Fresabonita - Toast - Tumblr Blog

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6

cw for this chapter: discussion of assault (reader)

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Try as he might, Toji could not escape the sounds of your frightened voice from the night prior. He slept horribly, tossing from his side to his back only to stare up at your ceiling fan. When he finally got up, he busied himself with cleaning the house before your return.

You had told him not to worry about staying past the afternoon, that you expected to be back in time to feed the dog, but Toji insisted on staying. He wanted to see you. More importantly, he wanted to speak to you. There were several things he would have liked to have spoken about, but the one thing weighing on his mind was what had happened the night prior.

Your desperate apologies, your wavering voice. All of it felt so disconcerting.

So Toji stayed.

He stayed and washed the sheets, stayed and made up the bed, stayed and swept the floors.

He was a decisive man. If he wanted to do something? Consider it done. So why? Why was he second-guessing himself when he heard your car pull up the driveway? Why did his heart pound as if he was in some kind of danger? Why did he find himself pacing, looking for something to occupy himself with? All so he didn't seem like he was waiting for you.

But he was, he was waiting for you.

A pause permeated the foyer and kitchen when he heard you open the door and for a moment his throat felt tight, you hadn't seen him yet. His grip on the rag he was "washing dishes" with tightened. He heard a light gasp and spun around. Finally.

"Toji! I didn't realize you were here, I didn't see your car." You spun around to peek out the window, Toji dropped the towel and moved to the island. Closer to you. To observe you. You looked fine.

"Glad you made it back. He's been waiting for you." Toji pointed to the dog that was currently bounding around you in a show of tender love.

You kneeled down and scratched the dog's neck. "Thank you so much for watching him, I know how much he loved your company, but, Toji, how did you get here?"

He smiles, "Took the bus, needed gas." He didn't, he just wanted an excuse to stay. But by the look on your face, this was clearly the wrong response.

"Oh, my- Toji! Oh! You should have said, I would pay for your gas!" You had shot up at his statement and were looking at him with embarrassed disappointment.

"Oh please" He rolled his eyes, "You're plenty generous enough."

"I don't want you riding the bus at night, I'll give you a ride, or I can order you an Uber, like before."

Toji was thinking fast, why were you so keen on his leaving? Was it because you were uncomfortable? Or did you feel like it was a burden for him to stay? Whatever the answer, he was still caught up on the fact that you didn't want him riding the bus. How silly, to worry about his safety.

"Nah, it's no problem, I was staying here regardless." He shrugged.

"Was everything alright? Did you have everything you needed?" You smile at him and he eases a breath, okay, no more talk of leaving.

"Everything and then some. You've got a real nice place." He took a step closer to scratch the dog's ear. "Good trip?"

He didn't want to push. He wouldn't. But he couldn't help the curiosity. Especially when he watched your face falling at his question.

"Oh... yes, well" You sighed, shrugged, and avoided eye contact. "Work, you know."

"So..... not a good time." Toji tried for a tone of joviality but your eyes did not brighten.

"No. Wish I could've been here." You spoke so quietly that he could barely hear. He was worried that, within a moment, you would call him a cab, or usher him to your BMW. This was it.

Toji had been hungry for information since your text. It was for no reason other than his experience with law enforcement that he stayed up last night. Thinking about what type of situation you were in.

"Can I ask you a question?" Toji began, your head whipping to his face, nodding slightly, "It's about last night."

He noticed instantly- your eyebrows rose, along with your shoulders. You took a breath in as your chin lifted up. Unaware to you, your arms encircled your torso. You were so easy to read.

You didn't speak though. Toji took the silence once again. "Something happened, while you were away." Not a question, he realized as it came out. Damn, what was he saying? You didn't respond and he scrambled for the right words.

"Did-I mean. Did something happen?" So eloquent.

You sighed, looking at your shoes. Right on cue, your dog whimpered at your feet. "Yeah...' You draw it out, there's humor in your tone. "I didn't want to go on the trip anyway." Sighing, you look up at the ceiling, Toji gets the feeling that you were speaking to yourself.

"Didn't realize you saw a lot of crime in your business." How is it he can hold eye contact so steadily? How is it he can look through to your soul?

"Hmm?" You raise a brow, and then your eyes grow, "Oh! No! No! I don't." He laughs from his chest. The prospect of criminal activity leaves you aghast. "It wasn't a crime! Well..." You begin that mumbling "talking-to-yourself" way of speech, "Not a serious one, I've had problems with him for ages now."

Toji stops. You stop. You said too much.

"Him?" Toji's brows are stitched tightly together. Had he misheard?

"Oh!" You begin, catching his eyes that are glued to you. "It's not serious. If it was I would do something. It's not that!" You huff out, “Not like that…”

But Toji hadn't said anything. He remains silent. Waiting for you to continue. The dog begins to pace. You run a hand through your hair and then wave nonsensically as if to ward off the air around you.

"Who are we talking about." Toji's voice has only once sounded like this. It had sounded this way over the phone that night he carried your dog a mile, drove him to the vet, and silently watched you bandage his hands.

It had sounded like this when he was desperate.

"Aagh!" You shook your head. Dispelling some unhappy thought or memory. "I'm not... really supposed to be speaking about all this. It's been handled." You wave your hands dramatically, making a show of finding the time, you start up again, "Oh goodness, look at the clock, Toji let me get you a ride so you can be home for dinner!"

"I'd like to hear about this actually." He doesn't move. He slowly maneuvers his head to follow your gaze. "Having trouble with a co-worker?"

Toji had his fair share of experiences with unsavory characters in his time working in different industries. They were never too difficult to handle, though.

You laugh painfully, "Unfortunately, yeah, but there's really nothing to do..." Your making "shooing" motions with your hands again, motioning between him and the door.

"That why you didn't wanna go on this trip?" He watches your motion - ignores it.

"Gosh, yes. You know how it goes." Toji hums.

"Police involved?" He watches you. Your hands shiver to a stop, you turn to meet his eyes, suddenly still.

"No." You look at him. "No, it was handled before that."

"But he wasn't fired." His head slants to the left.

"No reason to fire him." You're looking at him differently now. You sound different now. Finite. Tired.

"Well, if police could be involved, there has to be some reason." He looks at you, but you're not speaking. You're not smiling. You're not moving.

"He was the one to make you cry that night." He asks, but it's not a question this time either.

"I think you should go get dinner, Toji." You speak softly, but there is really no room for disagreement allowed.

"There's gotta be something, just tell your boss if you don't wanna work with some dickhead." He's trying to help, he is, but it's coming out all wrong. He doesn't know the situation, and he's never had a real job before, he doesn't know - that even though your position is one of power - although you are high up in a huge conglomerate - although you have a million opportunities in front of you that he's never been offered - although you make real, honest money - some of the most evil people are in those positions as well.

And things that, he, a killer, a prostitute, a gambler, a criminal, could never imagine even in his most dark moments, go on, under the veil of the shiny "opulence" so easily desired.

"He's not just a colleague, Toji." Your sentences are chopped as they leave your lips. Toji realized suddenly that the only reason you're speaking now is because he has obviously made you upset. "He's a stakeholder's son. And everyone loves him. Trust me. I've reported him before. But nothing comes of it. It just." You sigh, detached. "It just makes me look bad. He's popular and charismatic, and everyone thinks he's.... he's the best! So there. He can do what he wants. He can touch who he wants. He can make decisions for everyone else. And there's nothing I can do, actually."

Toji is taken aback, and your dog huffs at your legs, "I'm sorry..." You mutter behind your hands. Likely embarrassed at your lengthy diatribe. But Toji takes no notice of your apology.

"He touched you?" There is something new now, something Toji does understand, and this, this will not happen again, he is sure of it.

"Just briefly. And he was drunk. So what does it matter." Your hands remain in front of your face. A grievously aggravated tone in your voice for the first time.

"It matters all the same. It matters- it matters-" Toji is racing for the right thing to say but he’s never been good with words.

He has experienced being touched when he did not like it. He had experienced allowing somethings to happen for a dollar. But he had never been in the position of being attacked. He had never been the weaker of two people. But you, he cannot image such a feeling. Such a feeling being completely uncontrolled.

And suddenly he's remembering your texts, your jittery voice, your apologies and he wants to puke.

"Why not go to the police. Something must be done. Y/n, please."

"I can't." He bends down to see your sunken face, trying to spot any tears. "What if nothing happens? What if I make a fool of myself? What if- Toji, what if I lose my job?"

Seeing now, the darkness within what he believed to be grandeur, he wonders if you are really any better off than he.

"You won't. Y/n- I, I can do it. I can get this... handled." His mind is flooded with memories, a man, someone who worked for his handler, he was good with technology, good with blackmail. His thoughts were interrupted by a chuckle.

"No-Toji, that can't happen. It just... I don't think that's possible. I'm just." You heave a breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said a thing. I think I'm just tired. It's okay."

"No." He's shaking his head. Slow. But you don't hear him. You've closed him off. You've resigned yourself and he wonders, sickeningly, how long you have been resigned for.

That night grew dark faster than either of you knew. You had told him not to think about it. You told him to let it go. But that night, reminded of a similar evening he spent in a car that was paid to bring him back to his apartment. He considered the situation.

When he climbed his way into his dark apartment, he did not hesitate. Measured steps brought him to the ventilation above the stove in his kitchen. He reached up, grabbed the flip phone found there, a burner he knew remained.

He didn't even mull it over before he sent the text.

"Need a favor. Call me."

And he didn't sleep that night until he'd been back in contact with the man he thought he was done working with for good.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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"ACT LIKE I'M A RANDOM WOMAN FLIRTING WITH YOU"

synopsis: in which you try the tiktok trend where you ask them to pretend you're a random woman hitting on them

content: multiple jjk characters x fem!reader, crack fic, foul language, reader calls toji daddy, and mentions of killing but like a joke. lmk if i missed some

note: saw this awhile back and just remembered about it so i had to :p let me know if you guys want a part two and i shall deliver

GOJO SATORU ❤︎

"okay, babe," you say, walking into the kitchen with a sly grin, ready to set your plan into motion. after scrolling through tiktok and stumbling upon a video where a girl asked her boyfriend to pretend she was someone else flirting with him, you couldn't resist trying it out yourself.

gojo, mid-coffee-making, turns around to your voice, eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. he already knows something's up by the playful smirk dancing on your lips and the mischief in your eyes.

"pretend i'm another woman flirting with you," you declare.

he pauses, a confused and amused laugh escaping his lips. "wha—?"

"okay, ready? go!" you cut him off, not giving him time to protest.

in an instant, you drop your playful demeanor and transform it into something sultry. your smile turns flirtatious, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you tug at your shirt, letting a bit more cleavage peek through. you flip your hair with a practiced grace, and with the confidence of a sly cat, you saunter toward him.

gojo's eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard, but the corners of his mouth lift in a grin, deciding to play your little game.

“hey, good-looking,” you purr, strutting a bit closer before spinning around with a playful wiggle of your hips. “i think there’s something on the back of my dress… can you check for me?” you throw a wink over your shoulder, your voice dripping with flirtation.

gojo's gaze slides from your face, down your figure, pausing a moment longer at your ass. his eyes twinkle mischievously as he looks back up at you. “sure thing, baby,” he says, his voice smooth. “just bend over a little more for me.”

the smile drops from your face immediately. you spin around, giving him a deadpan look. “are you serious right now?”

gojo throws his head back, laughing so hard that you know you should’ve seen this coming. there was no way he’d play along without pulling something like this. his laughter fills the kitchen, the sound contagious, even though you’re trying to keep a straight face.

“do it again,” he says, still grinning but now standing straighter, trying to regain his composure. “i'll be serious this time, promise,” he adds with a wink, slipping back into character.

gojo thinks the little frustrated huff you let out is adorable, but you decide to give him one more go, determined to keep the act alive. you fix him with another amorous look, closing the gap between you, pressing your chest against his. slowly, you drag your fingertip up his arm, then trace it along his neck, gently tilting his head toward you, the air between you thick with faux tension.

“h—” you start, your voice low and flirtatious.

"cursed technique amplification: blue. cursed technique re—"

only then do you break character. you burst into laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth before he can finish, the absurdity of his words too much for you to bear. your laugh echoes through the kitchen, and gojo's grin spreads against your palm, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“that's more like it."

GETO SUGURU ❤︎

you're lying beside geto, one leg draped lazily over his stomach, scrolling through tiktok while he’s absorbed in some conspiracy video on youtube. his face is all concentration—eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed—totally engrossed in whatever wild theory the guy on the screen is spouting. you glance over at him, feeling a little amused by how seriously he’s taking it.

then, a memory hits you. that video you saved—the one where a girl pranks her boyfriend by pretending to flirt with him like she’s someone else. now's the perfect time to try it, with geto finally settled in bed instead of running around handling work or responsibilities.

without a second thought, you sit up, tossing your phone to the side. before he can react, you snatch his phone from his hand and toss it too. geto's head snaps towards you, mouth hanging open, already preparing to scold you for cutting off his video.

“shh,” you hush him, pressing a finger to his lips. “pretend i'm a random girl flirting with you. you don’t know me.”

he blinks at you, dumbfounded, staring at you like you’ve just suggested the most ridiculous idea he’s ever heard. his eyebrow arches skeptically, but he doesn’t protest, just watches you with that patient amusement he always has when you pull something unexpected.

grinning, you crawl over to him on all fours, slowly straddling his hips, your hand sliding up his chest as you lean in closer. “hi, baby. you look sooo good right now,” you say, your voice dripping with fake seduction. “can i see if you look even better underneath those clothes?”

you wait for him to play along, but he doesn’t move a muscle. he just stares up at you with the same confused expression, like he’s genuinely unsure of what’s happening. it's almost enough to annoy you, but his confusion is so sincere, you can’t help but find it endearing.

“i said—” you start again, leaning in closer.

“uh…who are you, and why are you in my bed?” he cuts you off, deadpan.

"oh—i just—" you sit up quickly, stammering, completely caught off guard by how fast he slipped into his role.

“no, like seriously. how did you get in here?” geto's voice takes on a more serious tone as he sits up, pushing you back onto the bed before standing, his eyes darting around the room like he’s genuinely concerned.

“babe—" you try, but he cuts you off with a sharp, “don't babe me!” he glares at you with a dramatic, wide-eyed expression, pacing around like someone truly freaked out. “i am scared. i'm calling the cops.”

you can’t hold it in anymore and start giggling wildly as you watch him, fully committed to this bizarre little roleplay. he grabs his phone, muttering to himself, and you slide off the bed, barely able to contain your laughter as you reach for his phone, half-worried about just how far he's willing to take this joke for your amusement.

“okay, okay! i get it, psycho!” you say, still giggling as you snatch the phone from him.

he finally cracks a smile, the playful glint returning to his eyes as he pulls you close, arms wrapping snugly around you. “you're the psycho,” he says, voice dropping to a soft, teasing murmur. “breaking into my house and shit.”

CHOSO KAMO ❤︎

“cho, can you try something with me?” you break the comfortable silence that has settled between you and your sweet boyfriend. he glances up from the abstract coloring page he’s been working on, setting down the colored pencil he’s been using next to the rest of the set—the same expensive pencils you gave him for his birthday a few years ago. he refuses to replace them, even as they wear down over time, because they’re from you.

“yeah, sure.” choso turns toward you, his full attention on you, always so patient and willing to humor your silly ideas.

“alright,” you begin, standing up and pulling on his arms to get him to rise with you. “pretend i'm some random girl flirting with you. this is a test, by the way.”

choso blinks up at you, slightly confused but willing to follow along. “okay… but, are you still my girlfriend?” he asks, his voice tinged with hesitation.

“yes… well, no? i'm a random girl, but pretend you still have a girlfriend—me, but not me me,” you explain, feeling the ridiculousness of your own words but committed to the bit. he nods slowly, trying to make sense of the situation. “uh, alright. i think i got it.”

you flash him a grin, flipping your hair over your shoulder dramatically as you unbutton the first few buttons of his dress shirt that you’re wearing. you slowly prowl toward him, exuding flirtation with each step. choso watches with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting the scenario as he’s so used to you being his girlfriend and not this “random girl” you’re pretending to be.

“hi, cutie. what's your name?” you ask, voice dripping with sultry intent.

choso's eyes dart to the side, his hands nervously picking at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “um…i don’t know…?” his response sounds more like a question, and you bite back a laugh but keep going.

“you don’t know your name, baby?” you tease, your voice soft and playful. he folds, spitting out his name without hesitation.

“choso. my name is choso,” he blurts out, and you nearly drop the act right there to scold him for even responding, but you hold back, narrowing your eyes instead.

“okay, choso. wanna get a drink with me?” you ask, stepping closer, keeping the act alive. he nods immediately before his eyes widen in realization that he’s supposed to be resisting. suddenly, he’s shaking his head, panicking.

