gojos-version

[gojos-version]

Stay the night ?

summary : You’ve been best friends with Fratboy Gojo Satoru since freshman year, the golden boy of his frat, all big smiles and loud parties, always dragging you along despite your refusal to drink or smoke. But somewhere between late-night parties, quiet mornings, and the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice… something shifts. And once the line blurs, there’s no going back.

pairing : satoru gojo x y/n

warnings : 18+, smut with plot, foreplay, cussing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, mild angst.

word count : 7.9k

art in cover by thatsallitchief

“You’re wearing that?” Gojo leans against the doorframe of your dorm, grinning like the devil himself.

You glance down at your square neck shirt and sweatpants, “Yeah? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you’re planning to do my econ homework instead of going to the biggest party of the semester.” He winks. “But if you want to stand next to me all night, you might want to up the hot factor.”

You roll your eyes and grab your phone. Mind you, that shirt was not cheap. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

You flip him off after slipping your shoes on. He grins.

“Well I suppose it’s fine, you only need to impress me.”

-

You don’t drink. Never have. Don’t like the taste, don’t like the way it makes people sloppy. But Gojo? Gojo swims in red solo cups like he was born in one. He’s loud and stupid and radiant at these parties, throwing his arms around people like everyone’s his best friend.

But only you get the crooked grin he saves for when the music’s too loud and he leans in to say, “You good?”

Only you get the protective arm when the crowd gets too pushy. Only you get the water bottle he pulls from nowhere and hands you without asking.

You don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t party, but you go to all of them. Because he’s there.

Because he always wants you there. Stuck to his side every weekend since freshman year.

-

You’re sitting on the couch, half-listening to Shoko recounting a story about a tequila shot gone wrong, when Gojo stumbles over. His cheeks are pink, smile lazy, tie askew.

He plops down beside you, too close, thigh pressed against yours. That was Shoko’s cue to get up out of there for another drink.

“Hey.” He leans his head on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Why aren’t you talking to anyone?”

“I am talking. Kind of.” You nudge him. “And you’re drunk.”

“Mmm. Buzzed. Drunk’s a little harsh, sweetheart.” He turns to look at you, his voice growing softer now. “You tired? We can go.”

You blink. “You don’t want to stay?”

“I only come to these things for the vibes.” His lips twist up. “And the vibes leave when you look like you wanna disappear into the couch of doom.” He chuckles at his corny remark.

You can’t help but laugh at how stupid that sounded. “You’re such a liar. You come to these to show off. Beer pong king, or whatever you call yourself.”

He scoffs dramatically, acting like you just cursed his whole made up championship. “Excuse you. And also, I can’t show off if my best girl looks bored out of her mind.”

Best girl.

Your chest does a stupid fluttering thing.

-

Later, after he’s done fake punching his frat brothers goodbye, you walk back together in the cold night air. The party is still thumping in the distance, but Gojo’s quiet now, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You’re thankful that you didn’t bother to change your outfit and worn heels despite having him mog you the entire night. You don’t get how the others can stand up for this long without taking a break on the many seats spread out the room.

“You didn’t have to leave early,” you murmur, “You were having fun.”

“I wasn’t.” He glances sideways. “Not really.”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just… less fun when you’re not smiling.”

And just like that, you’re melting again. It’s so unfair the way he does this, hides soft confessions under jokes and alcohol.

You stop walking. “Looks like chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

There’s a beat of silence before you ask, heart stupidly hopeful, “Why do you always want me there?”

Satoru blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“At the parties. You could go with anyone. You could go with a different girl every week if you wanted to. Not to boost your ego or anything.” You try to keep your voice even, whispering the last part. “But you always ask me.”

Gojo goes still. His eyes drop to your mouth for a half second too long.

Then he says, “Because it’s you.”

That’s it. Like it explains everything.

“Because I like being around you,” he continues, quieter now. “Because I feel better when you’re there. Because it’s not really fun unless I can turn around and see you rolling your eyes at me across the room.”

Your throat goes dry. “Satoru…”

He steps a little closer. His voice is low, nervous, like he’s trying, like he’s fighting himself.

“I always thought you weren’t into guys like me,” he says. “Loud. Messy. Frat-boy reputation and all that.”

You smile, heart racing. “I thought you weren’t into girls like me. Quiet. No fun. Buzzkill.”

Gojo laughs, short and disbelieving. “You think you’re no fun? You’re the only person who keeps me sane, nerd. You’re the only reason I don’t blow up this whole damn house sometimes.”

You both stare at each other. Your side eye upon hearing him call you a nerd vanishing. The wind picks up. Somewhere, someone’s yelling about beer pong.

And then, slowly, he reaches out, curling his pinky around yours.

Not a kiss. Not yet. “I’m so glad I talked to you that evening at Suguru’s party.”

“Be thankful for Shoko for ditching us,” You chuckle.

The first party you attended was during freshman year. You were sorta known but not known enough to be considered ‘popular’. You were sweet and smiled at people passing by.

Shoko had dragged you around with her, freezing at random places to greet people she knew, leaving you standing there awkwardly because you didn’t know them. Finally she stopped to greet Gojo, entering a conversation before departing when she heard someone yell “Shots!”

You picked at your freshly painted nails, looking everywhere except at the white haired man with pearly blue eyes, standing in front of you. You tried to look natural, so did Gojo. Which was weird because he can usually talk to anybody without a problem, except you. Why was he so shy?

“You coming to next week’s party?” he asks, trying to sound casual as you reach your dorm.

You grin. “Only if you’re saving me a seat.”

His smile is brighter than the streetlights.

“Always. Maybe on my lap this time.”

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself not to smile at his cheesy way of flirting. “Whatever. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, yawning as he locked your dorm door and guiding the both of you towards your room. He had his hand placed on the small of your back, his droopy eyes scanning around for the remote of your LED lights.

“Satoru. Just leave it, I’ll turn on my lamp,” you suggested while laying him down on the bed beside you. You reached over your desk, turning on the sunset lamp you had purchased not too long ago. The orangey-yellow hues brightening the corner of the room it was pointed at.

“Awe but the blue LED lights bring me some sort of ease,” he blabbers, like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you.

“Only blue though. Red is for..” He trialed off, making you roll your eyes knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sometimes you question yourself if best friends do these types of stuff. Satoru always flirts, always looking at you with a glint in his eyes that he doesn’t have with anyone else, always cuddling with you when you two get home after a party, and always lingering closer than a best friend should be. Is he just being Satoru or is it more.

You pinch his ear before letting go. “Satoru,” You warned.

He winced. “Ow! Okay okay, I get it.”

He rubbed his ear and pulled you on top of him with his free hand, resting your head against his chest. His let go and slowly his hands found their way to your back, like they belong there, gently soothing you to sleep.

Sometimes, when you’re lucky. Satoru will sleep without snoring. When you’re extra lucky he won’t kick you in his sleep.

-

You don’t hate the frat parties.

The music is always too loud. Someone’s always spilling beer two inches from your shoes. And you inevitably end up being the only sober person in a sea of chaos.

But you come anyway. Every single time. Because Satoru always looks at you like you’re the only person that matters in the room.

This time you took the liberty of dressing up.

“You’re glowing tonight, Y/n,” Geto smirks over the lip of his cup, watching Satoru trail behind you like a six-foot puppy with no leash.

Satoru Gojo, dressed in a white shirt and black basketball shorts, a back hoodie throwing over his shoulder, beer in one hand, joint behind his ear like a decoration.

“I didn’t even put on makeup,” you say, sipping a cup of soda.

“Exactly,” Shoko chimes in from the corner. “You don’t have to.”

Gojo shoots them both a glare. “Back off.”

“Ohhh, possessive,” Toji whistles, lounging against the kitchen island. “You two still pretending you’re just friends?”

“We are friends,” Satoru says automatically, even as he casually adjusts your dress straps for you, fingers brushing your arm. “She just likes coming with me.”

“I like the free soda,” you lie, avoiding everyone’s knowing looks. You won’t deny that it hurt whenever he claims you two were merely just ‘friends’

The truth is, you like going with him.

Not because of the parties. Not because of the attention, even though you know you get it pretty girls always do, especially when they walk in beside Satoru Gojo with his arm slung across their shoulders like it belongs there.

You like it because the second you step into that house, it’s like the world goes quiet.

Because Satoru never lets you fade into the background. Because he always saves you a seat, always brings you a drink, always remembers the straw. Because even while he’s being loud and stupid with his friends, he’s glancing over to check if you’re okay.

Because you feel like his person.

Even if he’s never said it.

“You sure you’re not cold?” he asks for the third time, tugging at the strap of your dress, an odd habit of his.

“You already offered me your hoodie, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the thick one. Next time I’ll bring that big stupid one with the sherpa lining. The one you said made me look like a polar bear.”

You laugh. “You do look like a polar bear in it.”

He grins, bright and unbothered. “A sexy polar bear, though.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

He always makes you smile.

-

From room to room, drink to drink, lap to lap of conversation but always together. If Gojo’s talking to Suguru in the kitchen, you’re leaning against the counter next to him, sipping something fizzy from his cup.

If you’re chatting with Maki and Panda in the living room, Gojo is lounging behind you, long legs spread across the couch, one arm looped lazily around your waist.

He doesn’t need to speak every second, he just likes touching you. A thigh against yours, fingers brushing your wrist, your knee tucked over his. Like the silence between you two is just as loud as his voice.

-

Later, when the music slows and the crowd thins, you’re sitting together in the back room again, away from the chaos.

Gojo’s legs are stretched out. Yours are tucked under you. His hoodie hangs heavy on your frame, and you swear you’ve never felt safer.

He watches you like he always does when he thinks you’re not looking, like he’s memorizing you. His blue eyes wide like saucers.

“You know you don’t have to come to these,” he says suddenly, voice softer than before. “I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I know.”

“But you do anyway.”

You meet his eyes. “I only come for you. Not for the lukewarm beer, the music, nor the stupid ‘fun’ you boys claim to have.”

The words hang there. Undeniable. A little scary.

Gojo swallows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He leans his head back against the couch, exhales slowly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Geto says, walking into the room and seeing the two of you curled up like a rom-com final scene. “If you’re gonna pin this hard, at least kiss her so we can all stop pretending you aren’t madly in love.”

“Geto, shut up,” Gojo groans, ruffling his hair over his eyes.

You laugh, really laugh and squeeze Gojo’s hand tighter.

“Ignore them,” he says under his breath. “They’re just jealous I have the prettiest girl here.”

You look at him sideways. “You’re such a flirt.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against your temple.

“You always say that, sweetheart,” he whispers “Only with you.”

Like a typical frat party the voices of jocks rang into your ear as they yelled out for Gojo to join them.

“Beer pong champion, they’re looking for you,” you chuckle.

Gojo groans, “Duty calls.”

He winks your way before shooting up and walking to the table, ready for another match. You giggle at his antics. There is truly never a dull moment in the parties whenever he’s around.

-

You’re back in your corner of the room, phone in hand pretending to be busy so you can avoid unwanted conversations. You hear Shoko calling your name from across the room but you know if you got up you’d get dragged into an endless conversation with her and Maki.

You flash her a smile before returning back to your phone, opening and closing it. Your wallpaper was set on photo roulette mode, the background changes whenever you close it. You had set the pictures to be of you and Gojo, sometimes pictures of landscapes.

It wasn’t weird to have your ‘bestfriend’ as your lock screen, he has you as his. It wasn’t weird to have a polaroid of the two of you behind your clear phone case. No. It felt natural.

“Y/n, come on.” Maki drags you by the arm, making you stand up from the soft seated couch. “Live a little.”

You close your phone once again before walking behind her. “I am living. Last time I checked, I was breathing perfectly fine,” you joked.

All you got was an eye roll from Maki, making you chuckle.

“Smartass.” She says as she handed you a cup filled with juice. The people who usually attend know you don’t drink. They knew you’d refuse, handing them back the cup every time they’d try and convince you to at least try whatever concoction they created. Probably a mixture of don julio and hennessy. The liquor Satoru usually drinks if he wants to change it up from his usual beers.

It’s sort of weird. Satoru doesn’t smell bad per say. He smelt like a hint of alcohol or a little bit of weed, but he never smelt bad. You’d light his blunts for him with the lighter you carry around because you know how whiney he gets after realizing he forgot his. He says it kills his entire vibe even though he forgets about it 10 minutes later.

He didn’t smell like the other frat boys. You never had to make a face or look the opposite way whenever he comes close to you.

Satoru smells like Satoru. He smells like his expensive cologne that he claims to be “trending” all over the fragrance part of tiktok. He smelt like home.

Cheers echoed loudly, overpowering the loud speakers playing jersey beats. A group of boys chanting Satoru’s name, over and over again. A clear indication that the ‘Beer pong champion’ claimed another victory. Really, you don’t even know why people still want to challenge him.

Maki soon drifted apart from you, finding her way to the kitchen for another drink. You stood near a wall, staring off into the distance, your hand clutching your phone.

You glanced down, checking the time. It’s currently past midnight. The party is still alive as it was when it first started. Sukuna was well known to throw successful parties.

You sighed, your feet ache, your head was starting to hurt, and your eyes were drooping. Yet you never once thought about leaving without Gojo by your side. You’re in charge of making sure he even makes it back to his dorm.

-

Later close to 3 am the party was finally dying down. People getting dragged out by their more sober friends, some who didn’t even make it outside of the door, laying unconscious on the floor. The air smelt like heavy smoke and alcohol.

Red cups everywhere, ash trays left on the tables while decorations once hanging up were now on the ground.

You made your way through the hallway, looking for the 6 foot usual ball of energy. Your eyes scanned around before finally landing on him. Gojo stumbling a little bit, walking towards you with a doopey grin.

“Satoru,” you whispered, hiding back a smile “you’re drunk.”

“No sweetheart, I told you- not drunk! just buzzed.”

He draped an arm around your shoulder, his other one finding its way to your waist, holding it like he always does. His head rests against your shoulder, his white hair tickling your face.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” he said, mumbling the last part.

