savethefix

[savethefix]

summary: you rescue a snow leopard! hybrid from an underground fighting rink and he gets attached to you. (this is basically GOJO SATORU X READER but no name mentioned.)

a/n: this was written keeping Gojo Satoru in mind but feel free to imagine whoever you want to.

content warning: hybrids, mention of underground fighting rinks, abuse, mention of Y/N, scenting, and fluff ig?

word count: 1.4 k

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For months you and your team had been tracking an underground hybrid fighting ring. And now you finally had the chance to raid in there and save those hybrids. You worked at a hybrid clinic and dealt with trauma hybrids and their medical health, like a doctor. Your presence was necessary to administer sedatives to aggressive hybrids. You reached the place with hybrid rescue officers, many types of hybrids were caged, surrounding a huge arena for fighting— wolf hybrids, snake hybrids, leopard hybrids, bear hybrids— you name it, they were there. Many of the hybrids just went along with the crew, some had to be lightly sedated. At the most secluded cage, you heard growling, agitated yet worried growling. “We won’t hurt you. We’re from the hybrid protection services, I’m Dr. Y/N.” You signalled the guards to put their guns down, so as to not agitate the hybrid more. “Please step out, i promise we wont’t hurt you yeah?”

Slowly you saw him step out— a beautiful snow leopard hybrid, white hair, pretty blue eyes that held the sky in them. But behind that aggressive demeanour, you could sense he was hiding pain. He had a few untreated bruises and slashes. You backed up a bit to give him space, opening then cage, you spoke in a soft voice, “Come on out now, let’s get you patched up yeah?” His eyes snapped to you, and they softened a bit. But then one of the officers came into view, and he snarled, you quickly got in between them, but too late, your hand had been scratched by him, he quickly stepped back, not looking you in the eyes.

Being deemed as the strongest in the arena had more cons than pros. Sure being respected and feared was nice, but that also meant that he was used as a weapon. Constant fights, back to back bettings, being drugged and then beaten up if he tried to rebel. He had smelled you before he heard your voice, you smelled sweet, like a spring day. And your voice felt like it belonged to one of the angels, he saw you signal the officers to put their guns down. He appreciated it, very deeply. You had beckoned him to come closer, opening the cage, you beckoned him to come closer to you— to freedom.

But then one of the officers moved, and whatever spell you had around him had been broken, he acted before thinking, lurching to eliminate an opponent. When he did see what he had done, he backed away. No no no– it wasn’t supposed to be like this, now you’d hate him and tell them to leave him and— “Hey, it’s ok. Please calm down, they’re all the good guys.” your voice interjected. Huh?

You knew he was scared. He meekly followed you, the other rescued hybrids backing off when he came into view, some out of respect and most out of fear. You made it to the animal clinic, you told him to wait in the shower room, you’d get some towels and clothes. As you were returning with the necessities, a fee officers came upto you, asking if you’d be okay, since the hybrid placed under your care is feral. Feral, that word irked you, but you kept quiet and told them that you’d be fine.

Before abruptly entering the room, you knocked, making it know you were entering.

You went in and saw him standing, in the same spot you left him in, very stiff, as if you’d hurt him if he even breathed the wrong way.

“You could have looked around you know? Will you be able to take a bath on your own, or do you want me to help?” you spoke. He looked blankly at you at first, but then his eyes softened, “I’d like your help please.” You nodded and filled the tub with water, and turned around to allow him to remove his clothes. He got in the tub and you took the shower head, making him comfortable with the water temperature. “I’m gonna wash your hair for you okay?” He nodded at that idea. You took your time with that, mainly because you could hear his purrs of contentment, you were pretty sure he wasn’t aware he was purring.

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A month or so had passed and he was very grateful. You kept him company and showed him patience. Being in the hybrid shelter was weird, but that couldn’t be helped, not until you adopted him. And he knew that he wouldn’t willingly go with someone else. You were pretty, protective, caring and you had a very soothing voice. Especially when you called him ‘snowflake’ or ‘Olaf’ (he loved watching Disney movies after you introduced him to Tangled) those silly nicknames made his heart go into overdrive. One thing that irked him was your scent— don’t get him wrong, he just hated that it contained the scent of many hybrids, he wanted you to smell like him. He wanted others to know you were his. His mate.