“no?” you ask, pouting in a way you know will fluster him even more. “you sure?”

your boyfriend groans, hands flying up to cover his face as a blush creeps up his cheeks. “no more.” he mumbles, muffled behind his hands, too embarrassed to keep playing along.

you watch him, torn between scolding him for entertaining the idea of someone else flirting with him or just squeezing him until he pops from the sheer cuteness of his confusion. he's so bewildered, caught in the weird space of knowing it’s you, but not you, and it’s clearly messing with him.

“come here, you big baby,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him as he buries his face in your neck. he holds onto you tightly, his body warm against yours.

“you're the only person I want to flirt with me,” he mumbles, his voice soft and sincere.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ❤︎

toji eyes you suspiciously from across the room, his sharp gaze catching every unhinged giggle that escapes your lips as you scroll through your phone. you've been on the same video loop for a while now, different voices, but always the same script. he can’t hear it all, but he’s caught enough to know where it’s going: “pretend i'm a random chick flirting with you.” then, what he assumes is the boyfriend playing along.

you glance up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief, and the second your gaze locks with his, he knows exactly what’s coming. he shuts it down before you can even say a word.

“nope,” he says flatly, reaching out to pinch your toes, making you yelp in frustration.

“humor me, just this once,” you plead, pouting.

with a scowl and a dramatic roll of his eyes, he relents. “fine. go. do your thing.” he leans back against the couch, arms folded, but the slight smirk on his face tells you he’s amused by your antics, even if he won’t admit it.

“you know the drill,” you tease, standing up and fixing your shirt. “i'm a stranger flirting with you. and you better not fuck this up, or i'm leaving your ass.”

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters, waving you off with an exaggerated sigh, though you can tell he’s already half-entertained.

with a dramatic spin, you turn to face him, fully falling into character. “hello, handsome,” you say, grinning as you plop onto his lap. his groan echoes through the room at the sudden weight on him, but his hands instinctively settle on your hips, pulling you a little deeper into him despite the warning look in his eyes.

you roll your hips slightly, getting comfortable. “wanna take this upstairs, big boy?” you purr.

a wicked grin spreads across his face, eyes darkening with amusement. “yeah? you wanna take me upstairs, baby?” his voice is low, playful, as he pinches your cheeks, pulling you close for a kiss.

“what the fuck? toji, i swear to god—” you grumble, pulling back, but he’s already chuckling, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“just jokin’,” he murmurs, the smirk still firmly in place. you stare at him, eyes narrowing in frustration as you debate whether to deck him right in the face or give him another chance.

as much as the former sounds appealing, you opt for the latter, though not without trying to burn a hole through him with your glare. after a moment, you lean in again, deciding to crank it up a notch. “sooo, wanna take this somewhere else? let me show you a good time,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his ear. you pause for dramatic effect before adding in a hushed tone, “sound okay? …daddy.”

you swear toji doesn’t breathe for a solid five seconds. his entire body tenses, and before you know it, he’s pushing you off his lap and onto the couch cushions.

“i already got a kid,” he says, his voice rough, though there’s no hiding the heat in his eyes.

you scoff, leaning forward on your knees to get closer. “is that why you’re hard right now?” you can’t help the smirk that spreads across your face as you glance down at the very visible tent in his pants.

“shiiit, i don’t know,” he growls, grinning like the devil himself. “call me daddy one more time, and let’s find out.”

before you can even think about responding, you swing your hand, landing a quick, playful hit right between his legs. toji doubles over instantly, groaning as he clutches his crotch, his cocky expression crumbling.

“that's what I thought,” you say, sitting back with a satisfied smirk while he mutters something under his breath about “psycho women.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN ❤︎

sukuna's lounging on the couch, thumbs aggressively working the joysticks of his controller, barking orders into the mic at his teammates. “you serious right now?” he yells, his voice sharp and cutting through the headset. the big bright screen in front of him signals yet another loss, and he throws his hands up in frustration. “bullshit,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the controller onto the coffee table like it personally betrayed him.

as he seethes, ready to stew in his annoyance, his phone pings with a familiar sound, one he specifically set just for you. with a groan, he picks it up, already half-expecting the nonsense he’s about to read.

i'm here. play along. i'm some random girl and i'm flirting with you. ;)

he groans louder, knowing full well he’s about to get dragged into one of your ridiculous pranks. he briefly considers bolting to the bedroom to pretend he’s asleep, but before he can even move, there’s a knock at the door. you never knock, which only means one thing—you’re fully committed to this.

“shit,” he grumbles under his breath, standing up and stomping toward the door. there's no point in avoiding it now; better to play along than listen to you rant about how boring and lame he is for the rest of the day.

with a huff, he swings the door open, glaring at you. “hey, sexy,” you purr, barely getting the words out before he cuts you off.

“no. die,” he deadpans, folding his arms. “i'm in love with my girlfriend, and she’s fucking crazy.” with that, he slams the door in your face.

you knock again, undeterred, flashing him a sultry grin as you persist with your ‘stranger’ persona. “are you sure you—”

“she'll kill you, and then she’ll kill me. you don’t want that, and i sure as hell don’t either.” his voice is flat as he swings the door shut again, leaving you staring at the wood.

before you can raise your hand to knock for a third time, the door flies open again. this time, you’re face to face with sukuna's middle finger, held up without a word. you blink, looking at it, then up at his face. his expression is blank, eyes low and unamused, lips curled into a frown.

“ryo—" you start, but he makes a move to slam the door once more. you shove it open, laughing wildly as you crash into him for a hug, wrapping your arms around him.

“okay, okay! you pass,” you giggle, looking up at him. “now stop slamming the door in my face.”

he grunts, but his hands find your waist as you lean up to kiss him. you reach up to smooth the frown lines between his brows, your touch softening him despite his attempt to stay annoyed.

“you're annoying,” he mutters against your lips, but he kisses you back, his grip tightening.

“you love me,” you tease, pulling him closer.

he grunts again, but this time he kisses you harder, pulling you deeper into him. and yeah, you know he loves you too.

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

i know your name ✭

{gojo satoru x f!reader}

summary: gojo satoru was practically everyone’s god as his shiny charming reputation has followed him ever since high school and through college— his band he had with his best friend suguru packing the local college pub every night just to see him sing and play the bass. unbeknownst to you, satoru has been keeping an eye on you, and when you officially meet him right before one of his shows, satoru just about falls to his knees over you.

warnings: MDNI. college au, CAR SMUT be patient!!, fingering, squirting, a bit of oral hehe, cursing, angst, FLUFFF, FILTHY DIRTY TALK, a sprinkle of degradation, tinyyy mentions of alcohol and drinking, gojo is obsessed with reader, afab!reader, jealousy.

word count: 8.8k

authors note: oh my goodness this one took me a FAT MINUTE but it’s SO SO CUTE and i hope you all think so too!! thank you thank you for all of your notes on my works!! MWAHH.

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“please come with me to the alley, i don’t think i can handle one moron and an even bigger moron by myself.”

shoko shimmied her jacket onto her shoulders, a disgruntled and pleading look on her face as she turned to face you. “they’re only playing a few songs, and you don’t have to drink!”

you laughed softly. “who’s they?”

“suguru and satoru, they’re playing at the alley.”

“gojo satoru?”

the cogs in your brain spun as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, a bit apprehensive. the alley was the place everyone went to at your college to get drunk and laid, and it also happened to be the place where the two boys played their band almost every night— satoru mainly having connections with the owner of the bar to even allow a bunch of college kids to trash the place to begin with.

you didn’t necessarily know satoru, but in your years of observing him back in high school, you knew he was viewed by anyone and everyone as a god, his reputation shiny and impressive as he had the greatest charisma and charm you had ever seen.

you remember back to when basically every other day he was getting confessed to in the halls or in class— or after school… or literally anywhere now that you thought about it.

but satoru has never been prideful or rude, even though it was something that was supposed to be written for him being the most popular guy— but he just simply didn’t follow it.

satoru was kind. really kind. and even though he got millions of confessions per year, he treated each rejection with gentleness and respect, never turning a cold eye to anyone as he apologized profusely and tried to help them feel better.

he always volunteered to do your class banners and plan your school’s activities, festivals, and field trips so nobody else had the burden of missing out on the fun. he always helped out the gardener after school and watered the plants with them (soon after practically taking over the entire shift for free and telling them to relax on a bench), tutored his friends and peers when they asked him for help, and made anyone that felt left out feel included.

that’s why he was so popular. gojo satoru was a ray of sunshine with bright blue eyes and white ruffly hair, with a gorgeous face that you never saw without a smile— loud and obnoxious and a little clumsy, but kind.

“i still don’t know why they started a band.. but they get pretty big tips every night so i guess that’s why,” shoko muttered, sipping the last of her iced tea as she got up from her seat— the cafe you were both sitting in quiet and warm as you copied her actions and stood. “or could be because satoru likes the attention.”

you weren’t close with suguru or satoru like shoko was, and you’ve never even properly met them either, but you always listened to her whenever she’d complain and understood her completely nonetheless.

you laughed at her last comment and smiled. “i’ll go… but i can only stay for two songs! i have class at seven am tomorrow.”

she smiled wide and threw her arms around you, “thank you thank you thank you!”

you’ve never actually been to the alley before, only having heard about it through the grapevine and from your other classmates that went, parties and concerts and drinking never really on the schedule for you. you honestly loved parties and concerts, and you loved the idea of hanging out with people and doing whatever your hearts desired until the sun came up.

but ever since you started college, your high school group kind of disappeared, and now you only really have one true best friend that you preferred over anything else, that being shoko. your nights are usually always calm and filled with studying or self care, your little life quiet and independent as you navigated through the days on your own.

and although you were a bit lonely at times, yearning for another soul to share your nights with, you learned to enjoy your own company.

the alley was a couple of blocks down from the cafe you and shoko were originally at, your ears already picking up on the vibrations of guitars and drums from outside as she approached the bouncer at the front, not even being able to get a word in before the big man was already telling her no.

“no?!” shoko dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “i was literally here last week, i’m friends with the band that’s playing.”

“sorry we’re at max capacity—”

“it’s okay, they both can come in. they’re on stage with us.”

your eyes snapped to the door and you recognized geto suguru, his long jet black hair cascading down to his shoulders as he sported an all black outfit— politely smiling at the bouncer.

the man moved to the side and ushered us in, shoko’s shoulders dropping in relief as you both walked in and over to a table by the stage. “thank you suguru.”

he nodded. “if i don’t, satoru will throw another fit again and say you don’t love him if you don’t show up.”

shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “you see what i mean?”

“shoko!” a loud, booming and enthusiastic voice rang through the pub as you turned, spotting none other than satoru with his long arms open, more or less throwing himself on her. “you came!”

“you threatened me—”

“i did no such thing!” he sprung back. “are you not here out of the goodness of your heart? to support your two best boys living their dreams?”

“no.”

“shokooo!” he whined and you giggled, which caused him to snap his head in your direction, finally noticing your presence.

her.

“oh! hello,” he smiled kindly to you and extended his hand. “i’m satoru, and you are?”

“y/n!” you grinned sweetly and politely to him, taking his cold hand in yours and shaking it.

“are you a friend of shoko’s?”

you nodded.

he cocked his head to the side, “how come i’ve never seen you around?”

“oh i don’t go out too often, that’s probably why,” you laughed lightly, a little embarrassed by your answer.

he beamed anyways, his smile so big and brilliant that you were starting to see for yourself exactly why everyone loved him so much, not that you didn’t already know the reason behind it in the first place.

“me neither!”

satoru was still holding your hand.

“yes you do!” shoko scoffed. “you’re barely ever at your apartment and i always have to be your designated driver—”

he gawked, glaring at her. “that’s not true! i was home yesterday!”

“because you were hungover.” suguru mumbled.

you laughed again, and satoru turned back to face you, a grin on his face.

just then, a rather large group of guys started making their way towards your area, all beckoning and calling for satoru while holding up several shot glasses, his head snapping towards their direction and flashing a dazzling smile.

“satoru come!”

“satoru take some with us!”

he gently let go of your hand and raised his, waving high as he readjusted his black round sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, “give me a second! i’ll be over!”

satoru turned back to you, resuming the conversation.

“sorry, she lies. she likes to lie. i’m glad i didn’t go to high school with her.”

“yes we did— i’m going over to your followers and stealing a shot, goodbye.” shoko grumbled, throwing her purse on the table and walking away, dragging suguru along with her.

“we actually um..” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “we went to high school together.”

“oh i know.”

your eyebrows pinched together.

he knows?

“you used to water the garden on days i couldn’t afterschool, right?”

your eyes widened a little.

“oh! and you used to fix the class banners whenever i didn’t notice my fuck up, which was always.” he patted the top of your head and laughed, “thank you for that by the way.”

“you knew?” you murmured, a rosy tint to your cheeks.

“duh,” his eyes softened. “i’m sorry i never thanked you properly then.”

you shook your head dumbly, a little spaced out as you took in what he said. “no it’s okay.”

your eyes then fell to the instruments and band set up behind him, suddenly remembering that he was performing tonight.

“so what do you guys play?” you spoke up gently, hands wringing behind your back. “do you play original songs? or covers?”

“covers! 80’s covers.” he explained excitedly. “suguru and i switch off singing. i play the bass and he plays the guitar, and we have a couple of extra friends in the back playing the drums and keyboard.”

your eyes sparkled as you watched the stage set up process, black chords scattered everywhere on the ground in disarray as several individuals on the platform tuned their instruments or plucked out a few notes.

“80’s?” you perked up. “what kind of 80’s?”

“what kind?”

“yeah! morissey? the cure? new order—”

satoru was awestruck, mouth slightly parted. “you know who they are?”

you quickly nodded, a cute smile on your face.

“you like the cure?” he asked quietly.

“i love the cure.”

satoru practically had hearts in his eyes as he beamed down at you with a stupid face, his heart a little frazzled with a familiar feeling sparkling in his chest.

“satoru!”

he snapped out of his trance and spun around, suguru on stage beckoning him over. “sorry, we have to start.”

“okay!” he walked backwards as he quickly faced you again and smiled, a little frantic. “i’ll talk to you after we play! i’m gonna quiz you on it so pay attention!”

you laughed, your hand covering your mouth a bit as you nodded. “is it counting towards my grade? or is it extra credit?”

“extra credit if you go on a date with me after the show!”

you stopped.

“she can’t! moron,” shoko suddenly appeared beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder. “she’s only staying for two songs!”

gojo’s jaw dropped slack, his shoulders slumping as he got up on stage, arms out. “two?!”

you grimaced, an apologetic look on your face and kind of feeling like a lame grandma as you nodded, “i have class at seven am tomorrow!”

before he could even respond, satoru got pulled by tech crew to test out his microphone, and you and shoko gradually settled yourselves on the high bar stool chairs at your table.

“odd,” she muttered with a funny look on her face.

“hm? what is?” your eyes switched to hers.

“satoru’s never asked a girl out before.”

your eyes bulged open. “never?”

“never.” shoko sipped a little at her beer and gave you a comforting smile. “i’ve always seen girls try it with him and ask him out or simply just follow him around like a lost dog, but he’s never gone after anyone.”

you watched a little smirk spread across her face, and your hands grew a tiny bit sweaty as you swallowed thickly.

“if you’re interested in him, there’s a line. but i think you have a head start.”

the music started— suguru introducing himself, satoru, and the band calm and pleasantly before they began playing their first song. it was loud and rhythmic, vibrations murmuring through the floor as your glass of water shook on the table with every note.

they weren’t bad at all— they were actually pretty good, really good, and you found yourself not really wanting to admit it since it seemed like satoru was good at a million different things regardless of category or genre.

“do they have a name for their band?!” you yelled over the music, leaning your frame a little closer to her without taking your eyes off of the stage.

shoko snorted, “the strongest monkeys.”

you threw your head back and laughed loudly, looking at her incredulously. “really?!”

as he performed on stage, satoru noticed you laugh and he smiled against the microphone, a vision he connected back to high school, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he was internally a little unsteady as your pretty eyes watched him play and sing— feeling embarrassed whenever he would trip over a chord clumsily like he seemed to do at every freaking show, but feeling better seeing as it made you giggle.

by the end of their second song, you showed shoko the time on your phone and tried to stand as discretely as possible in attempts at not disturbing anyone around you, grabbing your purse from the arm of your chair and swinging it over your shoulder.

but when you looked up, satoru was already looking at you as suguru spoke through the microphone, his eyes wide and pleading as he held up his index finger.

“one more song!” he mouthed. “please.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip anxiously, your eyes darting around the pub and back to the time on your phone before they landed again on satoru.