You didn’t hesitate to let him lean up against you while you guided the both of you outside. The fresh air, free from the pollution called frat parties, filling your lungs.

You took a deep breath while Gojo mumbled drunk words against your skin. “Mhmmm sleepy.”

With a sigh you hurried up your pace, practically dragging him towards your dorm. “Almost there.”

The moment you entered your room Gojo collapsed onto your bed, body sprawled out and eyes closed. Not a care in the world. ‘Buzzed’ he claims.

You placed a hand on your forehead, sighing in exhaustion. Inspecting the sight in front of you you realize his shirt was beginning to ride up his stomach, his v line peeking from under his toned abs. You caught yourself, quickly shaking your head and looking away.

You throw a blanket over him, turning around to close your lights and turning the lights he claims that soothes him. The clock on your desk read 4 am.

You hear Satoru mumble your name from under the covers, making you look down at him. “Y/n..”

You hum before slipping under the white, strawberry patterned duvet, “Mhm?”

“I love you,” he whispers casually. You freeze

‘What?’ was the first thing you can think of. You open your mouth but failed to speak any words, not even a sound came out. You forced yourself to speak up, not wanting to ruin the moment or make him feel like you don’t love him back.

But then doubt kicks in, what if he’s just babbling drunk thoughts? No, you can’t embarrass yourself.

“Satoru you should probably go brush your teeth-“ Snore.

You let out a loud groan. Tonight seemed to be one of the unlucky ones. Satoru was snoring and drooling.

-

And that was it. You never mentioned it and he didn’t seem to remember it.

Since then, things have been… weird.

Not on the surface. Gojo’s still Gojo. Still texts you dumb memes. He still touches you a little too much. Still throws his arm around your shoulders when you’re standing around campus. Still looks at you like you’ve hung the stars. Still acts like you’re the best part of every room he walks into.

But the closeness feels different now. Too sharp. Too hopeful. Too dangerous.

Because what if none of it meant anything? What if it’s just him being him? And what if you read too much into it?

He’s Gojo Satoru. King of the party scene. Six foot something, frat boy energy, infuriatingly good looking. And you’re… just you.

-

So you retreat.

You don’t mean to. You tell yourself you’re just busy.

You bury yourself in schoolwork. In your job. In every commitment you can find. You say yes to every extra shift at the campus cafe. You start getting ahead on assignments no one’s assigned yet. You even ignore a couple of his texts, not ghosting him, just spacing them out. Being “busy.” Master of sabotage.

You don’t mean to pull away, but you do. No more late night calls. No more tagging along to parties. No more pretending like your heart doesn’t race every time he looks at you too long.

If he noticed something changed, he didn’t say it.

If he cared, he’d say something… right?

You’re not mad at him.

You’re mad at yourself for thinking, even for a second, that someone like him could fall for someone like you.

-

The knock comes just after 10 p.m.

It’s late and you’re halfway through writing an essay that isn’t due for another week. Your eyes are bleary, you’re wearing the same hoodie from yesterday, and your room’s lit only by your laptop screen and a half-dead string of fairy lights.

You almost don’t answer.

But then you hear his voice:

“Y/n? You in there?”

Your stomach twists.

You debate not answering. You debate crawling under your desk and pretending you’re asleep. But your feet move on their own, and when you open the door, there he was.

Gojo Satoru, in a hoodie and joggers, hair pushed back like he’s been pacing. His usual cocky grin is nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “Can I come in?”

You step aside.

He walks in like your room is familiar. Because it is.

And you realize, painfully, that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing him. He looks you over really looks and his eyes drop to the pile of papers on your desk, the untouched dinner, the overstuffed planner on your nightstand.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks after a long beat. “You’ve been distant. And don’t say it’s just ‘school.’”

You hesitate. Then go with the safest answer: “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve always been busy,” he says gently. “But not like this.”

You busy yourself gathering papers off your desk. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

He looks almost hurt by that. “Of course I noticed. Busy for you is good… I suppose, but not like this. Not when it’s hurting you.”

Something bubbles in your chest, something ugly and sad and fragile. “I don’t know what you want from me, Satoru.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just-“

His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you rush on.

“You say things. You look at me like I matter. But then nothing happens. I have constant self doubt, no matter what. I can never convince myself that what I’m doing is right and not a mistake. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t mess with me.”

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to saying I like you.

You don’t look at him.

You’re afraid of what’s on his face, pity? Confusion? Worse?

Instead, you say, quietly, “Maybe I just needed space to figure it out.”

Gojo is silent for a long moment. Then he exhales, stepping closer. Your heart stutters.

“No, you don’t,” he adds when you don’t respond. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be trying to disappear on me.”

You meet his eyes then and it nearly breaks you.

Because there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk. Just raw honesty.

You whisper. “I thought if I said anything, it would ruin it, you know, us being best friends. I’m not really the venting type of person.”

He smiles, but it’s soft. Tired. “You pulling away is what almost ruined it.”

You blink, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.

He steps even closer, toeing the edge of your personal space like he always does.

“And I’m not gonna stop trying,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper, “unless you ask me to. Don’t burn yourself out trying to prove you’re worth something you

You ask, shakily, “So… what now?”

He grins a little just enough to lighten the air.

“Well,” he says, pulling something out of his hoodie pocket. It’s a folded flyer. Hand-drawn. Probably by Geto. “I’m hosting a party on Saturday. It’s gonna be outside by the bond fire.”

You give him a tired look. “I’m not really in a party mood.”

“I figured you’d say that,” he says. Then his voice softens. “But I was hoping you’d come anyway.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because I want you there,” he says.

His eyes find yours.

“I want you to come as my date.”

It’s quiet after that. Your heart beats so loud it’s all you can hear.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair, suddenly a little nervous. “You don’t have to answer right now. I just… thought it would be a good idea. I mean most of them are bringing a plus one.”

You nod slowly.

Then, quietly:

“Okay.”

He stills. “Okay?”

“I’ll come,” you say, lips curving up. “As your date.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath all week. Then his grin returns, bright, wide, impossibly him.

“You’re gonna look so good, I’m not gonna survive.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn. He reaches the door, hand on the knob, then pauses.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, one last time. You meet his gaze, softer now.

“I think I will be.”

And with that, he leaves. But his smile lingers.

-

You don’t even knock. You just step into the party the way you always do, quiet, unnoticed, somewhere between unsure and familiar. But this time, you’re not alone.

This time, you’re his date.

The house is buzzing the second you arrive, not chaotic like usual, but warm. Music hums through the speakers in the backyard, where strings of lights glow between trees and paper lanterns. There’s no beer pong, no packed kitchen, no loud bass shaking the walls.

It feels more like a gathering than a party. Intimate.

Intentional.

You spot Geto and Shoko by the fire pit, Yuta curled up in a hoodie next to Panda, who is definitely roasting marshmallows too aggressively.

And then you see him.

Gojo, standing near the back steps, laughing with Nanami and Utahime. White shirt hugging his frame, blue eyes scanning the yard like he’s looking for-

He spots you.

And just like that, his smile softens. Warms. Becomes something only you get to see.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, like he didn’t text you three times earlier asking if you were still coming. Like he hasn’t clearly been waiting.

You look up at him, nervous, unsure, hopeful. “Hey.”

His eyes flick over you quickly, like he’s trying not to stare. You dressed simple, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing glowing brighter than the lights overhead.

“You look…” He falters for a second, grinning. “Really pretty.”

You smile, shy. “Thanks.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Wanna hang by the fire? Or you want the tour first? There’s a s’mores station with your name on it. I may have hoarded the good chocolate.”

You laugh genuinely, easily. “Fire sounds good.”

The party flows around you, but it feels like you’re in your own bubble.

You sit beside him by the fire, knees just barely brushing. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t pull anything bold but every now and then, he leans in close to say something. Something just for you.

And you don’t pull away.

You don’t even think to.

Because when Gojo laughs and leans into your shoulder, it feels like something you’ve already known for a long time.

Like it was always supposed to be this way.

“I missed this,” he says quietly, later in the night. “Missed you.”

You glance at him, eyes soft in the flickering firelight, his hands cupped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you whisper.

He meets your gaze.

“Felt like you did,” he says. “For a while.”

You look down. “I was just scared.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s no judgment in his voice. “Me too.”

You breathe in slowly. The fire crackles beside you.

Then:

“But I’m here now.”

He nods. “Yeah. You are.”

It doesn’t feel like a confession. It doesn’t feel like fireworks or declarations or “I’ve always loved you.”

It just feels right.

And maybe that’s better. People notice.

Of course they do.

Geto nudges Gojo when you’re off grabbing a drink. “You’re basically one slow dance away from being an actual couple.”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re smiling like a dumbass,” Shoko adds, sipping her drink. “It’s weirdly endearing.”

Even Nanami, who barely raises an eyebrow at anything, mutters, “Took you long enough.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it.

He just glances toward the back deck, where you’re chatting with Yuuji, your laugh quiet but real.

And he smiles again.

-

Later, when most of the yard has emptied and only the glow of the fire remains, you find yourselves side by side on the porch steps. Close, but not touching.

The silence is comfortable.

Not like before.

He nudges your knee with his.

“You tired?”

You shake your head. “No. Just… happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, the kind that holds too much.

And then, softly:

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

Gojo’s eyes search yours like he’s still scared you might disappear.

“Is this… okay?” he asks. “Us. Like this. Closer.”

You exhale. The warmth in your chest feels like it could light the whole backyard.

“Yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “It’s more than okay.”

And that’s it.

No kiss. No need to say more.

You just lean your head on his shoulder.

And Gojo who’s always loud, always dramatic goes still and soft beside you. Like the moment matters too much to risk breaking.

You stay like that until the fire burns out.

-

It starts with Sukuna.

Pierced tongue. Permanent smirk. Always skipping class.

He joins the same philosophy lecture you and Gojo have been half-ignoring all semester. But while Gojo mostly doodles on your notes and sends you stupid memes during class, Sukuna- Sukuna talks to you.

A lot.

He sits next to you one day when Gojo’s late. Offers gum. Comments on your handwriting. Makes you laugh, once. Gojo sees it when he walks in.

Sees you turn toward Sukuna instead of him. Sees Sukuna lean into your space, too close, too casual.

He doesn’t say anything that day.

But it sticks.

It builds from there.

You run into Sukuna at the library. Then again near the rec center. Then again when you’re with Maki grabbing food.

“Popular,” Gojo teases lightly. “He following you or something?”

You laugh. “I think he just likes talking.”

But the thing is, you don’t realize Gojo isn’t teasing. He’s dead serious.

He’s watching. Always. Quietly.

Watching Sukuna make you laugh in ways he used to. Watching him lean against walls and flash you that cocky little grin. Watching you not pull away.

And he hates it.

Worse, he hates how much it bothers him.

The realization doesn’t hit Gojo all at once.

It’s slow.

A sick warmth in his stomach when Sukuna shows up at the same party you and Gojo are at. Sukuna always attends the frat parties, why does this one feel so different? Gojo invited you. Sukuna just… appears.

He watches the way you talk with him near the drinks table. He doesn’t approach. Doesn’t pull you away. But he watches. Tight lipped. Drinking too fast.

Shoko eventually corners him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You’re glaring at that guy like he owes you money.”

Gojo sips his drink. “He’s weird.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not-“ he starts, then stops.

Shoko just gives him a look. And that’s when it hits him.

Oh.

-

That night, Gojo doesn’t text you.

The next day, he cancels plans. “Frat stuff.”

You shrug it off. You’re used to him being busy.

But you don’t miss the shift. The distance. And it hurts more than you want to admit.

Then comes the snap.

You text him to help you review for a quiz. He agrees, reluctantly. You meet in your dorm, like old times.

But he’s off the second he walks in. No teasing. No dumb jokes. No light shoulder bumps.

Just quiet tension.

You tilt your head. “You okay?”

He flips through your notes. “You and Sukuna are getting close.”

You freeze. “What?”

“I mean, he’s everywhere lately. Study buddies now, too?”

You blink, slow. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“I just didn’t realize you had a type.”

There’s a bite to it. You flinch.

“Gojo-“

“Satoru.”

You pause.

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, softer.

He exhales hard. “Because I thought-“

He breaks off. Runs a hand through his hair. He needs to know. Needs to ask. Needs to tear the damn bandaid off before it gets worse.

“I thought it was me. I thought I was the one you looked at like that.”

The silence after is a vacuum.

“You are,” you say, quietly.

Gojo looks up. Stunned.

“I only laughed at Sukuna because he asked if you were my boyfriend and I panicked,” you admit. “I said we were just friends and he smirked like he knew.”

You look down.

“And I hated that he might’ve been right.”

Gojo is across the room before you finish breathing. You don’t miss the fact at how his pupils are more dilated than usual.

The kiss is slow and loaded.

No crash. No firestorm. Just weight.

Like the moment’s been waiting for months, and now it’s finally time.

His hands cradle your face.

“You’re mine,” he says. It’s not a question.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He kisses you again. This time deeper. Hungrier.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers against your lips.

“Then take it,” you whisper back.

The room burns.

Your shirt comes off first, his hoodie next.

He kisses down your throat, slow and reverent. Like he’s discovering something forbidden.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So fucking pretty.”

You gasp as his hand slips under your waistband. He’s careful. Focused. Watching you fall apart like it’s something he needs.

He hesitates, not wanting to force you. Not wanting to do anything out of your comfort zone. He loves you.

You notice his hesitation and tugged him closer. “Want you. Please.”

He sucks in a breath. “Say it again.”

“I want you, Satoru.”

He rolls his head back and groans like he’s losing his mind.

He pulls down the comfortable pajama shorts you’re wearing. Whistling upon seeing your lace panties. “You always wearing these?” he teases.

You put your hand up to his bare chest and push him away, jokingly. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “No, they so happened to be the first pair that I grabbed.”

He chuckles, the deep chuckle that makes your throat go dry, the bottom of your stomach twist with desire. “That’s hot, sweetheart. They’re my favourite color.”