You knew he was very attached, and he had developed a sweet tooth. He was slowly turning into one of the most energetic person you had ever met. Always up to silly things and he loved PDA with you. The concept of personal space had now become foreign to him. He always had to have some kind of skinship with you. You wanted to adopt him. But just because of your selfishness, you wouldn’t ruin a chance for him to find a person he liked. But this season was the one where many hybrids got adopted. You didn’t want someone else to take him away from you, and you hated yourself for thinking that.

You saw him the garden, looking sad, you made your way over to him, sitting down next to him, “What happened snow?” There it was, that nickname. It made his heart flutter and his lungs stop working, he wanted nothing but to kiss you. “Nothing.” You insisted on him telling you, but then he finally spoke up, “Do you think, someone could actually think about adopting someone like me?” He wanted to know if you would, he went on about how he thought that maybe he isn’t meant to get all that. But you blurted out before you could think, “I want to adopt you. If that’s okay with of course. I mean- i totally understand if you don’t want me to adopt you. Like, we can find someone else or-“ you were cut off by him hugging you, repeatedly saying yes.

You signed those papers and took him home the same day.

He didn’t think he could be any closer to heaven when he entered your house. Your scent enveloped him. He finally let go of your hand that he had been holding since you asked him if you could adopt him.

At dinner time he practically inhaled the food. You showed him his room and bid him goodnight.

As you were in your bed scrolling through wattpad, you heard loud claps of thunder outside, it was raining. You then heard his voice on the other side of the door, you called him in. “Can I….sleep with you? I wanna cuddle” You wordlessly lifted your blanket and opened your arms, he quickly slipped in next to you.

You both laid together, his head against you chest, but then you felt him nuzzling your neck, almost as if–“Are you scenting me snowflake?” you laugh. “Mmh, yes.” he says in a cocky manner. “You should smell like me, you’re my mate.” Your eyes widen at his words. “Mate?”

He looks up, in panic, he couldn’t believe he said that out loud, “I’m sorry, are you mad? Please don’t send me back-” You cut him off with a finger in his lips, “Hey, I’m not mad, just surprised.”

“So….you accept being my mate? Once you do, be aware there won’t be any breakups like humans.” He warned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.”

He leaned in to kiss you, it was a soft kiss, like a promise, your hands threaded through his hair and you parted away, resting your forehead against his. And then you looked into his eyes, and something flips, he pulled you onto his lap, kissing you feverishly, as chaotic as the thunderstorm outside. You returned the kiss back with same fervour. You both pulled away because of the lack of air and smile. You laid back down, his arms around you. And for the first time in a long while, he slept without nightmares but rather, with contentment.

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hey guys lemme know how was it. i’m gonna make this a mini series i guess. should i? LIKES, REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[savethefix]

Imagine he sends you a picture early in the morning. He's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, hair disheveled and a smug grin across his lips. Your eyes trailing across the text:

"Woke up needing you, sweetheart."

Embarrassingly quick, your eyes dart to his boxers, tight around his enlarged and firm cock. Your eyes go wide at his erection. Your face heats, and you chew on your bottom lip, running a hand nervously through your bedhead.

You couldn't wrap it around your virtuous little brain how apparent it was sitting snuggly against him. The way it hung slightly down his leg and the small wet spot where his tip knowingly throbbed.

Your stomach swirled at the curious thought of what he would feel like, thrusting in and out of you mercilessly, desperate to relieve himself by being hugged by your walls.

You click on the next image he gifted you. Stilling when the realization of it being a video dawns on you. You scan over your screen. Nothing out of the ordinary is presented by the video frame. Seems innocent, unknowing.

With one quick click of the play button, you found your eyes glued to the screen.

He was back in his bed, blanket lazily slung across his legs. His camera focused on his cock trapped beneath his boxers. The wet spot getting progressively bigger at his tip. His hand teases around his waistband.

Your heart raced in your chest, along with the subtle throb in your cunt.

His hand disappeared into his boxers. Wrapping around his cock, fisting ever so slowly. A whisper of a hiss escaped through his teeth.

"Look what you do to me, hmm?" He purred, and your cunt pulsed in response.