“stay.” he mouthed again.

and for reasons you couldn’t explain, your body pulled you back down on the stool and you sat— shoko quirking an eyebrow at you in confusion.

satoru’s face broke out into the brightest smile, a smile equivalent to the blinding rays of the sun as he pushed up his round sunglasses and gave you a cute thumbs up.

“thank you.”

and your heart stuttered.

you eventually decided to stay for the rest of the show, seeing as it was already late as fuck anyways— and they played few more songs then, a mix of well known 80’s songs as well as a few underrated ones, your head nodding gently to the beat and swaying your little shoulders. in the midst of it, satoru had been watching and glancing in your direction so many times throughout the show, that he subconsciously started mimicking your little shoulder sway on stage as he performed.

college girls screamed practically every five minutes when the boys did anything, some even going as far as running up the platform and reaching up for satoru’s hands or ankles as he played, him smiling bright at each and every one of them with shoko shaking her head in disappointment— her forehead falling to the palm of her hand as you laughed.

ironically by the end of it, the band closed with the cure, and as the crowd dispersed and several took their leave from the alley— some shouting words of praise at the boys, you and shoko stood and walked over to the stage. satoru in a heartbeat noticed you coming over and hooked his mic quickly back on the mic stand, tossing the strap of his bass over his shoulders and setting it down before hopping off stage.

“did you like it?” he panted hopefully, trying to catch his breath as his forehead glistened with sweat, his hands on his hips.

you smiled gently. “i did! good job, you both played really great songs.”

suguru gave you a small smile in gratitude from the platform as he unplugged and untangled a few chords— and satoru beamed, nodding. “i’m glad! okay, here comes your quiz!”

“oh god.”

“we played the cure at the end…” satoru dragged out.

“mhm…”

“what song?” he tilted his head to the side, and your cheeks went pink as you grinned.

“pictures of you,” you replied softly. “it’s my favorite one.”

satoru’s forehead fell to rest against your shoulder, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“i would expect nothing less from you, y/n.”

you hummed out a laugh, and his heart did a tiny somersault at the sound before he picked his head back up and looked at you softly.

“thank you for staying.”

shoko bounded over to you then and looped her arm through yours. “ready to go?”

you nodded quickly before smiling sweetly at satoru. “i’ll see you around! thank you for—”

“wait!” he shot his arms out frantically with wide eyes. “what about our date?”

you froze. “our date?”

“unless you want the quiz to count towards your grade…” he mumbled lowly, eyes darting on everything and everywhere except you with pinky cheeks.

“i didn’t think you were being serious about that..” you spoke gently.

his eyebrows furrowed. “why not?”

“because you’re gojo satoru,” shoko butt in.

you quickly flicked her forehead— your lips pressed into a thin line, earning a little laugh from satoru as you turned your head to look at him again.

“i have an early class tomorrow… ill see you around though, okay?”

without thinking, satoru reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you to face him.

“let me take you to class.”

shoko and suguru exchanged a look and your lips parted, eyebrows pinching together.

“what?”

“i’ll take you to class in the morning,” he looked desperate. “and i won’t count the quiz towards your grade.”

you were skeptical, very skeptical, unsure of what satoru wanted from you in this situation. you had just met him, properly at least, and though you knew he was a good person, you weren’t sure if that was still relevant in the field of picking up girls.

you looked to shoko, who shrugged, and your eyes landed back to satoru’s pleading one’s, your entire body and soul hesitating.

“i—” you gnawed at your bottom lip, a nervous habit as you took in the way he looked like a sad little puppy the longer you took to respond, your heart not having the ability to ever say no to anyone, ever. not even him.

“okay.”

his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a puff of relieved air as he gave you the biggest smile, nodding hopefully.

“okay! h—here-” he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. “if i could— if i could have your number? and i’ll text you when im on my way and stuff…”

you shakily took satoru’s phone, the screen already opened up to the ‘add contact’ feature as you typed in your number before passing it back to him.

“thank you!” he beamed. “i’ll see you tomorrow then?”

he was so excited, and you really didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help but give him a sweet smile of yours in return, nodding.

“see you.”

when you finally arrived home that night, it didn’t take satoru even ten minutes after that to text you.

(unknown): i have good news for you miss y/n

you stared at your phone, your heart jumping a bit as you typed back a response.

(you): and i have bad news for you satoru

(satoru): WHAT

(satoru): ok wait me first

(satoru): congrats you passed my class!! that quiz bumped up your grade from 0% to 100% ur so smart

(satoru): but if your bad news is you rejecting me i’m FAILING you

(you): HAHAHAHA

(you): silly silly

(you): my bad news was that i always have banana milk on my way to school in the mornings and unfortunately i don’t have any extra for you :(

(you): i ran out ;(

within the two minutes that it took for you to respond with your declared bad news, satoru was absolutely shitting it, wholeheartedly believing you were going to reject him and leave him to dramatically rot away all alone.

he replied quickly, a goofy smile on his face.

(satoru): that’s literally the only reason why i asked you out :(

(you): and how do you know i have banana milk in the mornings before school?

(satoru): OH

(satoru): SO ABOUT TOMORROW

you giggled, wiping the last of your makeup off and turning off your vanity light before jumping into bed, snuggling into your covers as the cool air softly touched your face from your open window.

(you): *address*

(you): pick me up at 6:30 please, if that’s okay :)

(satoru): i’ll pick you up at six miss y/n

(you): SIX WHY

(satoru): for a breakfast date silly!! okay goodnight xoxo

you hadn’t even realized the huge stupid smile on your face until your rosy cheeks started to ache.

(you): HAHAHA

(you): goodnight <3

a heart?!

satoru stuffed his face into his pillow, feeling like little love birdies were flying around his head and pecking at his hair.

the following morning, you ran your fingers through your hair and probably fixed your outfit a million trillion times before you were satisfied, a huge lump in your throat as you gnawed so much at your bottom lip that it drew blood.

you were nervous, but why? you didn’t know why. maybe because it was gojo satoru picking you up. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had a guy try to hit on you in what felt like a decade, the last time really being the last day of high school when you randomly found a note in your locker, the words literally illegible.

maybe it was the fact that satoru was the most handsome man you have ever seen.

but so was he to everybody else.

(satoru): i’m outside! :]

you wiped your clammy hands on your legs and stood, hiking your school bag further up your shoulder before walking down the stairs and out the door, seeing satoru seated in his car in your driveway.

you timidly opened the door to the passenger side and stepped in.

“hi!” he greeted cheerfully and proceeded to place his hand on the back of your headrest as he backed out, looking through his rear view mirror.

“hi!” you said gently. “you’re not tired?”

“nuh uh,” he smiled at you. “i had three energy drinks before i got you.”

your head instantly whipped in his direction. “satoru— three?!”

he giggled at your reaction, the sides of his blue eyes crinkling as he patted your head. “don’t worry silly, i’ve had maybe five at a time before—”

“five?!”

you slumped against the passenger seat and closed your eyes. “satoru, you’re gonna develop heart problems if you keep this up.”

“nah,” he reached into the backseat, his eyes still on the road. “i’m the strongest.”

and you snorted then, watching him retrieve two small bottles of juice from the back without taking his eyes off of the road.

“i got us orange juice— wait do you like orange juice? oh fuck maybe—”

you giggled and waved him off, taking both bottles from his hands. “it’s okay! i do like orange juice, thank you.” you settled them on your lap neatly. “i’ll hold them while you drive.”

“aww thanks sweets,” he murmured affectionately, and your face instantly went warm to the touch.

“i also got us breakfast bagels so we can sit and people watch before your class—” his eyes snapped to yours. “if— if that’s okay.”

your heart skipped a beat at his planning, nodding as you reached into your school bag and pulled out a little yellow carton, holding it out for him as he drove.

satoru tore his gaze away from the road momentarily and looked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“your daily morning banana milk?”

you smiled softly, nudging it towards him. “for you.”

he physically melted as he looked at your sweet sweet face and back towards the road.

“you’re giving up your banana milk— for me?”

you tore off the straw from the back of the milk box, sticking it through the little opening and offering it to him again.

“yup yup.”

he bit his lower lip as he gratefully took the milk box from you, giddy and flustered on the inside as he took tiny sips.

“an absolute delicacy, thank you miss y/n.”

before you even realized it, satoru was already pulling in to the campus parking lot, shifting his gear into park and turning off the ignition before opening his door.

“don’t move!” he sputtered suddenly. “don’t touch that door hold on—”

he slammed his door shut and you watched quizzically as he ran across the front of the car and opened the door for you, flashing an award winning smile that could shatter the earth if he wanted to.

you still couldn’t piece together why he was doing so much for you or why he was interested in the first place, but as you watched him set up the breakfast bagels cutely as you both sat on the bench, him carefully handing you yours along with your orange juice, you didn’t really have the heart to ask him why.

maybe it was the more selfish side of you, the one that always longed to share little moments like this with another being, the one that always spent her days alone watching movies or doing little crafts in her room to keep the time going, a bittersweet feeling in your chest every time you saw your classmates or casual friends post about their parties or outings.

you hadn’t realized that you didn’t respond to whatever satoru had said, and you snapped out of it.

“fuck— i’m sorry satoru, i spaced out.” you laughed softly. “what were you saying?”

he stared at you, his eyes examining your face. “what’s wrong?”

“huh?”

“what were you thinking about?”

“it was— it was nothing,” you took a sip of your orange juice. “i forgot.”

satoru shoved his face close to yours, your breath hitching and your cheeks growing pink as you watched his eyes scan every part of you, his expression concerned.

“something’s bothering you,” he hummed. “am i being too forward? i’m— i’m sorry sometimes i don’t even realize—“

“no!” you shot your arms out frantically and placed them on his shoulders, “no, it’s not that, you’re okay satoru. everything you’ve done has been really nice, so thank you.”

your voice was so sweet as you spoke to him, and even though it made him feel better to some degree, he still couldn’t shake the empty and sad look he saw on your face when you were spaced out.

he slowly retreated back and hesitantly nodded as you placed your hands back on your lap, your fingers then tearing a piece from your breakfast bagel and plopping it into your mouth.

“did you ever find…” he spoke in between bites. “a note in your locker the last day of high school?”

your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “how do you know about that?”

he swallowed, a sheepish look on his face. “that was me. i put that note in.”

your eyes widened as your body completely froze over, putting your bagel down— the wrapper crinkling underneath as you did so.

“really?”

satoru nodded, his flushed cheeks prominent on his pale skin as he suddenly found his bagel super interesting to look at.

“what did it say?”

he looked at you baffled. “what did it say? what do you mean?”

you giggled then, your hand covering your mouth as you leaned forward a little bit. “i could— i could barely read it. the handwriting-“

“oh my fucking god!” satoru threw his arms up in despair. “that explains so much. i was so sad i straight up thought you hated me.”

you stopped. “what do you mean?”

“i wrote my name and how i thought you were really pretty, and then i wrote my number at the bottom.” he dropped his shaking head in his hands, laughing. “but i wrote it really fast because i saw you coming so i just stuffed it in there.”

he slumped over his legs on the bench, his elbows on his knees as he moaned.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked softly.

he turned his head to the side as he was hunched over, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he smiled gently. “very.”

gojo satoru thought you were pretty.

you smiled cutely at him, reaching out and pushing his sunglasses back up his eyes, yours warm and endearing. “silly.”

you leaned back on the bench and giggled. “to be fair satoru, even if i was able to read your note, i probably would’ve thought it was a prank.”

“a prank? why?” his shoulders deflated, an unamused look on his face. “because i’m ‘gojo satoru’ like shoko said—”

“no,” you pushed. “because you’re a good person. you always go above and beyond for others and i’ve seen that as long as i’ve known you.”

you crossed a leg over the other and smiled softly. “and because of that i’m really not sure why you like me satoru, i haven’t really done anything special but—”

“what you just said is a crime. the way you think about me is the way i think about you.” he cut in, eyes serious. “you think you don’t do anything special? i literally watched you all through high school bend over backwards for people, for me, like i did,“ he sighed through his nose. “but your intentions were genuine and pure, mine were not.”

he finished the last of his bagel and crumpled up the wrapper into a ball, tossing it in the trash can next to him as he leaned back.

satoru swallowed. “i feel like if i don’t do the things that i do for people, ill end up disappointing everyone i know. i feel like everyone’s built this image of me that i don’t even know where the fuck it came from—” he shook his head. “but i don’t want to tarnish that. i don’t want to let people down. so i just let them ask me for stuff. i don’t even like going out that much either, believe it or not. i just go when they call.”

he crossed his arms. “whenever people do do something in return for me, it’s like i’m forever in their debt and they’re always expecting something from me back.”

your sad eyes softened, the confession in front of you a reaction from him you realized must’ve been buried deep deep down his chest— without any prior chance of resurfacing until this very moment.

you never thought about his situation this way. you would’ve never thought that satoru could’ve felt like this about his own reputation, something you guiltily believed was a thing he was absolutely floored over.

“you never expected anything back from me though,” he murmured. “you fixed my fucked up banners and switched around reservations when i absentmindedly chose the wrong thing for our school field trips, and you never said a word about it to me or anyone, and you didn’t expect anything back.”

he finally turned his bright blue eyes in your direction, and looked at you so deeply, so sincerely, that your mind went completely blank.

“that’s why i like you,” satoru bashfully scratched his cheek. “you do special things everyday and— and i was moved.”

there was a moment of silence, satoru staring at the ground as you stared at him, a delicate and insecure side of him unfolding before you that you don’t think anyone has ever seen, and you intended to keep it that way— wanting this special moment selfishly just for you.

you slowly leaned forward then as you made him look at you.

“its natural for you to be upset and think indifferently about people walking all over you, toru. it doesn’t mean you’re not genuine or pure.”

raising your arm, you poked his pink cheek gently and gave him a little comforting smile. “it actually only further solidifies to me how much of a good person you are. because even though people take advantage of your kindness, you help them with what they need regardless, and do way more.”

his eyes softened.

“at the end of the day, even though it makes you a little mad, you want to help people, because if you didn’t, you simply wouldn’t do it.”

you nudged his shoulder playfully with yours, “but not anymore, okay? from now on when people are blatantly taking advantage of how nice you are, you have to draw a line they can’t cross.”

he smiled wide.

“i’d let you cross it.”

“no not even me,” you shook your head. “not that’d i’d ever anyways.”

he looked at you, and then unexpectedly, satoru slowly leaned in and pressed a delicate, soft kiss to your cheek— his lips lingering there greedily for a few seconds more before pulling away, your shocked bright pink cheeks making him burst out laughing.

you missed class without even realizing, but you didn’t have an ounce of care in your body, seeing as satoru was worth more than anything from that point on.

since then you both hung out a lot more, and you still had your little quiet nights of self care, arts and crafts, and movies— except now, satoru was present in every activity.

satoru longed for your lifestyle, and you longed for his— so the act of watching movies together until two in the morning, making horrific origami bird shapes that never looked like the pictures in the instruction manual and laughing, sorting through his 80’s cd collection in his apartment while he sampled a few for you on his bass, and singing the cure so loud through his car sunroof while he drove you aimlessly at night with a strong grip on your thigh, were all a perfect blend of exactly what you both needed most.

it was several months of spending every waking moment together that you soon eventually became a little thing with satoru. there wasn’t an official label, and you guys hadn’t even kissed, but the longer than normal embraces, kisses on each others cheeks, and intertwined fingers everywhere you went was an obvious sign that something was there.

you picked up on how people looked at you more often rather quickly ever since satoru started bringing you around his circle, wondering how you came out of nowhere and captured his attention when thousands had tried for years.

and though most welcomed you with open arms and kind smiles, the majority of his girl fan base was bitter.

shoko often told you to just shake it off and not pay any mind to it, saying that it was a bunch of mean girls with nothing better to do, but it got a little harder once a pretty black haired girl named lina started grabbing satoru for conversations almost every night at the alley.

and today was no different.

“hi sweets!” satoru greeted you enthusiastically, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as you arrived early to the pub to help him and suguru set up for tonight’s show. “you look very pretty today.”

“thank you!” you smiled wide and leaned up on your tippy toes, your body automatically pulling your lips to his until you quickly steered them to the corner of his mouth, pecking lightly before settling back down on the soles of your feet.

that wasn’t the first time you had almost accidentally kissed him, but it wasn’t just you, as satoru slipped up almost every second of every day when you both were together— the thought making you laugh internally as you followed him to the stage.

“don’t help out this time—” he pleaded gently with you as he took a high barstool chair for you and dragged it closer to the stage. “i want you to just sit and be pretty.”

you tilted your head to the side. “why toru? i don’t mind helping out i like it—”

“no i know!” he smiled sweetly at you. “but i want you to just sit there and relax and not lift a finger tonight. you’ll hurt yourself if you do.”

you giggled softly and nodded, hopping up on the stool and wringing your fingers together on your lap as you watched satoru set up his amp and readjust his mic stand, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watched the way his biceps and chest looked in his black compression tee.

