he still managed to make your heart race and stutter and flip and fall for him all over again. 

You gave in to another minute in his arms before the both of you reluctantly tore away to right your clothes and return to work. You had a hundred things to tick off before Domain went on stage. Fitting your earpiece in, you radioed for makeup to come in and was halfway to the door when you realised you forgot the most important thing.

You turned around and went to take Satoru’s hands in yours. 

“Good luck out there.”

He beamed, and lifted your hands to his lips. “Thank you, my love. I’m going to need it, especially tonight.”

You didn’t fully grasp his meaning until much, much later, as you stood off the stage’s right wing, out of sight from the roaring arena, attention shifting between the stage and a small screen set up at the side.

It was Domain’s second last song, an all-time favourite—fast, upbeat, with a hint of rock. A behemoth, mirrored staircase towered against the ever-shifting LCD backdrop. Kento was rapping out the second verse at the edge of the runway among a sea of screaming fans and dancing light sticks. And just as he hit the last beat, the spotlight on him cut off.

Darkness swallowed the entire arena for three seconds. 

Then millions of tiny stars blinked to life in the backdrop. Two cylinders of light beamed down from above, revealing Suguru and Yu at the top of the staircase, the crystals embedded in their jackets twinkling like they were made of the very stars surrounding them. 

Their voices soared out through the arena, delivering the bridge in perfect sync and harmony, the staircase’s mirrored construction making it seem like they were floating in midair.

You waited for the part you dreaded and loved. The safety measures were air tight, the cords and rigging checked, double checked, triple checked, then checked again. But still, you mumbled a prayer under your breath. The same prayer you’d repeated for the last eight months every single time it came to this part of the performance.

The endless stars began spinning. Faster. Faster. Merging into a silver flurry. A great vortex that seemed to suck all the light away into an infinite void. And as sudden as it began, it dispersed. Imploded. A cataclysmic supernova saturating every pixel of the LCD backdrop in brilliant colours.

Suspended alone high above the stage was Satoru, magnificent silver wings sprouting out his back and spread wide, like a bedazzled angel descending from another universe.

His voice filled the vastness of the arena, calm and beguiling, clear and imploring, as he spoke the words to his most iconic line.

“Throughout the heavens and the earth, I alone am the honoured one.”

The music peaked to a crescendo. The arena went wild, going crazy from the spectacle. It was outrageous. Devastating. Overwhelmingly stunning. A fever dream conjured by the single figure being slowly lowered onto the top of the staircase as he serenaded the audience with his solo.

“Don’t fucking fall,” you muttered, and when the soles of his boots finally flattened on solid surface, you breathed a sigh of relief.

Through some kind of stage magic, the wings broke off from Satoru, falling away and disappearing from sight. The staircase began receding, folding down on itself like a paper fan. Kento was moving to join the rest, and together, they powered through the last chorus. Silver glitter rained down on the stage, on them, like a shower of stardust, ending the song with all four members in a striking group pose.

The cheers and roars threatened to split your ears open. It was time for the last song, and the entire Tokyo Dome knew what it would be, and had started chanting. 

‘Limitless! Limitless! Limitless!…”

Mei Mei, Domain’s head makeup artist, slid up beside you. 

“Kacho-san, your lipstick is smudged,” she said it like an announcement. “Let me fix you up.”

“Oh, um, it’s okay,” you said, but her brush was already halfway to your face, a palette in her other hand. “You don’t need to—“

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been compensated for this. Now hold still.” Her smile alluded you further. She snapped her fingers. “Ui Ui. Five minutes.”

Her understudy, Ui Ui, appeared with more assistants. Before you could protest, they had you in a plastic chair and were attacking your face with six brushes and powder puffs, blocking your view of the stage as the opening melody to Limitless began playing.  

Then you heard Satoru’s voice, but he wasn’t singing. 

“Ahh… hold on, hold on. Can we pause for a minute, please?”

The music cut short abruptly. 

“Done,” Mei Mei declared just as you swatted away the makeup brushes and jolted up from your chair. 

Alarm bells pealed in your head as you stared out at the stage.

What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t part of the performance. 

A wave of confusion had overtaken the arena as the faces of Domain’s members were blown up on the LCD backdrops. 

Satoru shook his head. “Something’s missing.”

“Missing?” Suguru raised a brow, but you caught the slight smile playing on his lips. “What do you mean missing? Did you lose something?”

Your head whipped to the crew around you, but none of them were scurrying about in panic. In fact, they were all smiling. At you. 

“Ohhhhh, I know!” Yu exclaimed, excitedly. “You forgot your lucky charm.”

Satoru grinned. “Exactly. Doesn’t seem right to end the tour without it by my side.” He turned to address the arena. “What do you all say? Want to see my lucky charm?”

Cheers filled the air.

Kento cleared his throat. “It’s not appropriate for us to leave and search for it. We’ll have to get someone to bring your charm here. Where did you leave it?”

Your frown turned into wide-eyed shock as Satoru turned and extended an arm towards the right wing, pointing.

At you.

“She’s right there.” His grin widened. “Come on out, sweetheart.”

You froze, the air emptying out your lungs. You felt a hand clap down on your shoulder, and found Shoko beside you. 

“You’re up, kacho-san,” she said, giving you a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry. It’s all scripted this time. Well, most of it anyway.”

Then she was steering you out into the lights and noise. To Satoru, who was running over to meet you. To take your hand in his and lead you to the centre of the stage where the rest of Domain were waiting.

The arena was going wild, but you were stuck in your stupor. A deer caught in the headlights. 

Satoru pushed his mouth piece away and leaned in next to your ear. 

“Breathe, baby,” he said, and squeezed your hand tightly. “Eyes on me. Let me show the world who I belong to.”

He didn’t let go as he addressed the arena. “Found her! Everyone say hello to my lucky charm. Isn’t she beautiful tonight?”

Delighted screams and cheers drowned the entire Tokyo Dome. Chanting followed, but this time, it was a different kind of chant.

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!…”

You gaped at the sea of light sticks. At Satoru as his head tipped back in laughter, overjoyed with the reaction. 

“Oh, I really want to,” he said. “But first, there’s something I need to get off my chest. Something I’m going to need your support for. You see, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Your heart stopped beating altogether. You couldn’t feel your legs, your body. You stared up at Satoru, and if it weren’t for the utter hysteria that descended upon the arena—the shrieks, the cries, the complete meltdown of the entire audience. If it weren’t for the tears streaming down your cheeks for the world to see, you would’ve believed you’d died right then and there.

Paralysed, speechless, you could only watch Satoru slowly lower down on one knee. 

“Baby. Sweetheart. Darling.” His gaze was fixed solely on you, those impossible blue eyes bright and filled with hope. The eyes you realised you hadn’t stopped searching for since the day you met him all those years ago. “My love. My home. Please stay with me. Your days, your nights, all the years to come, I want to see them with you. This one life I have, I want to live it with you. Please let me be yours. Marry me?”

It was cheesy, and it was everything. You choked out a sob. Then you were flinging your arms around him, nodding your head furiously.

“Yes.” You forgot your tears. The stage. The cheers soaring throughout the arena. Nothing existed but him. “Yes, you stupid, crazy idiot. I’ll marry you.”

Then he was kissing you. Satoru lifted you up, spinning you around in his arms, your lips meeting his once more as you came back down. 

In the next moment, the rest of Domain—Suguru, Kento, Yu—had surrounded you both, and you were swept up in a massive group hug. 

“Good luck. You’re stuck with him for good now. And us,” Suguru said as Kento clapped Satoru on the back and Yu announced to the audience, “She said yes!” as if it wasn’t already obvious. 

The opening to Limitless replayed. Throughout various parts of the stage, confetti was shooting out of professional grade blasters, raining all over the stage and the celebrating audience. The backdrops switched from yours and Satoru’s faces to shifting clouds. Then—

Clear blue skies.

The boys were taking their places for the final song. Satoru stole another peck on your cheek, and winked. “Now enjoy the show, sweetheart. This song’s for you, after all.”

You stood centerstage, watching Domain bring the tour to an end with their latest single. Watching the group you had grown together with, who had somehow become your family. Watching Satoru, singing his heart out. Laughed as he circled you, twirled you around, held your hand and raised it high in the air. 

And all the while, his eyes stayed only on you.

Satoru asked you again that night, quietly, while you were both alone and tangled up in the sheets, exhausted from the tour and from devouring each other once you got home. No spectacle here, no crowds, the only light a dim glow from the bedside lamp.

“Will you marry me?”

Nuzzled against his chest, you peered up at him. “I think the whole world knows the answer to that.”

He was smiling. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the concert. “I want it to be just us this time. And I want only you to hear this—“

He placed a kiss your forehead, and whispered, “You’re the dream I fell in love with that came true. I still can’t quite believe it. I don’t think I ever will.”

You held him tighter. “Yes. The answer is always yes.”

Of course, Satoru being Satoru, didn’t stop there. He asked again the next morning, then the next day, then everyday for the next three months. He asked when your custom-made ring arrived at your home from the jeweller—a humongous, glittering rock that blinded you the moment he opened the box and got down on one knee for the second time.

Your answer was always the same, and he knew it, but he merely told you he loved hearing your voice when you said it.

Another year passed like this. Of you and Satoru juggling work and the media and the public and your private lives. You both had talked about a wedding. Satoru, no surprise, wanted a castle and an orchestra and swans, and only twenty guests.

But both your schedules were so packed you never could agree on a date. Domain was recording a new album, Suguru found a new passion for motivational talks and put you in charge of managing his events, while Kento and Yu had launched a new clothing line and wanted you involved in it. 

Meanwhile, the movie Satoru had starred in was a box office hit. Offers for more movies came flooding in, and though hesitant at first because it meant he’d have to be apart from you while he filmed, Satoru eventually signed on to play the lead role in a highly anticipated action movie. 

You were worked to the bone, but you’d never been happier.

And finally, when your schedules did align and you both found a free week to spend together, Satoru dragged you straight to the city’s municipal office.

It was there that you officially became husband and wife. 

“Forget the wedding,” said Satoru. “I’m taking you somewhere no one can bother you but me.”

Now you were in the passenger seat of his sports car, driving up the winding mountain pass to the private onsen retreat he’d booked out so you both could be the only guests for the week. 

Sunglasses balanced on top of his head, Satoru had one hand on the steering wheel as he sang to a juvenile tune he’d just made up.

“My honey bunny, so sweet and yummy, divine and messy, I’ll lick her very—”

“Please don’t put that in the album.”

“Why not? I think it’ll be very popular.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He laughed, warm sunlight drawing golden lines on his face. “So another love song for my beautiful wife, then? About how every day I think I can’t fall any more in love, and find that I still do whenever I look at her.”

You couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips. A smile for him. For the life he’d spent years chasing to have with you. For the peace you and him had carved out among the glamour and chaos of your careers. And for the years ahead, when the fame and glory days faded away, that he’d still be here, looking at you as how he did now.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru reached to hold your hand in his. And like a promise, he said, “Because all I will always see is you.”

˙⋆✮ .✦ The End ✦. ✮⋆˙

a little something extra...

a/n: soooo i've actually written out the entire lyrics for domain's song, 'limitless'. >.< it's my first time writing a song, please expect it to be cheesy, but i thought i'd share it anyway to give a full picture of the story. so here it is:

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Limitless

[Verse 1 – Satoru / Geto / Haibara (harmonies)]  I was fine just running blind, Living fast, leaving things behind.  You showed up, no warning sign, Turned my world to one of a kind. They call me dream, they call me divine, But I still reach for something mine. 

[Pre-Chorus – Satoru]  I run, I chase, I fall, I climb, Each step closer, one more time. No map, no end, it's by design, My eyes see only clear blue skies.

[Chorus – Satoru / Geto / Nanami + Haibara (harmonies)] I’m limitless, no boundaries, Gravity bends so easily.  I’m limitless, and through the noise,  The rush, the high,  Lives one voice, so right, my guide,  Saying I’ll never stand alone, it’s become my home. Every song I write, it’s you I find  You’re the heart in every line. 

[Verse 2 Rap – Nanami]  Huh, baby don’t worry, go on keep making that face,  One day you’ll turn around and find me matching your pace,  Look up, watch me, I’ll rearrange our stars back in place, I’m infinity and you’re my endless race. [Haibara]  Still can’t hear me, then I’ll shout Faith’s the thing that never doubts. [Nanami]  If the road to us is a grind, it’s fine, I’ll bend the time. I’ll hold up signs ’til you stop and say ‘you’re mine’.

[Pre-Chorus – Satoru] I run, I chase, I fall, I climb, Each step closer, one more time. No map, no end, it's by design, My eyes see only clear blue skies.

[Chorus – Satoru / Geto / Nanami + Haibara (harmonies)] I’m limitless, no boundaries, Gravity bends so easily. I’m limitless, and through the noise, The rush, the high, Lives one voice, so right, my guide, Saying I’ll never stand alone, it’s become my home. Every song I write, it’s you I find, You’re the heart in every line.

[Bridge – Geto + group harmonies / Satoru solo] [Geto + Group] Every dream has your face in sight, Every fear fades in your light.  [Satoru] If forever’s taking time, I will still be here for you to find.

[Final Chorus – Full group] I’m limitless, no boundaries, Gravity bends so easily. I’m limitless, I won’t let go, You’re the tide that pulls me close. I’m limitless, when you’re with me, I’m not alone, you are my home. Every song I write, it’s you I find, [Satoru] You’re the heart in every line.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

if you got to this point, i love you. thank you for sticking to the end with idol gojo and Domain! hope you enjoyed the performance, merchandise is still on sale outside the arena ;)

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

⭑.ᐟ please check out my MASTERLIST for my other works <3

*** likes and reblogs make my day, but please do not repost this fic or use it with any form of AI. thank you <3

tags: @cloudykumo

[chososkink]

☆ being prison!toji’s pen pal :p

if your friends saw the giddiness on your face everytime the mailman came around, they would think you had some kind of hot fling or sugar daddy overseas. but instead you’re stuck with a 30 year old penpal, that’s been locked up for god knows how long, who also happens to have a big dick if the polaroids you’re looking at are actually his.

what started as a drunk joke turned into you submitting a request for a penpal through your city’s local prison. when the men have been deemed “well” and on good behavior, they have a chance to be paired with a pen pal in the outside world. a chance for them to gain social interaction outside of the gray four walls they’re stuck behind.

it must’ve been fate is all that runs through your mind when you read the welcome email. you don’t know what deity to thank but the picture of your penpal that greets you at the end of the message is enough to have you clenching your thighs.

the low lidded look he gives the camera, shaggy hair that’s turned every which way, even the scar that graces his lips as they’re quirked up into a smirk. you’re not sure what he’s in the hammer for, but it has your considering a bail.

the messages between you both started off really tame, greetings between you two. conversations about your college days, what hobbies you do to pass time. it wasn't until the 2 month mark that his tone became something short of horny.

“what’re you wearing everytime you write to me, sweetheart? you get all dolled up for me in some lace? take a pic next time, let me see”

“seems like you’ve had a rough week. bet my fingers could help a bit.”

and it’s been back and forth since then. you’re not one to shy away from his advances either. in fact, you encourage it. comments about his big arms carrying you all over the room. how badly you want to run your nails down his muscular back. it’s borderline sexting and you sometimes feel bad for the correction officer that has to read through it for legal reasons before sending it over to toji.

is it embarrassing to admit that you look forward to getting mail from an older man in jail? possibly. is it embarrassing to admit that you’ve touched yourself to his words and pics more than once? maybe but the orgasm that comes with it is enough to have you forgetting the embarrassment. he’s mentioned his cell mate, sukuna got access to a polaroid and has been using it for the last few notes.

around valentines day, he sent one of himself holding a rose he made completely out of paper. a way for him to pass time, and then pop-up heart with your name written in cursive. his jumpsuit was zipped down to his hips, showcasing the black tank top stretched over the expanse of his chest. it left little the imagination and had you thinking of what it would feel like to have those muscles under the palm of your hand.

your heart clenched at the sweet gesture and a few days later the say paper crafts showed up at your front door. the only way to say thanks has to be to send something back right? all it took was a few moments to get over the nerves and you're posing in front of your mirror with a matching polaroid camera. the lace accentuates your curves, one hand holding the origami rose and the other pushing up your chest to really give him something to look at.

a pink enveloped sealed with a kiss left by red lipstick greeted toji in his mail box. he could care less about the looks he gained everytime he was in a rush back to his cell the moment the letter hit his hands. you've been the only thing keeping him sane throughout his time here and he'd be damned if he let any note by you go unappreciated. it's why he has a small box tucked under his bunker with all the keepsakes you've sent him. the poem of a new book you picked up, wrappers from some candies you've sent him. he might e grasping at straws here, but he continues to count down the days until he can get out and finally meet his sweet girl.

it's why he's been extra good lately. keeping his mouth shut when a guard looks at him a certain way. doing his chores without a complaint. he's been so calm and collected, his roommate has been looking at him a bit confused wondering if the older man is coming down with something. but his correctional guard, shiu knows the real reason behind his most recent behavior. toji’s been begging the man for 30 minutes in a secluded room with you.

with the heightened security, shiu can’t promise 30 minutes alone with you in a room, but what he can promise is toji having access to his computer 30 minutes for a video call. this would be the first time you hear eachothers voice, see eachother live outside of a cheap polaroid. you both are grasping at straws at this point so with little convincing from you both, the plan is set.

you've changed your makeup three times already, made sure the bra you're wearing pushes up your tits just right, and have adjusted your hair more times than you can count as you wait for the clock to hit 6. this is your first time talking to each other, and it's safe to say you're really nervous. you just want to make sure you look really good. the last letter he sent explained the whole arrangement and he even ended it with

"can't wait to see your pretty face, baby. maybe i can see your fingers stuffing your pussy too"

and you've been on edge since.

your laptop chimes with a ding to indicate someone joined the video call, and in the few seconds it takes to collect yourself, you hear his gruff voice.

"hey, you there?"

as if every negative thought and anxiety inducing scenario you could think of, dissipates, you find a smile gracing your lips before you turn your camera on too and nod.

"hi, toji"

his low lidded eyes seem to be assessing everything about you. your hair, your lips, the little lacy number you put on for him. it becomes very obvious that he likes what he sees when a groan vibrates through your laptop speaker.

"you look so pretty, baby. got all dressed up for me huh?" his lips quirk up as he sees the quick effect he has on you. a shy smile gracing your lips before you glance up into the camera. one hand cups your chest as the other runs up and down the strap.

" 'course i did, toji. had to make sure this call was real special. know all the trouble you went through for this." as if a switch has flipped, your voice slowly turns sultry. you'll be damned if you let an opportunity go to waste, and if you're being honest with yourself, you really wanna see if his dick is just THAT big. ideally it would be in person but beggars can't be choosers, so without a second thought, you find yourself asking a question.