Tugging his hand from his boxers, he dragged his hand across his length. Up and down, agonizingly slow. His finger circled around his tip. Precum seeping through the fabric. His finger strung the cum between his finger and cock.

The video ended. Your heart drops, along with your stomach. You blankly stare at your screen. A wave of desire and wanting washing over you.

You take a deep breath. Heart palpitating against your ribs. You bite down on your lip hard.

With overwhelming eagerness, you click the button. Replaying the video.

[savethefix]

cw: infidelity

gojo just can't bring himself to care that you're dating his best friend. he's had all the late night guy-talk sessions with suguru and he knows that the man doesn't treat you good enough in bed. suguru is always confiding in satoru about how you seem to fake your orgasms, and how long it takes him on the rare occasion he is able to make you cum. it's not like his friend is bad at sex, he just hasn't taken the time to learn your body.

you're so pretty, satoru knows you'd look so good wrapped around his cock. he can't believe your godly presence is wasted on a man that doesnt care to earn the ins-and-outs of your body.

so when you and suguru fight one day, satoru is the first to step in and offer you his comforts. a hand on your shoulder that aches to trickle down and squeeze at your tits. god you're so pretty when you're all teary eyed and vulnerable.

"he can't even make me finish," is a sentence that leaves your lips before you can stop it and god is satoru thankful for your slip up because otherwise he'd have no opportunity to move in.

you're taken aback when he kisses you, gentle and loving and not at all mean and hungry like he wants to. you pull back, shaking your head and mumbling about how this is wrong but your thighs are squeezing together and you chase his lips when gojo pulls back entirely.

you realise with a tearing guilt in your chest that you want this, to taste what the strongest is willing to give you. and whatever bad feelings pool in your heart are numbed for the time being when satoru hauls you onto your back and parts your knees with his hands.

he's a horrible friend, and you're a horrible partner, but he makes you cum twice on his tongue before even daring to push his dick into you. your orgasms are full bodied and eye-opening and a testament to your guilt because when satoru reaches over for a condom you stop him. you never took suguru raw, always made him wear a condom and pull out just to be safe: but in that moment you think you'd die if you weren't pumped full of his best friends cum.

and you might die, because the stretch of gojos girth is a shock to your system and you think the afterlife might not be so bad if it tastes like him. you take him fully after a few minutes to adjust and the rest is history: you're infatuated with the first stroke and in love with the second.

satoru fills you up with his cum after only a few minutes, though you don't mind his quick climax because you're at heel and cumming on his cock in the same minute. and he pulls out, lets his cum leak out of you onto the sheets beneath you before ramming his length into you again. and again. and again.

and all he can think about as he fucks you for the second (but not last) time of the night is how much better he is for you than suguru. and, if you're awful like he hopes you are and keep him around, how the next time you let suguru fuck you it's 'satoru' thats going to fall from your lips.

[savethefix]

boyfriend!satoru who says “how are my girls doing?” when he gets home from missions much to your confusion because you’re the only girl in the house. he will then approach you and raise your shirt up to give each one of your boobs a soft kiss. those are his girls.

boyfriend!satoru who gets hard after only one passionate kiss. he can’t help it! you’re just a really good kisser :(

boyfriend!satoru who HAS to shower with you at all costs. if he hears that water start to run, he’s stripping while making his way to the bathroom because it’s shower time baby.

boyfriend!satoru who sings and dances in the shower with you to your playlist. it’s a whole ass concert in the bathroom

boyfriend!satoru who pouts like a puppy when you’re reading a book instead of paying attention to him. whatcha reading about anyways? you have a whole fairytale prince charming in your lap.

boyfriend!satoru who will not shut the fuck up about you. every conversation he has with his friends or peers will lead to you somehow. sometimes if his students want to get out of work for the day, they’ll ask how you’re doing, and he will literally go on and on about the cutest thing you recently did.

boyfriend!satoru who is your personal cameraman. he knows all the good angles, and he will take as many pictures as you like because he loves capturing you in his lenses.

boyfriend!satoru who blushes like a madman and short circuits when you say “thank you, daddy” randomly after he does something for you.

boyfriend!satoru who abandons all of his coyness when he’s balls deep inside of you, plowing you into oblivion. “that’s it… cum on daddy’s fat cock. you’re doin’ sooo good for me, angel. just a little more. cum with daddy, yeah?”

boyfriend!satoru who gives you the sweetest aftercare by drawing you a nice warm bubble bath. he thanks his wealth for being able to afford a big enough tub for the both of you because now he thrust into you slowly from behind in the warm water while whispering sweet nothings in your ear! <3

[savethefix]

Poor Satoru doesn’t know what to do with himself when you get like this.