He leans in to bite your ear, making you gasp. Satoru is quick, he knows what he wants. He slowly trailed his hand down towards your clothed pussy, rubbing it gently.

“Fuck- baby, it’s leaking,” he says with a smirk.

You can’t see his face but you already know what smug expression he’s making. That asshole.

“Satoru,” you warn, no malice or disrespect behind it, just neediness.

“Heard ya, princess.”

He slips his hand in your waist band, slowly circling his thumb over your clit, making you jolt. You lean your body against his, muffling your soft moans against his skin.

Then you feel the stretch. His long fingers entering you, slow and deliberate. Your slick coating it.

“All this just from me talking?” he grins. His lips trailing kisses down jaw all the way to your neck. His tongue licking your sweet spot.

“Just-“ you stutter, “just put it in, you tease.”

“Say please.” His hands grip your hips, then your waist, then your face. He walks you backwards toward your bed, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp when the backs of your knees hit the mattress. He pulls back, just a breath, eyes dark.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants. “If you want me to.”

You shake your head, already breathless. “Don’t.”

In a flash you were on your back with Gojo placed in between your legs, your panties tossed to the ground, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your chest. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You arch beneath him, gasping as he kisses your ribs, your stomach, your hips.

“I dreamed of this,” he confesses, voice shaking. “More than once.”

You’re trembling when he finally slips inside—slow, deep, overwhelming.

You moan into his neck, gripping his shoulders. You cling to him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the painful stretch and how good it feels, how real.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You okay?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

“Yes,” you breathe. “So much.”

He thrusts slow, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

“You feel like home,” he pants. “Like you were made for me.”

Your legs tighten around him. His hand laces with yours. It’s everything you never said, poured into movement.

You come first, body shaking, eyes glassy. He follows moments after, burying his face in your shoulder as he falls apart. Groaning in your ear.

-

After, you lie tangled in sheets, his fingers tracing circles on your bare back.

“I hate that it took Sukuna to get me to say something,” he mumbles.

You smile into his chest. “He was kind of helpful, actually.”

He groans. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You giggle. Then softer, “You’re really mine now?”

His hand curls into your hair.

“I’ve always been yours,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know it.”

-

Mornings with him are different now.

He’s still chaotic, still wakes up with bedhead and somehow makes pouring cereal sound dramatic but now he’s yours. And he acts like it.

You wake up to his hand on your waist and his breath in your hair. His leg always ends up tangled with yours. He grumbles if you try to get out of bed too early.

“Just five more minutes,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’m serious this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Because underneath the dramatic sighs and sleepy whining, Gojo’s hand never lets go of yours.

-

Breakfast becomes a thing.

Not fancy, usually cereal, toast, maybe eggs if he’s feeling ambitious. But he makes sure you eat before class.

“You’re not leaving here without food,” he says, sliding a banana into your bag. “Girlfriend privileges. I worry about you now.”

You snort. “You didn’t worry about me before?”

“I did! Silently.”

You raise a brow.

“Okay, loudly, but in my own way,” he amends, grinning. “Which mostly involved buying you Red Bulls and pretending it wasn’t concern.”

Walking to class together has always been in your routine.

He meets you outside your dorm even if it means being late himself. He carries your bag half the time, just because. He holds your hand like he needs to.

People stare now, but it’s not the usual Gojo-stare. It’s softer. Curious.

You overhear one girl whisper, “They’re really together?”

Another replies, “I thought she was just his best friend…”

And Gojo just smirks, squeezes your hand tighter, and loudly kisses your temple like the smug bastard he is.

His place becomes your second home.

You leave a toothbrush there. Then a hairbrush. Then half your sleep clothes.

“Is this a drawer?” you ask one day, opening a newly cleared-out space in Gojo’s dresser.

“It’s your drawer,” he says, smug. “Started making it after the first night you stayed over.”

“You’re insane. That was a long time ago.”

“I’m prepared.”

You roll your eyes, but later, you put your favorite hoodie in there. You kind of like that he planned ahead.

Studying together becomes dangerous.

He’s distracting.

He keeps poking your thigh under the table.

Keeps whispering stupid jokes.

Keeps staring at you with that annoying grin.

Keeps leaning over your shoulder, pretending to read, but really just wanting to be close.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.

“I’m studying.”

“You’re literally not.”

“I’m studying you.”

You shove his notebook at him.

He grins. “Was that foreplay?”

“Satoru.”

He memorized your schedule.

Shows up between classes with coffee. Walks you to the library. Waits outside your labs.

Sometimes, you don’t even realize he’s there until he slides next to you on a bench and offers half a cookie.

“Been waiting long?” you ask.

“Only forever,” he says, but he’s smiling.

And you know he’d wait again.

Some nights you stay in.

You curl up in his bed with Netflix on and snacks scattered across the blanket. His hand is always around your waist, even when he’s half-asleep.

He lets you steal his clothes. His shampoo. His chargers.

He lets you fall asleep on his chest and only shifts to kiss your forehead.

“Love you,” he whispers one night. It slips out between breaths, not even part of the conversation.

You freeze.

He doesn’t.

Just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and repeats it.

“Love you. Not scared about it anymore.”

You kiss him, slow, soft, deep.

“I love you too.”

-

You don’t even tell the others.

But they know. All of them are varying levels of unsurprised.

The second you and Satoru walk in together, not just side by side, but together, like gravity pulled you that way it’s over. They can see it all.

Gojo doesn’t let go of you once.

His hand stays low on your back. Yours brushes his fingers every few steps. He’s smiling, but not in his usual chaotic way.

He’s softer tonight. Quieter. Like he’s not looking to be the loudest person in the room for once. Like his attention is already full.

You’d gone over together many times, obviously. You got ready in his room, shoved your lip gloss in his back pocket. He’d watched you get dressed from the bed, doing nothing to hide the way his eyes traveled slowly, unashamed.

“You always this pretty, or are you trying to kill me tonight?”

You threw a pillow at his head. He caught it and kissed it like an idiot.

Now, at the party, the others see it instantly.

It’s not just the handholding. It’s the way he leans into you when you laugh. The way you fix the collar of his hoodie without thinking. The way he watches you walk away, eyes glued to your back like you’re the only thing he’s ever followed in his life.

-

“God,” Maki groans as she watches you two across the living room. “It’s worse now.”

“They were already like this,” Shoko mutters, sipping something neon.

“No, but now it’s legally sanctioned.” Nobara gestures as Gojo tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “There’s nothing stopping him. He’s unstoppable.”

“They’ve always been like this. Now they just kiss in front of us.”

Maki is the first to say anything.

She corners you near the kitchen, squints like she’s solving a puzzle.

“You’re glowing,” she accuses.

You try (badly) to play it off. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.” She leans in. “You look freshly ruined and spiritually fulfilled. That’s Gojo glow.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

Before you can deny it, Shoko walks past. “Finally.”

You gasp. “You all knew?!”

Yuta passing through, uninterested mutters, “Yeah. We’ve been over it since last semester.”

Even Panda chimes in from the couch. “I lost ten bucks on how long it would take.”

Meanwhile, Gojo’s got his own interrogation squad.

Suguru smirks from across the pong table. “You seem settled.”

Gojo takes a casual sip of his drink. “I’m good.”

“Is that her hoodie?”

Gojo smirks. “Nope. Mine. But she stole it first.”

Suguru raises a brow. “So it’s official?”

Gojo nods, that stupidly satisfied look spreading on his face.

“You tell her you love her yet?”

Gojo blinks.

“Because you do,” Suguru adds casually. “You’ve been in love with her since that stupid Halloween party freshmen year.”

“Okay, relax,” Gojo mutters, cheeks flushing.

-

Gojo slips behind you while you’re talking with Panda, slides an arm around your waist and leans in like it’s instinct.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your ear.

You nod. “They’re all bullying me.”

He kisses your temple, shameless. “Good. You deserve it.”

You try to nudge him but you’re smiling.

And so is he.

There’s a quiet in his body tonight, not bored, not tired, but anchored. Like you settled something deep in him. Like he’s finally breathing the way he always wanted to.

You drift together through the party.

He holds your hand under the beer pong table.

You steal his fries.

He kisses your cheek without thinking.

You play with his rings when you’re bored.

Sukuna shows up around ten, smirking as always. He catches sight of the way Gojo’s arm is curled protectively around your hips, and just lifts a brow.

“Guess I missed my shot,” he says dryly.

Gojo grins, all teeth. “You never had one.”

You smack his chest, but Sukuna just laughs.

“Wasn’t trying to steal her, anyway. Just wanted to piss you off.”

“You did,” Gojo says, grinning harder. “And it worked.”

Sukuna laughs.

The night drips by in warm gold.

Gojo takes dumb pictures of you on his phone. You steal his hoodie halfway through the night. He sings part of a song into your neck even though he’s off-key and way too loud.

You end up on the couch together, you in his lap, his arms snug around you.

People pass and grin. Some whisper. Someone asks Gojo, jokingly, “Damn, did you finally lock her down?”

He laughs. Looks down at you. “Nope. She locked me down.”

You blink at him, and he kisses you. Again.

You lose count of how many times he kisses you that night.

Later, you find yourselves tucked on a porch bench while the music thumps inside.

The cold nips at your skin but Gojo wraps his hoodie tighter around you, tugs you between his legs.

“You good?” he asks again, gently.

You look up at him.

His hair’s a mess. His lips are a little pink. His eyes are soft in a way they never used to be like he finally let the walls down.

“I’m good,” you say honestly.

He leans his forehead to yours. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is.”

He cups your cheek. “We really did it, huh?”

You nod, teasing. “I mean, you could still ruin it.”

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “But now you’re stuck with me.”

You sigh dramatically. “Such a demanding boyfriend.”

You lean in and kiss him, just soft, just long enough to feel it in your chest.

He hums against your lips.

When you pull back, he whispers, “Let’s leave soon.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm on your skin. “Because I want you all to myself. Please, can you stay the night?”

[gojos-version]

Third times the charm!

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x reader

Summary: The three times he almost kissed you.

Warnings: None! Pure fluff :3

Word count: 2.5k <3

Proof read: Yes!

A/n: sorry for the very slow updates! I swear I’ve been writing just too busy to finish anything 😔 I’ve started work and it’s so hard to manage my time but I’ve been trying to let you guys know I’m active still by reblogging stuff !! Anyways I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it, have a lovely day beautifuls <3

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

First year jujutsu high 2006

Apparently, there were supposed to be three other first years in your class besides yourself. You moved here hoping to understand and control your technique more but... you can’t lie to yourself that you wouldn't mind making friends who are also a part of the Jujutsu world. To convince yourself you're not weird or crazy. Thats what you tell yourself anyway. What if you don’t get along with any of them?

You swallow the lump in your throat and open the door to your room; pushing that thought aside for now. It was a decent size so you could fit plenty of stuff. Pretty generous you note.

As you’re folding your clothes and putting them in your drawer a knock! Sounds at your door, “Come in!” You yell out and the door opens almost hesitantly, a very tall boy who looks around the same age as yourself pokes his head into your room. He had white hair, bright blue eyes and you really have to bite your lip when a mental image of a dandelion flashes in your head after seeing his hair. He really needs to grow his hair out.

For a few seconds he just blinks at you with his mouth agape and you awkwardly just keep folding your clothes, “So.. what’s your name?” You decide to break the silence. Seemingly he comes out of his trance with a slight pink blush adorning his adorable cheeks, “S-satoru Gojo! I wanted to see whose room was next to mine..” He rubs the back of his neck making a smile tug at your lips in response.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Gojo. I’m Y/N. I hope we can get along.” You bear in mind how his cheeks flush even more and he stammers out a “Me too! It’s nice to meet you too!” Before he runs off with his ears hot, shutting your door a bit too hard.

You giggle softly at that and continue putting everything away.

~Months later~

“Hey! Wake upppp!! C'mon! We’re supposed to go to the movies today!” A loud voice accompanied by hands shaking you awake was the first thing that greeted you when you left your dream. You let out a grunt in acknowledgment and slowly blink your eyes open to see a very ecstatic Satoru looking down at you with Suguru next to you on your other side and Shoko behind Satoru smiling down at you.

“Heeeeyyyyy!!! Get uppp!! He-“ Satorus obnoxiously loud whines were muffled by you throwing your pillow at him, sitting up and rubbing your tired eyes. “Stop yelling.”, “Morning sunshine, it’s 9 in the morning.” Shoko coos, “Too early.” You grumble as you twist your body to the side and get up; moving around Satorus pouting figure.

“You didn’t have to throw your pillow at me.” “You’re too loud. It’s not even ten in the morning.” You sigh, getting your uniform out and putting it over your arm. “I’ll be like 5 minutes, and then we can go.” After a couple of whines from Satoru and scolding from Suguru, they all leave your room with Shoko giving you an empathetic smile.

You didn’t expect to wake up to Satorus face this morning. Your stomach flutters and a blush tingling your cheeks. Gosh get a grip of yourself. His hairs slightly growing out, but he still looks a lot like a dandelion. If anything, it’s grown half a centimeter.

You get changed and walk out to the kitchen area, sighing in relief when Shoko notices you while holding a cup of coffee for you. “My savior!” You cry out and drink it as fast as you can.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” Satoru chants as he speed runs out the door. “I’m ready now, I hope the movies going to be good”, “Mm me too.” Suguru replies with a soft smile then a yell at Satoru to slow down and stop running off without the rest of you.

-

“You forgot the caramel in the popcorn! This is criminal! You should be arrested! It tastes so bad now! It's flavorless!” Satorus whining and complaints filed the theatre, with Suguru and Shoko just ignoring him. “It’ll be fine. You’re a big strong man, aren’t you? You can get caramel next time.” You try to half? Reassure him and focus back on the movie.

He lets out a loud grunt and slides down his chair with a string of more grumbles under his breath. You almost want to slap his exposed forehead.

-

“This kukifuku has to be the best I’ve EVER tasted! Y/N! I’ll be generous and offer you a bite. Try some!” He pushes his half eaten kukifuku your direction making you freeze for a second. Would this be like a..indirect kiss..?

Oh.

Oh.