"i know you've been real pent up lately, yeah? why don't you let me finally help you out 'ji. maybe show you how nice my tits looks under this" slowly teasing the bra down your shoulders, making sure to run your nails along the curve of your chest.

"or maybe show you just how wet you get me" as you let the bra drop down to the sheets, pushing the matching panties to the side. you've been soaked since you've gotten dressed. the anticipation of seeing him, and thinking of all the nights you've cum just to the thought of him.

"aren't you so thoughtful, sweetheart?"

his jaded eyes have gone dark, he was really going to let you set the speed of the call, not knowing how far you wanted to go, but this is a wet dream come true. his dick hasn't been this hard in ages and as he watches you put the lacy garment to the side and reveal yourself to him, he can't help the groan that leaves his throat.

a heavy hand landing on his bulge as he squeezes himself through the orange jumpsuit.

"been dreaming about your dick, toji. how good it tastes" he feels mesmerized as he watches you bring your fingers into your mouth, lathering the digits with spit, before trailing them down your stomach. "and how full it'll make me feel" slowly pushing your fingers in.

he's quick to let his dick out of the confines of his underwear. a wad of spit dribbles out of his mouth, landing on the tip before he starts a jerky movement to match your pace.

wet squelches fill both speakers. if anyone walked by the office he was currently occupying, it would be obvious what was going on behind the door but you both were too far gone to even care. all the shared words, and pics these last few months have had led to so many pent up emotions. it’s a miracle you both didn’t just cum at the sight of eachother.

there’s not much thoughts running through your mind other than the fact that you’re about to cum from the sight of him so disheveled. his dick is just as big as the pictures made it seem, and paired with the sounds his making is enough to have you whining.

“fuck, keep making those sounds” he gets out through gritted teeth. you both are close if the fucked out look on your faces say anything.

“to-ah toji, im gonna cum, ah- ” is all you let out as your walls tighten around your fingers. the aftershocks of your orgasm hitting you as you watch thick spurts of toji’s cum coat parts of the screen.

as you both come down from your highs, heavy panting fills the room before his voice filters through the laptop.

“needed that real bad, baby. thank you” the giggle you let out makes this all worth it as he finds himself smiling at the sound.

even if he’ll have to pay shiu back for ruining his webcam with his load.

a/n: hey, hi, hello….. it’s been a min. sorry if this seems rushed <\3 i’ve missed you guys and just wanted to get something out!! not proofread as always…

[tojicide]

rumor has it / gojo satoru

pairing: rich boy/nerd!gojo x fem!reader

summary: a fortune, the student council presidency, and a future already negotiated for you—complete with a ryomen engagement ring after you graduate from university. you’ve got it all… but is that really what you want? an unexpected friendship with gojo satoru makes the answer far less certain.

warnings: (18+) smut, porn with plot, fluff, light angst, college au, academic rivals/annoyances to lovers, oral (fem. receiving), p in v, criminally down bad!gojo, mentions of frat parties, alcohol consumption, marriages of convenience, family troubles, and overall rich people problems ™️, the university they go to is heavily implied to be aristocratic, brief sukuna x reader but she doesn’t fw him, anatomy & physiology facts that are probably incorrect but we shall ignore that for the sake of the plot

word count: 16.9k

art by bimyo_n!

Rumor has it that everything began the moment winter break ended.

You extended the handle of your suitcase and walked toward the foyer, where you were sure your mother was already waiting. By the time you rounded the corner, she was already unlocking the front door and pulling it open.

As if it couldn’t be any more obvious that she was eager for you to leave the house and return to university.

If you had to guess, the end of each break between semesters was her favorite time of year. 

Well, that and her birthday—because your father had made a habit of buying her a new handbag each season, and if there was anything she loved more than a mansion to herself, it was a mansion to herself full of designer purses.

“The car is waiting for you,” she said simply, her tone lacking the warmth of a mother wishing her daughter farewell. 

You hardly noticed its absence. You hadn’t felt it in years, anyway. You’d be lucky—or unlucky, you weren’t quite sure—if she hugged you goodbye.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, you noticed the furrow in her brow. Wordlessly, she pressed her hand between your shoulder blades to correct your posture. “How is it that you’ve somehow managed to develop a slouch? Your father and I didn’t pay for you to go to charm school for nothing to come of it.”

Your jaw tightened, the familiar urge to shrug her hand away flared, but you didn’t let it show in your voice. “And where is he? He couldn’t take an early lunch to come home and see me off?”

She released a breath that sounded more like a laugh than a scoff. “Why would he? You’re going to be back in two months for dinner with the Ryomen family. He’ll see you then.”

This time, your bitterness did reach your voice. “Oh. Right. That.”

Your suitcase was plucked from your side by the family driver and you watched as he loaded it into the trunk.

“Yes. That.” Your mother tugged at your skirt, as if that would make it any longer. 

She looked at you sharply. Her message was clear, even though it remained wordless: don’t show up wearing something like this the next time we see you.

After all, appearances were important. You had learned that from an early age.

By the time you were ten, your eyebrows were already being plucked biweekly. Sometimes, thrice in one month, should your mother notice a hair out of place. At eleven, you learned what pore strips were, why they were used, and what people would say about you if you didn’t. Once you were fourteen, styling your hair came as easily as walking on two feet.

But the Ryomen family didn’t care about that as much as your mother did. 

What they truly cared about was securing a fortune that would create generational wealth. They cared about fostering a bond with your parents that would lead to a prosperous business relationship. They only cared about you because you were the business—an investment that they expected to mature on schedule. Well, you and Sukuna, their son, whom you have practically been betrothed to since you were six years old.

Graduation was approaching, and you would bet your life that this dinner was a gimmick—one for both sets of parents to nudge you two closer together. Not that they cared whether you truly got along. Aligning the Ryomen fortune with your family name would make your combined estate as good as gold. They likely just wanted to ensure that the eventual marriage (business deal) would be lifelong.

Which is to say, they wanted to drill it into your head that filing for divorce was not an option once everything was said and done. How sweet of them.

You couldn’t worry about that now, though. You were already running late, and you needed to get back to campus and unpack. Classes start tomorrow morning, and you would hate to be seen with bags under your eyes—and your mother would certainly hate to hear about it from the monumental amount of staff at Mikage Academy, who seemed intent on notifying her of nearly every step you took over the past few years.

“Well, I should be going,” you muttered—more to yourself than to her—because you weren’t even confident she was listening anymore.

Your suspicions were confirmed when she muttered a final ‘don’t forget about the dinner’ before shutting the door behind you. She didn’t follow you out. Didn’t hug you goodbye either.

Once you were inside the vehicle—headphones on, with music blaring loud enough to drown out any chance at forming a coherent thought—you relaxed your shoulders and slouched, because there was no one here to pester you about it.

At least that was something you could be thankful for.

☆

The student council election was rapidly approaching, and that was just about all you were allowed to think about.

You knelt on the ground with a paintbrush in your hand, carefully mapping out the words Vote Y/N for Student Council President! :) on the posterboard.

The headphones in your ears were turned up a bit too high, because you hadn’t even noticed that your best friend, Utahime, had entered the empty workroom until she accidentally kicked over the can of red paint you had been using. You gasped as it splattered all over the poster, leaning back on the heels of your feet to ensure, at the very least, that it didn’t get on your clothes.

“Utahime!”

“I’m sorry!” she said quickly, tilting the can upright again. 

The damage had already been done, though. She knelt beside you and carefully folded up the poster, tossing it into a nearby bin. Wiping her hands against each other, her eyes landed on you. 

“Let the record show that I didn’t mean to do that and am guilty of all crimes regardless,” she paused, then smiled at you. “You know, you don’t really need to campaign. No one has run against you in, what— three years?”

You frowned as you wiped your thumb over the dot of paint on your skirt. It was small enough that an untrained eye wouldn’t notice. “I know that, but you can never be too sure.”

“Actually, you can be,” she retorted, but retrieved a fresh posterboard for you anyway. “The only way you lose this election is if a meteor penetrates Earth’s orbit and targets Mikage specifically, and in that case, we would all be dead anyway.”

You raised a brow as you dipped a fresh paintbrush into the can. “In that case, I should campaign to make sure that everyone died with an intent to vote for me.”

Utahime laughed with a shake of her head but didn’t push it any further. “I should run a smear campaign against you in the school’s newspaper. Maybe then, your effort won’t be for naught.” She paused. “Speaking of— have you read the newspaper lately?”

You were stopped dead in your tracks. If Utahime had managed to read the entirety of the university’s boring-to-death newspaper and felt it was important enough to bring up to you, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. “Yeah? Not this week’s issue, though. Why?”

“Of course you read it regularly,” she mumbled with a smile before fishing her phone out of her backpack. “There’s a new column for blind items. About the students. Can you believe that this shit actually made the final cut? It’s awesome.”

You invaded her personal space to look at her phone screen. “No way. What are they saying?”

Utahime laughed. “Just read it for yourself. I had to change my outfit because I read them this morning while brushing my teeth and laughed so hard, I toothpaste-bombed my own shirt.”

Reading the blind items to yourself, you can’t help but stifle your laugh that comes before the unease settles in. Someone had written these based on what they had observed, and despite how harmless they seemed now, the concept of that person walking among you was something that left a pit in your stomach.

A certain basketball player was seen coming back to his dorm room around 4 a.m. with multiple shades of lipstick on his neck.

A male who lives on floor three in the Newbrooke dormitory has been shitting in the showers for two weeks straight.

A sorority girl tossed the entirety of her roommate’s makeup collection out the window and blamed it on someone else, resulting in their expulsion from the sorority.

A notorious rich boy blew his semester’s allowance on a new sports car.

You skimmed the rest and ensured that none of them could be about you before you handed Utahime her phone back. “I’m sure we all know who number four is about.”

She shrugged but nodded anyway. “Right? I mean, Gojo revs his engine like it’s nobody’s business all the time.” She looked down at her phone. “I wonder who’s shitting in the showers, though.”

“Maybe that one’s about Gojo, too,” you quipped, too quickly to hide the bite in your voice.

You regretted how much you sounded like your mother then, and how easily it had come out. 

Your family’s disdain for the Gojo family stemmed long before you were born. Hell, before your parents were even born. The details of it all were up for interpretation at this point—nobody talked about it, and you never dared to ask—but to your understanding, Gojo’s great-great-great-grandfather had screwed over yours—somehow, some way—and this was what had come of it. You would be reluctant to believe it. After all, there were quite a few tools in your own family, and you liked to believe you were nothing like them.

But the asshat that was Satoru Gojo lived up to his reputation, as far as you’d learned. That was enough for you to write him off. 

Not to mention, he was the only student here at Mikage who posed a threat to you. He was academically gifted and never let you forget it; most things came easier to him than they did you, and you hated him for it. 

Well, that and the time he spilled beer all over your shoes at a frat party freshman year. He probably didn’t even remember it had happened, but you did, because some other dipshit had been recording the entire ordeal and posted it online.

The earful you’d gotten from your parents that day was enough for you to stay away from him entirely.

All the while, Utahime raised her eyebrow with a grin. “Oh, wow. You’d better hope he didn’t hear that, or else you just lost a vote.”

☆

All things considered, you were having a good day.

Even though your hair is still slightly damp from the rain and the perfume you put on only two hours ago has nearly worn off, you’re pretty confident that you’ve just aced your first Anatomy & Physiology test. 

Every other person in the lecture hall is already relaxed, scrolling on their phones while they wait for your professor to hand back the graded exams—because all things considered, it’s only worth three percent of your total grade after all calculations. And yes, you have done the calculations (twice!), because heaven forbid you be uninformed about anything relating to your academics.

You glance at your watch nervously. You hope this class is released on time, because attending it was only the second thing you’ve checked off your mile-long to-do list for the day. 

You have a student council meeting at 2 p.m., a meeting with Professor Yaga at 3:15 p.m. about an upcoming scholarship opportunity, and a study date with Sukuna at 4 p.m.—where he doesn’t do much of anything at all aside from scrolling through red pill looksmaxxer Instagram reels for two hours.

A test is lazily tossed back onto your desk, and you pick it up immediately.

It’s a 98%. An A.

You smile to yourself, but it doesn’t last very long. It falters the moment you feel a presence looming over your shoulder—one that carries the scent of expensive cologne. It’s light and masculine, and reminds you of summer, for whatever reason. You may have complimented it if the presence hadn’t beaten you to speaking.

“Only a ninety-eight? Poor thing. Didn’t sleep well or something?”

Suddenly, your compliment dries up, because you’d know that voice anywhere. Satoru fucking Gojo.

You snap your head around so fast it nearly spins off your spine. “Stay away from me and get a life,” you say through gritted teeth, but snatch his test from his hands despite yourself.

And there, in the top corner, written in pen, is a 100%. From what you can tell from all the talking he’s doing right now—which you aren’t listening to a lick—he’s pretty intent on rubbing it in your face.

He clicks his tongue and places his hand on the back of your seat, using it for leverage as he leans over you a bit more. “See? You got number thirteen wrong. You said the fluid inside body cells is extracellular fluid. Ouch.” He pats the back of your seat, as if it’s any consolation. “You know, I’m free Thursday afternoons. I could tutor you, and once the exam comes around, that frown will be turned right-side up—”

You stand abruptly and hand his test back to him, your wrist so rigid it may as well cut through ice. “Oh, I’m so good off that. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with an ice pick.”

Satoru tilts his head, his grin so smug it makes you sick. “Well, suit yourself. Speaking of—pretty sure ice picks are usually on clearance this time of year. Y’know, with it being spring and all.”

A single glance around the room tells you nearly everyone else has already left, and that it’s painfully obvious you and Satoru are the only ones who stayed behind to talk. You’d rather not be spotted with him again. You don’t bother hiding your eye roll as you zip up your backpack and walk away, crumpled test in tow.

“Hey, where are you going? What about our riveting conversation?” he calls after you, and you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. “It was a funny joke!”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆

You can’t stand Sukuna—no matter how hard you try.

“Can you at least turn that down?”

Sukuna grumbled under his breath before slumping even lower into the seat he dwarfed in size, but he lowered the volume of his Instagram reels just enough to pacify you. “What’s it matter, anyway? There’s nobody here.”

You huffed and tried not to take it personally, as the single person currently sitting beside him. “It matters to me because, unlike some people, I actually care about my grades. Very shocking, I know.”

It might be shocking to most—which you’d understand, because it even shocks you on most days—but Sukuna is one of the few people in your life who understands you.

Not when it comes to the things that make you who you are as an independent person. He couldn’t recite your full name if he tried, nor could he remember your birthday, favorite color, or go-to drink order at your favorite café.

Because at the end of the day, Sukuna doesn’t see you. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have to. But after everything, he knows you better than most. He knows about the things you don’t say out loud. He knows how much you hate going home, because he hates it just as much. He knows that none of this truly matters, because your parents have had your futures lined up for over a decade, and none of your hard work plays a factor in that.

Where the two of you differ is this: you still seem to be under the assumption that hard work might relieve you of your fate, but Sukuna has long since adopted a different worldview. He thinks that if everything is going to work out in the end—a nice house, a somewhat decent spouse, a few kids in the far future—then what’s the point in trying in the meantime?

“Jeez, woman. I was just asking. It that time of the month or somethin’?”

You scoffed, but didn’t dignify him with a reply.

You don’t know what this is exactly—whatever you and Sukuna are. You aren’t dating. You have kissed a few times—experimental and primarily drunk kisses shared at parties that never amounted to anything, because, well… you just don’t like each other. You aren’t sure if you’re even friends, or if you’d want to be.

At most, you’re familial acquaintances, which is the polite way of saying that he is supposed to be your husband one day, if your parents have anything to say about it.

“I just need to focus. Yaga said I have a good chance at landing the internship, but that doesn’t mean I should start slacking off now.”

“What internship?”

You blinked.

“The internship I applied for three months ago?”

Sukuna blinked.

“The one I passed three rounds of interviews for?”

You scoffed. “For fuck’s sake, Sukuna, it’s just about the only thing I’ve been talking about for months!”

He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, okay. Jeez. The only thing I’m noticing right now is that I’m not the only one being loud in the library anymore.”

A swarm of harsh replies flooded your mind, but you tamped them down—because you were 99% percent sure Sukuna was far too dim-witted to grasp whatever insult you could chuck his way anyway.

“Whatever. I need to get going.” You packed up your belongings and stood, taking a step in the opposite direction before he caught your arm. You glared back at him. “What?”

“Are you mad at me or somethin’? What’d I say?”

Once again, you didn’t give him a reply and walked away.

Sukuna leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest with a shake of his head. “Women.”

Once in the hallway, you approached the vending machine. You could use a pick-me-up, even if it were in the form of junk food. Just as you were within a few feet of it, an infuriating man with white hair slid in front of you. Satoru was quick to slide a dollar into the machine and punch in whatever he wanted.

“Oh—sorry, did you want something?” he asked over his shoulder, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.

You were fed up with men today. No, scratch that. You were more than fed up with men today. You rolled your eyes and began to walk away, and maybe Satoru had a change of heart, or maybe he realized that your fallen expression didn’t just have to do with running into him.

“Hey, no— come back, I’m serious,” he called after you. He reached into his pocket and slid another dollar into the machine. “What do you want?”

You turned around, eyeing him closely. “I don’t need your dollar, Gojo.”

Unfazed by your tone, he laughed. It was boyish and carefree in a way that surprised you. “I know you don’t,” he said simply. “Way to make me feel nice about my good deed, though. I didn’t know a single dollar could move you so much.” You narrowed your eyes at him, and he tilted his head toward the machine in response. “C’mon. Pick something.”

And because you just couldn’t catch a break today, your stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. You placed a hand over your abdomen immediately, your face nearly losing its color.

“…Gummy bears,” you finally managed to choke out. “Please.”

Satoru smiled and punched in the corresponding code for a bag of Haribo Gummy Bears. “Decent choice for a starving woman. Not sweet enough for my taste, but decent.”

You huffed out a breath, watching him retrieve both of your chosen snacks. “Sour Patch Kids? Really?”

He handed you the gummy bears before nodding once. “Yup. Really.” He paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “I thought you’d like them. I mean, you’d definitely fit in with them.”

“Fit in with who?”

Satoru tore the bag open and popped one into his mouth. “The Sour Patch Kids. Y’know—with this whole mean-girl-who-hates-me getup you’ve got going on. Really sour of you.”

Your eyebrows pinched together. “That’s so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you almost smiled. Saw it with my own eyes,” he chirped back, chewing on the candy. You smoothed your expression, and he shook his head. “No, no, no— don’t hide it now. That’s just unfair. I paid a dollar for that smile.”

Your face tightened, because now you really were fighting the urge to smile, damn it. “Whatever,” you snapped as you started to walk away—then stopped, your expression tightening even more. “I mean… thank you. For the gummy bears.” You said one last thing before turning your back on him. “And don’t think this means I like you now, because I don’t.”