“are you thirsty sweets?” he asked, his eyes trained to the ground as he untangled a bunch of chords and threw them behind him. “i can get you something from the bar?”

“oh no!” you shook your head quickly. “it’s okay toru you’re busy—”

satoru hopped off the stage and jogged over to the bar, him exchanging a few words with the bartender that you couldn’t quite make out until he jogged back over with a cold glass of sugary iced tea, placing it on your table under a coaster.

“for you.”

you smiled sheepishly, “thank you.”

“if you need—”

“satoru! hey!”

you snapped your head over to the entrance and saw lina, her wave a little flirty as she bounced over to the both of you.

lina only spared you a glance before her sparkling suggestive eyes landed back on satoru.

“oh hey?” he looked over at the clock on the wall. “im sorry, the alley doesn’t open for another two hours—”

“oh i know!” she twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. “i just wanted to stop by and see if you needed any help? you know, setting up?”

what.

your eyebrows pinched together and you looked at satoru, waiting for his answer.

“oh! um— sure! thanks!” he smiled at her, and you felt a pang of annoyance through your chest as you watched him lead her on stage and give her directions, much like how he did for you when you helped out.

you crossed a leg over the other and looked away.

satoru wasn’t your boyfriend, so it wasn’t like you could say anything or feel the way that you did… but then again, isn’t he kind of? you didn’t know, and the more you wracked your brain to try and figure out what exactly the both of you were, the angrier you got at the situation in front of you.

satoru flashed lina his world famous dazzling smile, cracked joke after joke and made her laugh, helped her when she went “confused” and helpless, and even showed her basic chords on his bass when she asked.

you pursed your lips, eyes narrowed. satoru was smiling at her the way he smiled at you and cracking jokes the way he joked with you, and your jealousy only grew as you let your mind wander if the way satoru treated you was actually anything significant if he was willing to do it for some random girl.

you sat there for what had felt like forever, people starting to pile in for the show as the alley opened, and you hopped off the stool bitterly to cool off in the restroom, not bothering to let satoru know.

just as you got in line, you felt a hand tug at your wrist.

“y/n!”

you turned around and spotted shoko, smiling until she took in your annoyed expression.

“what’s wrong?”

“lina,” you muttered.

“oh god,” shoko leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “what the fuck is she doing now?”

“satoru help me, satoru how many chords does a bass have? satoru you’re so good at singing! satoru you owe me after this!” you mimicked, your heart heavy as you let shoko lead you back to your table.

“she’s getting braver,” she muttered. “say the word y/n and i’ll fake trip and spill my drink on her it’s easy—”

you snorted, “no no, it’s okay shoko. if satoru wants to let himself be drooled over and do nothing about it in respects to me, he can be my guest.”

the show started, girls already screaming and running up the stage with, of course, lina front and center by satoru, jumping and wiggling her sick fingers up at him.

satoru was like he normally was at his shows— attentive to everyone and being just who he is, but what ticked you off more than usual was how much attention he was paying to lina, way more than the rest, and you couldn’t even watch the stage anymore when satoru reached down and held her hand for a moment, not once glancing up at you.

you were done.

“i think i’m gonna go!” you shouted to shoko over the music.

“what?!” shoko grabbed your arm. “don’t go! it’s almost over! i wanna see you chew him out!”

you laughed and shook your head. “i can’t stand being here, and he clearly doesn’t care whether i’m here or not right now so—”

more screams.

both of your heads snapped to the source.

lina was on stage with him.

you scoffed and grabbed your purse, ignoring shoko’s protests as you pushed your way through the crowd and away from the stage.

when satoru finally decided to scan for you through the pub, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw your seat empty and shoko glaring straight murderous daggers at him.

“where is she going?” he mouthed to shoko.

“home!” she spat loudly, getting up herself and disappearing through the crowd.

satoru’s eyes immediately widened, his fingers clammy and numb as he started to pluck the wrong notes, suguru giving him a weird look.

“carry the show without me,” satoru quickly told him, frantic. “please, i have to go.”

suguru nodded and waved him off, seeming like he knew why satoru’s skin was sickishly pale as he carried on calmly.

it wasn’t like you to just leave without him or not tell him anything, so as he threw the strap of his bass over his shoulders and handed it to a tech member, he hopped off stage and ran through the crowd, ignoring their pleas of protest or the tugging he felt at his clothes.

you were halfway down the parking lot when you heard the pub door slam open and footsteps running towards you.

“sweets!—” satoru yelled. “hey- where are you going?!”

“home!” you yelled over your shoulder, arms crossed as you kept walking.

satoru’s stomach dropped.

“y/n!” he caught up to you and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around as he tried to catch his breath. “why? are you okay?”

“just fine!” you spat. “why don’t you go back on stage and drool all over lina—”

“lina?” he gawked. “drool? what are you talking—”

you shrugged his hands off of your shoulders. “do you not see how she’s been all over you for what seems like fucking months?! and you just let her! i’ve been ignoring it but today you really pissed me off—”

you turned away again and he immediately grabbed your waist with his hands, pulling you back.

“hey- no. tell me what i did okay just tell me—”

you scoffed. “you really don’t see it? first of all she came to the alley two fucking hours early today, and then she’s all over you and you’re all over her and you’re smiling at her and making her laugh like you do with me, and then she’s playing the little damsel in distress helping you set up while i just sat there and watched—”

“all over her?” his eyes narrowed. “i couldn’t give less of a shit about lina—”

“apparently you do!” you moved away from him, his hands falling from your hips. “because she’s giving you the ‘i wanna fuck you eyes’ every two seconds, and you’re holding her hand while you’re on stage, and then you literally pulled her on?! what the fuck am i supposed to think with that?!”

“i didn’t pull her on she jumped on!” satoru exclaimed, his arms out. “i’m sorry sweets that i didn’t notice okay i really am, but have you stopped to think that maybe i didn’t notice because i don’t care about her? i—”

“satoru you’ve been completely ignoring me the minute she got here—”

“toru.” he cut you off, voice firm. “it’s toru not satoru.”

you stopped, frustrated and hurt tears slowing brimming your eyes as you looked at him. “maybe you being a little flirt for everyone was okay before, but the minute you decided to butter me up and kiss my cheeks and call me sweets, that should’ve been over.”

“it is!” he exclaimed. “it’s been over! it never even started in the first place!”

“yes it did! you think i haven’t been watching how you are with people since high school?— you know what i’m done. i’m leaving.”

you sniffled and spun around again, but satoru only grabbed your wrist tightly and wrung you back.

“you think i haven’t been watching you?! i’ve loved you since fucking high school god dammit! i’m obsessed with you! when we officially met at the alley and i introduced myself i already knew your name and you know that! i don’t give a single living fuck about lina or anyone else but you! it’s always been you!”

you wiped your tears roughly with your sleeve.

gojo satoru loved you.

“so no. you’re not done. please don’t cry. all i’ve ever wanted was you and i let you slip through my hands in high school because i was a coward, and id rather die than let you slip through my fucking hands again and lose you over a stupid fight when i just got you!—”

“you’re not losing me i’m not going anywhere toru where the hell are you getting that from?!” you exclaimed.

“thank fuck then, so what are we still doing?! i’d cut everyone in my life off if you asked me to!—”

“no don’t do that! i was just jealous okay and i’m— and i’m angry—”

“okay but do you love me?!” he pushed angrily.

“yes! of course i do you know that!”

“okay so do i baby so what the fuck are we still fighting for?!”

“i don’t know!”

“stop giving me your little attitude then and come kiss me!”

your lips instantly collided with his as you threw your arms around his neck, fast hurried kisses that knocked the wind out of you as you both hungrily and fiercely tried to swallow each other’s lips, satoru tapping the back of your thighs and signaling you to jump on him.

you immediately sprung up and wrapped your legs around his waist, him holding you tight as he carried you over to his car and leaned you against the backseat door, his lips messily licking and swiping over yours as he seemed drunk on the taste of your sweet spit alone.

satoru dug through his pockets without breaking from your lips and found his keys, unlocking his car with a tap of a button and gently lowering you inside, him scrambling in after you and slamming the door shut, locking it.

he towered over you as he latched his lips back on yours, you laying flat on your back with your legs spread, satoru’s big cold hands on the sides of your thighs as he slowly slid your tiny little denim skirt further up— right up until he felt your silky panties under his fingertips.

“i gotta—” he said in between kisses. “take them off—”

you nodded quickly. “please take them off—”

satoru didn’t even let you finish before he practically tore your panties down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, his breathing erratic.

“oh my goodness,” he spread your legs gently, eyes completely wide and glazed over as he looked at your slick and shiny pussy. “you’re so pretty baby, just like how i pictured you.”

he ran a finger down your slit and your hips jumped, your teeth biting down on your lower lip as you let out a symphony of whines that satoru wanted to record on his phone and play morning, noon, and night for himself and his dick.

he stared mesmerized at your fuzzy pink cheeks and swollen wet lips as he slowly rubbed over your clit, you immediately grabbing his unoccupied hand and sticking his middle finger in your mouth to suck in response.

“oh my god—” he threw his head back, his delicious adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

he felt you bob your head up and down slowly on his finger and his head snapped down, eyes widening as he watched you act like a little slut for him, his hands with a mind of their own as he inserted his unoccupied middle finger in your slurping hole.

you let out a muffled gasp through the digit in your mouth and you spread your legs wider, his long and mouthwatering finger pumping in and out of you slowly, satoru’s body literally shivering at the sounds of your warm squelching pussy.

“listen to her baby…” he hummed. “she’s so fucking loud for me… how embarrassing.”

“toruuu,” you whined at his teasing, clamping your legs shut as you felt the tip of his finger hit that sweet spot in your walls that made your toes curl.

“open your legs.” he demanded. “who said you could close them, hm? i sure fucking didn’t.”

satoru picked up the pace and slipped in his ring finger without warning, your walls stretching and filling up as he abused your little cunt rapidly.

“you ever squirted before baby?” he huffed out, lips eating up your neck as you shuddered, your body jolting up and down at how fast he was fingering you.

you shook your head dumbly. “n—no, i don’t think i can—”

satoru laughed and bit your neck meanly. “yes you can sweets, your little pussy was just waiting for me to do it.”

he went even faster, a series of slap slap slap’s filling the car as his palm and digits hit your cunt repeatedly, sticky and soppy as he moaned over and over in your ear, absolutely intoxicated with the sloshing noises of your pussy and the way it was speaking to him, satoru utterly and incandescently obsessed with everything that was you.

“m—my god—” he panted, his pace brutal and animalistic as his long fingers rapidly plunged into your gummy hot hole, his tongue licking and slopping all over the side of your neck, your moans straight up filthy as the windows of his car fogged up.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—” he dragged his mushy kisses from your neck up to your chin and back to your lips. “be my girlfriend—” slap slap slap— “p-please be my girlfriend be my girlfriend i need you so bad i c-can’t live without you anymore—”

you eagerly nodded, your thighs shaking as you gripped his shoulders and tried to keep up with his kisses that swallowed your lips up hole. “y-yes— mph! i will toru i will—”

his car shook violently as he fucked your cunt with his fingers without mercy, an unfamiliar intense feeling bubbling up at the pit of your stomach as he did so, your entire pussy pulsing and swollen as you squealed, massive droplets of liquid spraying all over satoru and the leather seats of his car.

“fuck yes baby, give me what i want that’s it—”

satoru groaned so loudly as you squirted, him jerking his nasty fingers to selfishly get more out of you.

“thaaaats it sweets—” he panted, slowing down. “that’s it.”

you evidently blacked out at this point, your brain misty and distorted as you tried to come down from your delirious high, a high you’ve never ever felt before with your own digits.

satoru licked his fingers raunchily and lowered his face to your pussy, cleaning up any remnants and left over drops on your thighs and pussy with his perverted tongue, your body jerking and you whining again as you shut your thighs closed in overstimulation.

he came back up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before flashing you the biggest most innocent smile, as if he didn’t just absolutely destroy your cunt minutes ago without grace.

slowly, you regained a sense of direction and finally looked at him properly as he sat down and pulled you gently up by his arms, your body practically limp as he settled you on his lap and hugged you affectionately, his cheek squished up against your forehead.

“so can you squirt or what.” he teased softly, a smile still on his face.

you giggled shyly and buried your face in his neck. “i made a mess.”

“that’s literally what i wanted don’t even start.” he mumbled, and you laughed again, louder this time.

“were you serious about me being your girlfriend?” you asked suddenly, your voice smaller and timid. satoru pulled back and tilted his head, catching your eyes with his.

“of course i was,” he said quietly. “i literally begged you while my fingers were knuckle deep in—”

you covered your face with your hands and laughed with a whine. “stop! okay okay! i get it.”

you took your face away from his neck and looked at him properly, tilting your head cutely as your eyes shined and sparkled with affection, him giving you the same look back as you leaned up and pecked his lips lovingly.

“you know…” you began. “when we first properly met and you asked me out that night, shoko told me there was a line i had to stand in if i was interested in you.”

satoru snorted, his eyebrows raised. “a line?”

you nodded. “mhm. you literally can’t pretend there isn’t one toru… and lina is in it too,” you finished off, snickering.

he rolled his eyes and huffed, feigning annoyance, but when he looked at you again, he only smiled and stared at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, a blush to his pale cheeks that never seemed to go away as long as you were around.

“line or not—” he sincerely spoke.

“you’ve always been the first one.”

JJK men receiving a “she’s busy” text

smau, suggestive

Pt. 2 - Choso, Sukuna, Nanami

JJK men receiving a “she’s busy” text

smau, warning- inumaki jokes about unaliving someone via su!c!de

Pt. 3 - Yuji, Inumaki, Megumi

Hi again!! Thanks for the American and Gojo squad! Now I’m just gonna wing it cause this idea makes me all giddy but can you do the Gojo squad reacting to their new American friend offering to make bentos for them cause they interested in cooking. (Cause I would do this for them) thank you!!

A/N: Let's all thank @broad-strokes87 for keeping the JJK part of my blog active 🙇‍♀️😌

When their American friend offers to make them bentos!

Incl: Teen Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara

GOJO - HESITANT AF - But would graciously accept your offer (he's shaking in his boots) - Discreetly shows you different cookbooks, homemade recipes he likes, etc. under the guise of educating but he just really doesn't want you to mess up or be embarrassed by your attempts - Will definitely poke at it like it's alien food once he gets his hands on his bento - Expecting it to taste bad - Is visibly shocked when it tastes good - "Cut the cameras... You're actually really good at this..." - It's honestly disheartening to see how relieved and surprised he is, he really thought you were gonna basically poison him - Inhales the rest of his food and has the nerve to pick off of the others bentos and ask if you have more - Doesn't have any decorum when asking you to bring him bentos from now on (will put on a cute act to get you to say yes... eventually will offer money for your services)

GETO - Accepts graciously and sweetly - Offers to help you out and figure out what goes into a bento if you want him to - Teases you a bit in the days leading to you bringing in the bentos - "Thought you said you'd try and make us something good? Not lying are you?" - Always makes sure you know he's joking though - If any of the others are actually pressuring you to make them he tells them to back off and always gives a reassuring smile - Slightly cocky when you give him his bento because it's so nicely prepared (he thinks it's due to his guidance) - Is pleasantly surprised when everything tastes really nice - With every bite, he's acting like it's the best thing he's ever tasted in order to boost your confidence - "Tell me when you're feeling like doing this again, I really enjoyed everything."

SHOKO - Confused as to why you would want to try something like that in the first place but concedes and is happy that you'd make something for her - Another one who is keen on helping you but actually gives you good advice instead of pressuring you to make good food or looking over you like master to an apprentice - Would even offer to show you how to make simple bento dishes in the kitchen you want her to - Helps you dissect bentos and lowkey gives you lessons on how things should be and what pairs well with what - Is impressed when you bring the bentos in but not entirely surprised (she knows you worked hard) - Gives small critiques but praises you soooo much as well - "You did really well for your first time doing bento's and you made so many for all of us too!" - Gives you a pat on the back for your work and offers you some of her candy as a "dessert"

NANAMI - "I'm good but thank you for offering." - Refuses vehemently at first and doesn't realize that it hurt your feelings when he does so -Haibara has to convince him to say yes eventually (Haibara is much more likely to notice you sulking than Nanami tbh) - Doesn't push you to make good on your words in the following days, low-key hopes that you forgot - It's really not so much that he wouldn't want a bento from you but he doesn't want you to go through all the hassle for him - Completely surprised when you actually give him a bento - Gives a full-scale review of every dish at your request - Laughs when you're dutifully taking in every word he's saying - "You don't have to take it seriously, it's good. You're food's good."