Okay.

“S-sure.” You voice wavers a bit and you take in his big smile. You swallow nervously and open your mouth to take a bite. Suck it up. You can do it. He probably doesn’t even mean it like that. Your teeth sink into the soft desert. He bit there a second ago. Fuck. Your eyes flit up to make eye contact with his and it’s like time stops for a second. His smile twitches and falls as if he just caught on. His eyes widening and cheeks flaring up with heat.

You pull away and chew the soft kukifuku, its flavour dancing along your tastebuds. “Tastes really good, dandelion. You were right.” You hum, you freeze when you hear not one but two laughs. Oh god. Did they see that??

“No way you guys just did an indirect kiss! Oh my god! This is gold!” Shoko wheezes out, “Gojo didn’t even know it was one I bet! Holy shit we need this recorded down! Quick! Write it down with the time!” Suguru laughs as they tease you and the very quiet dandelion besides you. Your eyes flit to Satoru and you notice how he looks like he’s two seconds away from exploding on the spot.

You’re not any better.

Definitely not.

Your heart feels like it’s going to thump out of your chest and take a walk. The both of you stay silent and flustered till the others pick up on it, “...Yo are you two good? We’re just teasing you guys.” Suguru takes a few steps forward as if discovering a new species. “I think we broke them, Geto.” Shoko sighs and with that she calls Nanami and Haibara.

You have no clue how long you’ve been standing there. Neither does Satoru.

That was the day you realised if.. you did kiss him. Maybe you wouldn’t mind.

He still looked like a dandelion though.

You sit in your dorm room reading a book you brought today, trying your best to focus on the words and not let your mind wonder to what happened earlier. A soft knock pulls you out of your thoughts. “Come in.” With that a set of white hair softly pads into your room. “Can I please sit?” He says quietly. He’s never quiet. Nervously you nod your head and he sits on the edge of your bed; next to you.

“I’m..sorry about today. I didn’t think of it like..that. I wanted to offer you some because you said you never tried it before.. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” “It’s okay, Dandelion . I didn’t think of it like that either. It’s all good.” You smile, swallowing down the feelings threatening to burst out. His cheeks flared up a deeper red hue at the nickname. Funny, he said he hated it. “But..if you wanted it to be like that..I wouldn’t mind.”

Huh.

Did he just..?

Heat decorates your cheeks and flush up your neck, “Maybe I did. If you wanted it to.” Then it was his turn to be flustered, heat crawling up his neck and ears, “Maybe..i want it to be like that now. That we're alone.” He responds, half lidded eyes flitting down to your lips. His hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek and you press a kiss next to his lips; making his lips chase yours.

Before his lips can seal yours you mumble out, “You really look like a dandelion.” He blinks at you before he bursts out laughing and you join him. “I’m sorry! I ruined the moment! I didn’t mean to- I was nervous, and it just came out!” You stammer out and he laughs, really laughs with a red tinge coating face.

He looked so.. pretty.

Second year, 2007.

Satoru grew. A lot. His hairs grown out now, so you have to stop calling him a dandelion, not to mention he’s got some..muscles now. His face accompanied by his circle sunglasses and his signature grin. The two of you haven’t exactly been..dating? You’re both aware of each other's feelings. You think. Just...nothing's happened. Besides flustered glances, lingering touches here and there you’ve been too busy to even focus on pushing it further; stuck with controlling your cursed techniques and going on missions.

Today was finally a day off. Well, only for you and Satoru, alone time if you will. Your soft footsteps padder towards the kitchen, pouring yourself a coffee and pondering on what you should do today on your day off. “We should go shopping today. ‘Ts been a while.” Satorus deep voice rings out behind you and you jump making him laugh, “Sure. I need to, I’ve grown out of most of my clothes.” You sigh. You haven’t had the time to go shopping for months.

-

“Come! Let’s check out this hot potato shop!” Satorus hand grabs yours and drags you towards the food stalls, almost making you face plant into him. “You didn’t even give me a choice- Satoru-! Slow down!” You stumble, weaving past people yelling out apologies as he drags you like a dog running off with a rope. Finally, he stops and you clutch his arm panting, trying to catch your breath and he excitedly orders whatever hot pot potato he wants. “What do you want?”, “Uh- can you order for me? Surprise me.” You say, half regretting your decision already. Finally, you get your food and sit down at a bench outside, a blossom tree surrounding the both of you.

Satoru places yours and his shopping bags on the ground next to him, you do the same with the one bag you were holding thanks to Satoru insisting on carrying yours for you. “Mmm this is so good! Have you tried yours yet??” Satoru hums, "Not yet, I'm about to." Gosh he looks like he’s in heaven eating it. You take a bite for yourself and the flavor and sensations zap all over your tongue and mouth making you hum out in pleasure, your tastebuds melting.

You both make light conversation as you finish off your meals, blossoms swirling around the both of you like a romance anime. You notice Satoru has some food next to his lips, silently as he talks you grab a napkin and wipe it off for him making him stop mid conversation. “Sorry, you had something there.” Then you look up in his eyes and time stops. It’s just you and him in the entire world, no curses, no death constantly, just you and him. No one else exists. Just the two of you. No strongest. Just your Satoru.

His eyes flit down to your soft, plump lips, his hand reaching out to thumb your bottom lip. “You're so pretty.” He says softly, leaning towards you; his breath fanning your lips. Your hands snake up to his hair, playing with it softly as your eyes flutter shut and you lean in, waiting for his lips to connect with yours. Just before your lips meet, Satoru's phone goes off making you jump apart as he answers his phone.

He smelt sweet. You wondered if he tasted sweeter.

2008 Jujutsu high graduation.

“Cmon! Get closer together! Yep! Perfect! Okay, smile!” The camera man shouts, you’re next to Satoru and Shoko. It felt a bit...hollow that Suguru wasn’t there. Satoru snakes an arm around your waist silently, pulling you subtly closer to him as if he read your mind.

You all smile as the photo flashes with a click! And just like that..graduation was over. At least you had photos to hold the memory.

Still..you and Satoru have been too busy to make it official. Riko.. Suguru.. Haibara.. too much. Though you still loved Satoru with your entire being. That never wavered or changed.

You wanted him to kiss you and make you his officially more than anything. You have for two years now. But..patience makes it worth it right..?

You swallow the frog in your throat and excuse yourself, wanting to be alone. To breathe.

You sit under the tree you all used to relax at a lot. Knees to your chest as your thoughts run wild.

Maybe Satoru.. didn’t want you? Or he didn’t know how to express it..? Doubts filled your mind making you curl into yourself more.

“Hey.” You’d recognise that sweet voice anywhere. The soft voice Satoru used on you. Only you. That honeyed sweet voice that could make you fold in less than a second. He was dangerous. You don’t make any effort to lift your head up. You just stay as you are, too tired to do anything.

You feel him sit next to you, his body heat radiating onto your side. He puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it in circular motions. “..Sweetheart?” You hate how that nickname sends goosebumps across your entire body.

“Talk to me.”, “What are we Satoru? It’s been 2 years. This year will be the third year.” It’s silent for three seconds. Or more. “..I thought we were dating all this time..” With that your head whips up and your mouth agape, “Huh?!”

Satoru blinks at you, “We..weren’t?”, “Y-you never even asked me to be your girlfriend under a sunset! Or stars! We haven’t even had a first kiss! Have we even-!” You ramble on; you miss the lovestruck gaze he gave you. Wordlessly Satoru shuffles in front of you, eye level with you and cupping your face with both of his hands. His bright blue eyes stare into yours, making a flush rise to your cheeks and ears.

“I’m sorry. I’m not that good with emotions or words but.. when you kissed my cheek in first year I kind of.. thought we were dating? Because no one’s ever done that to me let alone ever seen me like that. That’s why I assumed we were dating- I didn’t say anything because well- it’s embarrassing but you’re my first! I’ve never loved anyone and-“ You cut his rambling off with a soft peck to the corner of his mouth making a stuttered gasp escape him.

“You stupid boy. I love you so much. I’ve always been yours.” With that he presses his lips against yours, sealing the both of you together; sealing your affection. He deepens the kiss making a breathy gasp leave your lips; which he greedily swallows up.

He maps your mouth out with his tongue pinning yours before he pulls away with his chest heaving.

Yeah. He tasted sweeter.

“Third times the charm.” He grins against you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “More like three years.” But he wasn’t wrong, after all they do say third time’s the charm and in this instance it really was.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

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[gojos-version]

BAD INFLUENCE

Synopsis. Summer’s in heat and so are you - luckily, your aIpha knows just how to…help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!oméga!reader, aIpha!JJK men, OMÉGAVERSE AU, heats, knots, size kínks, matíng presses, they go FÉRAL, pheromones, spítting, chokíng, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, tummy buIges, creampíes, p talking, bréeding, losing control, best friend!Choso, matíng bites, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. OvuIation has me like this…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Mr. Milkman

“O-oh my, mmm, Toji-”

“Quiet.” He’s swallowing down his parched throat, staring down at you through the gaps of his dark bangs- on all fours, your trembling hips rut back mindlessly into his. 

Sluggishly - almost hypnotized - Toji’s nodding his head down to take a sniff of those sweet, sweet pheromones of yours. Just a tiny puff before his body’s acting on pure, primal instinct- slamming every lengthy, vein covered inch of his until he’s thumping the bottom of your core.

Your heat was driving him crazy. His beefy arm curling ‘round your neck, nose pushing into your throat-

You find yourself sobbing out cutely, “Yes- yes, please mo-”

“More?” Toji doesn’t even let you finish. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be marvelling at the way his low, gruff baritone was breaking near the very end. At the way he could only plaster the reddened tip of his shaft against your walls and gasp—“M-more?”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

Now you were making him tighten his hold, a warm puddle of drooling splashing out of your mouth n’ all down his veiny forearm. “More, huh?” And there’s something dangerous to his tone. Something dark. Unsteady. “I’ll give you f-fuck- more.”

And before you can even register those words within your melty mind, he’s using the leverage to slam your trembling body to his-

“So much more you won’t be able to take it, doll.”

He meant it- oh, your poor, overly-stuffed cunt’s finding out just how much he meant it. 

Because then Toji’s fucking you into the dampened sheets like an animal- fast. Hard. He’d been rough before, but never like this - like he’d die if he couldn’t feel the velvety ridges of your sweet innards. 

Low grunts slipping after each swat of his geysering orifice, knees spreading even wider on the creaky bedsprings to feed your dripping pussy with his veiny measurement. 

He pushes a hand down at the base edge of your spine and grins at the way it makes your irises stupidly whirl—“Tch, s’this it? Is this what you wanted, needy thing?”

“O-ohhh just like that.” You’re mewling, hands fisting into the silken sheets when he’s surging his hips after the recoil of each thrust. Chasing your cunt. “Yeah- just like mm–”

Toji grunts, “This enough for my girl’s slutty pussy-” One of his raven brows raise as he’s taking in just how utterly wet you were with your heat, extra layers of your slick ringing around his hilt. “-or d’you still want fuck- more, needy lil’ omega?”

Your cute lower lip wobbles and he already knows the answer- hell, he’s fucking the answer out of you just as soon as he realizes.

A large, callused hand swats down on the slippery slope of your pussy with a snicker. So hard that a slimy squelch! rings in his ears like music, “Speak up. Tell me what your heat wants.”

“Ngh- I want-” Your back arched at the warm contact of his thigh hiking up, pressing to the side of your bouncing hips to stop you from squirming. Every maddening thrust just had you so stupid that you can’t even string together a coherent sentence at this point. “I want- fuck…”

And the next few pretty noises you’re letting off aren’t from your gaping mouth - they’re from your sopping wet pussy. 

Just the loudest, most lecherous slurps each n’ every time he’s opening up your every nook and cranny. 

Toji has to nibble down on his scarred lips to prevent himself from whining- “O-ohhhh, I get it.” You swear you hear his lips depart with a husky giggle - a giggle. And Toji can’t help but urgently lick off the honeyed glaze of your slick all over his digits, extra sweet now. He roams them back down for yet another spank. “This heat has you hah- talking t’me from here, huh?”

Another three strikes, and another few gluey squelches.

He’s sticking the pads of his fingers against your cunt and watching as you jolt at the raw stimulation, whimpering. “T-Toji it feels so-”

“Ah ah-” Ah, for a second he’s wondering whether he’s teasing his poor girl too much- but then he’s whiffing in more of your heady scent and shit- what was he thinking about again? “If m’gonna be used for my ngh- cock, doll, I wanna talk to the lady in heat.”

Cock so, so swollen that he has to swerve his hips ever-so-slightly to bully all the way inside, your pheromones so hypnotic that every where he touched left utter bruises. 

You were making him lose control.

You were making him gulp in a looong lungful of your clouded pheromones before he’s tumbling his head back and fighting for his damn life not to cream your insides already. Feeling just a pearly bead of cum escape the end of his shaft, “F-fuck, she’s gonna be the fucking death of me.”

“What are you–” You’re starting out, before flinching at the splat-splat-splat of something all wet trickling down the middle of your spine. 

Snapping your head around and oh- the vision you’re seeing is something so effortlessly sexy.

He’s never been like this.

Toji- with his head lowered near your scent glands, chiseled abs tensed, darkened eyes glittered with tears. They’re travelling in a thin line down his cheeks and splashing onto your back, “Toji are you o- fuck!”

“Don’t you fucking ask if I’m okay, doll.” Oh, he’s seething. Leaned in close so your fever’s catching onto him in full effect, every ragged breath of his punctures with a harsh thrash near your g-spot. “Don’t you- fuck, look at her n’ ask if I’m okay-”

Mindlessly, your head lolls down to watch as he slides in n’ out of your folds relentlessly. Your pussy bulging wiiidely agape, struggling to take in his sheer size.

And Toji’s thighs tremble as he’s groaning, “Begging to be filled up- begging to milk me dry. This omega’s begging to be bred by me, and you think I’m okay?” Jade peripherals dilated, canines honed, he was gone. “S’what you want, right?” 