Satoru just smiled. “Yeah, of course, wouldn’t dream of it.”

☆

Your phone vibrated late into the night.

If it were any other day, you would’ve been fast asleep by now. You’d been strict about your sleep schedule ever since you accidentally discovered—at twelve years old, six hours into a late-night 3 a.m. deep dive—that not sleeping enough can result in the brain eating itself. 

But even the fear of having a peanut-sized brain by the time you were forty hadn’t been enough to lull you to sleep tonight, which was how you found yourself watching ASMR cat spa day videos at 1 a.m.

You groaned when you glanced at the top of your screen and saw who dared to interrupt your doomscrolling.

sukuna: hey

sukuna: i can see u reading my texts.

sukuna: stop being mad at me and listen

sukuna: theres a party tomorrow night and i think you should come

sukuna: and before u get all “i need to focus and stay in and be boring all the time” on me just listen

sukuna: u should take time away from your hw and relax

You nearly smiled. This might’ve been the nicest thing Sukuna had ever said to you.

sukuna: plus i wanna go and it looks bad if we arent there together. people talk.

Never mind.

you: i’ll think about it

sukuna: cool. be ready by 9

you: i never said i was going???

☆

Spoiler alert: you wound up coming to the party.

The air is stale and smells of vape smoke and alcohol. The frat house is far too crowded, and from where you’re standing in the kitchen, everyone looks like a pack of sardines wiggling around to a 2010s pop song that no one has quite caught the rhythm for yet. And yet, for all of your complaining, you’re still here—looking your best, at that.

You weren’t as much of a bore as Sukuna made you out to be, but you could admit that you didn’t party nearly as much as you had when you first started at Mikage. The passing of time makes you more responsible, or whatever the poets say—you can’t remember, and you’re honestly a little tipsy already, truth be told.

Suddenly, Shoko nudges your side with her elbow. “Hey, party girl. You gonna stand in here all night, or do you plan on joining us at some point?”

“I didn’t even see you there,” you say through a laugh, waving a hand through the air to dissipate some of the vape smoke Toji blows only a few feet away. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

You follow her through the crowd, only managing to bump into a few people along the way while clutching your Solo cup tight to your chest. It’s warmer now that you’re enveloped in this sea of bodies; your cheeks feel hot, but you pay no mind to it. You’re not sure how long it takes before you and Shoko reunite with Utahime and Nobara, the four of you forming a little circle for yourselves—something that looks conspiratorial from the outside, but feels like a haven on the inside.

“Took you long enough,” Nobara says by way of greeting. She glances down at your cup. “What’d you find in the kitchen?”

“I don’t even know what the hell this is. I just grabbed whatever was unopened and poured it into a cup with ice. I’m hoping it’ll water down,” you reply with a shrug.

Nobara scoffs. “Toji never stocks shit for these parties—deadass, this is the worst frat. I don’t even know why we come here.”

Shoko laughs, though you can barely hear it over the music. “We come here because girls get in free at the door. I mean, if I’m gonna get shitfaced and regret my decisions tomorrow morning, I sure as hell don’t wanna pay for it.”

Utahime taps Shoko’s cup. “Yeah, speaking of getting shitfaced—you’re drinking water once you finish that. I can’t carry you back to your dorm. The last time I tried, I basically dragged you there.”

Shoko groans but doesn’t fight it. All of a sudden, the three of them lock eyes on something directly behind you, and their expressions fall.

Utahime’s face goes white as she places her hands on your shoulders. “Girl, don’t turn around. I’m so serious.”

“What are you talking about?” Your brows knit together, even as you’re already turning.

And when you see it, your eyes widen.

Sukuna is making out with some girl in the center of the room, and while the sight doesn’t make you sick, it does make you nervous. In the span of three seconds, a million thoughts rush through your mind.

You’re granted a glimpse into your future: a future where you marry a man who invites you to a party just to make out with another girl right in front of you. A future where you never feel secure enough to let your guard down, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. A future where you die even more miserable than you feel right now.

Not because you’re jealous. No, you couldn’t care less what the hell he does. It’s the principle that bothers you.

If you were expected to keep up appearances and make time to “bond” with him out of your already packed schedule, why was he allowed to do whatever he pleased?

You hope no one else is paying as much attention to him as you are, because the last thing you need is both of your parents finding out and breathing down your neck, trying to put Sukuna on a leash.

“Just classless,” Shoko hums.

You turn back around, laughing. “He’s a mess. I don’t know what the hell my parents are thinking.”

Nobara sighs. “You should run away and join the circus or something. They’ll never find you.”

“Super helpful, Nobara. Thank you,” Utahime says flatly.

You laugh to yourself, knowing they’re only trying to make you feel better. But the impending doom of your upcoming graduation feels worse than ever now. You feel suffocated—like the air is too warm to breathe—so you mumble out a half-assed excuse before slipping through the crowd and out onto the balcony.

It’s cold outside. Refreshing against your skin.

The party has spilled out onto the front lawn, and the sight is so ridiculous it brings you an odd sense of comfort. Choso wobbles on two unsteady legs with Nanami perched on his shoulders, currently trying—and failing—to fish toilet paper out of a tree. Two seconds later, they go tumbling over together, face-planting into the grass.

“That’s gotta hurt.”

You gasp, wrenching away from the edge of the balcony to look behind you.

And there he stood.

Satoru fucking Gojo.

Only now, he looks different. More casual. Relaxed, right down to the smoothed wrinkle between his eyebrows and the clothes he’s wearing now. You’ve never seen him in anything but collared dress shirts and black slacks, courtesy of Mikage Academy’s suffocating dress code.

He takes a step closer. Then another. Soon he’s beside you, forearms resting on the railing. His shirt stretches across his frame, and your eyes traitorously trace the curve of his bicep. The sharp line of his jaw. The slope of his nose.

You tear your gaze away before it gets embarrassing. Has he always looked like that?

Clearing your throat, you mirror his posture. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he replies easily. He glances at you, then back out at the lawn. “Nice party. Solid DJ choice.”

You huff. “Small talk? Really?”

Satoru shrugs. “I figured I should ease into it. You don’t exactly look like you’re in the mood for my usual charm.”

“You mean being insufferable?”

“Wow,” he says. “I was more so going for memorable.”

Your eyes meet. You’re the first to look away.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I don’t really know how to talk to you when I’m not irritated with you and your stupid gloating.” You pause, then lift a finger. “And before you say anything—I aced the quiz yesterday. So if you came out here to rub it in, save it.”

“Oh no,” Satoru deadpans. “My entire plan— ruined right before my eyes.”

You glance at him. He’s smiling, but it’s softer than usual. 

“No,” he continues, dropping his head slightly. “That’s not why I came out here.”

Your brows pinch together. “No?”

“Nope. I needed air. And maybe a tetanus shot after sitting on that couch, ‘cause that thing’s disgusting.”

You laugh despite yourself.

“And,” he adds casually, “I saw you come out here.”

You turn toward him. Somehow, his eyes look brighter at night. “Is that your official reason?”

“Mostly,” he says. “What can I say? I’m curious.”

“About?”

“About why you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than at a party like this.”

You hesitate. “It’s… complicated, I guess.”

“Ah,” Satoru nods. 

You scoff, easily reading between the lines. “It has nothing to do with Sukuna. Well— okay, maybe a little. But not like that.”

He tilts his head. “You sure? Because from where I’m standing, it kinda looked like your boyfriend might have a lot to do with it.”

“Ew. No,” you say quickly. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Something shifts in Satoru’s expression. “Good to know.”

You blink. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Just is.”

You roll your eyes, but continue anyway, words spilling easier now. “If my parents have their way, he’ll probably be more than my boyfriend someday.” You grimace. “Which is terrifying, because he’s about as smart as a box of rocks, and I can’t be around him for more than ten minutes without wanting to bang my head against the wall.”

Satoru lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Here I thought I was harsh.”

Panic flickers through you when he doesn’t say anything else right away.

“I know it sounds stupid,” you rush on. “There are people who’d kill to have something lined up like that, and here I am complaining. My mom married my dad for business reasons and they’re… fine. I think.” You run a hand over your hair. “But I don’t want that. I don’t want to be married right after graduation. I don’t even know if I want to get married at all.”

Satoru doesn’t interrupt, but when he does speak, his voice is quieter. “That doesn’t sound stupid. In a place like this,” he gestures toward campus, “everything’s a transaction. Degrees, connections, last names.” He scoffs lightly. “My parents won’t shut up about networking. Meanwhile, the best relationship I’ve built here is with the lady who gives me extra french toast in the dining hall.”

You laugh, clearly surprised. Not only because the french toast sucks, but because you wouldn’t expect something like that from him. It should make you feel less impressed with him, but for some reason, it doesn’t.

“I’m serious,” he adds. “Peace isn’t exactly encouraged around here. If anything, you’re expected to trade for it.”

“And you?” you ask before you can stop yourself. “You don’t seem all that worried about it, for someone who comes from a family like yours.”

Satoru shrugs again, but this time it’s different. Less flippant. “Guess I just decided a while ago that I’d rather disappoint my parents than disappoint myself.”

The quiet that follows is heavier than the music inside. You can hear the hollers and shuffling feet just inside, but it fades away just as quickly as it came.

“You make it sound easy,” you say.

He smiles. “Hey, I never said it was. It’s just easier than the alternative, is all.”

You nod because it feels appropriate, and you aren’t sure what else you should do. Talking with him is surprisingly easy, but that doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be doing it. That you should be doing it. Even now, you wish you could resonate with Satoru’s ideology, because all you can think about is how much your parents would hate this.

“My parents would hate this,” you blurt out, accidentally saying your thoughts aloud.

You look at him, embarrassed and doing your best to hide it. It feels strange, knowing just how much you’re supposed to hate talking to him yourself, but don’t.

He rubs the back of his neck. “This conversation?”

You try not to stare at his bicep, flexing right in your face.

“Yeah,” you admit. “My parents hate your family. Always have.”

“Mine aren’t exactly fans of yours either.” Satoru laughs, tilting his head slightly. The feeling was mutual—he couldn’t take much offense at it. Still, he asks, “Do you feel that way too?”

“What do you mean?”

He turns to look at you, his expression almost serious. “Do you hate me?”

You huff. “I don’t even understand the reasoning all that much. I just know that the animosity exists, and that I’m expected to respect it— and I guess I have, for the most part.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he replies simply. “Do you hate me? On your own terms?” He pauses then, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looked a tad nervous. “I’m sure I’ve given you enough of a reason to. More than one, I’d bet.” He glances away. “The first time we ever spoke, I spilled beer all over your shoes. I shouldn’t have been holding it anyway— I hate beer.”

“I knew you remembered!” you yell, pointing a finger at him. “I’ve been holding that grudge against you for years now.”

“What? Of course I remember. I apologized immediately,” he says quickly. “Pretty sure I almost got on my knees and everything.”

You click your tongue and shake your head. “The damage was already done.”

The conversation stills for a moment, and you choke over your words before managing a more serious reply. 

“For as obnoxious as you are, I don’t hate you. No. I don’t even know you well enough to hate you if I wanted to.”

“Alright, I’ll take it.” Satoru smiles to himself. “I think you’d form a better opinion of me if you let me get to know you. You’re a tough nut to crack, you know— been tryin’ for years.”

You stare at him, and he doesn’t cower in response. Not that he typically would, but you half-expected him to.

“I’m serious,” he says instead. “We should be friends.”

Your laugh comes out sharp. “Absolutely not. My parents would be livid. Beyond livid, actually—they’d probably murder me. And I mean, a true crime podcaster’s wet dream type of murder. No joke.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I think we should definitely be friends,” he says through his laughter. “I’ve always wanted to be in a documentary. Confessionals and all. A face like this is made for the cameras.”

“You’re such a jerk,” you scoff, nudging his side, barely able to fight off your smile.

“Mm-hmm. A big jerk that you’re still talking to,” he replies. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted to be my friend too.”

You don’t reply, which might have just been an answer in and of itself.

For the first time throughout this entire conversation, Satoru turns his body to face you properly. His head tilts down enough to accommodate the height difference between you.

“I think this might be the first argument you’ve ever let me win,” he grins.

You narrow your eyes. “This isn’t a win. It’s more like… a draw. A tie.”

“Sure. A draw, a tie. Potato, potahto. Whatever.” He extends his hand toward you. “So. Friends?”

You take it and shake it. “Yes. Friends.”

He smiles. “See? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

When your hands fall apart, Satoru’s hand stills at his side—fingers flexing—before he grasps the railing. You straighten, stepping back from it yourself. The night air suddenly feels too thin, as if there isn’t enough of it for the two of you to breathe anymore. More anxiety than anything else.

“I should probably go,” you murmur. “It’s late.”

And you’ve been talking for quite some time now, which only means it’s a matter of time before someone notices and writes a blind item in that stupid newspaper column.

“Right,” he replies. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You shake your head. “I think I’ll manage.”

Satoru nods, his smile slow as it turns up at the corners. “Alright. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“Night,” you reply weakly before reemerging into the party.

You reunite with your friends, who seem even more over the night than you are. The four of you walk back to your dormitory together.

☆

You royally fucked up this time.

To no surprise, you won the student council election with flying colors. No one had the balls—or…clit? You don’t discriminate—to run against you throughout the election cycle.

With some surprise, however, you decided to celebrate your victory with the other board members, taking way too many shots from a bottle that was emptied far too quickly.

On a fucking Tuesday.

You mentally kicked yourself—and you would’ve done the same physically if you weren’t on the verge of blacking out.

Vision splotchy, you glanced around the dorm, only to find that everyone was already passed out cold. You couldn’t stay here—you had a meeting bright and early!

And so, with some difficulty, you finally managed to find your purse—the one you had hidden while sober, back when your only concern was someone stealing the $60 in cash from your wallet.

Widening your eyes, the bright screen was a blur of letters and colors, but you managed to open your contacts app. Typing in an ‘S,’ you clicked Shoko’s contact, praying she was awake and able to come pick you up from the off-campus housing.

The line rang twice before someone answered.

You sigh in relief. “Girl, red alert! Get your sexy ass up and come pick me up!…please.”

“Woah, Prez. I had no idea you thought about me this way. Tell me more.”

Your heart dropped straight to your ass.

“Satoru…?” you whine, more than ask.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m startin’ to think you meant to call someone else. Bit of a blow to my ego, but I can handle it.”

Slumping against the couch, you huff. “Meant to call Shoko. Need a ride.”

Silence filled the line for a moment, then an insufferably attractive laugh broke it. “Are you drunk right now?”

You sniffled. “A little. I mean—a lottle. I-I mean, a lot. Very drunk. Drunk and stranded.”

You heard rustling on the other end, the faint jangle of keys. Your eyes fell shut. You were so damn tired.

“Okay, I just left my apartment. Where are you?”

In any other situation, you would’ve refused Satoru Gojo’s help. You were a strong, independent woman. You didn’t need a man to come to your rescue.

But the longer you sat on this couch, the more you wanted to ditch your mandatory meeting in the A.M. and pass out right here.

Even in this state, you were smart enough to know staying wasn’t an option.

“I’m at off-campus housing down the street. Please hurry. And bring water. And snacks. And a blanket. And—”

“Yes, boss, I’ve already got all of that—along with a partridge in a pear tree. Jeez, you’re needy.” He laughed, and it made you pout. “I’m only a few minutes away. Hang tight.”

⭑

“Watch your head, watch your head!”

Thunk.

“Oww,” you whine, rubbing the top of your head while Satoru busied himself fastening your seatbelt.

Rounding the front of his sports car, he slips into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life a few seconds later, but the car stayed in park. Instead, he reaches for the ice-cold water bottle in the cup holder, twisting off the cap before handing it to you.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asks, sounding almost agonized. “Don’t know if you know this, but it’s Tuesday night.”

It took you about ten seconds, a long drink of water, and a deep sigh of relief before you answered. 

“I won the presidency,” you finally say, as if that answered everything.

“Ah.” He reaches for a nearby pack of gummy bears. “This good? That’s all I could find on the way.”

“Yes,” you barely cared, tearing the package open. “Y’know, Gojo…you’re kinda nice.”

He huffs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really? What gave you that idea?”

Chewing thoughtfully, you started listing things your sober self would’ve never admitted.

“You came to get me even though I’m such a bitch to you. And you brought me water, and my favorite candy, and—hic!”

Satoru hums, clearly entertained. “Uh-huh. Keep going.”

“And you tease me all the time, but you aren’t that mean when it comes down to it…” You sniffle. “I honestly wish you were. It’d be easier to hate you.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he finally shifts the car into drive. “Aw, sorry about that. I can be mean to you if you want?”

The drive was quiet, mostly because it was so short—the streets were empty at this ungodly hour. When Satoru parked and killed the engine, he turned to look at you and froze.

You were chewing on gummy bears with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Are you a sad drunk?” he asks, even though he already knew. “Aw, you are, aren’t you?”

You sniffle. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He shifts toward you, more careful now, lifting the water bottle back to your lips. “‘Cause we’re friends now. I’m nice to my friends. C’mere.”

To his surprise, you let him tip the bottle, drinking without protest.

Swallowing, you frowned. “No, you aren’t.” Sniffle. “You’re mean to Suguru. And Nanami. And Toji…”

Satoru’s smile is lopsided. “You have a point. Guess I’m just nice to you then.”

“But why?” you press, not even realizing it. “You have no reason to be.”

Satoru was the type of man who had never needed to wish on stars to get what he wanted.

All it took was a swipe of one of his many credit cards or the mention of his family name. It worked without fail.

For everything except one thing, and she was sitting right beside him.

Oblivious to the fact that since freshman year, she’d made his heart race every time she was near. From the moment he met her in biology—cut down by her sharp tongue—he’d felt motivated instead of defeated.

He’d gone home that night thinking about her. Stayed up, even, planning ways to talk to you the next day. Ways to make you look at him. Talk to him. Give him the time of day.

You had no idea what you did to him, and right now, he had no place to tell you.

He leans back with a quiet hum. “For someone so smart, you can be a little dense sometimes.”

Your sniffle cut him off. His head snaps toward you, and his chest nearly caved in at the sight of fresh tears welling up.

“No, no, no, no— hey, I was joking! I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

Satoru cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away your tears. His eyes searched yours, softening despite himself. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re drunk,” he says.

What the fuck?

Why would he say that out loud? Right now? Of all times?

“You’re kinda cute all the time,” you replied easily, fingers fumbling with the pendant on his necklace. “You smell really nice, too.”

Satoru’s heartbeat doubled, but he forced himself not to read into it. Not now. Not when you’re in this state.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hands away. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

He stepped out first, then opened your door. Your eyes met his as he reached in to unbuckle you. “Easy,” he murmured.