HAIBARA - The only enthusiastic and genuine "YES!" you get lmao - Honestly, he just likes food and even if you gave him something burnt to a crisp he would love it - Doesn't offer any help but tells you what his preference for dishes are - Is super worried if he's pressured you to make his favorite stuff though so he immediately apologizes - "No no no, I meant that I'd like anything you're willing to make! You really don't have to make what I want just because I said so!" - When he gets his bento and sees some of his favorite stuff he tears up thinking that you did it because of him - Thanks you up, down, and sideways for the meal - Buys you snacks for the rest of the week because he's still worried about pressuring you - Also, swears that your bento is even more delicious than the ones he would get from his mom when he was younger

A/N: This one was so cute!! I'll be real, I think Haibara might be ooc but what do y'all think?? We didn't get much of him but he's still my baby boy and I write him as such!!

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji had stayed the night at many women's houses. At some point down the line, he started requesting they order him an Uber or something, but in the beginning, he was hardly at his own place. And for a brief period, when he was in a real desperate situation, he stayed with the women because he didn't have a place of his own.

That's why it's so strange to Toji, to feel apprehensive at staying the night in your home.

You won't even be there, what's it matter? He thought.

But then again, that might be why he's a bit uneasy about the whole thing. You were to be gone three days for a work event. And you had entrusted him with your entire place. He had showered and napped in your house, eaten your food and brought in the mail. He was comfortable to the point it felt like a second (much nicer) home. What he had never done, was stay the night. He certainly hadn't slept in your bed...

You had seemed overwhelmed and uneasy about the situation while walking him through everything. You had been on the opposite side of the kitchen island when you had said,

"I know this is so short notice, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't even supposed to be on this trip, I asked not to go, but the other official called out sick." Your hands made grand and elaborate gestures and your dogs head wobbled as he followed your theatrical hands. "So now, I'm stuck, I have to go." You sounded upset.

"'S not a problem. So, what day does the trash go out, again?" He held back a grin as your shoulders drooped.

"Toji, you're my hero. Thank you. And Wednesday, don't worry if you forget to take it out though."

You had informed him that the dog would probably like it best if he stayed downstairs with him while you were away. Meaning-sleeping in the master bedroom. In your bedroom. On your bed.

Oh...kay...

He shrugged it off as you muttered some, "of course, I'll clean the sheets so don't worry about that..." And explained about the difficult relationship between the dog and the mailman. But he was too caught up in the fact that you were so trusting of him.

There didn't seem to be any uncomfortable air around you, other than your work-related stress around the trip, but you didn't seem to have a problem with this big-ass man spending a few days in at your place.

Toji had lots of appeal, and he had grown to know, the majority of it was sex appeal. And the fact that you clearly had no interest in that aspect of his abilities... made him feel odd. Any time he would throw a compliment at you, you would smile politely, and say something nice about him. Except it was always,

"You're so good at you're job!"

"I'm so glad I can trust you to look after my puppy!"

"I appreciate how efficient you are!"

it made his ears feel hot.

So did the smell of your bedsheets. In fact, your pillowcases had such an effect on him, on that first night you were gone, he found himself rummaging through your things to distract himself.

He meandered through your room, pulling books and sticky notes off dressers and walking through your closet nook. He intentionally did not open any drawers but when he stumbled upon a pair of pajamas lying on a bookcase ladder, he quickly turned around and went to examine the fascinating blanket collection at the foot of your bed.

Staying at your place meant he could sleep in if he wanted to, but that morning he got out of bed earlier than usual. He wasn't going to let his mind wander while lying in the same spot you lay.

He found himself pretending he actually lived in the space. Getting dressed. Feeding the dog. Making breakfast. All in the luxurious home he did not belong in. After some time he realized all of these fantasies included you. He imagined making coffee as you sat across the island, he imagined talking with you, as a normal person, over pancakes, or whatever the hell rich people ate.

Eventually, he had to shake the thoughts from his head as they began to seem too domestic.

One thing that carried throughout the days of your leave, was the photos. You had repeatedly told him to never hesitate to contact you, "And please feel free to send pictures!" So send pictures- he did.

On walks, in the back yard, while booping the dog's nose, after giving the beast a treat. He sent most to you but kept some for himself. You acted as if he was spoiling you with these images of your own canine, the hearted messages and polite, "This really made my day!" stuck with him, when in reality, you were the one spoiling him with how much you had given him for his stay.

Once upon a time, the money he had in his wallet would have already been gone. A real likelihood being that he took the cash and left the dog to fend for itself. Only naive people paid before the service was completed. But he was a different man now. Or so he told himself as he pondered how you must think of him.

You must think highly. To pay so much upfront. You must trust him.

That evening, after walking the dog one last time, he flipped his phone around in his hand while lying down, legs hanging off your mattress. It was late, he was wondering what you were doing and what he should spend his money on when he felt the vibrations of his phone.

He saw your contact pop up and was quick to open the messaging app. What he saw, however, confused him a great deal.

"I would like for you to not involve the police with this. If possible, do keep this event and its handlings between us, I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this."

He sprang up in the bed, his feet planted on the floor as he read and reread your message over and over. Confusion filled him, was this message intended for him? If so, had you discovered something about Toji's past? Or had you mistakenly sent the message to him?

What was this about?

He began to write back, only to stop. He wanted to see if you would alter your text, or confirm your mistake. When you didn't and he could not take it any longer. He responded.

"What event are we discussing?"

Immediately he saw that you had read his reply, and quickly he saw an ellipses appear. It faded quickly. He waited for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to say. "I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this" he knew you had discussed his working for you before with your co-workers before he distinctly told you he wasn't looking for more work.

Sick of all the waiting, he decided to call you. And as soon as the phone rang, it immediately went to voice mail.

Clearly, you had been in a hurry to avoid his call. Unsure of how to proceed, he texted again.

"???"

He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he rose to pace the bedroom. Finally a message arrived.

"Terribly sorry, that message was intded for my boss. I texted your ontact by mistake."

Toji tried to digest exactly what this meant. He saw the typos in your message and quickly wondered if you had ever been so careless before. He scrolled up to scan previous conversations but decided it was unimportant.

"I see" he began, he wanted to ask what was happening but he knew he wouldn't want anyone prying into him, especially if it involved anything incriminating. He tried to relax himself. Perhaps the comment had nothing to do with him, even so, he decided to call you again to clarify what had just happened.

In a harsh contrast to before, the phone barely had a chance to ring before you picked up. Toji knew he hadn't been thinking straight. But when he saw the call start he realized then that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. It wasn't but a moment later that he discovered that all of his unanswered questions were irrelevant.

He held the phone up to his ear and heard quick breaths from the other end of the call. What he assumed was a frantic exhale, came out more like a sob as he heard pained whimpers.

"Didn't mean to...sorry about tonight. It was my mistake." You were speaking very slowly, in a calculated sort of way. Still, your voice shook.

Toji was impossibly still as he listened to your voice. "What's going on, y/n?"

That night he would lay in bed, trying to sleep, and realize that this particular moment might have been the first time he used your name intentionally. In the moment, however, he was all too occupied to care. He wanted to come off as gentle and friendly, something he was completely unaccustomed to.

The line went quiet. There was a long pause before a throaty squeak came and a warbled, "...sorry" was heard. Just before the call ended.

Toji began to pace again, he called you once more before he decided that it might be best to not pressure you. He ran a hand down his face as he tried to write a text. But he had nothing to say, he was experiencing confusion and confusion alone.

Turns out, he didn't need to start the conversation again, in your never-ending kindness, you sent, "I'm sorry for all of this, this is a small matter with work at the moment and I did not mean to startle you. I see how it might have come off as concerning. I promise this will not effect you. I'm sorry. Please forget this occurred."

Relief flooded Toji faster than he could question it. So this didn't involve him. But what exactly was happening? He gave your message a thumbs up... but something was still stuck eating at his brain.

"Were you crying just now?" He sent.

He expected a long wait before you responded but, to his surprise you reply was prompt.

"Sorry about that."

And a moment later, "I didn't mean to involve you."

That feeling in his stomach sunk further as he stared at his phone. Unsure of what to say, your dog whimpered at his feet and Toji took a deep breath.

"I wasn't asking for you to apologize" he typed, trying to put his intentions into words. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't remember the last time he had asked someone about their wellbeing. So when you responded,

"Yes. I think so." He found himself slowly walking back to your bed. Staring at the floor as he sat on your comforter. He decided he wouldn't press.

He liked your message.

He laid in your bed.

And he tried to get the sound of your shaky breaths out of his mind.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

tags: @sweetpo1son @scorpiosugar @starmapz @toruswrld @your-mum3000 @meow-satoru @animeblr @utarts @roxyyyyy1xx @lilming36 @scandibabeuh @atanasiaaaa @chouzuko @voronii @transsfish @h3llf4iry @lucrea @straewberrysoda @s4m4nth4wrld @storiesbyparadise @pokiona @neiostrike @breenatalle @uwolivia @gothic-fluffycow @luvvmae @justbelljust @voidshoutsback @chaotic-ish @jamzywiththejam28 @definitely-not-leena @kirawyd @kuro-chi69 @smoments @lukabwrry @esmedelacroix @professionalreblogger @yoongluverz @stainednailpolishremover @nappingmoon @lauretsy @noelssprings @bytgefirewbook @koji-ibitsu @wafflefries786 @bearchermer @p1nkfl0wers @sugojosgf @deafeningherofishcash @yeehawbrothers @wil10wthetree @youcantseem3 @poopooindamouf @miakxn @esggs @makosworld @neeshsoodrippedout @momoewn @mooncleaver @avocadomochi @getoisinnocent @femmefatal

If you ever want to be added or taken off of the tag list, just let me know :] (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

asking them if you can take sex slow (early relationship)

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: suggestiveness, fluff

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

This might be a little insane but I read the whole list in 4 hours 😞

TEXT AUS 1:

am i the one for you?

would you still love me if i were a worm?

jjk men vs a dry partner

anti romantic texts with jjk men

arguments and aftermath of a fight with jjk men :

part 1 part 2

drunk/suggestive texts with jjk men

random bf!gojo texts

‘he left, you can come over now’

random bf!geto texts

sneaky.ᐟ

hanging out with someone they don't know

a long nap

jealousy, jealousy

no lube, no protection

solace

not this time.ᐟ

random bf!toge texts

morning fairy.ᐟ

jjk boys vs a dry partner

insecurities

aftercare

cousin allegations .ᐣ

autocorrect fails .ᐟ

after me.ᐣ

new theme ★

ink on skin!

excuse me who?

breaking and entering

im right here?

debt trap!

twisted discipline?

oh my mistake

some wounds and a few more

a daring challenge

there was an attempt

can you hear me sos

text from an ex

can't escape me!

guess the makeup

new theme‧₊˚✩ ₊˚⊹

rent free!

silly lyric pranks

fuzzy menace

look at you go!

love drunk

an arbitrary declaration

match made in heaven!

an honest blunder

losing your wedding ring

forbidden fruit

family bonding time!

a blossoming dilemma

reversed roles

nightmare blues

oops wrong send!

how many likes?

what's your password?

can your bf fight?

sex ban

arguments with jjk boys

that's not me

new theme ♥︎

the dating plan

a kinky confession

wrong number?

accidental nudes

leaving them while they napped

first "i love you"

naughty playthings

after the rain

baby? baby!

talk that talk

can we get a pet?

“sorry wrong person”

a friendly banter (or not)

caught in the act

you're where again?

an inconvenient alternative

communication mishaps

chibi nuisances

forgotten plans

under the influence

heat waves

secret antics

bad words

towel please!

fashion icon

too salty for your heart

past flings

Myth

Bang Chan x reader. highly recommend listening to Myth by Beach House while reading! <3

Skimming across the edge of being friends and something more with Chan is a dangerous game. Even more so when you're both sharing the same bed.

(@inniejeonginnie cameo because she's innie's gf!)

skz song series masterlist

"The heater won't work," Seungmin announces to the group, and you all stare at each other blankly.

This was Seungmin's family cabinet. It was a tradition for you all to go there on your winter break- Seungmin, Jeongin and their partners, and then you and Chan. There were only three bedrooms along with the living room- that's where Chan was supposed to sleep. But the heater isn't working. He'll surely freeze in there all by himself.

"He can stay in my room, it's okay," you smile slightly, turning around to gauge Chan's reaction. He smiles back, but his hand is curled into a tight fist. He unclenches it once he spots you staring.

"Then that's settled! See you tomorrow!" Jeongin rapidly exclaims, happy at the prospect of not having to sleep next to Chan. He pulls his girlfriend Anya by the hand, biding you all goodnight.

One by one they all go upstairs, until it's only you and Chan left in there. Suddenly, the oxygen is sucked out of the room; and you feel as if you're standing in a field doused with gasoline, where a single flame teeters on the edge of igniting- threatening to set you both aflame.

"You coming?" you ask and he nods wordlessly. You walk ahead first, and Chan places his hand on your lower back. He drops it once you reach the top of the stairs, but the ghost of his touch lingers in there, his fingertips now seared into your spine.

The light is warm in your room, curtsey of the chandelier hanging from the wall. Its yellow glow reflects on Chan's honeyed skin, and you can't seem to take your eyes off of him as he settles on the edge of your bed.

"I'll go change and then you can go to the bathroom too," you say quietly, and he simply nods. He hasn't spoken once since you invited him in. It's driving you insane. Did he not want this? Were you reading all the signs wrong?

You come out of the bathroom; your hair put away in a braid to keep it out of your face. You can feel Chan’s burning gaze on the curve of your exposed neck, before he goes in after you without a word.

You climb into the bed, your back flush against the headboard. You watch silently as Chan comes out his turn. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt and loose shorts. Suddenly, you are hit by the domesticity of it all. You and Chan in your pajamas, sharing the same bed. Is this how it would be if you started dating? Waiting for him to get changed, to come onto the bed with you? Maybe you'd brush your teeth together, maybe he'd be the one braiding your hair.

"Good night," he whispers, his voice hoarse as he turns the light off.

"Good night," you say just as quietly, palpable tension oozing from the both of you.

You both lay down, heads facing the ceiling. The bed is big, big enough for you both to never touch each other throughout the night. And yet, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reaching your own in waves. He's so close and yet he feels so far away.

You can't sleep, you know you won't. Not when all you are thinking about is the man next to you. You don't know what changed; if you were in this bed one year ago, you'd both be cracking jokes. There would be no tense silence surrounding you, threatening to suffocate you under its weight.

But that would be a year ago. Things are different now between the two of you. You can't pinpoint when exactly, but suddenly, Chan's eyes on you were scorching, setting your body ablaze. Suddenly, each time your hand brushed against his, you felt butterflies roaming through your stomach, violently as if fighting for a way to come out and meet the man who's making you feel this way.

If you built yourself a myth, you'd know just what to give

Chan was abruptly everywhere. He was there, opening doors for you, and he was there wiping your tears away. He was there kissing your forehead gently and smiling so wildly at your unfunny jokes. Your eyes searched for his in every room, and you always found him looking back, always.

And he was there, when you were both tipsy over some cheap wine, giggling in the middle of an empty playground at midnight. He was there, caressing your cheeks and painting them pink, as if his fingers were paintbrushes and your face a canvas. And he was there, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours, before moving them away.

What comes after this momentary bliss?

You've never spoken about that day, and here you are now, lying on the same bed, burning up.

"Are you asleep?" he asks after a while, turning around to look at you.

"No," you reply, shifting in your place to face him as well. "Are you cold?" you ask quietly.

"No. Never around you," he confesses breathlessly, making your heart skip a beat.

The consequence of what you do to me

He leans closer to you, his hand shaking as it raises up to rest on top of your cheek. You exhale a rugged breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What are you doing?" you ask, and he shushes you slightly, his thumb trailing across your lower lip in an agonizing manner.

"Tell me this is real, that you feel it too," he pleads, eyes begging looking into yours. He leans even closer to you, until your noses brush against one another.

"Tell me I'm not imagining it, whatever this is. Help me to name it," he says as he places your hand on top of his heart. It's hammering in there too.

Help me to name it

You tentatively raise your free hand, tracing over his pretty features, and he closes his eyes, exhaling softly at your touch.  

"You drive me insane Chan," you whisper, "Why didn't you kiss me that night?"

"I thought you didn't want me to."

You shake your head, "I wanted you to."

Help me to name it

"Really?" he smiles tentatively, and you nod, "Really."

He's cautious as his hand slides down the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your hand finds his hair, playing with its soft brown locks.

Help me to name it

"You want me?"

"I want you."

"What are we?" he asks, as his lips brush against yours once again.