The circular divot on top of his mushroom tip pushes against your sweet spots and you scream, “Yes- yes yes yes-”

“Shush, doll- can’t hear…” Trailing off, Toji grows quiet- well, as quiet as he can be when he’s making you squeal out after each jackhammer. “Oh…y’know what she’s saying now?”

“What?”

“Mmm—” Manhandling your head to splay out across his collarbone, he’s pointing straight inside his mouth. Grinning, “Spit in my mouth if ya wanna hear the answer, omega…heh.”

And it’s not difficult - not even a bit when you’re slobbering out pathetically with every tiny graze of his veiny cock. Hitting his ripe, pink tongue dead-on-

“She says–” Gasping once he’s lazing down his sloppy cadence just enough to make you feel the thick, swollen curve surrounding his base. So round and girthy that it was making your knees weaken - his knot. “-we’re havin’ a daughter this time, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - DILF!

“Kento, are you-”

“No no–” Comes his breathy answer, and you’re catching the way that Nanami’s bass hitches with each slip n’ slide of his cherry-red tip between your folds. “I’m quite alright, darling.”

And oh- you’ve known your husband long enough to tell when he’s lying.

Known him long enough to feel the way that his geysering shaft plumpens up inside of you, the shaky muscles of his thighs gluing to yours. Nanami drinks in another breath of your heady pheromones and thinks he can feel a part of his sanity genuinely splinter- 

“O-on second thought…” He gulps, slightly-quivering fingerpads pushing up on the metal frames of his glasses. “-your heat might be affecting me a bit-” And you’re making his poor, husky tone break when you clench, temples glistening with a thin line of perspiration. “-more than expected.”

Your hands wind their way around his broad shoulders with a pout, “You can go rough all you want, y’know?”

“My love, you’re just talking out of your heat-”

“I want you to go rough.” And oh fuck- oh, you knew every single one of his weaknesses. From the way that he’s gasping at the slight pout of your lips, to the shuddering of his fat, bulging mushroom tip when you whinily add—“Please?”

And Nanami’s big - more than big. He’s so prolonged n’ girthy with his shaft that it usually takes him hours to be able to bottom out, to even dare to try. 

But right now with your heat, all it takes is a singular, solid slam for his tawny happy trail to scratch your poor clit raw. For him to glue the pointed end of his shaft against the sponge of your cervix and draw a loooong glissade down, “Fuck fuh-fuck–!”

“Mmmm just like that-” You’re blubbering out, thighs thrashing when he’s starting to push a sensual, loving massage of his veined length. “Harder, Ken.” Too teasing that the only thing you can do is claw your way down to one of his wrists and mewl- “Harder.”

“But-”

And you knew he was being the sweetest. You knew it would make him break when you’re letting off a scorching breeze of your pheromones, watching in real time as it makes his pupils dilate. 

You’re tucking in one of his thick fingertips past your swollen folds, feeling the startling cold of his wristwatch - still on - make your outer pussy gush with saturated slick. “D-do you not want to-”

“Never think like that.” He huffs, he pants and that only makes the primal whirling of his head even worse. Slightly ragged. Slightly out of control. 

Nanami’s kneeing your thighs apart from his previously romantic missionary position into something lecherous that’ll have his slimy cockhead rovering the deepest. Banging the curvy end of his shaft dead-on into your most favorite spot until you’re seeing stars, “You don’t- you don’t know what this scent- this pussy does to me-”

A smug smirk starts tugging at the corners of your spit-glossed lips, and you can feel your scent glands beginning to heat up once more. “Oh, really—”

“Don’t-” Barely even able to let off a single cloud of murky pheromones before a sudden, engulfing hand comes slamming down on your throat so that he can squeeze. “Don’t you- fuck!” So he can cover up your scent- at least, that’s what it was meant to be, but in reality Nanami’s using that rude hold to manhandle your entire body to slam back into his. 

Rougher. Harder.

His leaky tip probes into every one of your battered orifices until you’re left speechless, gasping at the sheer force makin’ all the air depart from your lungs. 

“You want your alpha, don’t you?” He spits into your open mouth, and you can only gape because your husband’s never talked to you like this. “Wan’ me to haaaa- fuck this pretty pussy through your heat?” Never hiked his powerful knee up until he could pin down one side of your restless inner thighs with it. “Well you have no idea how you make me- ngh- lose my mind.”

And Nanami Kento, usually so put-together, couldn’t stop babbling from now on.

He’s leaving half-moon nailmarks down the side of your throat, “Have no idea how rock-fucking hard you m-make me.” Twitching so hard inside of you that the sensitive line of his slit engraves into the roof of your pussy, “Have no idea how I hck! ran all the way from the fucking office here.” He did - the very second you’d called him, right in the middle of his work day. Ran out, in fact. “And it m-makes me wanna…”

Your chin is positively glittered with drool at this point, and you can only whine—“Wh-what…?”

Your husband shakes the blond tresses out of his clammy forehead, like that will help clear his mind. “N-no, forget about it, darling I—” Only for all that work to be undone by a single clench of your gooey, circular-shaped insides. A single slip of his hands on your glands and he’s gasping, “-fuck! Wanna get you pregnant.”

And you don’t know whether it’s your heat driving him mad or simply you.

The way your skin burns up twofold with high temperature, heels locking at the dimples homed on the base of his spine to pull. 

All your mind was craving, “Please- want- ngh- want it.” Eyes tearing up in an adorable way you’d definitely be embarrassed about if this way any time but now, your scent screams need and that makes him salivate. “Unless you don’t-”

“You’d be pregnant with our tenth kid n’ even then I’m hah- gonna fuck you stupid, my silly omega.” The straight edge of his nose bridge crinkles in amusement. Head tilted, Nanami smiles down through half-lidded eyes as you’re taking up every solid thwack! Every grind. Every spurt of dewy wet pre, “The only thing I ever want is my pretty lil’ wife ngh- all round and glowing with my seed.”

And before you can even blink your tear lathered lashes, he has his hand teasin’ your drivelling cunt. Hard. Sloppy. You swear the tint of his hazel irises only grow carnally darker when you’re pouring out around him.

Thumbing down the crevice of your pussylips before pressing deeply on your clit- one hand driving you crazy, the other interlacing with yours so that he can bite down into your left ring finger. “So stop thinking stupid things and jus’ open up oh- reeeeal wide f’me- fuck.”

It’s so much- only one, two, three straight barrels of his ruddied tip until you’re crashing into your high. Taking over you like a wave - and just as wet, you’re hiding your eyes in the back of your head and squirting.

Mouth ajar, pussy quivering. 

Thick, translucent splashes straight onto the lines of his toned hips. Formulating such a steaming hot puddle that clings onto your thighs in a sheen, shit, he has to stop himself from craning his head down to taste-

Nanami’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, “Fuck…” Roaming his tips to stir the lines of his veins across your sweetest spots, so good that it makes your toes curl- “Fuck. You’re lucky if we stop at ten kids, my love. ” 

♡ GETO SUGURU - Drunk-daze…

“Mmm–” Geto’s mouth glues onto your clit after each sodden kiss, amethyst eyes barely even visible through his unruly bangs. “Yer even sweeter when you’re in hah- heat, gorgeous.”

And so much wetter, too- a gush of your slick streams down the side of his chin and leaves your inner thighs all flooded. 

You can only clench your legs ‘round his sweaty scalp and whimper with every flick of his slimy, rovering tongue. He’s slipping them between your folds and lapping up every milky ounce of cum you have leaking out of you from all those hours before, oh-so-filthy. “Please- ngh- want-”

And he’s finding the way your hips buck up uselessly so cute- not that he’d admit it out loud, of course.

Sniffing out a chuckle, “Wha’s thaaaat?” The way he blinks his dark lashes up at you is almost hypnotic, pussydrunk. “Open that pretty mouth and use it for me, omega.”

He knew - oh, he knew what you wanted so badly. 

He could smell the pheromones dripping from you, the way your gorgeous eyes were all glassy with need. Every tiny slip n’ slide of his expanding tongue inside your hole only making you want more more more- you were still in heat. 

“Want- please-”

And Geto’s teasing with the way he’s languidly getting up to hover over your jostling body. Fat, knotted cock spanking down between your plump pussylips, exactly thrice. Geto seeps out his own calming jasmine scent as he’s rubbin’ your clit with the swollen base of his length. 

Watching your sloppy hole wink up at him and crave the stretch, “Heh- m’only here to serve. Tell me what you ngh- want, gorgeous—”

Your mouth sticks together slightly with a few syrupy strands of saliva as you flap them open, starting—“Sugu, I-I want- oh, fuck.”

You can’t tell him - you can’t even breathe once he’s waiting just long enough that your whiny voice is beginning to babble- and then pushin’ the curvaceous ends of his cock inside with all his might.

Inside, swabbing his way until your slicked walls bulge. 

It’s tight - hot. Your swollen folds are pried apart around the sheer circumference of Geto’s mushroomy tip, and the only thing he has half the mind to do is throw your legs over his shoulder to rut and rut and rut-

“Whoops.” Your boyfriend has the audacity to giggle - giggle, only stopping once he’s registering the sour stubborn scent of your pheromones. Apologetically thumping the flared ridge of his crown right against the roof of your cunt, it’s enough to have you shrilling. Tone lilted, “My heh- mistake. Promise I’ll be nice, tell me now- still in heat, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he’s slowing down just barely enough that the mazing direction of his shaft stops short of your g-spot. Where you wanted him the most. Croaking out in a panic, “Ye- mmmpf-”

But, of course, Geto Suguru was never that nice.

“Hmmm…don’t talk.”

In just mere sultry nanoseconds, he has your mouth stuffed with two of his lengthy fingers, your cunt overfilled with his cock. Bottomed-out. And yet, still pushing like he wanted that weepy hole of yours to remember his exact measurements-

Spitting. 

Twice - once straight into your mouth, and the second time a great, glittering dollop against your cunt. “No need to when you just wanna be mmm fucked, don’t you?” Geto’s spitting out in pure raw hunger against your sensitive ear lobe. Jamming the doughy crowns of his fingertips in circles along your cheeks, in sensual unison with the circular motions of his rummaging cockhead. “Isn’t that all you ngh- want? Isn’t that what this fiilthy fucking pussy’s been beggin’ for?”

Hissing out ravaged whispers every time the globular end of his cockhead thumps your g-spot. Geto turns his head and gnaws down on the shell of your ear just because he’d already bitten you all over your glands. 

“Fuh-fuck, Suguru- more- gimme more…”

“More?” Almost open-mouthed, staring at your fucked-out expression, you’re releasing such sweet, sweet pheromones that make the knot homed on his cock swell. That makes him gasp, shiver. “If you want more then take it, gorgeous.”

“Sugu-”

“C’mon.” Urging you with his sinful hips, he’s just so prolonged in his size that every shovel of his solid inches makes your eyes roll. It’s like he’s never-ending. “S’that all you can do?”

And you might be desperate, but he’s gone.

All but melting his toned body on top of yours, the ridges of his abs glissade down your front and Geto keens once your hands claw greedily down his core. “Tch- harder now. Harder- I thought you were in heat, omega.”

Fingers digging in so hard that it’s almost like you’re trying to draw blood. “I-I am.”

“Yeah right.” Nostrils flared, reddened cock furious each time he swipes it down the entrance to your womb. And teasing you was the only thing that kept him from fucking whimpering- “As if you can even handle this big stretch.”

Your breath hitches humidly, and you’re not sure whether it’s the heat or the pure yearning after the way his thick, throbbing kisses your treacly cunt. “I can handle it.”

“Oh yeah? Say it then.”

“What do you-”

“Say it-” Geto croons, head tilted down with such a sleazy smile. Smug. But you catch the way that the ends of his rosy lips twitch, the way his dark brows furrow, the way his strawberry divot spurts. “-say you want that hck! biiiig stretch, gorgeous—”

“I want it-”

Scoffing, “Want what?”

And he’s not just fucking you until your eyes swirl in pathetic circles- he’s slamming the curve of his rotund knot. Making sure to grind it in a way that just grazes your clit, “Say it f’me~”

Maddening. 

“Big- ngh-” Mewling, “Want that big stretch-”

“Stretch her out for me, hmmm–” Toying, he can only watch as your trembly fingerpads smear open your pussylips. Aching for more, your thighs twitch at the way his knot was pushin’ and pushin’ trying to fit, the girth so big- “Now how about you say ‘pretty please-’”

And you can’t take it anymore.

Before you know it- before Geto knows it, you’re saddling your heels into around his lean spine and flipping the two of you over. Slamming him down by his muscular shoulders, shovelling his proud knot right inside like you were going to wring him dry-

“O-oh.” 

Ah, you made the proud alpha stutter. Puffing out something raw from the end of his throat- eyes widening. Breath catching. Cock flinching as he’s shocked. 

He can only watch as the glazed, cherry-pink spheroid of his tip pushes past your entrance and slips all the way back down. And you swear the infamous Geto Suguru whimpers, you swear he’s smiling. “Ch-choke me, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Knotty boy?!

You were riding Choso crazy, you were riding him dry n’ the only thing he can do is cling on helplessly to the bouncing sides of your hips. Spit drivelling between his unfastened maw after each bounce, “Fuck- fuck! Baby, I don’t know if I even can-”

“But m’not done yet, Cho— ” You’re cooing, brushing away the chestnut strands of your best friend’s bangs. He’d agreed to help you through your heat- and here he was, fucked-out and blushing. 

Throwing his head back every time the rovering edge of his tip pushed against your womb, Choso’s chasing your cunt with his toned v-line. Letting the insides of your thighs squish his pelvis, “Please-”

“Hmm—?” You cock your head just as soon as he’s dredging up one of your hands with both of his own. Guiding it all the way up to his clammy neck- “Please, what, baby?”

You don’t even have to do it for him - Choso’s tightening your pretty hands ‘round his neck and letting you choke him. Drunken eyes whirling inside the whites of his eyes, he’s breathing in the air of your pheromones and it’s enough to make his plump knot throb. “Please- please, use me then.”

Oh- oh, his nose is just so sensitive to your heat. To you.