When you're too sleepy and too stressed to play with him, when your eyes are heavy and your voice is sharp, snapping out little “not now”s and “please, Satoru”s that sting far more than you'd ever intend. He knows it’s not about him. He knows. But still.

He stands there awkwardly at the edge of the bed, fingers twitching at his sides, his usual brightness dulled into something quiet and anxious. You’re lying on your stomach, cheek pressed to the pillow, body still and closed off in a way that tells him you’ve hit your limit.

But he still needs to touch you. He has to.

“Is... is two finger touch okay?” he asks, voice unusually soft. Baby blues raking your body.

You don’t answer, not really. Just make a tiny noise, more exhale than anything. But it’s not a no.

So he climbs into bed with a surprising amount of gentleness. No attempts at disturbing your peace. And then he reaches out, dragging just two slender fingers down the curve of your spine. Featherlight. Barely there. Up and down. Up and down. Sometimes he traces your sides, and when you twitch or tense, he’s quick to shush you, soft, pink lips brushing your shoulder.

“I’m not gonna do anything,” he murmurs. “Just touching. Just this.”

Eventually, when you don’t push him away, he lets out a quiet breath and shifts. Lays down beside you - not quite beside, really. More like on you, curling his long frame to fit your back like a blanket. His cheek finds home against your lower back, arms tucked in as he breathes you in.

“I love you,” he whispers into the silence. “Even when you’re crabby. Even when you’re too tired to look at me. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He stays like that, still and soft, waiting. Waiting until you’re ready to turn around. Until your hand reaches back to tangle in his tousled white hair. Until you mumble that you're sorry, or maybe just press your face into his chest without saying a word.

He’ll wait forever, if that’s what it takes.

Because sure, he doesn’t like it when you’re cranky. But loving you means being close even when you can’t meet him halfway. And if this is all you’ll let him have for now - two fingers and a cheek pressed to your back- then he’ll take it, gratefully.

Because that’s still you. And Satoru doesn’t know how to be without you.

[savethefix]

Okay, Satoru. It’s just a thought. Just a tiny little passing thought that’s totally not turning his insides into goo. You should move in with me.

He thinks it once. Then again. Then another twelve times before lunch. Tossing and turning in bed, kicking the sheets off in frustration because the thought keeps trickling back.

He’s lying flat on his back in bed, hair a mess, blindfold askew, thumb mindlessly scrolling his phone while you hum in the kitchen. And it hits him again - soft and sudden - how nice this is. How perfect. How stupidly, heart-warmingly good it feels to have you here.

You’re wearing his shirt. His biggest one. It swallows you whole, slipping off one shoulder, sleeves dragging past your fingers. And you look so at home like that. Humming and barefoot and sleepy-eyed, stealing strawberries from his fridge like you belong here.

And maybe you do.

He makes a list in his notes app again. Title: Reasons you should move in Beneath it:

No more goodbyes

No more packing bags

No more waiting for a “made it home safe” text (even though he loves them. But he’d rather hear you say it in person. Whispered, sleepily, into his chest.)

No more having to wait when he has missions to come see you

No more nights without you

And then, after a pause:

I love you.

He stares at it too long. Taps the screen a few times. Doesn’t delete it.

Then, Shoko. Of course it’s Shoko. At the worst possible moment, over coffee, just sips and goes, “Most couples break up when they move in together, y’know.”

And now Satoru is spiraling. What if you hate his weird dish organization system? What if you think he takes up too much of the closet? What if you want to split rent even though he just wants to spoil you rotten and give you everything? What if you get tired of him? What if he says the wrong thing and ruins it?

He’s big. He’s loud. He forgets to put the cap back on the toothpaste sometimes. He talks too much when he’s nervous (which is always, around you). He’s him.

But then - you’re here again, on his couch, laptop propped on a pillow, mumbling at apartment listings with the cutest frown on your face.