Getting you out of the car was about ninety-five percent Satoru’s effort; you leaned into him the majority of the way, the two of you making your way toward the side entrance. It felt like it took hours to climb the stairs—but in reality, Satoru carried most of your weight without breaking a sweat.

By the time you reached your room, he helped you onto your bed, carefully slipping off your heels. His hand lingered at your ankle, thumb brushing over the faint mark the strap had left behind. He leaned over you slightly, hand smoothing over your hair.

“Get some sleep, okay?”

You didn’t notice when he set a bottle of aspirin and fresh water on your nightstand. You just curled under your blankets on instinct, heavy with exhaustion. Your eyes cracked open just enough to catch your on-call-Uber-driver-slash-friend retreating toward the door.

“Satoru?” you called.

He paused, one foot already out. “Mm?”

“I like it when you’re nice to me.” You shook your head. “No—I mean… I like being your friend.”

Satoru smiled faintly. “Me too.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

☆

You despise how much you enjoy being friends with Satoru Gojo.

You despise how attentive he is. How he silently hands you a pencil a beat after you realize you’ve come without one. How he holds the seat down for you so you can sit more easily in the lecture hall. How he gives you one of his AirPods whenever you’re in the library together, looking for your own books respectively, yet highly aware of how far you are from him when the music begins to chop up.

You despise how much he’s gotten you to let your guard down. How he makes you laugh whenever one of your student council meetings goes awry, because the high of being reelected as council president only lasts until the first meeting. How he assures you that you can get through whatever issue you’re working through with your boardmates, because, according to him, if you were able to snag his vote, then you can just about do anything. How he references Digimon or whatever video game he’s played last into just about every other conversation, to the point where it borders on endearing and annoying—but the expression he wears when he talks about it makes you easily decide on the former.

You despise how he makes you feel. How a simple nudge to your side whenever you reply with a smartass comment makes your face feel warm. How the scent of his cologne lingers after he leaves, and how you feel disappointed when it finally dissipates. How you’ve now become acutely aware of the length of his eyelashes, the vibrance of his eyes, the smile lines that look more handsome on him than you’d ever like to admit.

But more than anything, you despise that you just can’t find anything to hate about him—no matter how hard you try.

It had only been a little over a month, and yet it’s difficult to remember what it was like when the two of you weren’t friends, or what faulty reason you had to hate him in the first place.

You doodle a bit rougher in your notebook as you wait for instruction to begin, trying to get your mind off it. Off him.

Like clockwork, he plops down into the seat beside you, lazily extending his legs before placing a small white box on your desk.

“What’s this?” you ask, setting your pen down. When you open it, you find your favorite pastry sitting inside, untouched. Your brows knit together. “How’d you know this was my favorite?”

When you look at him, he’s already chewing a bite of the muffin he bought for himself.

“We’ve been to the café twice together and you got the same thing both times. How could I not know by now?”

You take a bite of your own, chewing thoughtfully. You’ve been to the café with Sukuna more times than you can count on both hands, and not once has he remembered what your go-to order is. It shouldn’t mean so much—in the grand scheme of things, it’s just a four dollar pastry—but it does. It feels good to be known, even in the simplest way.

“Well… thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no prob,” he replies, setting his muffin down. “Your stomach growls when you don’t eat in the morning—I could hear it from three aisles back.”

You shove his shoulder, eyes wide. “Shut up. No, you couldn’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he relents with a grin, glancing your way. “It was four aisles back.”

You roll your eyes, face warm. You glance down at his muffin, and he clutches it closer to himself.

“No looksies,” Satoru says firmly. “Daddy doesn’t like to share.”

You grimace. “Ew. Gross. Don’t call yourself that.”

“Mommy doesn’t like to share?” 

“Even worse.”

Satoru sighs in playful defeat, and just in time—before he can try again—your professor addresses the class and starts the lecture.

And no more than five minutes later, he doesn’t even complain when you ask for a bite of his muffin.

☆

You’re nervous about your upcoming Anatomy & Physiology exam.

The air outside is brisk, the cold biting at your cheeks as you speedwalk toward your dormitory. Even though this is nowhere near your first rodeo with the freezing-to-pleasant transition between winter and spring, it never gets easier to manage. Especially not now, with your arms full of flash cards, two folders, an oversupply of fresh scratch paper, and blank scantrons that are just about begging to be practiced on—which means you don’t have a free hand to grab a hot chocolate from the on-campus café. What a great start to your study session this is.

Your steps are quick, and from afar, you probably look like you’re lightly jogging, which isn’t the best look considering you’re wearing a thick, furry winter coat and a pair of fuzzy pajama pants. It isn’t ideal, but you planned for this venture outside your dorm room to be quick.

That is, until you trip on a shift in the sidewalk and tumble forward.

You catch yourself on your hands, which only makes you realize that your supplies are now blowing away. You manage to pick up a few things on your own and reach for a folder—only to realize someone else has already picked it up.

“Nearly gone with the wind,” Satoru sighs. “Good thing I was here to save the day. No need for thanks— it’s all in a day’s work.”

You straighten once you’ve gathered the rest of your things. “You and your gloating. Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, then glances down. “Cute slippers.”

Your eyes follow his gaze to the fuzzy slippers you only ever dare to wear out when your feet are freezing. You shift your feet and nudge his chest. “Shut up. They’re warm!”

“And fashionable,” he lilts, and gestures to the armful in your hands. “What’s all this for?”

“Studying,” you answer, because it’s obvious. “I’m gonna make flashcards for the A&P exam and probably take a few practice tests.” You reach for the folder still in his grasp. “So, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Hey, hey, hey. Slow down a sec.” Satoru lifts the folder out of reach. “Let me help you out, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why? Don’t you want to score better than me anyway?”

“Oh no,” Satoru says flatly, face blank. “You’ve exposed my master plan once again. Whatever will I do?” Then he grins. “How could you think so little of me? I’ll score better than you without sabotage, you know that.”

“As if,” you retort, averting his gaze.

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “If you’re so confident, prove me wrong.”

You tuck your lips into your mouth, weighing his offer. On one hand, you’re hesitant to let him into your room—afraid that you might not dislike it. That you might even like being alone with him. On the other, you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge like this.

Your pride settles it for you.

“Fine,” you say. “I will. Follow me.”

☆

Rumor has it that this was where it all truly began.

Your bedroom.

It was all rather easy at first. You’d spent about an hour making flashcards, a time primarily spent in silence—save for his voice making noise pollution every so often. Mostly moans and groans about how bored and hungry he is, which fall on deaf ears.

By the time you finish the deck, Satoru’s jacket is hanging on the back of your desk chair, and he’s lazily sprawled across your bed. He’d offered to take the chair, but you insisted that sitting made you focus better. Which it does, but you’re also too nervous to sit beside him on the bed right now.

He tosses a stress ball toward the ceiling, catching it with one hand. “Done yet? I’m dying here. The fun part is supposed to be me quizzing you.”

You straighten the cards before tossing them his way, the deck landing on his stomach. “Yes, now hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chirps, propping himself up against your pillows as he gathers the cards. He clears his throat, glances once at you, then back down. “What are the two primary functions of the skeletal system?”

It doesn’t take you more than a second. “Support the body and protect softer body parts.”

He hums and flicks to the next card. “What three things does the muscular system allow the body to do?”

You hum, rubbing your chin. “Movement, support, and… heat production.”

Another flick. “What about the nervous system?”

“It controls immediate responses to stimuli,” you answer easily.

Satoru huffs, flipping through card after card as you breeze through half the deck. Soon you’re naming the primary functions of individual muscles—temporalis, masseter, sternocleidomastoid, extensor digitorum—you’ve lost count of how many you’ve answered correctly. You’re zoned in, until he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“These are too easy for you,” he declares. “You need something more challenging.”

You squint and lean back in your chair. “What? These are plenty challenging.”

He hums, clearly unconvinced. “Nope. You need more independent practice. Stuff you can’t predict.”

“Like what?” you ask. “Since you’re so smart, I’m assuming you have an alternative method. Put up or shut up.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, meeting your gaze without missing a beat. He’s long since learned your tone, your bite. He grins and sits up straighter, lifting an arm and pointing to his own. “What does the tricep do?”

You blink. “Straightens the arm at the elbow? Duh. I thought this was supposed to be hard.”

“Shh, be patient. A master is at work.” He pauses, then asks, “What about the orbicularis oris?”

Your posture straightens against your will, gaze dropping to his mouth. Your eyes trace the curve of his lips—where that muscle would be—and you watch as the corners of his mouth tug upward. Five seconds pass—longer than any question has taken you so far.

“It allows for movement in the lips,” you finally say.

“Mm,” he sighs. “Only half credit. That’s a little vague. Name three specific functions and I might reconsider.”

The room feels warmer. You clear your throat. “Speech, whistling, and… kissing.” Your eyes flick away to your desk as you fuss with loose papers, trying to come off as busy or distracted. You add quickly, “It’s informally known as the kissing muscle. Everyone knows that.”

A low whistle leaves him as he rises from the bed, stretching his arms over his head before stalking toward your desk. He stops behind your chair, flashcards still in hand.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, still facing forward.

He sets the cards down in front of you and places one hand on the desk, leaning just slightly over you. He isn’t touching you, but he’s close enough that you feel the heat of him at your back, and certainly close enough to make your thoughts scatter.

“Told you,” he murmurs. “I’m helping you study.”

You swallow. “How, exactly?”

He exhales, breath brushing your neck. “Have you practiced for the muscle identification portion yet?”

Shit. You’d nearly forgotten about that. From what you remembered your professor saying, there would be anatomy models stationed around the classroom, highlighted with nothing more than a single muscle on each one. It would be your responsibility to name the muscle and its function on the spot.

“Not really,” you admit, shrugging. Your back brushes his chest, and you clear your throat quickly. “How do you plan on helping with that?”

Satoru brushes your hair off your shoulder, knuckles barely grazing the back of your neck before his thumb presses gently into a muscle along your upper back. “For starters: what muscle just helped you shrug your shoulders?”

You swallow thickly. Your breath leaves you shaky, and you hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps rising on your skin when his thumb traces again, slow and deliberate. Meant to tease you, you’d imagine.

“Upper trapezius,” you say, breathy despite yourself.

“Good.” You can hear the smile in his voice. His hand moves, thumb sliding to the back of your neck. “Your neck’s tense.”

“Well,” you say, forcing a shaky exhale, “it’s not every day I become a study tool. First day on the job.”

He laughs, and there’s something charged beneath it. “You saying you don’t like my method?”

“No, I’m not saying that at all,” you blurt. You glance up and freeze at how close his face is. “...I’ve liked others less. That’s all.”

A lopsided smile. “So you want to continue?”

Your answer is immediate. “Yes.”

His thumb presses more firmly at your neck. “What muscle is tensed up here?”

“Trick question,” you mutter, “still the upper trapezius.”

“Good.” His hand flattens, gliding down your back, following the natural arch of your spine as your breath catches in your throat. “Now tell me—”

Your heart is pounding.

“—what muscle is making your back arch like that?”

You scoff, trying to straighten. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s not an answer,” he tuts. “Don’t know it, huh?”

“Of course I do,” you stammer.

“Then tell me, smart girl.”

Your stomach twists with nerves and something far more dangerous. He shouldn’t excite you. He should make you pull away, push him out, undo whatever this is. And yet, your mind wanders to what it would be like if you didn’t. If you invited him to stay instead.

You shake your head, grounding yourself. “Erector spinae.”

He hums. “See? Not so hard.”

“It was plenty hard,” you murmur, stealing a glance up at him.

He tilts his head, just enough to meet your eyes. Your lashes flutter as you switch between each of his eyes. His nose is nearly brushing yours, and it terrifies you just as much as it intrigues you. No, actually—what you’re feeling now goes beyond simple intrigue. It’s excitement. Bordering on longing.

“What are you doing?” you ask, words tumbling out of your mouth.

“Just lookin’ at you,” he replies easily. “You’re pretty.”

“Wha–? Sh-Shut up.”

He grins. “You’re cute when you’re shy, too.” 

From the beginning, Satoru was supposed to be nothing more than a thorn in your side. Someone sharp and irritating. Something to endure. But when given the chance to poke where you were weakest, he’d held you instead. 

His hand slides to your waist, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. He still hasn’t pulled away, and you pray that he doesn’t. You don’t want him to. 

You lick your bottom lip without thinking. His eyes drop instantly, tracking the movement—and he doesn’t bother hiding it, even after he’s sure you’ve noticed.

And when he’s least expecting it, at least as far as you can tell, you rock up onto your toes, hands fisted into his shirt, and press your lips to his.

Your lips slot into his like two puzzle pieces fitting together. His hands tighten their hold on your waist, and when you force yourself to pull away, to face the music of your decision made on a whim, you find a blushing Satoru staring back at you.

A soft, nervous laugh leaves his lips, breath warm against yours.

“Well, if you thought studying was hard…”

…Oh? 

Your gaze dips.

Oh.

He’s hard.

From a single peck.

His sweatpants hang low on his hips, giving you a slight glimpse of the light trail of hair that leads toward the prominent bulge in the fabric. The sight alone makes your mouth water, enough for you to, within the span of a second, wonder what it’d be like to feel it. From sight alone, it looks big. Heavy.

Every warning system inside your head blares all at once, telling you that this is a bad, bad, bad, horrible, horrible, horrible decision. And yet, you lean into him again.

You kiss him once more, hands clutching onto his shirt as you tug him down to meet your mouth, which he does with no hesitation. His lips are softer than you imagined, gentle on yours.

“And which muscle is responsible for that?” you ask against his mouth.

He smiles, you can feel it. “Ischiocavernosus.”

Satoru’s large hands smooth over the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. You’re lying on your bed before you realize it, and he is hovering atop in between your parted legs.

His lips tear away from yours, kisses mapping out a trail of heat along your jaw. Your hand slips into his hair, tugging when his mouth finds the sweet spot just beneath your ear.

Your back arches off the bed as a signifier.

“Found it,” he rumbles against your skin, smiling against it.

His mouth is searing, kissing down your clothed chest until he pushes your shirt up just enough to expose your belly. Open-mouthed kisses mark his exploration of your skin, hot and wet as he traces the curve of your side.

Your stomach flutters when his mouth kisses down your belly, strong hands holding your waist in place while his tongue darts out to get a taste of your skin.

Satoru’s movements, you realize, seem automatic. Like he’s thought about this before, planned for it, even—he was just waiting for you to give him the chance.

Hands suddenly paw at his shoulders, your hips squirming slightly. “Stop teasing me, Satoru.”

Satoru laughs, fingers tugging your fuzzy pajama pants down just enough to kiss your hip bone. “Fine, fine. Under one condition.”

Your heart pounds. “What is it?”

His hands smooth over your thighs as he shifts a bit lower. “Let me taste you.”

You blink a few times, clearly surprised. You’ve never been with a guy whose first move is to go down on you. “Okay… I mean, if you want to—ah!”

His hands are skilled in the way that they pull the hem of your pants down, leaning back just enough to peel them down your legs and toss them aimlessly onto the floor. 

Satoru’s eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen, focused on the apex of your thighs as he flattens to his stomach. His hands move your legs to rest on his shoulders, his lips already on your inner thigh.

“Fuck, thank you,” he whispers against your skin, wet kisses inching closer to your core. 

And when his mouth finds the wet patch on the gusset of your panties, Satoru knows he’s a goner.

His grip tightens on your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, he flattens his tongue over the fabric. That only lasts a few seconds before his fingers tug the flimsy material down your legs, and his lips are latching onto the true source.

A groan escapes him the moment his tongue laps at your essence. “Tastes so sweet.”

Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging at the root when his lips close around your clit. Your hips would’ve bucked into his mouth if his iron grip wasn’t keeping you in place.

Even with his face buried in your pussy, he manages to speak. 

“Mmh— tastes like candy, baby. Thought about this s’many times.”

The confirmation only makes you twitch, which he seems to notice if the firm press of his tongue to your clit is any confirmation.

“Ah— shit, Satoru. Right there.”

Satoru thinks that he could do this forever. Could live and die a happy man, cheeks warmed by your thighs pressing in on them and the taste of you on his tongue.

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue slipping lower to gather more of you on his taste buds. His hips begin to rut into the mattress like a dog in heat, a whimper leaving his throat when you tug particularly hard on his hair. 

“S-Sorry,” you manage, fingers releasing the strands of his white hair.

Blue eyes meet yours, and he forces himself to pull his tongue off you just long enough to speak. “Baby, I don’t care. Tug on it even harder if you wanna. Your pleasure feels good to me.”

“Masochist,” you say through a breathy laugh.

His mouth is back on you. “Only for you.”

You’re like sugar on his tongue, the type of ambrosia that men should go to war for. Satoru knows he would in a heartbeat.

The feeling of his tongue kitten licking your clit has your hands shooting down, one sliding back into his hair and the other scratching at the back of his hand on your thigh.

Satoru gives it to you without a second thought, your fingers lacing with his as you press his hand down on your stomach. 

His eyes crack open to watch your face, twisted in a pleasure that he’s proud to have given you. He sucks your clit into his mouth before releasing it with a slick pop.

Only, your hand in his hair presses his face back into your pussy, and Satoru is nothing if not willing to please you. 

The groan that leaves him travels up your spine, and your hips begin to twitch, thighs closing in on his head. A mewl leaves your lips, clutching his hand before you cry out, the first wave of your orgasm wracking through you.

Satoru flattens his tongue, licking up every drop of your syrupy release, hellbent on committing the taste of you to memory. 

His voice is deep and scratchy when he speaks. “You’re beautiful when you cum.”

Your eyes snap open, a newfound heat finding your cheeks. “Shut up.”

He’s crawling up to meet your lips with a smile, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh. Just telling the truth.” He kisses your lips, and you taste yourself on them. “Sweetest pussy. I’d go for seconds if you let me.”

You’re tempted by the offer.

Only, something else tempts you more than it should.

Satoru hisses the moment your palm presses against the bulge in his sweatpants, forehead knocking into yours. His hips twitch against your hand, and when he closes his eyes, you can tell he’s doing his best not to grind into your hand.

A quiet laugh leaves your mouth. “I think I’d rather do something else.”

His hands fist into the bedsheets in an act of restraint. “Like what?” he asks, voice strained.

You huff, free hand taking hold of his chin, forcing him to look at you. “I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

“I don’t wanna assume. It’s ungentlemanly, y’know?” His lips press against yours, pulling back before you have the chance to deepen the kiss. “Ah-ah-ah, can’t do anything more ‘til the lady asks.”

He’s so fucking annoying. 

The pout on your lips is too cute to handle. Satoru debates kissing it away. Only, your next words stop him in his tracks.

They come out more demanding than you intended, trying to hide how needy you really are. “Stop wasting my time. I want you to fuck me, Satoru.”