And the only thing you have to do is throw your head back to bare your scent glands- to let a murky puff of it reach his lungs, and he’s cumming.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Husky voice strangling in his throat, it’s all Choso can do to smear his meaty thighs further open and hit your sponged cervix. Letting the puckered, weeping hole at the end of his shaft plaster against the bottom of your pussy and flood.

In long, creamy swipes of his cock that leave your walls all bruised n’ battered. He’s milking himself on your cunt, trying with all his might to bead out every ounce inside of his balls.

But there was only one problem-

“Cho—” You’re gasping, once his orgasm didn’t feel as sloppy as usual. It’d been hours now, and Choso had always loved to make such a mess that would leave your entrance overspilling for minutes. And yet, now…“Did you just cum dry?” 

“No-”

Yes.

He did, and it makes his dark, dewy peripherals glisten with a hot welling of tears. “No, nghhh- no no no no- ” With one hand creeping down to cup his aching hot hilt and help rut upwards. “M’such a hck! useless alpha.”

You’re cooing, “Awww- don’t say that-”

“But I am.”

And he couldn’t be- he won’t be. All those days and nights dreaming of having you, his pretty lil’ best friend, like this would be for nothing if he couldn’t even help you through your damn heat.

With your sweetened scent thoroughly fogging up his mind, Choso’s fingers twist into a few cursed shapes- and suddenly you’re feeling the air between your sheened thighs buzz. You’re feeling it crackle with cursed energy. 

But more importantly, you’re feeling him harden. Gasping at the way that his red, bulging tip was now more than rock-hard, Choso’s prolonging his rovering cock so much that it was painful. “Oh, baby, don’t tell me…”

“Blood manipulation technique.” He’s giggling, thick lashes fluttering with every push of his hardened shaft into your springy insides. His mushroomed cockhead recoils from the back of your cervix and Choso almost whimpers at the loss of contact- just that pussydrunk. “It’s my duty, I hafta ngh- fill her up. Make her t-take my knot.”

Oh, he was going to have you so stuffed with all his cum that it was going to form a puddle right there on top of him.

And Choso’s already swiping away the glistening stripes of your slick spilling down his abs, pumping it back in with a free thumb between your folds. 

“Come on-” Panting. Heaving in your scorching scent. Bullying the fattened curve of his digit past your first ring of muscle, you’re letting off such shrill whines every time you’re hitting your pussy down to meet his touch. “Come on come on- take me. Use me.”

The mere words are enough to have your heat flaring up twofold, the tastebuds on your tongue sizzling with saliva after each impact of his veiny cock. “You want me to mmm- use you?”

“Yes! Use me use me- s’what I’m made for, please. Don’t know if I can even do anything else anymore.” He whines, and suddenly you’re too-aware of the rotund, pulsating girth of his knot.

So big that a chilling shiver runs down your spine, it’s the sheer circumference that has your thighs twitching with need. Your treacly cunt already fucking back in your sloppy cadence to try and take him on.

“You want to hah- knot me, Cho?”

Your fingers tighten on Choso’s flushed neck as he gulps- “Yes- please-”

Pretending to think for a few sultry moments, “Hmm, well–” Even though you already knew that everything from the thickly saccharine pheromones to the way your cunt quivered at his cursed energy told him that you wanted it greedily. “Only if you bite me, too.”

And Choso Kamo looks like he’s just entered heaven.

“I…I can mark you?”

You’re barely even motioning out your nod, barely even starting before it takes him one ripple of his muscular body to flip the two of you over. 

Sprawling you out on your back like such a slut, pushing your legs bent until your knees strike your tits, snapping his cock deeply inside before he squirts.

Not just cumming for an nth time - but Choso squirts, in thick, honeyed sloshes that take over your cunt. You swear you can feel it welling up all the way at your throat, and every sloppy drag of his cock only pumps it deeper and deeper and-

“Smells so good- feels so good.” He’s rasping out, a hand toying on your clit- just because it made you clench in a way that eagerly gobbled up his creamy dewdrops of cum. “O-oh, you’re gonna push me into a rut.”

Oh, fuck- your eyes widen, that was it.

That was the reason for the sweet chocolate pheromones taking over the air alongside your scent. That was the reason why Choso was more animal than man- more feral when he’s teething over your cute scent gland. He was in rut. 

Hand twitching on your nubbed clit, just as unstable as his voice was when he’s uttering—“Need you to c-cum now. The momma should ngh- cum if we want a baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Heian-Era Hard

“Keh, fuuuuck—” Any and every time that Ryomen Sukuna might have teased you for your humanly stamina was thrown out the window. He’s bending you into a lecherous full nelson with two hands, and swiping his sweaty forehead with another- “Makin’ even the king break a sweat-”

You’re blinking, teary gaze wafting over your shoulder, “Wh-what?”

“Nothing.” The garish mouth across his abs bites one side of your hips, just a little punishment. 

Honestly- your heat was just so strong that it had your tight pussy drooling all over the royal bedsheets. Sukuna’s dual cocks absolutely lavished in a thick gloss of your slick each time he’s spearheading you full, “Tch- but honestly, how much more d’you want, spoiled brat?”

Though, he wasn’t complaining.

Oh, never- not when he had you like this. His ruby-red tips rubbed raw down the soft surface of your cervix, Sukuna swats a hand over your mouth just as you begin to babble out an answer. 

“Don’t answer that- you’ll only talk outta yer ngh- fucking pussy, anyway.” Rolling his crimson eyes, he’s smearing the wiry ribbons of saliva escaping your mouth and gluing to his palm with a grin. “Messy girl, you’re drooling everywhere-”

“Mmm- I’m- mmpf-” And it’s as if just the sound of your voice was enough to send zaps of electricity racing down his spine. 

Breath catching, the matching girths of his cocks pumping up even harder- fuck, the smell of your sweet pheromones was already bad enough. He couldn’t handle having you whimper in his keen ears, too- “Why don’tcha just kiss me proper now, human.”

And before you can even think, he’s manifesting his second mouth to slash across his palm. Letting the thick, slimy tip of his tongue lap between your mouth and latch on in such a filthy, filthy French kiss. 

“There—” Sukuna coos in his gruff baritone from behind, and the swell of his balls tighten at the sloppy visage of you. “Hah, this heat has made you even more messy than usual, mama. Look at you.”

You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to, because the rough hold that the King has on your face lets him tug your chin downwards. Showing you the bulging orifice of your cunt in all your stuffed glory, singing out the loudest slurps! every time he squeezes his two tips past your entrance. 

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Again and again until your legs twitch sensitively at the scrape of his winding veins down your walls, “See?” He has the audacity to snicker- “S’it make my human- my pretty omega into a cockdrunk little slut? Aw…”

“M’n-not-” You’re fighting to gasp through the slight gaps of his spit-polished hand, hips squirming at the way he’s probing your every hidden crevice deep inside. “But I do like…well…”

“Tha’s a lot of words to just say ‘take it’, heh.”

And he was making sure you did, your heat doesn’t even have the time to flare up and ask for more before Sukuna’s giving it to you. Pummelling it. Holding your legs pried apart with his beefy, tattooed arms that just make your mouth water, one more covering your mouth. And the last?

Oh, he’s creeping his fouth n’ final palm vertically down your tummy. Glissading across the tender, cylindrical outline of his cocks, being thrashed against your womb and fucked right through your walls. 

Pushing down-

He’s gnawing down on your bottom lip like cute bubblegum, “Oh, fuck! Kuna- oh my god, mmm-”

“Yeah, take it.” With a grunt, Sukuna’s thumbing his clawed digit over those precise matching bumps. He could feel the way they thumped two proud, circular bruises against the back of your dripping pussy. “Take it- take it and more, mama.”

If you weren’t stupidly cockdrunk before, then you surely were now. Dazed pupils heart-shaped and criss-crossing every time he was swiping down your g-spot. 

“You have to take it take-”

You claw at his wrist, “I-I am-”

“I know. Yer in heat- can’t go a single second without feeling my biiig fucking cock, can you?” And at this point, Sukuna’s only grateful for how gone you were because your pheromones were simply making him babble. Jackhammering into you like an animal, “Want it all deep inside-”

You’re whimpering, steady streams of tears watering down your face when he presses his fingerpads even harder against the fragile spot of your tummy bulge. Your womb. “-here?”

“Yess- yes!”

“Mmm—” Sukuna pretends to ponder, for just a split-second, even though all he could think about was the suckling sensation of your cunt and just how feverish you were. “Well, m’feeling generous today, brat. So I’ll let you pick.”

Confused, your chin hits your chest as you follow his line of sight. “Pick what…oh.” You knew what. You could feel it.

All the way between your legs and nudging against the bawling entrance to your pussy, both of Sukuna’s knots were fat and aching for your touch. Throbbing each time they skid past your slick-sprayed thighs, stronger. Harder. “Eeenie meenie, lil’ human. Hurry up.”

“W-want…” You’re babbling out, and he can’t stop himself from hunching over with his towering frame to listen in. Struck with the full force of your candied scent, his favorite. “-both.”

Oh.

It’s a tiny, sinful gasp- and it rips from big, bad Sukuna’s lips before he’s realizing. 

Before the words finally sink in and he finds himself grinning, oh, this was why he loved you. “Cheh, then…” 

And he knew you were talking out of your heat, he knew it would be a tight fit, and he also knew your poor, soppy pussy might not even be able to fit all of him. But that was what your grouchy alpha was here for - to make it fit. 

And he’ll do it.

“O-oh, fuck.” It makes you dizzy, it makes you wail- just the feeling of Sukuna’s second mouth enlarging across his tense core and wriggling the tip of its tongue between your pussylips. Stretching. Bending dexterously inside just to try and push his knots past your cushy folds. 

Half-rutting, mindless.

He’s barely even pulling all the way out before planting his feet flat and spanking your cunt with the expanse of his lengths. Slap after slap- hell, you think you’re seeing one of his own hands slither downwards to pry your entrance oh-so-open.

The stretch so mind-numbingly delicious that you can feel your vision splotch, your mouth whining–“Kuna, I-I don’t think it’ll-”

Only to be cut off by the raw, lecherous plop! of two hot, heavy knots being bullied into you. So thick that you can feel the velvety layer of your walls twitch each time he throbbed inside of you. 

And at this point, you’re not even sure you’ll make it out of this alive-

“And now-” His booming voice snaps you out of your little reverie, Sukuna’s scorched divots geysering out steady drops of pre. Blushing- and so was he. “-the fun begins.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “P-pretty…”

It’s the one thing that can depart from Ino’s mouth other than the plea to simply set him free because your sweet, syrupy pussy was holding him hostage. 

Already having stuffed his aching knot inside of you mere minutes ago but still yearning for more, more, more-

Gasping. Whimpering with every slick swivel of his mushroomed tip probing every spot inside your cunt- “Pretty, oh-oh, I need to fuck you- again- can’t stand being like this.”

“Again, Taku?” You’re mewling once his hips start pulling back from the lewd mating press he’d bent you in. Trying- failing because the girthy circumference of his knot was just so much, so big. “Baby, your swelling’s still not down.”

“I know.” And he’s oh-so-tortured by the fact, breathing in your heat. You. “But I wanna- need to fuck you again, sweetness.”

Cooing, “Need to?”

He’s nodding- nodding and nodding until you’re wondering whether the long column of his neck doesn’t ache. “Yes, please- ngh, fucking hell, I have this sweet cunt all on top of me n’ I can’t even fuck you?”

You’re almost starting to giggle, the determined wobble of his lips just so cute where he held you- that is, until Ino’s fighting against his silky knot. Reeling backwards, he can barely even move at this point- only slow, sluggish humps that tug on the first ring of muscle at your cunt as if he was the one in heat.

And the stretch is so good that it makes your thighs weaken, nearly falling from their perch on top of his shoulders-

“No!” Startling you with a gasp, he swats his aching cockhead against your g-spot and watches you squirm. Panicked. Urgently holding your thighs back up, you can’t be finished- you can’t. “No no no- no- we’re not done yet, pretty, let me– let me…”

He’d read up online that heats can last about a week and he needed to fuck you till he physically can’t anymore. Till your slicked walls had memorized him.

Until he was wrung dry and raw, Ino’s plump thumb comes snaking down to press on the cute tummy bulge he was fucking into you. All bumpy with the solid press of his cock, doubled up on his wads of gooey cum, “Oh, sweetness, you’re not done with your h-heat yet, right?”

You’re shaking your head- difficult, with the way that his delicate grindings had your mouth watering with scorching saliva. Scent flaring, “N-no, still have more to go, baby.”

“Yessss—” Oh, you wonder if he even realizes what he’s doing when he’s using a free hand to pry apart your swollen folds. Letting out the rawest carnal squeeeelch! just as soon as he eases his knot out. “C’mere then- milk me dry.”

And he’s sensitive - so, so sensitive that those prettily blushing cheeks of his streak with tears by the time you’re bucking your hips up. Voice drunken, “Are you- ngh- okay, Taku?”

“Yes- yes, m’fine.” Stubbornly, he’s fucking his slender hips back in tiny, mindless ruts. Barely even pulling out, barely even able to handle being even inches outside of your warm cunt. 

It felt like fucking heaven inside of you with every wad of cum webbing your walls, your pussy greedily sucking up each thrust - and it wasn’t just the heat, Ino was completely n’ utterly pussydrunk. Prattling through his flooding mouth, “F-fine, tooootally fine- jus’ helping you through your ngh- heat like a good boyfriend, sweetness.”

Oh, but Ino’s sing-song voice was toppling, his toned chest heaving. 

Each singular swat of his geysering divot reached into your deepest depths and made you keen, “B-but you just- your knot-”

“And I can give you another one-” Tilting his head down to drink in your syrupy scent, it’s making him almost crazed. Almost feral- the entirety of his body runs stiff with a shiver once you throw your head back and clench- “Gonna give you all of them- so many- everything- make it so you c-can’t even walk-”

You’re being fucked into the rickety bedsprings like never before- and you can’t help but ogle at the way that Ino looked so pretty during it, too.