“This one’s tiny.” “Why is there carpet in the bathroom?” “Three stars and one said ‘roach army.’ I can’t do roach armies.”

And something in his heart just snaps - in a soft, trembling, full-body kind of way.

He watches the way your nose scrunches. The way you tuck your feet under you. The way his hoodie dwarfs you completely. With the throw blanket you always leave thrown across your lap. You belong here. He wants you here. Desperately.

So he says it. Barely above a whisper. Practically choking on his own heartbeat.

“…You could just move in with me.”

And then he’s frozen. Stiff as a board. Sweat prickling at his neck. His pretty mouth parted like he wants to suck the words back in.

You blink up at him. And then that smile. Bright. Full of surprise and something sweeter, something soft and glowing and yes.

“Are you sure?”

His heart stutters. Then melts. Then does something violent and romantic in his ribcage.

God, you’re so pretty. Why are you so pretty? He swears the sun could retire, you’re smiling so bright.

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “I mean - only if you want to. I just thought... it’d be nice. Y’know. To have you here. All the time. With me.”

And then you’re in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, giggling into his hair, and he’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

He clutches you, hands slightly trembling, grip lacking because he's scared this is some dream. Hides his face in your shoulder. Mumbles something pathetic like, “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh. “In a good way?”

He nods into the hoodie you stole. “The best way.”

He doesn’t let go for a long time. Anytime you move away, he brings you back. Hopefully so you don't see the mess he's become. He's the strongest. Yet you make him weak.

Later that night, you’re lying in his bed again - your bed now too, maybe - and you’re talking about what corner your books would go in and whether he has space for your desk, and he’s just watching you, glassy-eyed and stupid in love.

Your fingers graze his jaw, after tracing a few scars on his body, brush his snowy hair from his lashes. And he just… melts. Turns into a puddle right there.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” he whispers. Slow and full of disbelief.

You giggle, a soft gentle noise that somehow still makes his heart stop, brushing your nose against his. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.”

Satoru smiles, wide and sleepy and helpless. He’s flushed pink all the way to his ears. He wants to bottle this feeling. Keep it forever. Because for once, everything is quiet. Safe. Full of love. That this is what forever feels like. New list: The proposal.

[savethefix]

You and Toji are both exhausted new parents, constantly up at all hours—day and night with the baby. Toji’s grumpy and sex-deprived, muttering every morning about how he hasn’t been inside you properly in weeks—just humping against you during bottle feedings like a desperate old dog. And you’re just as pent-up, but every time you get a second alone, the baby starts crying.

Enter Megumi.

Grumpy, sleep-deprived, 20-year-old Megumi shows up to visit, stares at the bags under your eyes and the way Toji’s rubbing slow circles over your hip like a horny caveman, and just sighs.

“I’ll take her for an hour. Don’t do anything weird”.

You both freeze and blink at him in disbelief.

“Like… an hour-hour?” you ask with your breath catching, eyes sparkling with hope.

He rolls his eyes, already pulling the baby into his arms. “Yes. An hour-hour. Shower or whatever. Go”.

Except the moment the bedroom door shuts, Toji’s already on you, panting and feeling you up “Strip. Don’t waste the boy’s generosity”.

You’re both so frantic and relieved it’s honestly hilarious—Toji’s pants barely hit the floor before he’s hoisting you up, not even bothering to fully get on the bed. You’re clinging to his neck, giggling through your moans, whispering “We have to be quiet—he’s literally in the living room” while Toji mutters “He’ll live” as he bounces you like it’s his last chance at life.

Cut to poor Megumi who’s sitting stiff on the couch, holding the baby who is cooing softly against his hoodie, completely unaware.

In the background, there’s muffled thumping.

A faint creak.

A breathless “Fuuuck, I missed this pussy”

Megumi just closes his eyes and sighs.

“This is why I shouldn’t have offered”.

[savethefix]

SLAM DUNK - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru - campus boyfriend, MVP of the basketball team - can score a slam dunk but he can’t score you?! So what could go wrong when he asks you for pointers…in the bedroom?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, D1 basketball player!Gojo, college AU, friends-to-Iovers, PINING Gojo, kinda romcom, popular!Gojo, spin the bottIe, kíssing for “practice”, first times (Gojo’s), handj’s, semi-pubIic (locker room), fíngering, he comes back for more, oraI (fem rec.), PÚSSYDRÚNK Gojo, running from it, spítting, p talking, chokíng, matíng presses, manhandIing, he’s tall, Gojo with a big D, making it fit, talking you through it, tummy buIges, p sIapping, rough s, breaking the bed, creampíes, slight cúmplay, confessions, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.3k

A/N. *throws loverboy Gojo at you and runs*

“Let’s play spin the bottle!”