His cock twitches against your hand. Maybe bossiness works best with him.

“That’s so hot,” he says, panting. 

Satoru immediately reaches for the hem of his sweatpants and boxers, pushing them down his legs in a hurried, uncoordinated manner. He nearly topples over once or twice in his haste.

Soon, though, his erection springs free, slapping against his stomach. It’s somehow even bigger than you initially imagined…lengthy, and flushed a pretty shade of pink at the tip.

This time, Satoru doesn’t tease you like you were expecting him to. Doesn’t gloat. 

Instead, he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, until his mouth finally finds yours, a broken sound escaping him the moment he rubs his tip through your folds.

Then, his eyes find yours, and it feels like the world stops on its axis.

Forehead to forehead. Chest to chest. Your hand in his hair, his on your cheek. With Satoru Gojo of all people. The one person in this world whom you should stay away from. 

And here he is, looking at you like you’re worth more than your family name and the money bags that come with it, like he wants you for you. Nothing else.

“We don’t have to, baby,” he whispers, sweet and gentle, as if sensing the mental games you’re playing with yourself. “I’m happy to just be here with you. I mean it.”

There it is. An out.

You should stop this before it starts. You should do your best to save the peace between you and your parents—what’s left of it, anyway. You should forget about the way your chest warms up when his thumb strokes over your cheek.

But then, wise words ring out in your mind.

I’d rather disappoint my parents than disappoint myself.

And in this moment, you realize that losing Satoru would far surpass mere disappointment. It isn’t something you can bear, nor do you ever want to.

You shake your head, leaning up to kiss him, nice and soft. “I want this. So… stop making me wait.”

Satoru laughs, lips on your cheek as he notches himself on your entrance. “Yes, ma’am.”

Inch by inch, his length stretches you open, making your hands grasp at his shoulders for purchase, nails sinking into his skin. You whine at the intrusion, not used to his size by any means.

“You’re okay, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, one hand holding your cheek while the other strokes your hip. “Doing so good for me. Just a liiittle more.”

You huff, risking a glance downward, only to see he was only half inside. You throw your head back on the pillow. “Liar.” 

He smiles against your lips, kissing you. “Figured a little white lie never hurt anyone.”

A moment later, Satoru pushes his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You both release breathy moans at the same time, grips tightening on each other.

He pulls out, just the tip remaining, before sliding back inside your warmth, creating a slow, languid pace—giving you the chance to adjust to him.

You kiss him then, all teeth and tongue and want, panting hot against his mouth while your hands slip into his hair. “Fuck— faster, Toru. Please.”

The sound of his name on your tongue, so wanton while he’s inside you, spurs him on in a way he’s never felt before. His hands take hold of your hips, angling them up slightly so that he can fuck you deeper, the pace of his hips growing needier with each passing second.

“Mmh, wanted you for so long,” he says, words muffled against your skin while he kisses down your neck. “This—hah—can’t be real, baby. Feels so good.”

You drag his mouth back up to your lips, tongues sliding against each other in a fit of passion that you can hardly comprehend right now with how good he feels. 

“So good,” you whimper into his mouth. “Want more, Satoru, please—”

“Shh, I got you,” he says.

And then his hands press down on the back of your thighs, folding them up against your chest. He pounds into you without sense, the new angle opening you up to him in a way that makes you see stars.

The sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, the sounds of your pleasure only adding to the conversation. 

Satoru pushes your shirt up, a sound between a whimper and a gasp, leaving him the moment his gaze sets on your breasts. His mouth latches onto your nipple before he can think twice about it.

“You weren’t—mmh—wearing a bra the whole time?” 

You whine, trying to drag his mouth back to yours by your grip on his hair, but he doesn’t let up. “Y-You ask stupid questions.”

He flattens his tongue, laving over the underside of your breast, his hips never faltering. He groans against your skin. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t give me that attitude. Haven’t I been good? Yeah?”

A pout forms on your kiss-bruised lips. “Mm— I’m not giving attitude.”

Satoru laughs, the sound raspy and deep. “You are, pretty girl, but it’s okay. Toru’ll make it all better.”

His lips are back on yours, to your satisfaction, and his hand slips between the two of you, thumbing at your clit. You gasp, stealing the air from his lungs, clinging onto his shoulders and back like a koala bear.

A warmth coils in your stomach, making you squirm against his thrusts. Your nails claw into his back, raking down his skin, surely leaving marks that Satoru will admire for days. A memento of the moment he’s been waiting for.

His cock twitches inside you when you moan again, your pussy clenching around him like a vice, tight and warm. 

You whine. “Satoru—”

“Mm-hmm, I know, baby, don’t you worry,” he says, voice slightly smug as he continues to draw circles over your clit, feeling the way it pulses against his thumb. “Give it to me, sweets, know you can do it.”

Your hips buck up against his, your orgasm crashing into you. Your body tenses around him, squeezing him impossibly tighter.

If the way his pace stutters is any clue, you know he’s close. When you pulse against him, he drops his head onto your shoulder.

Satoru whimpers, so lost in his pleasure that he can no longer function. He fucks you shallowly now, and lost in your own mind, you turn your head to whisper in his ear.

“Inside,” you request, voice breathy. “Please, Toru.”

That makes Satoru cum before he can realize it. 

Hot spurts shoot inside you, his sounds muffled against your skin while his own climax wracks through him. It seems like it goes on forever, but the moment he kisses the underside of your jaw, you realize that he’s finished, finally slipping out of the post-orgasm delirium you put him in.

When your eyes meet his, both of your eyes widen, expressions almost sheepish.

As if it were finally occurring to you that you just had sex with Satoru fucking Gojo, you feel a bit shy, blinking up at him and absolutely unsure what to say.

“…Hi,” you whisper.

Satoru seems to share your thoughts. He brings his hand to your cheek, knuckles brushing over your flushed skin. “Hey, baby.”

Unsure of what to do, you decide to lean back into your old reliable method. The only way you know how to talk to him is without allowing a hint of affection to seep into your voice. Be mean to him.

“Get off me,” you say, pawing at his chest halfheartedly, “you’re heavy.”

It seems that Satoru has learned you well enough to know exactly what you’re doing. Trying to push him away the moment it all feels like too much to handle, reverting to what you know best.

He lowers his head, brushing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “Mm, no can do, pretty. I like to cuddle after sex, guess you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

You squirm as he begins to pepper your face with kisses, wet and dry, trying to get a proper reaction from you. 

“Okay, okay!” you exclaim, laughing without realizing it. “Fine. We can cuddle…but we have to clean up first.”

Satoru beams at that. He kisses your forehead before practically leaping off your bed, searching for a towel. You aren’t sure why the sight of him prancing around your room in his birthday suit makes you feel so…warm and tingly inside.

God, what has he done to you?

You yawn, rubbing your eyes. “On the left side of the closet. Third drawer down.”

A second later, he’s back and wiping away the mess between your legs, careful with his movements. Once finished, he pokes around in your clothing drawers, managing to find a pair of fresh underwear and a pretty blue shirt that you should've known he’d pick out. 

“Matches my eyes,” he preens, doing most of the work as he pulls the panties up your legs and the shirt over your head.

“Of course you’d notice that,” you scoff, trying to ignore how warm this all makes you feel.

With his boxers back on, he climbs back into bed with you, lying on his back. A surprised sound leaves him when you rest your head on his chest, hand draped over his middle.

Satoru wears a smile as he wraps an arm around you, free hand lacing with yours. “Thought you didn’t wanna cuddle.”

“I never said that,” you grumble.

He laughs to himself, the kind that signifies he’s up to no good. “Aww. Just a cute little cuddle muffin you are.”

“I’ll get off you right now if you don’t—”

He immediately stops laughing and tightens his hold on you. “Sorry, sorry. You run a tight ship.”

☆

In your experience, the morning after could go one of two ways.

You could either cringe at yourself and your decisions, make awkward small talk with the person you had shared not only your body but also a bed with, and then tiptoe out of your hookup’s room, or not-so-discreetly kick them out of yours. 

Or, you could still make equally awkward small talk upon waking up, limbs still entangled and clothes mostly scattered across the floor, but not feel the gnawing feeling to run away and never speak to this person again.

And so far, you’re in no rush to make him go. 

Satoru shifts in his sleep behind you, one arm draped lazily over your middle while the other pillows your head. You blink blearily as you run your fingertips along his forearm, tracing the veins in his hand until you cover it with your own. His fingers slightly twitch until they fill the spaces between yours.

His nose brushes the back of your neck, inhaling indulgently. His arm beneath your head bends and curls inward, his nails gently scratching your scalp. “Morning.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. His voice is deep and groggy from sleep, his lips just barely grazing your skin as he speaks. It only gets worse (or better?) when he presses a kiss to the crook of your shoulder and neck, firmer now yet unhurried. 

The strap of the camisole you’d thrown on last night after your shower was now pinched between his thumb and forefinger, slowly slipping it down the curve of your shoulder as his lips explored further.

“Good morning,” you manage out, voice slightly weak but not entirely from just waking up. “How’d you sleep?”

You can feel his lips twitch against your skin, probably turning into a smug grin if you had to guess. His hand stopped on your bicep, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he pulls you closer. 

“Better than usual,” he says, voice rumbling in his throat. “Even with you stealing the covers from me all night, it’d be worth it every time to wake up to this.” He picks his head up just enough to look down at you. “You?”

Your cheeks are warm, and you bury half of your face into the pillow. “Better than usual. I actually feel rested.”

Reaching an arm out, you turn the clock on your nightstand toward the bed. 2:38 p.m.

“We slept the whole day away!”

Satoru hums behind you, chest rumbling against your back. “Mm, good sex tends to do that to people.”

You smile, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Oh? So that’s why you were snoring into my ear all night?”

“Precisely why,” he replies easily, before pecking your lips. “Pussy put me right to sleep.”

This time, you lean in to kiss him. When you pull away, you freeze. 

Oh fuck.

Then you shoot up out of bed, eyes wide and panicked. It’d just dawned on you that, for all the days you could have had sex with your annoying-rival-to-friend, it had to be the day of the Ryomen dinner. And, of course, you had to oversleep with said annoying-rival-to-friend-and-now-hookup still in your bed. 

The drive alone would take two and a half hours.

“Holy shit, I need to go,” you say, scatterbrained as you rush into your closet.

Satoru props himself up on his elbow, sounding more panicked than he likely intended. “What? Why?”

You return to his line of sight, already half-clothed in a pristinely ironed dress, bouncing on one leg as you tug your stockings up. “I have to go to dinner with my family and the Ryomens. My mom is going to kill me.”

And he’s left to watch, helpless, as you check yourself in the mirror—putting your earrings on, looking beautiful as ever…to go have dinner with another guy and his family.

Satoru knows he should be relaxed about this. He needs to chill out. You had sex, yes, but it’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything.

(Even though he’d thought about how great that would be as he admired you while you slept.)

“Oh, cool,” he says, forcing a cheery tone into his voice. “What for?”

You press your lips together, hastily applying your makeup lest you show up late with none on. “I’m not really sure. Probably to talk about their plans for us post-graduation. That’s all they talk about these days.”

He bites the inside of his cheek.

Doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Sex between friends can be…casual. Don’t read into it so much.

“Right,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck, doing his best to seem relaxed. “Sounds boring.”

You nod at him through the mirror before turning to face him. “Yeah, it will be.”

A silence settles the moment your eyes meet.

Slowly, you walk over to him—still lying in your bed, clad in nothing but his boxers. “I’m sorry I’m leaving like this.”

He waves a hand through the air, making an exaggerated pshhh sound. “Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

You give him a lopsided smile before leaning down to kiss him. He barely has time to close his eyes—to savor it—before you’re already pulling away.

“I’ll text you, okay?” you say. “You can use my shower again if you want. Make yourself at home while I’m gone. Just don’t use up my body wash—it’s expensive.”

Satoru lets out a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay, no promises. Have fun.”

And then you’re gone, the door clicking shut behind you.

He falls back against the mattress, dragging his hands over his face.

It’s casual, he tries to remind himself. Don’t be a crybaby.

But you kissed him goodbye.

What was casual about that?

☆

The hallways are abnormally crowded today.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, Shoko’s messages flooding in.

shoko 💗: hi

shoko 💗: how was the dinner?

shoko 💗: did your parents finally come to their senses

shoko 💗: and drop the stupid engagement idea????

you: i wish

you: they seem even more into the idea now

you: mind you, sukuna fell asleep at the dining table with his fork hanging out of his mouth

you: like oh okay i’m seeing it now, total HUSBAND MATERIAL right here

shoko 💗: fuck my chungus life

you: fuck mine too

The sound of hushed voices in the distance distracts you, making you glance in that direction.

Only then do you realize that they’re looking right at you.

Actually, it feels like everyone is looking at you.

No, worse. It feels like everyone can see through you. Like they know exactly what you’ve been up to. What you did when no one was around.

But that’s ridiculous. How could anyone know?

Suddenly hyper-aware of yourself, you glance back down at your phone.

you: i feel like everyone is staring at me today

shoko 💗: maybe because you look sexier than usual?

you: one can only hope

You crash into someone, limbs flailing, only to be steadied by a gentle grip.

“Watch where you’re going, iPad kid,” Satoru teases, a wide smile on his face.

You pocket your phone, huffing out a laugh despite yourself. “I was watching where I was going. You just came out of nowhere.”

“Uh-huh, totally,” he says.

Without thinking, you glance over your shoulder toward the group that had been watching you earlier, the itch still unscratched.

Always observant, Satoru tilts his head. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you answer instinctively.

“Talk to me,” he says, nudging your arm softly, still trying to keep things light.

Then your eyes meet his—his blue irises practically begging you to open up.

“It’s just…” Your voice trails off, growing quieter. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you? About…”

Satoru leans back slightly, like the question physically hit him.

“Uh— no,” he says. “No, I didn’t. Promise.”

You catch the shift in his expression—the way it falters, like something just closed off.

Your eyes squeeze shut. Shit. “No, it’s not that I regret it or anything, it’s just that—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts in, rubbing the back of his neck. “Really. It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.” His eyes meet yours again. “I didn’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes quickly. “Good. I’m glad we got that figured out.”

“Me too,” you say, though you don’t sound convinced anymore. “Did— did I say something?”

Satoru shakes his head, that boyish smile slipping back into place. “Nah. You’re good.”

You glance around again. “…Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. “Are you going to the party this weekend? Choso’s frat is throwing.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there. I assume I’ll see you there too?”

“Yup,” he says with a nod. “Well, I’ve gotta get to class. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” you say, turning to watch him walk away down the hallway.

Well… that conversation went well.

Right?

☆

After a few days of Satoru avoiding you like the plague, you’re starting to think your conversation didn’t go so well.

He’s only sent you one Instagram reel over the last three days—and it was about tips and tricks for studying anatomy. Was he doing this on purpose? The last time you studied for anatomy, it ended with you in bed with him.

For what feels like the tenth time this hour, you check your messages.

Satoru :D: Good morning

Satoru :D: Sleep well?

you: good morning

you: yes i did, did you?

And there’s been no response since.

You wonder if you should message him again.

Maybe his phone got swept up in a tornado. (It’s 75°F and sunny outside.)

Maybe he’s currently being attacked by alligators and desperately needs you as a lifeline. (Though you know he wouldn’t even accept your help—he’d be convinced he could take an alligator in a fight.)

Maybe he just hasn’t seen your text. (You saw him repost a TikTok about boba milk tea an hour ago.)

You tap on the text bar, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

“There’s no way you’re about to double text a man.”

You jump, quickly locking your phone. “Utahime, I was not. I was just checking our messages.”

Utahime hums, clearly unconvinced, scrolling on her own phone. “You keep telling yourself that, girl.”

Rolling onto your back, you stare at the ceiling, hands folded over your chest.

“Are you seriously sulking right now?”

“I’m not sulking!”

(You were definitely sulking.)

Utahime sighs, nudging your side. “Did you read this week’s blind items?”

You shake your head. “No.”

She tilts her head down at you. “Well, I’m pretty sure one is about you.”

“WHAT?!”

You’ve never sat up this fast in your life—lightheaded and dizzy as you reach for Utahime’s phone.

There is going to be an engagement post-graduation between a male and female from two of the most well-known families on campus.

A male who lives on floor three in the Newbrooke dormitory has still been shitting in the showers. (P.S. Can you please stop already?)

A notorious rich student was spotted talking to a girl who comes from a family that begins with the last letter of the alphabet. Are sparks flying?

A male has been making piss-poor SoundCloud music at 4 AM for the past week. (Please stop. You are better off sticking to your career path in accounting.)

A pit forms in your stomach.

Had Sukuna told someone about your situation? You want to say no—but once he’s had enough to drink, anything is possible.

But the one that concerns you more is the third item.

Could Satoru have already moved on? To a girl from the Zenin family?

Utahime presses her thumb between your eyebrows, smoothing out the crease. “Hey. What happened to taking these with a grain of salt? They’re probably not real. Aside from the shower shitter—that one seems pretty legit.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Yeah… you’re probably right.”

Even still, the pit in your stomach doesn’t go away.

☆

Music thrums against the walls, people packed in like sardines, moving with no particular rhyme or rhythm. Smoke fills the air, a thick fog that has no chance of dissipating. 

Sukuna’s arm is snug around your shoulder, something that you would have never thought twice about before. Now, though, you notice it like a thorn in your side. 

You try to scan the room, in search of your friends who you knew would be here tonight. Only, a hand on your face draws your attention elsewhere, and Sukuna is kissing your cheek in farewell before you can even realize he’s leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Later, girl,” he says, so casually, as if he had the right.

Fucking typical.

You huff and wave your arm through the air, coughing quietly. Once the smoke cleared just enough, your gaze locked in on something in the distance.

Satoru. Standing beside a girl from the Zenin family.

But even as he stands beside her, his glowing eyes are already on you.

Suddenly, it hurts to breathe. The walls are caving in on you. The music fades into a silence that becomes even more overbearing than the bass. 

Anger rises in your throat. Anger you have no right to feel. 

After all, Satoru wasn’t yours. You weren’t his. He can do what he wants, as can you. How could you forget that? And why did you want to?

If you were a braver person, one who could be honest with herself, you would walk across this room. You’d tell him how you feel. You would say it now, out loud and to his face. At least then, he’d know how you felt.

The problem, though, was that you weren’t any of these things. You were terrified and hesitant—so all you could do was this. Look at him and hope he can put the puzzle pieces together on his own. You can only hope he likes how it looks once it is completed. 

Your feet are moving before you can realize it. A moment later, you find yourself in the bathroom, pressing your back against the door to slam it shut. 

You release a sharp breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your hands cover your face as you approach the sink, palms pressing against the countertop.

Then, you catch your reflection in the mirror. 

You know better than this.

You know better than to wish for something that you have no right to.