With half-lidded eyes boring deeply into you each time he’s bulldozing your g-spot, bangs gluing to his sweaty forehead like a curtain, rosy lips pursed and trembling- 

“R-right?” He almost sounded as if he was on the verge of tears as soon as your cockdrunk reverie lasts just a tad too long. Eagerly tugging on your clit to goad the answer out of you- fuck, your heat had him ruining himself on your pussy. “Right, pretty?”

“Nghhhh– yes, Taku-” Each split-second punctuated with the constant motioning of his sloppy cadence, again. And again. And again and again and again until you’re losing count of how many bruises circle your poor cervix. 

Ino doesn’t have the patience, he doesn’t have the need to even give you the time to think.

Big, pearly teardrops of overstimulation clinging onto his tawny lashes, “S-so you’re gonna be mine, aren’t you?” 

His- his mate. It’s what he was begging for, it’s what he’s rovering his slimy tip between your folds and making you gush for. 

“Yes-” Cooing, your back arches into the perfect curvature once a buttery glide of pre slips into your cunt at the answer. “Yes yes yes-” Your teeth skim across his throat and his ravaged cock flinches-

Clawing at the sheets himself, you could smell his own pheromones pitch up in response to yours. The temperature in the room sizzling so many degrees higher, the tips of his canines digging into the side of your neck hard enough to drag blood-

“Oh- oh, fuck–”

It could’ve been seconds later- it could’ve been hours. 

But you could feel the way that Ino’s mouth trickled thin lines of saliva once he stares at the now-marked scent gland at your neck and drools. Knot dangerously smoochin’ your puckered folds now, “And our kids are gonna be the ngh- absolute fuckin’ cutest, sweetness.”

Oh. 

♡ GOJO SATORU - PLEASE ME, BABY

“P-please.” Gojo’s spitting through the gaps of his long, honed canines- snowy brows scrunched and staring at you through such heady partially-lidded eyes.

He slicks out a thin trail of drool from the corner of his lips when another wave of your sweltering pheromones hit. Grunting. Pushin’ and pushin’ his face into the scent glands at your throat just to sniff—

“You’re not- ngh-” Whimpering. Shaking each time the gooey mess of your cunt was clenching ‘round his fat cock. He perks his slender hips up just enough to dig out a syrupy, ivory wad of cum from between your pussylips, “-you’re not done yet, right? This pussy’s still in h-heh…heat, right, sweetheart?”

It’s been hours by now since your heat had started - hours, maybe even days. The strongest had bitten you across every inch of your skin and was still ravenous for more. 

You’d stuffed Gojo’s thick, black blindfold between his pretty mouth for that, just to make sure that you made it out of this alive. And yet, he’s still pumping his red, bulbous cockhead between your folds like an animal, still gasping in the perfume of your heat. 

He growls, “Oh, please- please don’t you t-tell me s’over already.” Gnawing down on the fabric- he couldn’t help himself. 

“F-fuck!” You mewl, clawing down the sweat-glazed mounds of his muscular back. Oh-so-feral. “Toru, it- ngh-”

But the strongest wasn’t letting you answer, as if he couldn’t even bear to hear a ‘no’ fall from your whiny lips. He swats the raw, reddened curve of his tip over n’ over repeatedly against your g-spot to make you salivate all stupidly down to your tits.

“Right?” Drunkenly, he’s sliiiiding his nose across your neck and gasping in the sweet scent of your pheromones. Voice cracking. Octaves higher. Eyes wild. “Right? She’s still in heat, my girl? She s-still needs me?”

The dangling edge of his dampened blindfold strikes your chin and you moan, trembling with each rovering of his numerous inches. “Yes- yes yes yes- I’m still mmm-”

And that very answer seemed to make his big, beefy frame shake on top of you. Like you’d just broken him.

You’re making him so weak- and he’s just so large with his white-tufted pelvis squishing down on your hips, until the skin surrounding his base was all rawly pink. Letting go of the blindfold, “O-oh…” 

Collecting his breath for a mere second, Gojo sticks his clammy fingertips to the undersides of your thighs. Hoisting them with his strong arms onto his deltoids, he drags one palm behind his neck and keeps them locked - biceps bulging as he pushes you down, down, down.

A mating press.

“Perfect.” Keeping you pinned with only one hand, you can only watch as his handsome, flushed face tilts down with such a sleazy grin. “Mmmm, of course she does—-”

Of course. Of course. Trembling, he swipes the thick end of one of his thumbs down your slippery slit. “Look at her, she wants to be hck! filled up so badly.” The mere sight of those pearly white beads of seed from hours prior dribbling out of you, making his ravaged length twitch. Rolling over your clit, “Wants to be plugged up with my fat fucking knot, huh?”

His knot was just so achingly desperate where he was pushin’ it constantly against your treacly cunt. Again. And again. And again just teasing your first ring of muscle with the incredible circumference.

And it was a joke - partly. It was him babbling off of the top of his overheated scalp as he fucks you furiously into the rickety mattress. 

But you’re throwing your head back and sobbing at the sheer stretching pressure put on your hamstrings. 

“Please-” Gojo’s knot was just so big, the sheer girth enough to have your pupils roll dazedly in silly circles. You tremble, “Wan’ it ngh- inside again, Satoru.”

“Whoooo–?”

“…”

And Gojo has the audacity to giggle whilst he dredges up whatever’s remaining of his scattered brain, “C-c’mon, pretty omega- what do you call me~”

“…Alpha.” Pouting stubbornly, your pussy clamps eagerly down his base and he damn near creams himself right then and there. He’s swervin’ his v-line just right to stir your melty insides, slipping out husky grunts at every slap of his pre-glazed tip into your deepest insides. 

“That’s right.” He breathes- pecs heaving, tone airy. There’s almost something fragile in the way he is right now. “Your heh- alpha’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart—-”

You could feel him rummaging your quivering cunt, wads of sap sloshing side-to-side after every one of his direct hits. They were just so accurate and making your toes curl. “Close- c-close, Toru.”

And he’s just growing more ruined on your saturated pussy by the second. At this point, you weren’t even sure which one of you was in heat - you or him.

Definitely him- you’re realizing through your addled mind when he’s whispering, “And m’gonna be the ngh- best alpha- the best…dad, too.”

Both you and Gojo - lightly - gasp in sensual unison, just as bewildered as you were. 

Echoing out through a shallow breath, “The best dad…” His hazy peripherals fizz with slight bolts of cursed energy, like he’s following the rovering of his slimy tip inside of you like an x-ray. “Gonna- gonna wash the kids- oh, dress them, mmm h-help you feed them-”

Whimpering, once he’s cupping one of his free hands over the bouncing area of your tits. Groping. Parched mouth sucking—

“B-but I want some, too.”

The stimulation throwing you into such a frenzy, your wailing whines are practically feverish at this point. Eyes sparking with pure white behind your lids, “Please- not gonna mm last.”

“And m’gonna cook for them- and you, sweet momma-”

“Fuck-”

“Gonna take them to school, come right back home and ngh- fuck another one into ya all over again.”

“Satoru-”

“So cum-” Gojo groans, voicebox scratchy. His pale lashes flutter as his Six Eyes work into overdrive, he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He could see it. Smell it in your sweet, sweet pheromones. “Cum now because you’re gonna end up s-soooo pregnant already.”

And maybe it’s just because of your heat, maybe it’s because it’s him - but you’re cumming, easily. 

Thighs twitching with each flash of your high, you’re sticking them to the side of Gojo’s toned obliques to let him pound you maddeningly through it. The only thing you can fucking do as he’s hunching his washboard abs into you with what sounds like a whimper. “Yeah- yeah yeah yeah- take it- fuh-fuck.”

Gojo counts exactly five solid pushes against your g-spot before he’s able to bully his thick knot inside - and oh, does it break him. He throws his head forwards, leaking enough cursed energy to make your bedroom lights spark, sapphire eyes tearing up glassily at the feeling of your warm, cushy walls. 

Before you know it, before even he knows it- he’s sinking his gleaming fangs into the side of your neck and finishing.

Your pussy was just greedy, swallowing up every long creamy wad of his cum - layers upon layers being painted down your channel. There’s a noisy, lewd squelch! when it’s too much and you’re flooding out a puddle of ivory. 

Finally, you’re blinking, your heat was was starting to bate-

“S-sweetheart…I think m’in rut.”

A/N. UGH I could take them all at once (not in a fight-) Also this song has been in my head omg-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gojos-version]

WANNA BE A SLUT FOR YOU . . .

౨ৎ gojo satoru fucking you after a bad day

cw – fem reader, dacryphilia, mild breeding kink, rough satoru, hair pulling, petnames (baby, sweetheart), missionary

𝓣here was only ever one thing Gojo wanted when he’d come home from a shitty day — you, of course!

“Sat– Satoru…mmf– please!” You whined as you tried to wiggle your hips out of his bruising grasp. Your eyes welled with tears, soft moans and whines slipping from your lips with each rock of his hips. His hands gripped your face as he grinned down at you, sweat beading along his hairline.

“Hmf, fuck– you cryin’ f’me, baby? Huh?” He mocked, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck and jaw.

He had to pause himself for a moment, regaining his bearings with closed eyes as his body shuddered. “Jesus,” he panted with a chuckle before slowly bullying his cock back into your messy cunt. “Keep squeezin’ me like that and I won’t be able to pull out.”

His slow, deep thrusts started up again as one of his hands caressed your cheek — thumb trailing over your kiss-swollen lips. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want me to put a baby in you? Hm?”

His other hand gently pushed down on your lower stomach as he sped up his thrusts, tip barely kissing your cervix as he groaned. Cocky grin crossing his face, he looked down at you with a mocking pout. Your eyes were blurry with tears, toes curling at the pleasure rising in your abdomen.

“Sat– oh! C’mon, please!” You whimpered softly, staring up at him, mouth agape in a silent moan.

“Fuck no,” he rasped, squeezing your cheeks together and smiling down at you. “You’re gonna take what I fuckin’ give you and finish when I say. Got that?”

When all he got as an answer was a shaky gasp, pussy clenching around him – he slid a hand behind your head and grabbed you by the hair. “I said, do you got that? Silly thing, can’t even think anymore can you?”

Hips twitching and Gojo’s hand in your hair, cock slamming into you at a now brutal pace — you accepted your fate.

You nodded your head profusely, letting out cries and whimpers as Satoru continued his attack on your insides. “Yes, yes, got it!” You cried, jaw dropping in a silent moan as your eyes rolled around in your head.

“Atta girl, sweetheart,” your boyfriend cooed as he gripped your face almost lovingly, “fuckin’ take it.”

You wiggled your hips, sopping pussy clenching around him as you felt your orgasm creep up on you. “Sat– Satoru! M’gonna cum!” You squealed as your stomach twitched with pleasure.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?” He grinned and sped up his pace, one of his hands moving to rub circles on your clit with his thumb. “Do it, cream all over this dick. Hm, fuck!” He grunted as your body spasmed, climax washing over you as you cried out. He quickly pulled out, seed spilling over your stomach.

“Than.. Thank you,” you sniffled meekly as Gojo leant down to kiss your head softly.

“So good for me baby, took it like a fuckin’ champ.”

©lovdigital. do not copy, translate, or claim my writing as your own, use for ai bots etc. 🪽

[gojos-version]

satoru insists on being your lock screen.

like actually insists. he’s made it his personal mission, his divine right, his sacred duty as your overly clingy, stupidly hot husband. the moment he sees your screen light up with anything that isn’t his face—your cat, a flower, a quote graphic—he gasps like you’ve just committed adultery in 4k.

“...a sunset? a sunset?” he blinks at you like you’ve betrayed every vow. “is the sun a pretty man with ocean eyes? no. do you kiss the sun goodnight? no. do better.”

instead of letting it go like a normal person, he floods you with selfies. hundreds. different lighting. different angles. thirst traps with his shirt pulled up to flaunt the sin that is his eight-pack. mirror pics where he’s flexing. ones where he’s pouting. one where he’s fake crying. him stuffing his mouth with mochi. him dramatically sobbing with a caption that reads, “you used to love me.”

and the worst part? he’s sending all of this while sitting beside you. phone angled down, giggling like a schoolboy, thinking he’s being slick while your inbox explodes. you’re already overwhelmed when you see it.

sandwiched between selfies and spam, a very accidental mirror pic. last night. you, bent over the bathroom counter, absolutely ruined, face flushed, mouth open in a silent gasp, while satoru stands behind you grinning like a menace, very much still inside you. you scream. you hit him. he yelps but laughs, no shame, no apology. “oopsie~” and “you looked so good, though.”

he doesn’t stop even as you glare. now he’s negotiating. bartering. one lock screen slot for a back massage. five minutes of home screen privilege if he orders your favorite takeout. a full 24 hours if he lets you pick the movie and doesn’t complain even once. he even pulls out the big guns—puppy eyes, soft voice, a breathy, “baby… do it for love.”

you roll your eyes, say no, but you’re already folding. he casually shifts on the couch, hand propping up his jaw just right, profile lit perfect by the golden hour. “what about now?” he says, voice all smug, like he doesn’t already know he’s stupidly pretty. “i’m moisturized. glowin’ like your man should. tell me that’s not lock screen material.”

and in his defense? your face is everywhere on his phone. lock screen, home screen, widget rotation. polaroids of you tucked inside his clear case—some with your cheek squished to his, one with your wedding bands on display. siri responds only to your voice. his notifications banner still reads “i ❤️ my wife.”

his favorites bar? just your contact and his camera roll. album names include: “my baby 🫶,” “hot wife hours,” and “the loml fr.” he’s got slow-mo videos of you laughing, candid shots he took while you were sleeping, a live photo of you on your wedding day spinning in your dress. even that pic you told him to delete? it’s buried in a hidden folder titled with a heart emoji and he opens it like it’s the damn grail.

it’s not even a bit—he just genuinely thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. so really, is it too much to ask for one lock screen in return? balance, baby. harmony. fairness in marriage.

you hold your ground for a solid ten minutes. you really do. arms crossed, phone untouched, lips pursed like you’re not even thinking about giving in. but then he starts pulling out the big guns—his stupidly pretty face all soft and glowy from your skincare, his voice low and coaxing like he’s seducing you into sin (he is), whispering, “just a day, baby. for me?” as if it’s not his lifelong mission to conquer your lock screen.

you scoff, bratty and unmoved. “you want me to advertise you on my phone? why don’t you get a billboard?”