"We can name it tomorrow."

this is what i’ve been thinking for some time now. israhell has been losing the public support slowly for some time now and they know their propaganda doesn’t work that much anymore and i know that for sure they are trying to get zionists that are in art fields like music to be in the spotlight and to share propaganda bc it is known that some of them are literally paid to do so! scooter braun being one of them but who knows if someone like that isn’t already working with other companies and that we don’t know of? i mean… txt having a zionist producer in a song and skz doing a collab with a zionist is no coincidence! this will be happening more often if as fans we don’t speak out! zionists can’t be comfortable in this industry… people who support genocides shouldn’t have a place in music! they need to feel shame and these companies should too so please… open your eyes! notice every single person that collaborates with groups and pay attention bc this is already ugly as it is but if we don’t do anything it will get way worse

pls write more about piss kinks maybe with jeongin? 😸

SMUT MDNI

Authors Note: Okay so I originally wrote this as some general thoughts with some bullet points but then it turned into a whole ass scenario. I apologize that it's a bit weirdly formatted, I think it still does the job though! Hopefully, you guys are still able to enjoy it! Word Count: 948 Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, PIV sex, Piss kink, cream pie

Jeongin didn't even realize he had a piss kink until that time you pushed him out of the way to pee while he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

He immediately felt his face heat up as he heard the sound of you relieving yourself. The way your face relaxed as you let go sent blood right to his dick.

He was pretty embarrassed about it, to be honest. Why is he feeling like this over his partner peeing?

He didn't say anything about his newfound kink for a long time. He was a bit embarrassed and didn't even know how to bring it up, although you figured it out all your own.

Ever since that day, Jeongin would follow you into the bathroom every time you went in. He acted like it was just to continue your conversation, but the bulge in his pants said otherwise.

It was you who finally brought up the idea of experimenting with the piss kink. Jeongin's face turned bright red upon hearing your suggestion.

"Are—are you sure, Y/N? Do you actually want to try that?" he stutters out.

"Yeah, why not? Seems like it could be hot," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

So, you two figure out a plan. The two of you decide to each drink as much water as you can, filling up both of your bladders to max capacity. Towards the end of the evening, both of your bladders are so full you start to ache.

"Jeongin, I don't think I can hold it much longer," you say, feeling the pressure in your lower stomach. He pushes his hand against your stomach, watching you flinch from the pressure. He gives you the most shit-eating grin, teasing you for how badly you must have to go.

You retaliate, poking him back. His reaction proves he's just as full as you. Not willing to endure any more teasing, he lifts you off your feet and carries you into the shower.

Setting you down in the bathroom, his lips graze over yours as his hands toy with the hem of your shirt, "Are you sure you want to go through with this? We can stop at any time if you want."

You place your arms around his neck, pushing your lips against his, "I'm sure I want to try this Jeongin".

With your permission, he helps you undress. His motions show eagerness, yet he does his best to contain himself, his hands moving slowly but shakily over your body. He gently kisses your neck and collarbone before helping you enter the tub.

He holds your bare body against his, his already hard cock pushes into your ass as he sucks on your neck. You turn around to kiss him, your hand reaching down to stroke his cock. He shivers, partially from your touch and partially from how badly he has to piss.

You pin him against the wall, stroking his cock with one hand and pushing against his lower stomach with the other. He whimpers from your touch, "I know you can't hold it much longer Jeongin. Why don't you just let it go?" His lip quivers, and his eyes squeeze shut. You continue to stroke him as you feel his cock twitch, a tiny golden stream spurts out. "Doesn't that feel good baby? Why don't you let it all out?"

It's like a dam inside him breaks, a strong stream of piss comes out. He moans as you aim his stream at your body, aiming for your pussy.

The warmth of his piss almost makes you lose control of your bladder but you continue to hold it. You feel so much heat building up in your lower stomach from how turned on you are. You rub your clit with your free hand as he continues to release on you.

Slowly, his stream tapers off. His tongue practically hangs out of his mouth as he relaxes, his cheeks are red and rosy.

Looking at you covered in his mess makes him go feral. He pushes you up against the wall, your ass sticking out for him. He aligns his cock with your opening before taking you from behind. The stretch of him puts even more pressure on your bladder. You know you can't hold it much longer.

He builds up his pace quickly, his roughness immediately proving it's too much for you to handle. Piss begins to spurt out of you with every thrust, you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure that tears prick your eyes.

"That's it, baby, let it all out. Feels so good pissing all over my cock, doesn't it?" His hand reaches over your body, rubbing your clit. The lighter your bladder gets the more you can feel your orgasm approaching.

"Jeongin please don't stop!" You cry out. When your stream comes to an end you can feel your orgasm begin. You feel yourself squirt all over his cock as he keeps up his pace.

Jeongin's breath gets shaky as he feels your body tremble, "Baby, please let me come inside, please," he pleads with you.

"Come wherever you want, baby."

With that, his orgasm takes over.

He thoroughly rides out his orgasm before his grip on your hips begins to lighten.

When he pulls out, he turns you around to kiss you, his come dripping down your leg.

"That was one of the best orgasms I've had in a long time," you whisper to him in between kisses. The two of you are both hot and out of breath.

"How about a nice warm shower and then we snuggle on the couch with a movie after?" he suggests.

"Sounds like a great way to end the evening."

breathe — 2min

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho

tags: established relationship, polyamory, bdsm, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, throuple, mxm, degradation, pet play, breath play, collars and leashes, anal!!, butt plugs, oral (m receiving), nipple play (f), choking, seungmin and his canonically established pain kink, thigh humping, unprotected sex, sub/dom dynamics, sub!reader, mean dom!seung, soft dom!minho, implied subspace, use of “slut”, “bunny”, “bubs”, “pet”, “dumb”, slight humiliation kink, choking on cum, use of a non-verbal stop light system, reader goes yellow but it’s all good, absolutely sappy in the end, smut with so many feelings, lmk if i missed something!

inspo: 2min in the new teaser pics

notes: again, i got carried away. it appears the dirtier i try to make something the sappier it turns out. i think i started this two days ago and my mood drastically changed from horny as fuck to in love as fuck. please let me know how this turned out 🥹

{ wc: 5610 }

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Minho asks, softly, as he turns the collar around in his hands.

It’s pink, a little bell hanging off the metal heart in the middle, three different slots available to tighten for size.

Seungmin bought it last week, after five whole days of discussions.

You asked your boyfriends for a collar, and Seungmin instantly agreed. Although it took a little more time to persuade Minho. He wanted it, you could tell by the crimson shade of his ears as soon as you initially brought the idea up—but Minho was the kind of boyfriend that never wanted to hurt you. Even though he knew you enjoyed it, he always wanted to protect you. Seungmin understood both of you equally, which was what helped the three of you work as flawlessly as you did. Seungmin shared Minho’s concerns, heard them and nodded his head silently, while also teasing you for how excited the idea made you.

In the end, Seungmin showed you three collars and when your eyes lingered a few seconds longer on the pink one he added it to his cart that night.

Yesterday the package arrived.

“Minho, I’m sure,” you promise him, “it’s gonna be so fucking hot.”

Minho smirked at you, shy and excited, his eyes locked on yours.

“You know Kim Seungmin loves you on your knees,” he says lowly, “I do, too.”

“You do?” You smile.

“Mhm hmm,” Minho nods sharply, “look so pretty with your beautiful eyes looking up at us.”

“Min, please,” you say, so soon, “put it on me?”

“Go get dressed,” Minho orders, “Seungminnie is gonna get here in ten minutes and then we can do everything you asked for.”

You smile big, excitedly clapping your hands together. Minho chuckles at you, eyes sparkling before he plants a small kiss on your lips.

“Go on,” he says, enamoured, before sitting back on the bed—collar still clutched tightly in his hand.

You quickly go to the bathroom, where your outfit is waiting on the counter. You get dressed, your new matching pink lace set fitting your body perfectly. The thong is a little tight, but you don’t think it’s gonna stay on for too long—so you don’t mind it much.

You take a look in the mirror, silently thanking Seungmin for his taste in lingerie; it makes you feel so incredibly sexy. You can’t wait to feel their eyes on you as they see the way the pink fabric compliments your curves.

With excitement, butterflies dancing all around your insides, you take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom.

Minho’s spread on the bed, hand tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. You can tell he’s looking forward to tonight, his sweats doing a poor job at concealing his already present bulge.

When he hears the bathroom door close shut, he looks up. His mouth falls open, front teeth peeking out as he looks you up and down three times. Then, “holy shit.”

“You like it?”

Minho swallows, eyes growing wide as he nods repeatedly.

“God, bunny,” he says, slightly breathless, “look at you.”

“I think I like it better when you look at me,” you chuckle.

“I’m looking,” he says, licking his lips, “god. Fuck.”

He sits up, his phone long forgotten and with a small flick of his fingers calls you over. You waste no time at all, quickly climbing on the bed to sit by his side.

“So pretty like this,” he runs his hands over your hair, softly brushing it with his fingers. “Pretty bunny.”

His hand leaves your hair after a few moments, running down your bare back before he softly cups your ass.

“So soft,” he hums, tucking his finger under the fabric of your g-string. He runs his finger up and down, tugging it tighter around you.

With his other hand, Minho runs his fingers over your stomach, higher and higher until he cups your tits in his hand. He’s gentle, rubbing his thumb over the soft lace and when your breath hitches he starts circling your nipple through your pink bra.

“Wanna touch you all over,” he mumbles, “but I don’t think it’ll be right to take these off yet. Look how perfect your tits are in this.”

You blush at his words but Minho is too distracted by your chest to comment on it. He pushes the cup down, only enough for your nipple to peak out, and then he rubs his thumb over it in quick motions.

You moan softly, mouth gaped and body already reeling from the touch. Something about Minho not even undressing you before he starts playing with your body ignites a fire in your stomach.

He leans forward, looking up at you as his lips wrap around your nipple, sparkling eyes locking on yours as he flicks his tongue repeatedly around your sensitive bud.

“Min, that feels really nice,” you sigh, carding your fingers through his soft hair. He smiles up at you, tongue flicking through his open lips before he closes his eyes—eagerly sucking around your nipple.

With a soft pop he moves away, rubbing his hand against your waist before giving the same attention to your other breast, eager to keep hearing your soft moans.

His hands join together behind your back, rubbing up and down freely before he cups your ass. He hums, content, the vibrations against your skin sending butterflies into your core.

He pulls away again, satisfied for the time being, looking up at you.

“I had an idea,” he says, lowly, “there was something else in the box I didn’t show you.”

“What was it?”

Minho reaches underneath the pillow, pulling out a long and white fluffy tail. You feel your face burning up.

“Why didn’t Seungmin say anything?” You ask, excitement buzzing through you at the idea of wearing a tail with the collar.

“This one was my idea,” Minho admits, a shy smile on his face.

“You can put it on me,” you say with a grin.

Then, Minho turns it around, showing you the small butt plug attached to the end of the tail.

You let out a small gasp, your lips forming a perfect circle at the realisation Minho actually bought you a toy like this. Your cheeks are so warm.

“I didn’t expect this from you,” you admit, taking the tail into your hands and inspecting it closer. The plug itself isn’t too big, but since the three of you don’t experiment with anal that often you know you’d feel a stretch either way. You feel your walls clench for a moment at the thought of wearing it.

“I didn’t expect it either,” Minho admits, cupping your ass and rubbing circles on it with his palms. “When Seungminnie showed me the website it popped up and I added it. I don’t know, bunny, the thought of you on your knees with a little tail between your legs made me so hard.”

“I want you to put it in, Minho,” you say, and your voice sounds foreign in your ears, “please.”

Minho nods.

He slips one of his hands beneath the pink fabric of your thong, his other hand gripping your ass hard. He brings his middle finger to your hole, circling it softly.

You grip his shoulders, breathing laboured as you lock your eyes on his.

“I need to get the lube,” Minho says, pressing the pad of his finger flat against your hole. You know he can slip it right in if he wanted to—but you can’t deny he’s right. His fingers are too dry and the slide won’t be easy at all, so Minho prefers to simply tease the entrance with his finger. It makes you moan either way, the novelty of it all and the sensitive nerves sending pleasure through your body with something as simple as this.

“I’ll go get it?” You offer through a small sigh.

“Delivery is on its way,” Minho says, leaning forward towards your chest and kissing around it.

You’re not sure what he means but you ignore it when he slowly starts pushing the tip of his finger in and out of your hole—in and out, in and out. You don’t think he inserts more than a centimetre inside you, but it still feels so so snug. So weird. So fucking good.

You hear the front door open and close before Seungmin’s voice follows with a small, “I’m home!” and the butterflies in your stomach start soaring.

Minho chuckles lightly, feeling the way your body reacts to Seungmin’s voice. “Excited to see our puppy?”

You nod happily, a broken gasp leaving your lips when Minho slips his finger in deeper. “He’ll be so happy to see you like this.”

The door to the bedroom practically flies open, and Seungmin doesn’t even say hello. He leans over you, a bottle of lube in his hands, and without any prior warning—he spills it directly on your ass.

It’s cold so you hiss loudly, but Seungmin only shushes you in return.

More and more of it trickles down your body, all over Minho’s finger and down to your cunt. All you can do is moan as Minho easily slips his finger all the way in, knuckle deep.

“There you go,” Minho coos, “take it, baby.”

“Feels so nice, Min,” you let your head fall forward, focusing on the pleasure the stretch provides you.

“Let me look at her, hyung,” Seungmin says, his voice covered in an edge you can’t quite place.

You let your eyes flutter open, moans tumbling freely out of your mouth as you look at Seungmin. He was at an important meeting, you aren’t too sure for what, but he was still wearing his smart clothes. They were so different from his every day sweats, and although you loved him in anything he wore, there was something particularly beautiful about Seungmin wearing tight fitting dress pants and a fashionable cardigan.

You wanted him to rip his clothes off.

“I knew you’d like the tail hyung got us,” Seungmin smirks, his eyes drinking in your outfit before settling on your lips, “knew you wanted it in every hole.”

“Seung,” you let out, ears growing warm at his accusation.

“I’m wrong?” You don’t answer, “our dirty little pet doesn’t like how hyung is fucking her ass right now?”

You moan as Minho makes a point of adding a second finger at that exact moment.

“Stretching you so well,” Seungmin mumbles, looking behind your back at Minho’s actions, “your holes were made for this.”

You reach out for Seungmin’s hand, pulling him closer to you, and he laces your fingers together as he sits down beside you.

“You bought the cutest set, Seungminnie,” Minho says, as he watches Seungmin’s fingers run over the lace.

“You chose the cutest tail,” he returns.

“I-I’m ready,” you sigh, “I want it in me.”

“She’s said that so many times already,” Minho reports, “she really wants it.”

“You want your collar, too?” Seungmin asks, sweetly.

“Yes, please,” you try your hardest not to sound too desperate, but the way they both laugh at you makes you think you failed.

Seungmin plants a soft kiss on your cheek before he looks around for the collar, and when he finds it somewhere on the bed he shakes it around. The little bell rattles around with a small repetitive dingdingding. Seungmin smirks.

“Oh, this is gonna be so fucking hot,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up.

Minho slips his fingers out slowly, kissing your shoulder as he tells you he thinks you’re ready now. You nod. You have no idea if he stretched you wide enough, but you don’t care. You just want them to start already.

You watch as Minho grabs the tail from the fluffy side, dowsing the plug side with lube before he looks up at you. The cautious look is back in his eyes, and he hesitates, but once he sees your blown pupils and quick breaths he leans forward.

He circles the plug around your hole a few times, letting you get used to the coolness of the lube (unlike Seungmin) before slowly pushing it inside you. He pulls it out, then back in—in out, in out, before it slips all the way inside you with a loud moan.

“Oh, my god,” you sigh, “feels so tight.”

Seungmin runs a hand up and down your thighs. Minho starts playing with the fluffy ends of the tail. You can hear him giggling.

“It’s okay, bunny?” Minho asks when you fall silent.

You nod, clenching your fists tightly to stop yourself from touching your clit and derailing the whole evening. Your senses are on fire, the tightness of the plug causing your walls to flutter repeatedly. You try to focus on your boyfriends, who are looking at you curiously.

“I have so many things I wanna do to you, bubs,” Seungmin says, “you’re good to let me ruin you?”

“Please, Seungmin,” you groan, “ruin me as much as you want.”

He chuckles. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah?”

He opens up the collar, watching you slowly as he secures it in place. He locks it on the first loop, the loosest option, and kisses you softly.

Minho runs his hands through your hair, delicately pulling it up into a ponytail as he pushes it away from your face. You aren’t sure when he got the hair tie, but he’s delicate with it, even pulling out a few strands from the side like how you always do.

“Thank you,” you say, surprised.

“So it doesn’t get in the way,” he explains. Your heart skips a beat, understanding they must’ve discussed what they wanted to do tonight beforehand, leaving it as a surprise for you.