You know better than to want Satoru. You know better than to envision a simple life with him. To want him in a way that is uncalculated and real.

Dropping your head, you close your eyes. Squeeze them shut, and hope that you were anywhere else but here, in this dingy bathroom with a flickering lightbulb above your head.

The door opens and shuts behind you.

You pick your head up, and there he is. 

Satoru.

His chest presses to your back, his hands bracketing yours on the counter as he dips his chin into the crook of your neck. “Were you not going to come say hi?”

You roll your eyes despite yourself, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror. “No. Seems like you were a little preoccupied.”

Silence stretched thin between you. 

Then his hands find your waist, spinning you around to face him.

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice soft and almost pleading.

You swallow. “Don’t do what?”

“You know what,” he replies, “act like… you don’t care. Like you don’t feel anything for me, just because you’re upset.”

You avoid his gaze. “I’m not upset. It’s not like we’re dating. You can do what you want with…whoever you want.”

Satoru huffs, forehead knocking into yours before he pulls back. “How long are we going to keep doing this, baby?” he asks, hands finally coming to settle on your waist. “I don’t want anyone else. Not like how I want you.”

Finally, you tilt your head up, eyes meeting his.

It almost made you want to cry, realizing how easy things with Satoru were. How he opened himself up to you without fear, because he didn’t want an ounce of doubt to live in your head.

Maybe it was your turn to return the message.

“Me neither,” you finally admit. 

His expression softens in relief.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face. 

Your lips press together. “But why’d the blog say you were with a girl from the Zenin family?”

“The same reason that the stupid blog says you and Sukuna are together,” he says with a shrug. “It’s a rumor. People see you standing next to someone—at a very healthy distance, by the way, a very platonic and normal distance—and run with it.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “I don’t go around letting my rumored girlfriends kiss me on the cheek, though.”

You tilt your head, knowing full well that Satoru was capable of knowing that there were no feelings between you and Sukuna. “Careful, you almost sound upset.”

He shrugs his broad shoulders, tilting his head in the same direction you did. “Depends. Is he a good kisser?” 

Your fingers are still gripping the edge of the counter. “He is.”

Satoru glances over your face, the corner of his mouth twitching once he notices the slight pout on your lips. “Better than me?”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you’re not a liar. “No.”

A small smirk. “Good.”

“Maybe you should get back to your friend,” you retort, shaking your head.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Satoru coos, hand cupping your cheek, thumbing over your bottom lip.

You splutter. “What? I’m not.”

“No?”

“No.”

Satoru’s hand starts to pull away. Panic sparks in you, and your hand shoots up, wrapping around his wrist to keep his palm against your face. He smiles softly, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“...Only a little,” you finally admit.

Satoru’s fingers thread into your hair, guiding your forehead to his lips. “That’s okay. I was jealous too.”

“Jealous? You?”

“Jealous. Me.”

You clear your throat, and for the first time in your life, you decide to prod for further reassurance. 

“Do you like her?” you ask, voice small.

He seems distracted, his lips on your cheek now in a chaste kiss. “Hm?”

“Do you like her?” you repeat, hands prodding at his chest to make him meet your eyes. “That girl you were talking to.”

Satoru scoffs, like the answer was obvious. “No. I’m a one-lady type of guy.” 

That answer shouldn’t make your face feel warm, but it does. He’s turned you into mush, putty in his hands. 

His thumb brushes over your hip bone. “Did you let Sukuna kiss you because you like him?”

You shake your head. “Maybe I just like kissing people. It’s fun, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, nose brushing yours. “But do me a favor, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, heart rate doubling in your chest.

“The next time you wanna kiss someone, come to me instead,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your sides. “I’m better at it, anyway. Said it yourself.”

You can’t bite back your smile now, nor do you try to. “Okay.”

“Okay, baby.”

You hoped no one noticed how long you’d both been gone from the party, but when you exited the bathroom together—lip gloss smeared on Satoru’s mouth and your hair messier than before—it likely told the entire story for you.

☆

You wake up wrapped in a Digimon throw blanket.

A small, sleepy groan leaves you as you try to move—to stretch your limbs after a night of sleep.

Only, the heavily weighted blanket on top of you, known as Satoru Gojo, doesn’t make it very easy.

His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you’d think he was afraid you might slip away in the middle of the night—so he set up precautions beforehand. His cheek is pressed against your bare chest, using your breasts as pillows.

The best pillows on the market, he says.

Blinking blearily, you scan his bedroom. Now, after only two months of dating, it looks like a shrine to you.

A framed photo of you hangs on his wall, another propped up on his bedside table. There’s one on his desk too—taken on the first day of your internship—set beside his computer.

Because, as he says, “seeing you smiling in that pretty little dress motivates me to study, ‘cause I need to pay for your tastes somehow.”

You’re smiling now, glancing down at him, his cheek squished against your skin. Your fingers glide through his hair before smoothing down his back, soothing the faint sting of the scratches you’d left the night before.

A quiet whine leaves him, and he fumbles blindly for your hand, guiding it back to his hair so you’ll keep playing with it.

“Good morning to you, too,” you murmur, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Morning, baby,” he mumbles, voice rumbling against your skin.

Without opening his eyes, he presses a kiss to the underside of your breast, his mouth already trailing down the column of your stomach.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, smiling.

“Eating breakfast,” he replies simply, mouthing at your hip bone.

Just as he reaches for the hem of your panties, his phone begins to buzz on the bedside table. Undeterred, he tugs them down an inch.

“Ignore it.”

Then his phone buzzes again. And again.

A moment later, yours buzzes too.

Slightly concerned now, you reach for it, unlocking the screen to a message from Shoko.

shoko 💗: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP

shoko 💗: [article link]

You tap the link, your eyes widening as you read the headline.

“What?” he asks, already pouting slightly at the interruption. “What is it?”

Wordlessly, you turn the phone toward him.

Satoru Gojo and Y/N L/N were spotted on the Gojo family’s personal yacht, indulging in promiscuous activities.

And to make matters worse, front and center is a picture of you sitting in his lap—his hand squeezing a handful of your ass like he’s afraid it might run away from him.

You press your palm to your forehead. “I told you we shouldn’t have taken the yacht out that day.”

Satoru hums, clearly distracted. “How do I save this picture? You look really sexy in this.”

“Satoru, focus!” you say, lightly swatting his shoulder. “What should we do?”

He shrugs, fingers resuming their slow work of tugging your underwear down your legs. “Right now, I’m thinkin’ I’ll finish my breakfast. We’ll figure the other stuff out later.”

You think you should protest—but the moment his mouth finds you, every argument dies on your tongue.

Because you know that he’ll make good on his promise. This will be figured out, one way or another.

And as long as you have Satoru by your side, you think you’ll be just fine.

Rumor has it you brought him home the next weekend to meet your parents.

Rumor also has it that from that moment on, the arranged engagement with Sukuna was off.

a/n: heyyyy yallll!!! how are you?

me?? posting 2 fics in one month?? #imonaroll #unstoppable

no, but seriously, if you read this all the way through thank you so much!! it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written so it’s a lil experimental for me. this is also my first time writing for gojo in about two years and it’s my second time writing him ever sooo i’m still figuring out how i want to characterize him lol

anyway i hope you enjoyed, as always please let me know your thoughts <3

[https-lovvers]

sukuna's sweetheart!reader gf accidentally gets high for the first time..

wc: 1.7k

meet sweetheart!reader

you had smoked weed once before this, if you could call that smoking. it was at one of tojis infamous parties, you were wasted and curled up against sukuna on the battered couch of the frat house. sukuna had been smoking the blunt, his eyes drooping with each puff.

you turned to him, drunk and giggly, "sukuna can i try?"

he side eyed you and grunted, "no. shits bad for you"

"but you're doing it" you attempted puppy dog eyes, desperately wanting to know what it would be like.

he had let out a rough sigh before taking a hit and grabbing your face kissing you and exhaling into your mouth. he smirked a bit when you coughed and spluttered.

"you okay baby?" he watched as you slumped back against him further, eyes dilated and limbs heavy.

you mumbled a faint response before closing your eyes against him chest.

and that was it. you never felt like smoking again, and sukuna was very against you doing anything to harm your virgin lungs.

until...

you were at geto's birthday party. sukuna would be a bit late because he was getting a last minute birthday gift for suguru (despite you telling him multiple times in the past week to go get him something).

you had offered to come help him pick one out but sukuna insisted you go to the party and give suguru the gift you had gotten (which you were so proud of).

while sukuna didn't like the idea of you alone at a party, he entrusted toji to be on lookout duty and take care of you, at least for the first hour before sukuna got there.

you entered the party with shoko and utahime, your pretty white dress sliding up your thighs slightly when you trot over to suguru to give him his birthday wishes and gift.

he had happily taken your perfectly wrapped gift and in exchange pushed a drink into your hand and sent you on your merry way.

you were on your way back to shoko and utahime when you spotted brownies laying tantalisingly on a plate. you were hungry and the night was going to be long so you grabbed 4 brownies, one for each of your friends and you wandered back to them.

plopping down on the couch next to yuki, you offered her one, to which she denied giving you an incredulous look. which was strange because, were they not just regular brownies?

both utahime and shoko denied, shoko saying she'll stick to smoking.

weird.

thats how you found yourself eating 4 brownies. after the first one you had stumbled your way around to try and offer the other brownies to any takers.

you were nibbling on the second one when you spotted choso. "hey cho! do you want a brownie?"

his half lidded eyes met yours, "no thanks i already had one, and i made them so i can have them any time."

"i guess i have to eat these four then.." you sighed

"i don't think that's a good idea.." choso trailed off.

"huh" you mumble already on the third one. before he can clarify you're gone.

having swayed your way back to the couch, you slump, really feeling the effects. "sho i feel weird..." and you're reaching for the 4th brownie.

only you realise thats not shoko, it's toji.

"oh hey toji" you mumble, mouth full with the remnants of the 4th brownie.

the drink he was sporting is now resting on the table as he turns to look at you. slumped, eyes dilated, red rimmed, drooping lids, pouted glossy lips.

fuck. hes so incredibly fucked.

"angel how many of those fucking brownies did you have?"

you giggle at his seriousness. putting up 4 fingers you shove them in his face.

he drags a hand down his face.

"sukuna is going to fucking kill me"

toji’s already hauling you up by your elbows before you can slump any further into the couch

“c’mon, angel. up.”

“mmm no…” you whine softly, your head tipping back dramatically, “i’m sitting…”

“yeah? you’re also gone,” he mutters, half to himself, half to whatever higher power is about to watch him get murdered by sukuna

you don’t really register moving

just that suddenly you’re somewhere quieter—some random bedroom upstairs, the bass of the party muffled through the walls, your body melting into the mattress like it’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched

“toji,” you mumble, blinking slowly at the ceiling, “i feel like… floaty”

“yeah. no shit,” he snorts, dragging a chair over so he can keep an eye on you

“am i dying?”

he pauses. looks at you.

“…no. you’re just high out of your mind”

“toji,” you say again, very serious, “my arms feel weird”

“that’s because you ate four edibles,” he says flatly

you blink at him

“…what’s an edible?”

he actually laughs at that. like a short, disbelieving huff

“you’ve gotta be kidding me”

when sukuna arrives, he throws the poorly bagged gift onto the pile of gifts and immediately seeks you out.

he goes to the couch, where you would normally be. can't see you. he goes to shoko who's smoking outside. she hasn't seen you. he goes to yuki and choso who were all over eachother. they haven't seen you. he even goes to that idiot gojo with his stupid fucking amazing eyes. he hasn't seen you.

he starts to flip his shit. he opens every room of the fucking house, before he reaches a bedroom where he sees you laying on a bed, with toji in a chair taking a sip of a drink.

he inspects you. spread out on the bed, glassy-eyed, cheeks flushed, blinking at him like he’s just walked out of a dream

his expression drops instantly

“what the fuck happened.”

toji raises his hands immediately “not my fault. she ate the brownies”

“what brownies.”

“the ones choso made”

silence. then, slowly “…how many”

toji points at you “ask your girl”

sukuna’s gaze snaps back to you

he crosses the room in two steps, crouching in front of the bed, one hand coming up to cup your face, turning your head toward him

“hey,” his voice is lower now, rough but controlled, “look at me”

you do. and then you smile: soft, dopey, completely gone.

“hi ‘kuna…”

something in his expression softens for half a second before snapping back. “how many did you eat.”

you hold up your hand proudly. four fingers.

he stares “…you’re joking”

you shake your head, very serious again. “they were really good”

toji barks out a laugh from the corner “i told you. she inhaled them”

“get out,” sukuna says immediately.

“gladly” and he’s gone in seconds.

traitor.

the door shuts and suddenly it’s just you and sukuna. his hands are still on your face, thumbs brushing under your eyes as he studies you. your pupils are huge. your breathing is slow. you lean into his touch without thinking

“you’re late,” you mumble

his jaw tightens, “yeah. i know”

then your hand lifts, clumsy, grabbing at his sleeve “i missed you”

that hits him harder than anything else tonight, his grip on you softens immediately

“yeah?”

you nod, then squint at him “…your face is moving”

he huffs, almost a laugh, shaking his head, “course it is”

“you’re not allowed to eat random shit at parties anymore,” he mutters into your hair

“i didn’t know…” you mumble defensively

“i know”

he sighs, pressing his cheek briefly to the top of your head “…i know, sweetheart”

you readjust so you're on top of him, swaying slightly on your way up. before your head lulls forward and plops on his chest. you’re fully draped across sukuna at this point. not even sitting properly. just sprawled half on his lap, half against his chest.

he’s got one arm locked around your waist to keep you from sliding off the bed

“…you good?” he asks, low and unimpressed

you tilt your head up to look at him very slowly, very seriously.

“…you have two faces”

he rolls his eyes “…i have what”

you squint, lifting a hand and poking his cheek but missing spectacularly and instead landing on his chin.

“…they’re like… overlapping” he grabs your wrist before you can poke his eye out. “that’s called being high, genius”

you gasp “don’t call me that”

“…genius?”

“yeah” you mumble, offended, immediately melting back into him, “be nice to me…”

he rolls his eyes but his grip tightens slightly around you anyway “i am being nice. you’re lucky i don't drag you downstairs and grab myself a blunt so i don't have to deal with your bullshit”

you go very still then slowly lift your head again.

“…you would never do that”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you for a second.

“…yeah,” he mutters finally, quieter, “no. i wouldn’t”

you grin like you’ve just won something then immediately get distracted by your own hand.

“…my fingers feel fake”

you wiggle them in front of your face, completely fascinated

“‘kuna… look”

“i see them”

“no like… look”

you grab his face this time, turning it toward your hand and he lets you.

because apparently this is his life now

“…they’re moving when i tell them to,” you whisper, awestruck

“that’s usually how it works”

“that’s crazy”

he huffs out a laugh through his nose shaking his head.

“…don’t go anywhere” you mumble

his expression shifts again. softens, just slightly “not going anywhere,” he mutters

you hum, satisfied. then after a second, “…‘kuna?”

“what.”

“…if i was a dog…”

he already looks tired “no”

“just listen”

he sighs “…fine. what”

you look up at him, dead serious again “…would you adopt me?”

there’s a pause. then he actually laughs. low, surprised, real “you’re so fucking stupid,” he mutters, shaking his head but his hand comes up anyway, brushing your hair back from your face. gentler than his words.

“…yeah,” he says after a second “i would”

you beam like that’s the best answer you could’ve gotten then immediately tuck your face back into his chest completely content.

and sukuna just sits there one arm around you, hand absently rubbing slow circles into your back, waiting it out, making sure you’re okay, even if you’re the most ridiculous thing he’s ever had to deal with.

[bluukive-deactivated20260523]

🍰 MDNI ⋮ it's your birthday, so have some cake.ᐟ ft. Sukuna

Posting this a week before my birthday hehe

It was your birthday — the one time of the year Sukuna was just about willing to indulge in your more . . . scandalous desires.

The light was dim, sun already having set as you cracked the door to your shared bedroom. There he was in all his naked glory, causing you to freeze on the spot.

In no way, shape, or form was he willing to be caught im such a compromising position, but there he was — the King of Curses, face down and ass up on your king-sized bed. All four of his muscular arms braced themselves on the silken bedsheets, crumpling them under his fists.

But what caught your attention was his ass, facing you and bare — save for the generous lathering of thick, white frosting that coated both blocky cheeks. Rainbow sprinkles decorated the tanned skin, sliding down between his crack where a flicker of something caught your eye.

A lit candle burning steadily, half nestled inside his puckering asshole.

Underneath Sukuna, twitching against his firm stomach were two cocks — treacherously erect and smearing rivulets of sheer precum.

". . . holy shit, Ryo?"

Silence.

Sukuna didn't look back, choosing to let out a mildly agitated grunt through his nose instead.

"As late as you usually are," he barked, cocks giving you another violent throb. "And I do not want to hear a single gasp from that smart arse mouth of yours. Act surprised all you want, little bird — but you are the one who suggested I 'give you a different sort of cake' instead."

A stifled laugh burst from between the thin, tightly pressed line of your lips.

Only then did Sukuna turn around to scowl at you, anus twitching as the candle continued to burn. His legs had been situated in a wide stance so that he did not get burned, allowing his asscheeks to part without his hands.

"God, you actually did it?" You laughed breathlessly, shutting the door behind you. "Can't wait to dig in—"

"Do not mention his name around me. Stop the dramatics before this candle ends up in your damned mouth."

You let out a non-committal noise, ignoring the threat and kneeling onto the ground instead. Sukuna felt it — your breath hot against the sweet mess on his ass. Your finger joined in, dragging through the frosting in a slow movement that made his cheeks tense up.

Once you had gathered a generous helping of the sugary frosting, you popped your digit into your mouth and sucked languidly — eyes lidding at the taste coating your tongue.

Vanilla, which was your favourite. But there was an underlying saltiness from Sukuna's skin that had your stomach twisting in arousal.

"Oh, yeaaah. That's the stuff," you sighed, leaning forward to eye the candle. "Are you gonna let me make a wish?"

"Do it swiftly, and I may decide to spare your life," he snarled, bucking his ass back onto your face.

And so you screwed your eyes shut, hand clasped before you as you muttered your wish.

"If anyone is listening out there, please make Sukuna change his mind and embrace the tender art of pegging."

"Fat fucking chance—"

And then you blew out the candle.

The flame died, emitting a faint puff of smoke that curled into nothing. The second he felt your blow against him, Sukuna groaned. You watched as his asshole clenched again, almost refusing to let go of the candle.

Before he could get a word in however, Sukuna felt your tongue press against one ass cheek.

It flattened despite his protests, licking a fat stripe from top to bottom and gathering a healthy amount of sprinkled frosting into your mouth.

"Oh, you filthy—"

Gulp.