“because,” he says, smug, “my wife’s wallpaper real estate is more valuable.”

you shouldn’t cave. you really shouldn’t cave. but then he kisses your cheek, trails down to your jaw, murmurs something sweet and stupid that melts your last nerve. you grumble about being weak for hot idiots, scroll through the absolute onslaught of selfies he sent, and pick the one where he’s grinning—smug, shirt slightly askew, and your lipstick still stamped on his jaw. it’s criminal how good he looks. you fight the urge to bite your lip and sigh like it’s the biggest burden of your life as you set it as your lock screen.

he gasps like he’s just been proposed to. dramatic hand to his heart, eyes glassy, voice warbling as he says, “i’m your lock screen. me. your husband. this is the greatest day of my life.” and then he traps you—physically. throws his whole weight over you on the couch like a human weighted blanket, peppering kisses across your face with alarming speed. “you can’t leave now,” he mumbles into your neck, “this is your new full-time job. cherishing me.”

you groan, swatting weakly at him, but it’s no use—he’s clinging like a damn koala, legs hooked around you, arms locked tight. “satoru,” you wheeze, “get off—” but he just shushes you, smug. “nope. consequences of loving me. should’ve picked the cherry blossom jpeg.”

and because he’s him, he spends the next hour being insufferable. changes your passcode to your wedding anniversary (“for security and romance”), and sets calendar reminders titled “admire husband” three times a day. “any attempt to change it will be met with a lockscreen tax,” he warns, grinning. “one kiss per pixel replaced. i will collect.”

[gojos-version]

❥ late night cravings..

“toji.”

he doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know you’re staring at him, soft fingertips tracing gentle lines down his thick arm. he doesn’t really get why you think you need to be so tentative — he’s a light sleeper. you could breathe wrong and he’d be awake.

“... hm?”

a pause, one that stretches for far too long, especially for you, and toji sighs. “wha’s wrong? get yer period or somethin’?”

he can hear the faint rustling of you squirming in the sheets, though he can’t see the way your thighs press together, how your panties are damp with slick, or the small, recently used vibrator resting on your nightstand.

it’s just not scratching that itch. nothing is, currently — at least, nothing you yourself can do.

you swallow. “no. i, um... i know you’re tired, a-and it’s late, but—”

“doll.” your lover rolls over, cracking open both emerald eyes to peer at you. you’re gorgeous, even in an oversized t-shirt and a little bit of crust in your eye.

my pretty girl.

“what? tell me what ya want,” he says, and his voice is extra deep and gruff with sleep. it really shouldn’t, but the sound of it only makes more heat pool low in your gut, and you shift a little.

“i’m horny,” you blurt, and toji blinks.

that’s it? with all that fidgeting you were doing, he thought you were gonna drop a bombshell on him.

he rubs at his face with a groan before rolling onto his back and pulling you right up onto his chest. one big hand taps your thigh, and now he can tell just how needy you are. “put ‘em on the side of my head.”

you oblige and slowly lower the rest of your weight right onto his face, a blissful sigh leaving your lips the second his nose bumps against your clit protruding through the soaked fabric of your underwear. a shudder dances down your spine, and toji snorts.

“greedy,” he murmurs, delivering an almost chastising swat to your ass, even as his other hand tugs that scrap of fabric to the side. “if ya want me, then ya can have me.”

all you have to do is ask.

[gojos-version]

rearrange my gut.... 🩻

Your hips were tight. Your lower back? Let’s not even get into that—you couldn’t even bend slightly. Your shoulders were so stiff and sore you felt like a rusty door hinge.

You hadn’t even hit 25, and yet here you were, holding your back every time you sat down or stood up.

Were you officially....old?

You completely lost your last nerve and ounce of patience one night, when you couldn’t even do the one thing you loved because of the pain—sleep. Your lower back was in so much agony, you just lay there staring at the ceiling, silently screaming.

It took you a full five minutes to even pick up your phone and search “chiropractor near me.” You needed someone to literally rearrange your entire skeleton.

You booked the earliest appointment for tomorrow, desperate to fix this hellish discomfort. You couldn’t believe you were in this kind of pain at this age.

The next morning, you were an hour late trying to get out of bed and into your car. Mornings were evil now. Everything was worse. The tightness, the soreness, the stabbing pain.

You hadn’t even properly looked at the place last night when you booked it, but now that you were here… it looked kind of shady.

It was just a tattoo parlor. The walls were painted black, and there were no windows. You slowly pushed open the door and were greeted with silence. Thank God it was morning.

There wasn’t even anyone at the front desk.

“Hello?” you called out, hunched over slightly and holding your back like someone’s grandparent.

And then—a man stepped out of one of the tattoo rooms.

Correction: a giant of a man. He was enormous. If he was your chiropractor, you were definitely going to leave with something broken.

He was covered in tattoos—arms, neck, face—and looked absolutely unhinged. Sure, you had your fair share of ink, even a neck tattoo, a face tat, and a proudly healed eyebrow piercing, but this man? He looked like an absolute degenerate.

He looked at you like you were the problem. Like you were the one who walked into his haunted house of ink and pain.

“You’re late,” he said, voice rough and low, like he smoked knives for breakfast.

You blinked. “Um… sorry. Traffic.” and by traffic, you meant your body literally refusing to move this morning.

He didn’t say anything. Just stared. His red eyes flicked down to the clipboard he pulled from nowhere—seriously, where did that come from?—and then back to you.

“You’re the back case?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but he was already turning around and walking toward one of the doors.

“Come on, grandma.”

the fuck did he call you?

You stared at his broad back as he walked away, tattoos moving with his muscles like they were alive. Was this guy even a real chiropractor? You were half convinced he was going to punch your spine into place.

But pain was pain. And yours was screaming. So, you followed him.

The room he led you into didn’t look much different from the front—black walls, a weird skull in the corner, a chair that looked more like a medieval torture device than a treatment table.

He motioned to it. “Sit.”

You slowly lowered yourself onto the table, groaning like an old haunted mansion door.

“Goddamn,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m in pain,” you hissed, clutching your lower back like your spine was about to file for divorce.

He didn’t even flinch at your tone. “Tell me about this pain. When did it start? How?”

You really wanted to ask, Are you actually listening, or are you just waiting for my bones to scream louder? But you held back. You were already regretting this appointment, and you definitely couldn’t afford to piss him off.

So instead, you tried to relax your body and think.

“Mmm… I think it’s been like three weeks?” you said slowly. “But this week’s just been hell. It started with my lower back, then my whole back and shoulders joined the party. And now…” you winced as you shifted a bit on the chair, “...my hips and legs decided to join in too. I’m falling apart like expired IKEA furniture.”

He raised a brow. “So you ignored it for weeks and now you’re shocked your body’s protesting.”

“Are you here to judge me or fix me?” you snapped.

“Both,” he replied instantly, without even blinking.

He asked his last question before getting to work. “Do you work out often?”

He set the clipboard down near the table and walked over.

“Yes,” You said casually. “But obviously I’ve stopped, because I can’t even piss without it hurting everywhere.”

He raised a brow. “Not a question I asked, but good to know your bladder's involved too.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Alright. Lie flat. Face down,” he said, like it was nothing.

That was it. No encouragement. No help. No warning.

You tried—tried—to get up onto the table, but your body gave up halfway through. Your hair fell over your face as you hung there like a crumpled puppet.

“By the way…” you mumbled through the curtain of hair, “are you even licensed?”

There was a pause. A long one.

“…Depends on who’s asking.”

Your face snapped up. “WHAT does that mean?!”

He shrugged, absolutely zero concern in his giant tattooed shoulders. “You’re already here. You booked the appointment. At this point, you’ve put your spinal fate in my hands. Just trust the process.”

“The process sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

He patted the bed. “And yet here you are.”

You stared at him. He stared back. Then you flopped down onto the table like a wounded animal, muttering to yourself about life choices.

“If I die,” you groaned into the cushion, “you better make me look hot at the funeral.”

“No promises,” he said. “But I’ll try to pop your bones back into a cute shape at least.”

Then you heard him crack his knuckles. Loud. Too loud.

“Okay,” he muttered, “you’re tense as hell. I’m gonna start with your shoulders.”

You felt one large hand press gently between your shoulder blades. You expected pain. What you didn’t expect… was the way his hand felt—warm, steady, too steady, like he actually knew what he was doing.

You swallowed.

Then he pressed down—firm and slow—and your spine made a sound like a glow stick being activated.

You gasped. “Oh my god—”

“Breathe.”

You did. And another section of your back gave in with a pop. Then another.

“Holy shit,” you exhaled. “That—wait—do that again.”

A soft chuckle. “What, the part where I fix you while you insult me?”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Then his hands moved lower. Your breath hitched. Not because it hurt—but because it didn’t. It was… grounding. Firm. Too precise. This wasn’t some sketchy spine-smashing; it was calculated, skilled.

And weirdly gentle.

“…You’re good at this,” you muttered.

“Obviously.” His voice was close to your ear now. “I told you. Trust the process.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not when his hands moved again—slowly rolling pressure through your hips, your lower back. Another loud pop echoed, and you moaned—accidentally.

Both of you paused.

“…That was not like that,” you blurted.

He didn’t say anything at first. Then:

“I’ve had worse compliments.”

You wanted to disappear. Or punch him. Or both.

Then you felt one hand slide under your stomach to support you, while the others adjusted your hips. His touch was careful, but firm, and a little too… lingering.

“You need this part done,” he muttered, almost to himself. “But it might be intense.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “Go ahead.”

And he did.

The pop that came next echoed through your soul. You choked out something between a sob and a laugh.

He leaned over, his breath near your neck. “Still think I’m not licensed?”

“…I’m starting to think you’re not even human.”

He smirked.

“Now you’re getting it.”

After he was done with you, you lay there, dazed. Completely, absolutely, and undeniably wrecked—but in the therapeutic way.

Your entire lower back felt like it had been unscrewed and reassembled. Your shoulders were lighter. You could move your neck. You were half-convinced you were reborn.

And the worst part was you felt a little high. Was this a real chiropractic session or did he sneak a demon cleansing in there too?

You cleared your throat. “So, um… that last one felt like you reset my soul.”

Sukuna shrugged like it was nothing. “Yeah, that’s the pelvis. It stores all your trama.”

“Wow, is that medical fact?”

“It is now.”

You turned your head slightly, peering up at him from the table. “You don’t talk like a real doctor.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

You paused. “…Wait, what?”

“I’m a licensed chiropractor. Barely. Don’t expect me to wear a lab coat and start talking in Latin.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, but you were smiling—why were you smiling??

He walked around the table, watching you. “Alright. Sit up slowly.”

You did. This time, no searing pain. Just a weird wave of relief. You rolled your shoulders and turned to look at him. “I actually feel… human again.”

“I know.” He smirked, casually leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “That’s what makes it fun.”

“…You enjoy this?”

“Of course. I like breaking people so I can fix them.”

You stared. “You are—not allowed to say that out loud.”

“Why? You’re already halfway to falling in love with me.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

He raised a brow. “That moan you let out? Very suspicious.”

“I was in pain!”

“Sure, sure.”

You grabbed your shoe and threw it at him. He caught it one-handed, lazily, like he expected it. Of course he did.

He grinned, slow and cocky. “I could give you a follow-up session.”

“Hard pass.”

“It’s included in the package you booked. Two sessions.”

You stared. “You are lying.”

“Nope.”

“…When?”

“Tomorrow.”

You blinked. “I have to see you again?”

“Oh, you don’t have to. But you will.”

He handed your shoe back, like a prince in a very unholy fairytale. His fingers brushed yours.

You felt it. That tiny flicker of something behind the jokes and pain and popping bones. A strange spark in your chest you weren’t ready to name yet.

“…Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m bringing pepper spray next time.”

He smirked, opening the door for you.

“Bring whatever you want,” he said, eyes gleaming. “I’ll still fix you.”

--------

i'm ashamed to say I haven’t posted in 15 days… truly shameful behavior right there 😭 this has been sitting in drafts for a while I actually wrote most of it when I was dealing with a lower back issue. It’s still not completely healed but it’s so much better now.

BUT ALSO GIRLSSSS. I GOT MY FIRST PAYCHECK??? Like what??? 😭😭 i'm also trying to get back to posting more consistently so please don’t be too harsh on me!!! Im still working on Part 3 and 4 of House Husband Sukuna so don’t worry—they’re coming! 💗💗

[gojos-version]

​when you’re mad and he send you this as an apology because Satoru knew you love cats and Megumi

Oh, I’m too soft for this 🥺

@nagseo524

[gojos-version]

had a vision of this being satoru . lost my mind .

[gojos-version]

My beautiful boy😭😭😭😭💕💕

I’m in the middle of writing a fluff fic kinda ab this😼

[gojos-version]

wanna hear him moaning and whimpering as he keeps nutting inside me and can't stop :(((

[gojos-version]

Oh my baby he looks so happy…

[gojos-version]

Fatass of course he has 2

[gojos-version]

happy friday to the men who love bunching your sundress up at your hips while they fuck you, two fingers pulling down the bust of your dress until your tits spill out the top too 💗

[gojos-version]

need him to bite my neck and put me into a mating press tbh

[gojos-version]

Nothing gets me hornier than doing domestic stuff with a partner. Grocery shopping? Push me up against the shelves in the bread aisle and kiss me with tongue. Laundry? Come help me get clothes out of the dryer and grab my hips so you can grind on me. Cooking dinner? Stand by the cupboard I need to get into and lean me over the counter top. Making the bed? We'd better unmake it first.

[gojos-version]

MY BABY😭😭💕💕💕

That’s it I’m doing a basketball satoru fic