Seungmin leans over your shoulder, kissing Minho’s lips messily, before the older pushes him off.

“Youngest first,” Minho says, pointing at the box at the edge of the room where the rest of the toys came from.

Seungmin gets up from the bed, grabbing a matching pink leash out of the box.

He secures the leash onto the collar, giving the handle to Minho before he steps back.

He opens the button on his pants.

You watch as he lets them fall onto the floor, pooling around his feet, along with his boxers.

His cock stands against his stomach at full hardness already, and you swallow tightly.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho grumbles impatiently, “shirt off. We wanna see all of you.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes but acquiesces, chucking his shirt to the side.

“He’s so pretty,” you voice out loud.

“I know,” Minho agrees, reaching his fingers towards Seungmin's stomach. He runs them up and down the soft skin, and you watch fascinated as small goosebumps rise on the skin of his thighs.

“Minho,” you let out breathless, “I wanna bite him.”

Minho laughs, almost evilly. “I think you should.”

“Yeah?” You blink at Minho.

He nods. “You know how much our boy likes that kinda thing. Do what you want, bunny. I’ll pull you back if I want to, right?”

Your eyes move towards Minho’s hand, thick veins accenting his knuckles as the bright pink leash sits securely in his hands. You clench your thighs together.

Minho grabs one of the pillows and drops it to the floor, right at Seungmin’s feet.

“Down, pet,” Seungmin commands. You have to hold back a moan.

You slowly move onto the floor, knees comfortably sitting on top of the pillow Minho provided. Each small movement nudges the plug inside you—you feel so dizzy with want, with excitement, you aren’t sure you’re even in your own body.

But knowing Minho is holding onto you, connected to him by pink leather, puts you at ease. Minho would never let anything happen to you, and Seungmin would kiss you better if it ever did.

You get into position, holding onto Seungmin’s soft thighs.

“Open,” Seungmin orders, running his thumb across your chin. You open your mouth, instinctively sticking your tongue all the way out as you get comfortable on your knees.

Seungmin laughs at you, shaking his head softly.

“You were waiting to do that, huh?” He says, lowly.

You nod your head, and the bell around your neck starts clicking.

“Such a pathetic girl,” Seungmin whispers, “letting hyung stick a fucking tail in your ass? And you liked it?”

“I liked it so much, Seung,” you whine, “it feels so nice.”

“You didn’t even thank hyung,” Seungmin points out.

You feel a small tug at your collar, so you turn around towards Minho. He’s lying back, hand tucked beneath his head again, his black t-shirt showing off his arms beautifully.

“Thank you, Minho,” you say.

“For what?” Seungmin pushes.

“Thank you for fucking my ass with the tail,” you choke out, heat running up and down your entire body.

Minho doesn’t say anything, but you see his knuckles tighten around the leash.

Your chin is tugged harshly as Seungmin turns your head back towards him, smiling wickedly at you.

“Good pet,” he says, “now I’m gonna fuck a different hole of yours. And you’re not going to stop until hyung pulls you off, yeah?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “please.”

You feel Minho’s hand rub up and down your shoulder, as he plants a small kiss on your temple.

He grabs your hand, holding one of your fingers up.

“One finger means green,” he explains, kissing your knuckle. Then he holds up your second finger, “two means yellow,” then he unravels your whole hand so all your fingers are pointing upwards. He kisses your open palm before saying, “five fingers means red. Can you do that for us, bunny?”

“I can’t speak?” You ask after Minho gives you a small kiss.

“You’re allowed to,” Minho says, “but he’s gonna fuck your throat so you probably won’t be able to.”

You clench around the air, shifting on top of your knees.

You nod, fingers tingling at the idea before you look up at Seungmin.

His cock is bright red already, the head glistening slightly. You want to taste him.

You squeeze his thighs, making a point of using your nails, and he lets out a soft groan.

“Our pet has sharp claws, huh?” Minho chuckles.

You lean forward, planting a few kisses around his hip bone before you scrap your teeth against the skin.

Seungmin lets out a high pitch sigh.

“She bites, too,” Minho hums.

“Want more,” Seungmin groans as you bite him again, sucking on the skin before you lick over the small indents from your teeth.

Minho sinks his fingers into your roots, scraping against the nape of your neck with his blunt nails. You barely notice it when he guides your head further down Seungmin’s body.

Minho pushes your face against Seungmin’s pelvis, your nose brushing against the thick stubble. You kiss anywhere your lips can reach—but you can’t ignore the heat coming from his cock any longer.

Slowly, you lick the tip once and then twice and then Seungmin hisses, “take it all, pet. Come on.”

You do as you’re told, letting your jaw drop slack as you slip as much of it inside your mouth as you can.

The height isn’t exactly perfect for your current task, so you try to make up for it, lifting up on your knees to make up for Seungmin’s long legs.

Minho notices, and when he does, he tugs on the leash just enough so that you start struggling against his grip. He’s trying to push you back down to the floor.

The lower you are, the harder it is to fit all of Seungmin’s length inside your mouth but the more you try to lift up—the harder Minho tugs on your leash.

Your thighs are starting to shake.

As a distraction you focus on fluttering your tongue against Seungmin, sucking harder around his warm cock as the salty taste takes over your thoughts.

You want him closer, you want more, and when you drag your body towards him your pussy rubs just right against the pillow you’re sitting on.

You moan around him, and Seungmin throws his head back from the vibrations. Minho tugs on your leash in warning.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says.

Obviously, you do it again.

“Up,” he orders, “on your knees, up.”

You lift yourself up, struggling to sit up on your knees, but thankfully it’s much easier to control what you’re doing that way.

When you start finding your pace, head bobbing up and down freely, Minho tugs on the leash so quickly you lose your breath for a moment or two.

Once the collar isn’t digging into your throat as much you try to breathe in, but Seungmin holds your head in place.

“Such a warm hole for me,” he mumbles, “you don’t need to breathe, right?”

You look up at him, blinking away tears as you breathe in quickly through your nose.

He tugs at your ponytail until his dick falls out of your mouth. You gasp in as much air as you can.

“What do you like more, slut, breathing or my cock?”

“Your cock,” you say, embarrassingly fast, “it’s better than anything else.”

“God, you’ve gone entirely dumb,” Seungmin mocks, eyes narrowed at you.

You nod, the bell rings along with your movements. “Keep going, Seungmin. You said you’d ruin me, please fucking ruin me.”

“Hyung,” he whines, “I’m gonna cum all over her fucking face like this.”

At that Minho grabs you from behind, small hands covering your head as he guides you back onto Seungmin’s cock. You quickly swallow him in, getting used to the weight of him in your mouth again.

You grab onto his thighs for support, making sure to dig your nails into the skin again. As you let go of any control you have, you allow Minho to push your head up and down, up and down, while Seungmin gets louder and louder.

You bring your hands onto his stomach, scratching five long lines on each side from his hips to his thighs.

Seungmin keens.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he starts chanting, “do it-do that, do that again.”

Minho runs his hand down Seungmin’s back, scratching harshly as Seungmin lets out his loudest moan yet.

“Make her choke on my cum, make her choke on it, fuck fuck fuck—“

Minho shoves your head down until your nose is flush against Seungmin’s pelvis. You look for air anywhere you can but there isn’t much. The tip is so deep inside your throat you’re sure it can be seen clearly through your neck, but neither of them can see anything when you’re pressed flush against Seungmin.

A moment or two of nothing but Seungmin’s moans and you gagging, and then the salty taste gets stronger and his cum fills your throat in a sudden gush and Minho pulls you off in a matter of seconds.

You don’t even open your eyes, too overwhelmed by the speed of it all, focusing all your efforts on making up for the lack in your lungs without actually choking on your boyfriend’s cum.

Once you recover enough you remember to swallow what’s left in your mouth, the rest spilled all over you and the pillow and your brand new pink lace.

You feel a hand on your chin, cleaning you up, and when you open your eyes Minho’s looking you up and down seriously.

“How are we doing?”

“Green,” you practically moan, “keep going, I’m not done.”

“Calm down,” Seungmin chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you sucked my soul out.”

You grin at that, pride filling your chest at the state he’s in.

His chest is covered in a sheer layer of sweat, bangs sticking to his forehead even though he styled them away from his face today—and his cheeks are bright pink. There’s scratches all down his thighs; you imagine his back doesn’t look any better. He can barely keep his eyes open, still breathing in and out with effort.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, Seung,” you groan, “please, I can go again.”

“I can’t,” he falls on his back, covering his face with his arm as his chest raises up and down rapidly. “Leave me alone.”

You look up at Minho, eyebrows lifting in a silent plea.

“Go on,” he says, one corner of his lips lifting up into a smile, “hump his thighs.”

Seungmin groans, as if protesting, but he spreads himself on the bed until he looks comfortable. Then, he lifts his arm away from his eyes.

He licks his lips and you notice his breathing has settled down slightly. He doesn’t move, barely reacts as you climb onto his thigh and drag your cunt over the soft skin.

You groan as the damp fabric rubs against your folds.

There’s a constant ding ding ding from the bell, the sound spurring you on to go faster and faster.

“You did so well,” Minho praises, “and you’re so eager to do more. You have to cum for us first as a reward for all your hard work.”

You nod, “yeah, thank you. Thank you, Minho.”

“Like when you train a puppy to do tricks,” Seungmin explains, “we’re gonna let you cum as your treat.”

You whine at his words, dragging your hips back and forth at an aching pace.

“Show off your tail, baby,” Minho mumbles, “looks so fucking hot when it bounces around like that.”

You can’t imagine there’s any kind of grace in your movements, far too concerned with chasing the pleasure to think of how it looks—but Minho’s eyes are frozen on your ass, completely enchanted by the fluffy white tail.

It’s only when he slaps your ass, the surprise causing you to fall forward on Seungmin’s chest, that you feel yourself on the edge of cumming. The drag of your cunt against Seungmin’s thigh and the newfound angle nudging the plug inside you just right causes your moans to get more intense, louder, more desperate.

Seungmin grabs your tits with both hands, “bubs, cum.”

He says it like a command, like all the other commands he gave you so far tonight, and your body has already learned to react to anything he says.

You instantly start shaking in his hold, tingles running all the way from your toes to the tips of your fingers as your orgasm crashes through you. You clench tightly, the plug making it all the more sweeter as you ride it out for as long as you can.

You collapse on top of Seungmin, a content hum echoing against your chest when he pulls you into a hug.

You watch as Minho lays down next to Seungmin, brushing any stray hairs that fell out of your ponytail from all your efforts. You aren’t sure when he stripped down but he’s completely naked now, and you let yourself indulge in the beautiful sight of his bare body. From his sculptured chest to his thick thighs to his gorgeous cock sitting angry and needy against his stomach.

Seungmin kisses the top of your head, then lazily kisses Minho’s cheek.

“How are you, baby?” He asks.

“So hard I could cry,” Minho chuckles.

Seungmin’s hand wraps around the base of Minho’s cock, squeezing tightly.

Minho groans loudly, the sound so different from how composed he’s been so far. You can see his desperation when he shuts his eyes tightly, mouth hanging open.

“Bunny,” he groans, “how are you?”

All you can do is lift up two fingers.

“Need more rest?” You nod.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Seungmin says, giving Minho’s cock one full stroke, “I’ll take care of it while our baby rests.”

Seungmin holds you in one arm and uses the other to keep pumping Minho’s cock. Minho moans freely, letting himself enjoy the attention finally being on him.

You know he prefers giving when it’s the three of you, and especially when you decide to try one of your own kinks, but he still loves when the attention is on him—and who wouldn’t love one of Seungmin’s big hands all over them?

No more than thirty seconds pass before you decide you’ve rested enough.

“Let me sit on it,” you mumble out, “want his cock in me.”

“She still sounds so desperate,” Seungmin hums, “we can all barely move but she’s still hungry for cock.”

Minho smiles lazily, grabbing at the leash and pulling you towards him.

You aren’t very graceful when you climb over to his side but you have to do it quickly, the collar already pressing down on your windpipe.

Minho helps you settle on his thighs. You notice just how much bigger they are than Seungmin’s when the stretch in your thigh deepens from the prolonged positioned you’re in.

He pushes your ruined underwear to the side while guiding his cock towards your entrance. He nudges the tip against your clit, spreading all your wetness on his cock before he easily slips it inside you.

It feels tighter than usual, the plug sitting snug right by his cock, and you can cum from the thought alone.

“You two look so good together,” Seungmin mumbles, cupping his balls. With his other hand, he brushes Minho’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m so in love with you two.”

Minho thrusts up, hard, surprising a squeal out of you.

“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “tell him if he says that again I’ll cum.”

“Seungie,” you start, and Minho instantly picks up his pace, practically drilling into you from below, “S-Seungie, tell Minho how, fuck, how much you love him.”

“Shut up,” Minho warns, snapping the leash. You clench as your breath hitches, but that doesn’t stop you.

You wrap your hands around Seungmin’s cock, at full hardness again already, and start lazily stroking him.

He bites his plump lip, blinking slowly at the pair of you.

“Fuck, I love you two so much,” he groans. You pump him faster.

Your coordination is awful, and Minho’s thrusts keep jolting you around, and all three of you can barely move but neither one of you will stop.

It should be awkward. You think it’s nothing less than perfect.

“Hyungie is the best boyfriend I could’ve asked for, and you’re the best girlfriend. It’s like I have the entire world here with me when we’re together. I’m so lucky you two are mine,”

You feel Minho’s dick twitching inside you.

“Say it again,” you whine, “fuck, Seung, I love you.”

He sits up enough to kiss you firmly on the lips, and it’s one too many things to focus on so you don’t think you do a good job of it at all.

You try to put all your energy on Seungmin’s cock, knowing Minho is controlling his own pace well enough, but Seungmin already came tonight and your hand isn’t fast enough.

Still, “Seungmin, I love you so much,” Minho moans. “Fuck, I love you both with my entire heart.”

“Minho,” you whine, not used to him saying things like that so desperately.

“Hyungie,” Seungmin says as he pulls him in for a kiss, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The three of you start breathing desperately, all broken moans and messy kisses.

“I need you two like I need air,” Seungmin says.

“I couldn’t breathe without either one of you,” Minho agrees.

“Fuck,” you gasp out as Seungmin pushes the tail deeper inside you, “I need you two, I need you two more than anything.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Minho warms.

“Min, I love you,” you kiss him, “cum for us, Min, wanna feel you so close inside me.”

“M-me too,” Seungmin groans, “gonna cum, too.”

You can’t be the only one left out, and so you quickly start rubbing your clit in figure-eights with your free hand. It’s a mess of movements and an unsynchronized chorus of moans—but soon the three of you are all hit with it at the same time.

Minho gets there first, and it’s a domino reaction when Seungmin notices his boyfriend cumming inside his girlfriend, and your body reacts to the pair of them slowly after.

Minho carefully guides you off his thighs, ignoring the mess between your legs and the way it’s slipping out of your cunt and all over the bed.

He unlocks the leash, opens the collar and throws it off to the side somewhere. He only needs one hand to do so, and you can’t suppress the moan that leaves you from the sight of it. Luckily, they don’t think much of it as the three of you are all still sensitive.

Minho slowly, and with a few reassuring words, slips the plug out as well.

The pair of them rub over your neck and your sore thighs and your exhausted wrist. Minho takes a bit of water and washes over your neck to make sure your skin doesn’t get too irritated and then he makes sure to give you what little is left in the water bottle to drink. Everything still tastes of Seungmin, though.

After a few minutes Minho settles down against your chest, reaching a hand to hold onto Seungmin’s hips.

You’re sandwiched so closely together you might actually stop breathing soon—somehow it’s still not close enough.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho mumbles, eyes closed, “since when do you get sappy during sex?”

“Wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles sleepily back, “I was overwhelmed. I truly meant it all.”

“Of course you did,” Minho says, as if stating a fact. “There’s a lot of things I’m unsure of, but what the three of us have together isn’t one of them.”

“If you guys don’t shut up I’ll start crying,” you threaten.

Minho kisses your cheek. Seungmin kisses your shoulder.

“You mean the world to me, bubs,” Seungmin mumbles.

“I will cry,” you groan.

“Fine, I hate you. Happy?” Seungmin chuckles.

You giggle at him, “I hate you, too.”

“Why are you two so annoying?” Minho smiles, big and content. You kiss his cheek softly.