You swallowed the mix, throat bobbing as two fingers plucked the candle out of your husband's hole with a wet pop.

And even though Sukuna had kicked a bulky leg out in reflex, he let you chase the string of wetness connecting his hole to the candle with your lips and suck at his sweetened rim and clean off any stray sprinkles.

Both of his cocks leaked incessantly, dampening the sheets below. The puddle grew steadily, smearing when Sukuna rutted his hips down onto the bed. They bobbed almost painfully with each stroke of your tongue digging in — heads throbbing into a deep plum shade ready to erupt.

"Mm— seems like you're enjoying this more than I am," you panted, breaking away momentarily. You narrowed your eyes in focus, lower lip caught under your teeth as you wedged one finger deep inside, the digit curling upwards.

"Didn't know you were such a slut for having your ass played with."

It was with the combined stimulation aimed carefully at his prostate and your filthy words that Sukuna finally burst.

His full set of balls heaved, both cocks spurting out thick ropes of cum in tandem. His release stuttered out, painting both the sheets and the mouth on his stomach — which seemed to have a mind of its own and let its tongue dart out to taste the mess.

"Look at that hole," you cooed, watching it clenched over 'n over around nothing as you kept licking. "Are you really trying to drag me back inside?"

Sukuna could do nothing but shake pathetically, rasping out unintelligible curses as your tongue softly traced the wrinkled shape of his anus — ridding it of any excess frosting.

It took a while for the last of the aftershocks of Sukuna's orgasm to pass, but once it did, he collapsed onto both forearms before settling onto the mattress completely. His sweaty forehead met the bedsheets, chest heaving out strangled puffs of air.

"And now to sing Happy Birthday," you announced, clearing your throat and wiping your mouth clean with the back of your hand. The grin didn't leave you as you took in the aftermath of your filthy ministrations. "Ryo?"

"You . . . you are sick and twisted."

"And yet you'd do this again in a heartbeat," you shrugged, gearing up to bellow out the song.

"Silence, brat."

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

fratboy!nanami who constantly gets overlooked by his frat brothers. so, he fucks the girl everyone wants to prove he's more than just a square ˙⋆✮ smut, exobitionism (?)

fratboy!nanami was, for lack of better terms, a stickler. there was a reason he was the vice president of phi delta theta after all. he was astute, well mannered, harsh when needed, and overall a very well put together man. but, vicing a rowdy president like gojo left little time to himself where he wasn’t cleaning up a mess satoru had made.

as a result, the blonde had little to no time to fully engage in the... college experience. 

kento wasn’t bothered by this fact, to be honest, he liked the work that came with the frat. he was well respected, had a purpose, and had a certain amount of control in his environment, exactly how he liked it. 

but, on nights where his brothers would get on the piss and become a little too bold, the incessant teasing would begin. 

toji had kicked it off this time, “ken, when th’ fuck are you gonna get laid?” the inquiry caused an onslaught of laughter and consistent goading. 

“yeah, maybe some pussy’d help with that stick up yr’ ass,” sukuna huffed out, taking a hit of the cone circling round’ the room. 

“leave him aloneee,” gojo added on, flopping down onto the couch and swinging an arm over nanami’s bulky shoulders, “let the poor man be celibate, he’s got other shit to worry about.” 

“yeah? like all the fuck-ups you cause for everyone else when you’re on one of your little power trips?” suguru piped up. 

“shut up.” the blue-eyed freak spat back. 

nanami would just roll those pretty hazel eyes and take a swig of his drink, telling them all to fuck off before ignoring any further digs. 

he wasn’t a virgin or anything, like i said, he was just busy. he’d had a fair few girls before he sold his soul to the house, it’d just been a while! that’s all. he told himself he didn’t give a shit, but then the boys did it again. and again, and again, and again. 

after around the sixth time, the man had enough. 

he was gonna get laid alright, and he was gonna leave a lasting impression on all of his fuckwit friends. 

kento had the perfect plan cooking up in his head. out of everyone on campus, he knew there was only one person he could ask to carry said plan out with, and that was you. 

you were very well known among the frats. not for being a notorious slut or anything, no way, the complete opposite actually. you were hot shit, on track for an equitable future, the embodiment of look but don’t touch, a certified man-hating pillar. you never gave any guy the time of day, always choosing to hang with your friends at parties rather than give a male the satisfaction of your company. 

you had one exception, though. and that was nanami. 

he was your partner in one of your classes last year and he treated you with nothing less than respect. not once did he try to flirt or play around like most guys did, he just kept his head down, made normal conversation, and used his manners. 

god, why couldn’t all guys be like nanami? 

it wasn't much of a secret that you’d formed a little crush on the man, and if you weren’t mistaken, you’d say he liked you too after all the flirty conversation you’d exchanged since the project.  but then again, the whole 'busy' thing. a little annoying that the first guy you’d had a proper crush on was always too busy being big and important at his frat, but you could deal with it. 

nanami was worth it. 

anyway, long story short, he was the only guy who had the privilege of being in your contact list on campus, and that warranted a lot of back-and-forth conversation. 

nanami smiled at the last chat you’d had about hating gojo, then sent the message that would start everything off. 

kento [7:38pm] evening, [name]. i hope you’re doing well. 

kento [7:38pm] i was wondering if we could meet up and talk sometime soon? 

you [7:42pm] kento! 

you [7:42pm] hiii :) 

you [7:42pm] ofc, tell me when and where and i’m there 

kento [7:45pm] perfect, does right now and my room sound okay? i’m sorry, i know it’s such short notice. 

you [7:45pm] mhmmm that’s fine 

you [7:45pm] omw! 

now it wasn’t like kento was using you, no chance in hell. this wasn’t a one-sided scheme, he too had had a crush on you for quite some time and he knew you liked him as well. in fact, the two of you had frequently spoken about how your joint lack of sex weighed heavier on the both of you than you’d liked to admit. 

“y’know, ken. if you ever wanted to indulge, i'd be happy to help.” 

“how generous, most men would kill to hear you say that,” 

“what can i say, you’re pretty special to me.” 

“we’ll see, angel.” 

well, this was him seeing. 

~ 

“ken, y’ in there?” nanami heard drift from the other side of his door, followed by three short knocks. 

he instantly shot up, straightened out his shirt, then strolled up and opened his heavy wooden door. 

“evening, glad you could make it.” he smiles softly, taking all of you in with lidded eyes. 

“anything for you.” you teased half heartedly, oblivious to the effect that little quirk had on his now throbbing cock. 

he closes the door behind you, then ushers you to sit beside him on his bed. 

“well, don’t you look lovely. i hope the guys didn’t give you too much trouble on the way up here? i should have met you downstairs, my bad.” 

taking a loose thread from your shirt and twirling it around your finger, you smile and reply fondly. “they weren’t too bad. just told them we needed to study and they left me alone. and it’s no issue, i was the early one.” 

nanami smiled at your unusually formal reply. very different from your regular laid back demeanour, he could tell you were a little nervous. 

“you’re probably wondering why i asked you over so late?” 

“mhm, what's that about? y' need something?” 

yeah, you. 

he shook his head and turned to face you completely. “you remember that talk we had last summer? how we chatted about—” 

“—about our sex lives? or... lack thereof.” 

he's taken aback at how readily that slipped from your lips, like you were just waiting for this to come up.

“yes, well... exactly.” he clears his throat and curls his pointer finger around your pinky that lays rested against his bed sheets, sending a flush of heat to both your face and lower stomach. 

“now, what i'm about to ask is going to sound terribly douchey, but i'd like if you were to hear me out...” he looks up at you to see you nodding along with an intrigued little glint behind your eyes. “the guy’s have been especially irritating as of late about how little action i get, and it’s getting on my nerves.”

he sighs in pure embarrassment from how horrible this was about to come off, “i was wondering if you’d be open to—” 

“yes!” 

nanami looks a little shocked at how you cut him off once again, staring at you with an air of surprise. 

“i mean, yes.” you say a tad calmer. “yes, i wanna do it, with you... now.” 

the once stoic man finds it hard to suppress his enjoyment and lets go of a soft laugh. 

“eager, i see.” 

“you could say that.” 

well, that was easy.

“so, you don’t mind if i...” his hand slips up your arm, pulling you closer to his body with a low, sly smirk. seeing him in this light did nothing to aid the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach, and you nod feverishly. 

“please...” 

the reaction is instant, he leans in and gently takes your lips in a deep, slow kiss. nanami allows you to set the speed, starting out nice and slow, but for you that wasn't enough, you’d spent too long needing this man for this to be anything but fast-paced and passionate. 

you bite at his bottom lip as you slip into his lap, earning a guttural moan deep from the man’s throat. both his thick thighs and iron grip on your waist made for a nice seat as you begin to rock your hips back and forth against his hard, clothed cock. your tongues dance together as he keeps one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, guiding your face towards him as he desperately deepens the kiss. 

you pull away for air then drag your hand up his shirt, feeling his firm chest and solid stomach. “you’re built...” 

“surprised?” he quirks a brow, running his hands up and down your sides purposefully. 

“guess not... i wanna see.” you gently tug the bottom of the shirt then reach for the hem and pull it over his head. rippling abs and lines of thick muscles come into view, and you hold your breath in astonishment at the sheer amount of muscle mass. you’re completely awestruck at his build, his reddening chest rising and falling heavily as he struggles against his arousal. his entire torso was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his abs twitch as you follow the center crevice down. 

“you’re so hot, my god...” you breathe, any other guy would solicit no more than an impressed nod. but nanami? his ego deserved to be stroked. 

“thank you, angel.” he grins. “now let’s get these off.” he slips one hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, tugging you higher on his lap with the other arm to create enough room for him to yank them off. with one less layer of fabric, the pressure of his dick now felt all but too much to handle as he continued to explore your mouth with his tongue. your previous grinding movements started to slow from the new intensity, you were scared you’d finish right then if you were to keep going. but just then, nanami pulls away for a second, his hands now on your hips as he manually begins to pull you down harder. 

“keep grinding, baby. you can do it.” 

he's acting all smooth and suave, but deep down? he’s beside himself that he managed to capture your attention. out of all the men thirsting over you, you’d chosen him. he wasn’t particularly flashy or especially funny, yet you’d decided to entertain him when so many others would kill to be in his position. 

by now you’re letting the filthiest of sounds pour from your lips into his open mouth as your clothed clit bumps against his concealed cock over and over again. you try your best to conceal your sounds, but he pulls back to tease you a little, his cheeks flushed red as he smiles. “don’t hide those pretty whines, baby. i want them to hear.” 

he then hoists you up, flips you over, and climbs over you, pinning your arms over your head as he overtakes your lips. as he grinds, you free a hand, but he catches it and guides it to the front of his jeans, placing your fingers against his fastened belt. “go on, sweetheart.” 

between breathless kisses you undo the leather and slide it out and onto the floor. you take your time teasing and unzipping his jeans and he moans lowly when your hand curls around his semi-freed cock, gently smoothing over his boxers. 

“fuck, that feels s’ good.” he slurs, latching onto your neck and rocking his hips up and into the palm of your hand. 

you bite your lip as he begins to litter hickeys over your neck, you slip your fingers into his underwear and cup your hand over the shaft, stroking up and down before pressing your thumb into his dripping tip. he whimpered against your lips, cock twitching and hips jerking uncontrollably. 

he makes sure to make a show of it. there was no movie playing downstairs, nor were the speakers blasting bad rap, so the house was perfectly in order to be subjected to both his, and your thirsty sounds. 

he'd make sure every one of those assholes could get a good idea of just how much he could get if he really wanted. 

nanami grabs your wrist, panting heavily. leaning his head against your shoulder, he places soft kisses on your neck, working up to your ear before tugging your shirt off along with your pretty, red, lacy bra. 

fuck, he’d never been harder than he was right now, you really had it over him. 

“a matching set, hm? you hoped tonight would end up like this?” 

you flush, embarrassed that he’d caught on to your presumption of this happening. “a little...” 

“what a naughty thing.” he laughs. “i’ll show you just how thankful i am to you, baby. you deserve to be treated like an angel.” he unclips the bra, then cups one of your breasts and squeezes gently, huffing out an appreciative sigh as he dips down to take the nipple into his mouth. 

“fuck—!” you whine, your own hips jerking and grinding up into nothing at the delicious sensation. 

he rolls the soft bud between his teeth softly, then two thick fingers trail down your stomach and into your panties, tugging them off before rubbing your clit in circular movements, dj-ing the bundle of nerves until you’re whining and writhing beneath him like a woman possessed. 

“ken—! fuck, i can’t, i can’t! fuck, i need you!” 

pulling off with a ‘pop!’, he grins at your now bare body, slipping his fingers between your soaked folds before tugging off his boxers and freeing the monster of a cock you’d only felt up until now. he pumps the shaft a few times before slapping the tip against your clit. 

you lay there, entranced. “oh my... you’re fucking massive.” 

“yeah?” he grins, letting go and cupping your face tenderly. “think you can take it, baby?” he asks genuinely, searching your eyes for any sense of hesitation. “we can stop at any point, okay? just tap me three times and i'll stop, promise.” 

you only gulp in reply, staring at the thing nervously before opening up your legs fully, your sweet spot on full display for him. 

“be gentle...” 

“of course, love.” 

with one arm beside your head and the other on his cock, the muscular man lines up, then pushes slowly into your sopping cunt with a, “fuuuckk.” 

you huff out a whine, squeezing your eyes shut, trying your best to accommodate for his big size. 

“holy shit! ken— i— fuck—” you’re already a blabbering mess and he’s not even halfway in, adorable, really. 

kento smiles as he draws such pretty noises from your throat, thrusting in a little faster to see just how loud he can make you scream. 

“kento! you're so fucking big, shit!” 

he hopes everyone hears that. 

“almost there, honey. keep your hips still, i'm almost— fuck!—” with one final pull, he’s bottomed out, your stomach bulging from his size. 

“god, ken! move, please move. need you.” you groan, gripping the sheets with balled fists, in complete and utter ecstasy from the full feeling, 

he listens, rocking his hips back and forth. he goes tantalisingly slow at first, then speeds up as your whines grow desperate, 

“more, please, go faster ken!” 

he pounds into you relentlessly. sure, it’d been a while since he’d done this, but he couldn’t let himself be anything less than perfect for you, because in his eyes, you were perfection. 

with each thrust he’s drawing you closer and closer, each dirty word coiling you up tighter and tighter, until finally, 

“o-oh! kento, i think m’ gonna— i think i'm gonna—” 

and with one final thrust, you’ve come undone all over the man’s cock. he rocks into you a few times with nasty grunts before coming himself, thick ropes of seed painting your insides, the warmth sending your brain into overdrive. 

he keeps still for a good while after it all, panting heavily with his weight pressed over you, his forehead dipped down near your collarbone. 

his thumbs drag over your waist gently as you both calm, huffing and shaking with pleasure. 

“shit,” he whispers into your ear, “you were fucking amazing.” he laughs, tired. 

you let out this small, stupid laugh, “so were you, kento.” 

he smiles and brushes a soft kiss to your temple before finally pushing himself up, “you all good?” he asks gently. 

you nod, then realise how intently he'd looking at you, waiting for an answer. “m’ good. really good.” you grin. 

that gets another one of those small smiles. “good, let me clean you up, angel.” 

he disappears off the bed for a second, grabbing something from his drawer, then comes back with a warm, damp cloth. “open your legs f’ me.” you obey and he wipes away the mess he’d left behind tenderly. to think, the same guy who had you pinned down on his cock just minutes ago, now taking his time making sure you’re clean and comfortable 

“ken,” you say, softer now. 

“hm?” 

“that was… really nice.” 

he stills for half a second, then resumes. “yeah?” 

“yeah.” 

he glances up at you then, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to figure out if you’re just saying it, but you’re not. 

“i was worried this’d be…” he trails off, “i dunno.” 

“what, bad?” you snort. 

“no,” he says quickly, “just… not this.” 

you tilt your head. “you mean not… us?” 

he doesn’t answer, he finishes what he’s doing, sets the cloth aside, then leans back on his hands looking at you. 

“i guess so, yeah,” he admits. “wasn’t sure you’d even say yes.” 

“yeah, well... i liked it being us. and i’d like it to be us again, if you catch my drift.” 

“me too,” he smiles, kissing your forehead once more. 

you scoot closer to the man and rest your head against his arm. “we could’ve done that ages ago.” 

he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. “i know, and i wish we did.” 

“we’re so dumb.” 

“mhm.” 

you smile, nudging him. “you like me.” you tease. 

he looks down at you, then away with a flush on his cheek. 

“and you like me.” he replies. 

“i do.” 

“so what now?” he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes. 

“well... i like you, and you like me... normally this is where people start seeing each other.” 

“well, i’d love to start ‘seeing’ you, [name].” 

your brow quirks. “yeah?” 

“i mean it,” he says, more serious now. “this isn’t just me proving something to those assholes. i really like you, sweetheart.” 

you blush gently, then reply, “good. because i really like you too, i’d be a little pissed if this was just to get back at them.” 

“two things can exist at once.” his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining together. 

after a good two hours of talking about what this meant for the two of you, nanami dressed you, fed you, and walked you to your car outside the frat at around 2am. 

“text me when you get home,” he says. 

“yes, dad.” 

“i’m serious.” 

“i know,” you grin. “i will.” 

you lean in and plant a quick kiss to his cheek, then slip into your car. 

~ 

the next morning, nanami’s standing in the kitchen making avocado toast with a big old smile on his usually stoic face. 

as he’s spreading the avo across the bread, one by one, his frat brothers trudge down the stairs. they yawn and stretch as they stalk towards the kitchen. 

“morning,” nanami calls over his shoulder. 

no one really answers him properly, so he glances over his shoulder. 

gojo, suguru, toji, sukuna. they’re all just standing there, looking at him like they’ve seen a ghost. a tall, muscular, post-sex glow ghost. 

he furrows his brows in faux confusion. “what?” 

gojo’s the first to break. “so...” 

nanami sighs. “so?..” 

“did you—” suguru starts, then cuts himself off, “did you... and [name]… like, fuck?” 

nanami turns back to his toast and cuts off his crusts. “yes.” 

... 

toji lets out a low whistle. “no way.” 

“way,” nanami replies dryly. 

sukuna leans against the counter. “you’re serious?” 

“i don’t make a habit of lying.” 

the men are still awkwardly quiet, then gojo steps forward, grin creeping back onto his face, but for once, this time, it’s not mocking. 

“y’ sounded pretty passionate last night. real cozy, you guys a thing now?” 

“yep.” 

toji walks up and claps him on the shoulder. “didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“clearly,” nanami mutters. 

suguru smirks. “she’s hot as hell, man.” 

nanami doesn’t respond to that, just takes a sip of his black coffee. 

sukuna gives a short nod. “you're real lucky.” 

“i know.” 

and there it is. silence. no digs at his lacking sex life, no jokes about his dry dick, and no incessant teasing. 

god, is this heaven? 

gojo stands by nanami’s side, then sticks his hand out. “good job, man.” 

nanami looks at it for a second, then takes it. 

one by one, they follow with quick daps and nods of approval, like some unspoken ‘bully the fuck out of nanami’ rule just got rewritten. 

and then they’re moving on, grabbing food, talking about anything else and finally leaving him alone at the counter. 

nanami exhales slowly, staring down at his plate. 

bliss. no more comments, no more pressure, absolutely nothing left for them to hold over him. 

and yet, that’s not even the best part. 

he reaches for his phone, smiling fondly as he types you out a message. 

kento [8:12am] good morning, angel. did you have a nice sleep? 

you [8:12am] best sleep of my life.

kento [8:12am] i'm glad. could i come over tonight?

A/N was motivated to write this req for wifey @fricks, and co-creators @blu-goingdark and @/kiwiladylaurence (silly girl won't give me her @) helped me with an idea uwu so sugoii

© 2026 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.

[kill3ill]

if anyone else did the shit you did to ryomen, they would've been beat up a long time ago. and that's letting them off easy.

but he has to adopt patience when he's with you because you're his girlfriend and he can't - and doesn't want to - get angry at you. but you really test him sometimes.

because right now you're standing in the club you begged him for days to go to, pulling away from him when you'd just been dancing together and looking up at him. you're already starting with that little pout, flingers curling around his wrist. fuck's sake, he already knows it's going to be some bullshit. he leans down into your face so he can hear what you're about to say over the loud music, and you wrap your arm around him so you can tell him; "kuna, my feet hurt."

he glares at you unimpressed, looking at your wide, glassy eyes as you wait for a response. you're making that pitiful face like you didn't just ignore him an hour ago when he told you - clearly, and slowly, to bring a second pair of shoes or to just wear low heels.

"...what did i tell you before we left?" his voice is low and flat.

you blink up at him slowly, already pushing your luck by giving him that big, dumb doe eyed look. "to bring... something?" you try weakly.

ryomen's tongue presses hard into his cheek. he exhales through his nose, long and controlled, to actively stop himself from snapping. "a spare pair. of shoes."

your shoulders hunch a bit, but instead of reeling back, you cling to him tighter and press your soft body against his arm, hoping your charm will disarm him. and it usually does, which is the problem. "i forgot," you say, dragging your fingers up his arm. ryomen looks down at where you're touching him, then back at your infuriatingly precious face.

"yes, that seems to be a recurring issue with you." he shakes his head at you and scoops you up into his arms without asking, back to the coat racks up front where he brought a spare pair of shoes for you and a waterbottle in case you fussed about being thirsty too. it'll help since he doesn't like waiting in line at the bar for some tap water when he can get you water from home immediately.

your eyes light up when you see he brought your much more comfy heels for you, and you squeal and press a big kiss to his lips, to which he grunts and returns reluctantly, placing his big hands on your hips and swatting your ass lightly, pulling off your mouth with a wet sound. "you're welcome, brat." he says, bending down and helping you put them on.

"but next time," he says, "you listen to me."

you hum, not fully paying attention again as you watch his big hands wrap around your foot to slide on your shoes for you and do up the straps. he returns to his full height once he's done, lifting a brow to indicate that he wants you to acknowledge what he said. "yeah, i will kuna." you chirp, dragging him back to the dance floor.

he knows damn well you didn't listen to a word he just said.

you're dancing again, having fun and not being a nuisance for once, and he's having fun feeling you up and grinding against you from behind and dancing against you, even if this isn't normally how he likes to spend his friday night.

then.

"i'm thirsty."

sukuna stops, looking down at you as you turn around to face him. you had a chance to drink the water he brought while you were putting on shoes, but you didn't. he's about to ask you if you want him to go get it, but instead, "can you go get me one of those sweet margaritas?" you ask, batting your lashes at him. "please, they're my favorite."

he nods and rolls his eyes, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the bar so he can order your drink for you. he lets you tell the bartender what you want and lets go of you for one second to get out his card to pay, and notices about thirty seconds later that you're gone, halfway across the room and talking to some random group of people.

did you forget he exists? he growls and tells the bartender to hold your drink for a minute while he goes right up to where you're laughing loudly and letting some strange man put his arm around you. he pulls you back to him. "what'd i tell you about sticking with me, hm?"

you blink up at him, startled, then soften immediately when you realize it's him. "i was just talking-"

"i didn't ask what you were doing."

your mouth presses into a small pout as you plan to get defensive again, but it doesn't last long because you're already distracted again. "what happened to my drink?"

ryomen rolls his eyes at your audacity, sick and tired of all the random thoughts going through your brain. he loops his fingers through yours tightly and leads you straight for the bathrooms, taking you into an empty stall, locking it, and picking you up and hoisting you against the wall.

"you don't listen." he hisses as you yelp and wrap your limbs around him, immediately excited by where this is going. but you don't show that you're exactly where you want to be right now or he won't go through with it. "to what?" you stare at him, to which he scowls deeply and unbuckles his belt angrily with one hand and pulling down his underwear. then he pushes your flimsy panties to the side and lines himself up.

he pushes inside you slowly, bottoming out after slowly lowering you onto his thick, hard cock that'd gotten all swollen from you rubbing up against it in that little dress of yours. "stupid girl." he hisses, slowly starting to fuck you on his cock against the wall. he's tired of you being so clueless and lost and confused all the time, and now he's going to fuck some sense into you.

ryomen hikes your legs up a little higher, changing the angle of your thrusts so he can drive as deep as possible into your messy pussy each time. the new position has him hitting that spongey spot deep inside you over and over, causing you to clamp your velvelty walls around him, your arms, legs, and cunt squeezing around him the harder he fucks into you.

"every time i take you out, it's like your brain stops functioning." he hisses in your ear over the dull sound of music resounding through the bathroom. you moan, staring up into your eyes as he looks back into yours while fucking you. "all i do is look after you while you can't even look after yourself. it's like you need me to function, hm?" he says, his voice a perfect mix of condescending and sweet.

you moan, hands tangling in his soft pink hair and pulling lightly when he goes particularly deep inside you after drawing back. he repeats the motion just to get a rise out of you, dragging his hips back until only his thick tip is left inside - notched at your puffy hole - before slamming back in to the hilt and watching your tits bounce in your little dress.

he can feel his release building, his balls drawing up tight, ready to paint your insides white with his thick seed. "you gonna start listening to me, brat? or will i have to keep fucking you till your head's screwed on straight?"

"i'll listen, kuna! i hngh- promise!" you cry out, juices trickling out of your puffy pussy as he keeps ramming into you. you feel yourself clamp down around him again as your pussy flutters around his cock, your orgasm crashing over you.

he grunts and presses his body forward, pushing as deep inside you as possible and cumming inside you, his cock pulsing and his balls pressed flush to the curve of your ass, twitching as they empty inside you, filling you with his load.

see more in my jjk masterlist

see more in my main masterlist

[iridescence-posts]

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ bf!megumi has a weird habit of putting his finger/s in your mouth when you cuddle . . .

ೃ aged!up megumi x fem!reader, suggestive fluff

both you and megumi are scrolling on your phones quietly. you’re laying your head on his chest with one of his hands hanging loosely around your neck, grazing your pulse point with his thumb.

his large, calloused hand moves to cradle your face gently and you shuffle slightly closer, hooking one of your legs over his. megumis finger strokes your cheek softly and slowly moves to press against your lips.

this has happened so many times now that you know the drill. you part your lips and he pushes his index finger past them.

the palm of his hand rests against your cheek as he moves his fingertip over the ridges in the gum above your teeth and the smooth inside of your cheek.

“meg-umi” you manage to squeak out around his finger “wh-yy do you do tha-t??” you ask, slightly muffled. he pulls his finger out of your mouth momentarily and he speaks lowly, glancing at you under his phone “do i have to have a reason?” he mumbles and looks back at his screen.

“no but-“ he pushes his finger back into your mouth before you can reply properly, absentmindedly rubbing his finger against your teeth and the wet inside of your cheek.

you grumble incoherently around his finger and he murmurs deeply “quit squirming.”, pushing the pad of his digit past your teeth and against your tongue.

you cough slightly and protest weakly “mm-mm!”. he reluctantly removes his finger and scoffs, wiping your salvia on his hoodie.

you lift your head off his chest and sit up to face him “why are you obsessed with my mouth, weirdo” you huff and give him a look.

his eyes dart to the side, a slight pink tint crawling over his cheeks which contrasts his previous snarky attitude “i don’t have an obsession.. and there’s no reason...”

you raise an eyebrow suspiciously and decide to question him until he gives you a proper answer. so after a long string of “come onnn tell me”, “i won’t judge you”, “i know there’s a reason”, and finally “stop being such a wuss” (which was what made him give in) he tells you..

“fine- jesus you’re such a pest…” he exhales deeply.

you shoot him an expectant look and he rolls his eyes whilst avoiding your gaze, “yknow what they say about the tissue in the mouth…”

you stare at him blankly for a moment “no. i’m not familiar, what do ‘they’ say about mouth tissue?”

he keeps his eyes fixated on a random patch of the carpet, running his fingers through his spiky hair.

“apparently it’s the same as the tissue in your… pussy” he mumbles almost inaudibly as if he didn’t want you to hear and his face blushes furiously.

your eyes widen slightly as you blurt “gumi you’re such a freak-!” and he rubs his hand over his face in hope that he’d disappear “you said you wouldn’t judge…” he groans and peers at you through his fingers.

you pause then break the silence with a small giggle and reach out to take his hand away from his face, interlocking your fingers with his.

“why don’t you just stop being a nerd and touch the real thing?”

A/N ; i’m new to the game i know this is ass

[spideyyeet]

➷ FRATKUNA NEVER NOTICED YOUR OVULATION…UNTIL YOU GET HANDSY WITH HIM IN THE POOL [FWB]

[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. NSFW. fwb. piv. raw. OVULATION. needy reader. EXHIBITIONISM. creampie. PUBLIC SEX. spanking. POSSESSIVE SUKUNA. CAUGHT. spitting. slight degradation. DUMBIFICATION. slight angsttt. dacryphilia. fingering. scent kink. overstim. wc: 14.6k

sukuna knows women. he knows how to please them. how to make them moan, whine, cry. but knowing how to please a woman doesn’t mean he knows women. aka a woman’s cycle. in simple terms, sukuna has mainly grown up with men, his gramps, his brothers, toji — all he knows is a girl has a period, but he has never bothered to stay with a girl long enough to actually address her period.

well until his fuck buddy, you, open your door for him.

his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you towards his chest, lips locking with yours in moments. “Mmm,” he groans, tongue pushing past your lips, just to feel you press a hand to his chest. your lips break, air filling his lungs in disdain, eyes narrowing at you for pushing him away.

“you didn’t text me, dude,” you say, letting him pull away to drop his backbag on the floor, plastic bag in hand as he kicks his shoes off.

“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.

you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.

“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“

you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“

“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“

“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”

….

a silent beat passes.

then.

FUCK!

sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.

you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.

“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.

“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.

“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.

you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.

you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—

“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.

your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.

that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.

it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.

that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.

but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.

this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…

and yet, you won’t stop moving!

at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.

“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.

“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”

his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!

“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.

however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.

what’s going on?

“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.

your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”

“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”

sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.

his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.

usually when your friends stop by to ramble you have the curiosity to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—

“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.

finally, some peace and quiet in the library.

…shift…

well, it could only last so long.

his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—

tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?

sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…

“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.

“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.

his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…

he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.

what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!

it didn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.

“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.

his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”

you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—

“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.

“huh?”

sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.

your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…

“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words that you here before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”

“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.

“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“

“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—

“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”

your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”

the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it was the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…

but he blinked. once. twice—

“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—

“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.

by now, he knows that look.

you wanna fuck.

“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”

he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“

“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”

shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?

“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”

your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.

“what’s different about today?”

he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—

“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.

his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”

your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.

his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”

you nod, immediately.

he doesn’t wait.

two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.

“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“

but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?

“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.

your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”

fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.

"ry—aa-haah!"

shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"

"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"

unbelievable.

and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.

“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”

he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”

“you okay with how we fucked?”

you don’t blink, “yeah.”

yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.

all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.

the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.

sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.

he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon like it was made for you. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.

he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.

nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”

sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together when he doesn’t have all the pieces yet. “it’s not random.”

nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”

sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”

nanami raises a brow. “into what.”

sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.

nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”

“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”

“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”

there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”

nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”

sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”

nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”

sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“

nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.

“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.

geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey! the love of god,” he mutters, loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time.”

gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”

sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.

“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he crack his neck.

“you wish,” gojo shoots back.

people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.

and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, like something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.

sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.

your clit throbs.

“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”

you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.

the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.

his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.

something about that makes his brow twitch.

because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked, heavy, almost… expectant.

it lingers a second too long. then—

“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten— no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking!”

“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.

sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.

the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls moved out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.

gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.

and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a drunk frat game.

“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.

“gojo! spike that shit!”

water slaps against tile. everything is moving fast, bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts. but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun, messy, loud, and heated.

and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.

sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.

a winning point. a cheer explodes. and when he lands, water dripping down his shoulders, he glances at you, canines on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.

something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.

on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.

but sukuna, is too locked into the game to notice.

the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.

you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you wanted to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—

your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving like a blur that you don’t focus on another moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.

your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.

“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“

your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.

it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.

even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”

sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.

“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…

the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.

sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.

you’re suddenly ripped away.

“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.

“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”

“LET’S GO!”

“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…

something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.

“damn!”

sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.

the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”

he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.

“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.

sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”

the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”

“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.

the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.

“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.

“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.

you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.

“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.

gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”

people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…

“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.

sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.

the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.

sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.

you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.

utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.

and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.

it irritates him, fast.

sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.

his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.

the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.

“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.

utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.

“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .

your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.

“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.

“oh my god I remember!”

your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”

sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.

gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.

and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.

but people are looking. they always are now.

they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.

he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.

you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.

and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.

his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.

“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”

utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”

“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”

a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”

you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”

sukuna catches it.

the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,

by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.

sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”

they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.

gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”

and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.

“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.

“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.

you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.

“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.

“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“

“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”

gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.

sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.

you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.

“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.

sukuna tenses. breath hitching.

his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.

“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.

“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“

“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”

his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?

you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.

it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.

“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.

to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.

“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.

“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.

he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.

“yeah baby.”

a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tube’s edge.

“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”

unbelievable.

sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.

“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.

“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”

your brain short circuits. face burning hot.

“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tube water touch your heated pussy.

“you’re gettin on top of me—“

“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.

“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”

you blink. once.

sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”

ah fuck.

“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.

you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”

his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”

“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.

your flush with embarrassment, lips batting as your eyes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”

unbelievable.

his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.

as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!

“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.

fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.

gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”

geto elbows him. “idiot!”

gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.

“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.

“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.

a beat passes.

then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”

“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“

“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”

geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”

gojo nods, “yeah…”

your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.

his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.

you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”

“and?”

your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“

“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.

you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.

your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”

your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately rush the heat down into his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.

sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now rubbing you’re humping his cock like you can even feel something with the water’s friction.

all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.

“shit.”

you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”

your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.

but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the you can’t even stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.

“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.

you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.

his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.

you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”

that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.

“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away with panting at him through glossy lidded eyes.

and then sukuna notices.

the shift.

your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.

his grip tightens instinctively.

your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.

“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change his cock twitching uncontrollably.

your brows pinch, then your body tenses, then softens, like a wave hitting and pulling back all at once. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.

and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. because now he knows. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes—like something wired wrong in his brain just flipped on. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—

absolutely the fuck not.

but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.

and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfied settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.

“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”

his lips ghost over you.

then he feels it…the eyes.

his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they. witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.

“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”

his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.

“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.

“no.”

his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.

“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips for yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”

fuck, you’re insane.

“…my hands…my lips….or my tight, pretty pussy….”

sukuna snorts, eyes meeting yours. “unbiased much.”

you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”

that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

and people notice.

of course they do.

your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it almost burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”

“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.

your stomach twists. uncomfortable. sharp. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you no claim, no say, no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and it’s like they’re in on something they’re not supposed to be. they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.

your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.

your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.

“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.

sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”

“people are staring,” you grit.

your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.

“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.

his head tips back in defeat.

unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.

“can you walk faster,” you mutter.

sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.

“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer. closer. until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you.

hard.

it’s sudden. messy. all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.

and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are pockets, small ones, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.

but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.

he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.

“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist like he’s grounding himself. “you taste so good.”

your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.

“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”

there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follow inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.

and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.

“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discard them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“

your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.

“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as the slick that lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”

“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.

the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”

fuck you. seriously.

his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.

his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.

“look like a fuckin’ porn star in top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing yours tits. “fucking brat—“

his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.

it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…

“cu—uh—cum.”

an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.

“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”

“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.

“you can keep going?”

you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.

“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.

you mewl against his lips, earning a hard spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he doesn’t that for god know how long, and when you finally spasm around his digits, he’s flipping you over and easily getting on top.

“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out. he must know his voice’s affects on you.

you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your pussy. “what dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.

“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over these last two days.

he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“

“hot tub.”

“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”

“pleaseee,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with his hard your dick was.”

sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”

you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”

“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!

you raise a brow at him, relaxing back against the pillows and headrest, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”

sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”

“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.

“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.

“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”

“because I’m touching you?”

you nod.

“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels like it’s leaving a trail across your body.

you nod.

his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy. turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.

“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”

your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.

“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.

you nod.

his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bend beside you. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”

you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.

his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.

you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ been horny these past few days.”

your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”

something dark and electric flashing through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it—just heat, thick and immediate, his grip on your hand tightening to the point it almost borders on rough.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, like he’s grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”

“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds.

“keep going,” he husks.

your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. use me. cum in me.”

“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”

your lips are glossed with spit as presses his lips against them. swallowing your moans as he snaps his hips into a mean thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.

and you love it.

the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside the windows is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the strobe lights outside, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.

“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside you poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, won’t make me stop.”

and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. harder than usual because he knows he’ll get away with it just a bit more when you’re ovulating. and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight behind each thrust — you don’t push him away.

“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy humps. the rasp in his throat has you holding him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is.

and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.

“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters.

“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”

he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, yeah you definitely smell good.”

your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“

“you humped me in the hot tub.”

your brows scrunch together. “so?”

he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.

he smirks.

of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you’re stuffed with loads of his cum.

“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, and your face burn, and heart skip a beat…you don’t comment about it. you don’t address. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.

and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.

more frat!kuna here

a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!

and thank you for the wait. I really put most of my free time into this so I can’t tell u when I’ll finish the next chapter of the series, so bare with me for another possible week of agony :’(