It’s sweaty in your three way hug, and you’re still sticky all over, and your throat is on fire from thirst. But still, you don’t move yet, entirely content with being wrapped all around the two of them, unsure of where you end and they begin. It’s fitting like that, you think to yourself, being so close together your breath easily turns into theirs.

| texting stray kids |

they’re your brother’s best friend

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

inc: requested, some angst (hyunjin, seungmin), some goofy (lee know, changbin, han, felix, jeongin), some suggestive (bang chan, han, felix), f-word (hyunjin, seungmin), prayer for jeongin yall

for 🦇 anon, sorry for the delay, i hope you like it! 🫶

SKZ!Fake Texts: He Calls You Clingy III (Maknae Line)

Part 1 Part 2 Hyung Line

Jisung:

Felix:

Seungmin:

Jeongin:

Taglist: @jaquisos @lovesunshinefelix @lixpixstix @lixxpix @redstayrosie

Bbokari protecting Felix 😭

cr.tto

- Stray Kids “FAN MEETING” SKZ TOY WORLD, 240406

youngblood ↠ lee minho

◦ genre: college!au, best friends to lovers!au; angst, fluff

◦ pairings: reader x minho

◦ word count: 17.4k

◦ description: lee minho crashes at your apartment four out of seven days in a week, but you’re the crashing for him.

◦ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, slow af burn

◦ a/n: hello after 4 months of not writing !!! self-quarantine brings out the best in me (due to lack of responsibilities) & here’s the fic I’ve been working on for the past week; I hope you like it :)

one.

Lee Minho tells you that he drowned his AirPods during that one campfire social by the beach and that he can’t afford to buy a new pair because he’s a dirt poor, money-starved college student who survives solely off of Shin Ramyun and its complementary mushroom flakes.

You know this because 1) he’s mentioned it before during the ten-minute break of your three-hour-long marketing lecture and even got the professor involved in a heated discussion about Apple’s obligation to make all of their product lines waterproof for maximum customer brand loyalty, 2) the past several calls with him have been staticy and demonic sounding, and 3) he actually FaceTimed you during his grocery trip last weekend and asked whether he should buy two five-packs of Shin Ramyun or one. You said one, but you’re pretty sure Minho’s too fucking weak to pass up on that two-for-one deal.

So here you are, grocery shopping on a Friday night (because you’ll never wake up early on a Saturday morning) and listening to your best friend wail about his misfortunes through the phone as you’re slapping every watermelon you come in contact with.

Keep reading

ACCIDENTALLY TEXTING YOUR EX BFF

choi soobin x gender neutral reader

where you and soobin were once close friends until he confessed a year ago and you rejected him because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. after that he asked for some space and you guys haven’t spoken since. one late night you wallow in your pity and reread your old texts and accidentally send one.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Truth was you didn’t have a meeting with any advisor, but you’d been up all night going through every scenario on how today would go. And most of them ended with Soobin hating your guts forever, so you made up a lie to delay seeing him.

The air was thick with a mix of anticipation and nostalgia as you made your way towards the cafe, the bell chiming and notifying your arrival. You immediately spotted a head of blonde hair in the corner booth, where Soobin was waiting for you. He was dumping way too many packets of sugar into his coffee and looked just as you remembered. Like home.

It had been a year since the both of you last spoke, a long twelve months filled with the echoes of a friendship. You, fueled by a sense of longing and the accidental press of a send button, had reignited a conversation that had been put on hold for far too long.

As you made your way towards him the atmosphere tightened as you started to feel the weight of unspoken words brewing inside you.

Soobin looked up at the sound of your footsteps and mustered a hesitant smile, a mixture of relief and uncertainty dancing in his eyes as you sat across from him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice a careful blend of warmth and reservation. You had almost forgotten what he sounded like.

“Hi,” you said, returning the greeting as a nervous smile played on your lips. A sense of awkwardness hung between you two, an unspoken acknowledgement of your last conversation a year ago.

Soobin pushed a cup towards you, steam rising up from it as he placed some creamer beside it.

“I ordered for you, you still like it the same way right?” he asked.

“Yeah, you remembered,” you comment, looking up at him as you take a sip.

“How could I forget?” he laughed. A laugh you could recognize anywhere.

“It’s been a while,” you start, awkwardness still lingering between you both.

Soobin took a sip of his drink, his hands too big for the cup as he broke the silence.

“Yeah, it has,” he spoke, memories of a year ago still weighing on him. It was like a barrier that the both of you wanted to dismantle.

“You know, I’ve missed you,” you admitted, finally meeting Soobin’s eyes. The vulnerability laced in your voice was palpable, yearning for a connection that once was.

Soobin’s expression softened, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. He hesitated before nodding, “I’ve missed you too.”

There was a weight of unspoken words hanging between them and you could sense Soobin’s guarded heart, a reflection of the hurt you caused him a year ago.

After a few more awkward glances you finally navigated the delicate dance of a conversation with someone who once confessed their love to you.

Soobin told you about Yeonjun’s crush on Beomgyu and how he called it months ago. He showed you new photos of his pet hedgehog and how he shit in Yeonjun’s room. You learned about all the gossip he’s heard from the semester and the professors he’s grown to hate. As you both chatted about the past year you couldn’t shake the desire to address the lingering emotions. You knew Soobin wasn’t going to bring it up, leaving you guys standing at the edge of a confession that neither was brave enough to voice.

Soobin feels it too, the precipice you both are on.

He wants to jump.

“Bin, there’s something I want…no. I need to say,” you confess, earnest.

Soobin looked up from where he was in the middle of showing you photos from his summer trip, curiosity and caution wavering in his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, shutting off his phone.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath and continued, “Back then, when you confessed your feelings, I was scared. Scared of losing our friendship if things didn’t work out. But over this year, I’ve realized I miss more than just our friendship.”

Soobin’s gaze on you intensified as he searched for the unsaid words.

“I missed you…because I have feelings for you too,” you confess, “Back then and I still do.”

Soobin’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and relief washing over his face as he set his mug down.

“Yn, I…,” Soobin swallowed, a hint of nervousness stopping him, “I never stopped liking you,” he admitted, his tone sincere. “And I wouldn’t let our feelings ruin what we have, I value our friendship too much to let it be overshadowed by my feelings. If you’re still willing, maybe we could figure this out together.”

As the weight of the confessions hung in the air you found yourself at a loss for words and could only dumbly nod back at him.

“I'd like that,” you managed to say.

Soobin’s gaze softened, a hint of remorse in his eyes. “Yn, I want to add something,” he begins, voice tinged with shame, “I’m sorry for asking for space and leaving you for a year. I regretted it everyday and it wasn’t fair to you, I could’ve dealt with it better.”

You met Soobin’s nervous gaze, the air heavy with unspoken forgiveness.

“I understand,” you reply, “How could I not? We both could’ve done better but let’s just move forward.”

“I'd like that,” Soobin smiled, “Can I sit next to you?”

You scoot over and let Soobin join you on your side of the booth. His body was pressed against yours in the small booth as he kept sending you glances. You were still in a state of disbelief as to how things worked out, fully expecting Soobin to laugh in your face at your confession.

Instead here he was, cheeks turning pink everytime you guys brushed shoulders.

“I know we’re in public but…I really wanna kiss you,” Soobin whispers, turning towards you.

“I’ve been wanting to for a whole year,” you whisper back.

Soobin holds back a smile and fails. He cradles your head, his hands swallowing you whole, and leans in to give you just a peck.

“Not enough?” he asks coyly as you pout.

Soobin surges towards you again, this time licking your mouth open and tasting your coffee flavored breath. You’re both the same amount of desperate and assertive, a year’s worth of lust fueled into one kiss.

Soobin catches your bottom lip between his teeth and swells them prettier.

He feels like home.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

[ 20.0 we were never friends ] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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an - i am so so so sorry for this long wait 😭 i had to write this chapter literally 15 (fifteen) times before i was even remotely happy with it :') it seems a bit fast paced haha but please bear with me 🤞🏻

taglist 1 - @thisisnotjacinta @jiisungllvr @hanjsquokka @abbiestearsricochet @adestayskz @thisrandombitch @adr1an47 @alnex05 @cheesemonky @endlessheadache @tiapatito202278ok @queen-in-the-shadows @heeee24 @chanceonceli @amesification @conwunder @weareapackofstrays @taejun-sunlix @lofasofabread @untilthesunrises @jinnie-ret @darlingz99 @kibs-and-bits @143lix @simp4myself @thisrandomgoofy15 @vixensss @luvkpopp @skz-streamer @luvenus702 @syds-dead

taglist open send an ask/reply to be added :)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, sorry this is late but I had this huge ass presentation that I had to prepare for and was having a borderline mental breakdown every day of this week, so yeah! I tried something new with this piece of writing, I hope y'all enjoy it, I would love to know y'all's feedback!

WC: 1.6k

Pairing: BF! Jisung x afab!reader

Warnings: Somnophilia, cockwarming, m! masturbation, fem! masturbation (barely talked about), unprotected sex!, cumming inside, oral sex f!recieving

He slowly thrusts into you, soft sleepy whines escaping your lips. 

He had your full consent, the two of you had talked about it many times before. How you were free for him, whenever he needed you. 

He thought you were joking at first, unsure that free use was something you would be into. The first time the two of you had fucked like that he kept asking if you were okay, afraid he did something wrong. 

“I don’t know why you keep asking me after you fucked me against our washing machine” you giggled, pulling up your shorts. He just sighed, kissing your lips and thanking you for being so comfortable with him to allow him to fuck you whenever he wanted. 

It was for your enjoyment as much as his you had told them. You knew how stressed he was from work, from constantly being anxious, or just having so much energy at times he didn’t know where to focus it. You enjoyed being there for him, and having his long cock inside of you was just an added bonus. 

After the first two times, he no longer refrained himself. When he was playing video games, your mouth was cockwarming him, at times it was your warm little cunt. Even when the two of you were watching anime, he would just began to fuck you slowly against the couch, wanting to do something while watching. 

You were like a little toy for him, his own personal fleshlight that he could fuck anytime, like right now. He had just come home from visiting his brother, the smell of beer still lingering on his breathe. As he looked out the window on the ride home from his brother’s, all he could think about was you. 

How you would whimper underneath him as your sleeping body took his cock. He could feel himself getting hard at the thought of it in the back of the taxi, shifting a bit so the driver couldn’t see his semi. 

As he walked, he could smell your sweet scent through the air. You had texted him earlier, telling him how you were doing a self care day, pampering yourself to the extreme. 

He slowly entered your shared room, taking note of your chest rising and following under the blanket. Your vibrator was thrown on the other end of the bed, causing him to groan. You really were taking the self pampering to a whole other level. 

He entered your shared bathroom, inhaling the scent of your soap as he lathered himself in it, washing away the night with you. You were filling up every single one of his senses and he loved it. He couldn’t wait to be next to you, your warm body pressed against his. Your already wet cunt from trying to get off would make it so easy for him to just slip the tip of his cock inside of you, maybe even waking you up to cause you to beg for more. 

He groaned at the thought of it, his cock getting hard under the warm water, the tip hitting his toned stomach. He slowly pumped it, using the water as lubrication, the scent of you wrapped around it. 

All he could think about is you, you and your perfect smile, your cute little moans, his perfect girl. 

Before he could cum, he slowly pulled his hand away from his aching cock, ensuring that there was no residue of soap on his body and got out of the shower. A white towel adorning his small hips. 

His hair was slightly damp as he stepped out and back into your room only to see your almost naked body splayed like a starfish on the bed. Your tank top had ridden above your stomach, allowing him to see a sliver of your boob, your nipples already hard pressing against the material due to the cool night air. Your panties damp, most likely from your escapades from earlier in the night.

He loved you, and couldn’t believe you were his, his to use whenever he wanted. His good little girl. 

He slowly moved to the bed, his knees pressed agains the mattress between your splayed legs. He slowly pulled down your underwear, making sure that you weren’t awaken by the sudden gush of cool air against your glistening cunt. 

He loved teasing you in your sleep, kissing up your thighs, licking the sides of them before he went to devour your cunt. He slowly kissed a sloppy wet kiss right on your hip before blowing cool air on it, causing you to squirm in your sleep. He chuckled, loving that he could get a reaction out of you even as you slept. 

He checked one more time before he dove into your cunt, lapping up the remains of your previous orgasm as he tried to expel another one out of you. He groaned at the taste of you, his tongue running up and down your folds before capturing your clit in between his lips, sucking on it. 

You tasted like ambrosia, the sweetest thing he’s ever had, fit for a king, or in his case, himself. You were like nectar and he never wanted to stop lapping at it, capturing every drop on his tongue before no more could cum out. 

He slowly pulled away, your essence covering the bottom part of his face before slowly inserting a finger into you. Your body had reacted, your legs about to clamp around his arm before he stopped you, his tongue clicking. 

“Such a greedy cunt, but can barely take a finger” he whispered to no one. He slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you before adding another. “Fuck, you are taking me so well, even in your sleep baby” he groaned before going back to lapping at your clit.

He could do this for hours he thought to himself as his fingers slowly hit that spongey part inside your clit that drove you wild. “Fuck, can feel you clenching, are you about to cum baby?” 

He didn’t even have to wait for your response, you were too deep in your slumber to even register this as something real and not a wet dream. He knew your body too well that he knew you were about to cum. 

Just as he expected, he felt your body convulse underneath him, slight moans and sighs escaping your lips as your breathe became more and more rapid.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of your cunt, sticking them in his mouth and groaning at the taste. He slowly dragged his hard cock, pre-cum alreading leaking from the tip since he got into bed, against your wet folds. 

Your body shook as his tip ran against your clit. His mouth hung slighlty agape at the sight. He loved how responsive your body was for him even while you slept. 

He couldn’t take it any longer though, slowly inserting the tip of his cock into your tight little pussy, groaning at the sight of your pussy taking him in. 

“Fuck baby, take my cock, take it like the good little cock slut you are” 

You slowly stirred away at the feeling of his cock sheating inside of you, only to be soothed back to sleep by Jisung brushing the top of your hair, cooing at how well you take his cock. 

“There we go baby, go back to sleep. If you are a good girl, I’ll even let you suck my cock in the morning” he giggled as sleep took over your body once again, the feeling of floating over taking your senses. 

When he could finally hear your breathing slow down, he began to slowly thrust inside of you, letting every squeeze of your cunt get him closer to his own high. 

“Fuck baby, there we go” he groaned out loud, his thrusts slowly getting faster. “Fuck, taking my cock so well, even when you are asleep under neath me, you just love my fucking cock”

He slowly pulled your tanktop all the way down, revealing your breasts as he captured one in his mouth, sucking on your nipple as he played and pinched the other one. He could feel the way your cunt was squeazing him, and he knew you were close, he was too. 

He finally lost himself when you came for him a second time, him following suit, shooting his thick load straight into you as he laid back down, wrapping his arms around you, his cock still in his cunt as he fell asleep. 

When you finally felt the warm sunlight hit your face, you spoke out loud as you felt Jisung’s cock situated inside of you. 

“Did you cock warm me the entire night” you asked, your eyes trying to adjust to the light around you as you rubbed your eyes awake. 

“I also fucked you, but I guess you didn’t notice” he giggled, kissing your shoulder. 

“So I wasn’t having a wet dream?” you asked, looking back at his face before placing a kiss onto his plump lips. 

“Nope” he giggled 

“Well, I guess it was a good start to my Valentine’s Day” you giggled before slowly removing his softened cock from inside of you, running your hands through your hair as you sat up. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he questioned, a perplexed look on his face. “Are you kidding me Ji?” 

“Definitely” he replied, still a bit confused, causing you to giggle. “I guess you aren’t joining me in the bathroom for another surprise then!” you simply got up running to the bathroom. 

“Hey, wait that isn’t fair” he whined from behind the closed door. 

What were you going to do with this man?

BETTER THAN REVENGE !

Yang Jeongin, star player of JYP-U's soccer team needs a tutor to help revive his derailing grades. Y/N L/N, honor roll student at JYP-U needs a way to get back at her ex for cheating on her. What happens when 2 strangers with seemingly unrelated needs cross paths?

[ - ] pairings - soccer player!yang jeongin x fem!reader (+ a little bit of hyunjin x reader)

[ - ] genre - strangers to lovers, university au, social media au, fake dating

[ - ] taglist - open. send an ask or reply to this post to be added !

[ - ] warnings - swearing, kys jokes, angst, (maybe) smut (more will be added as the series progresses)

[ - ] started - 01/12/2023 | ended - ?

[ y/n et all ] | [ the boys ] | [ the antagonists ]

[ 1.0 ] kicked out

[ 2.0 ] the proposal

[ 3.0 ] oh...

[ 4.0 ] do revenge

[ 5.0 ] the spanish love deception life

[ 6.0 ] jackson wang

[ 7.0 ] oops

[ 8.0 ] pneumonia ?!

[ 9.0 ] liar

[ 10.0 ] americano fiasco

[ 11.0 ] karma

[ 12.0 ] mint ice cream

[ 13.0 ] Vincent Han Gogh

[ 14.0 ] sweater weather

[ 15.0 ] last chance

[ 16.0 ] hallucination

. . . more coming soon !

©lixie-phoria, 2023