There wasn’t much room for rational say. Not when Shoko was already pushing an empty beer bottle into your hands, Haibara practically vibrating with excitement as he shuts the door to the raging party outside.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most sophisticated of games - but what else could you expect from one of Geto and Gojo’s infamous house parties?

“Fine—” You’re smiling, to the slurred cheers of your messy lil’ circle of friends. “But if I get you, Sho, you better watch out.”

She puckers up dramatically, “I’m looking forward to it- that is, if someone doesn’t kiIl me fir-” 

“Shut up, bob cut.” Ah, the star of the show cuts her off hastily, a drunken flush creeping down his neck. You’re raising a brow at the impatience - but when Gojo Satoru speaks, everyone listens. Everyone waits as the bottle in the middle spins.

And spins.

And spins. 

And stops-

Geto is the first to crack a grin, “Oh, Satoru~”

“Oh.”

Notorious chatterbox, mean loudmouth, and the student that had oh-so-famously gotten detention for probing into Professor Gakuganji’s sex life - but that was all Gojo had to say right now?

With a slight huff of laughter, you’re staring down the amber bottleneck- aimed directly opposite you, towards where your friend was sprawled across the carpet like he owned it. 

Which was, honestly, how you’d always known Gojo. 

Whether it was on the basketball court or accosting you on the very first day of orientation, there was a reason every student on campus knew his name. Knew his number. Knew the nights of his parties. 

But didn’t know whether they wanted to be him or be with him. 

Which was why it made your heart thud in a singular beat of surprise to glance upwards and find Gojo looking so…lost. Rosy lips parted, chest unmoving like he’d forgotten to breathe. 

And somewhere down the line, you swear you notice him gulp. Biceps straining against his flowery button-up as he pushes back those angelic white bangs of his, Gojo’s azure eyes flit furiously between the bottle, and you, the bottle, and you, the bottle-

“Ehem.” Shoko coughs into her fist, with the pointed subtlety of a sledgehammer. 

You see her flick a finger towards the wide wooden closet that loomed ominously by the far wall. “If you’re going to eye-fuck, I suggest you do it in- hck! there like the game says. Uta’s about to throw up already.”

Said Utahime dry heaves, “I’m not.”

“And who suggested this game?” But you’re standing up to a few jeers anyway- what’s one silly kiss between friends, after all? It was a small group of your friends, and a few stragglers starstruck by their proximity to Gojo. 

Though, turning around, you’re realizing that Gojo was, too. 

Narrowing your eyes in confusion, “Satoru?”

Gojo’s tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, “Yeah? I- oh.” Geto reaches over to thump his best friend on the back, making the other man startle into a stand.

Stumbling up on agile feet for a few steps, before he’s crossing the circle to grasp your hand in his large ones-

And that just makes the room erupt.

“That’s my boy–!”

“Don’t get pregnant– I can’t be an uncle yet.”

“Yuck.”

Cackles, cat calls, and a few obnoxious moans that ring out even louder than the thumping bass from the party downstairs. You’re crinkling your nose in amusement once Gojo flips them off and speedwalks towards the closet with crimson ears, dragging you straight in tow.

“Sa-Satoru.” You’re giggling, stepping inside the stuffy space. 

The smell of prized vodka and mothballs cling to every surface of the closet like an outdated perfume. And from where you’re pressing yourself up against one mahogany wall, you can feel the soft press of clothes tickle your body. 

It was dark inside - darker than dark, in fact. Your only merciful source of light coming from the dim yellow glow of Haibara’s room from underneath the cracks in the door. 

But even with the cloak of obscurity, you can already make out how snug of a fit it was inside. 

Because Gojo was towering - what else could you have expected from the ace of your university’s basketball team? 

Unruly strands of ivory brushing against the closet ceiling, broad shoulders cushioned by either wall. He has to press two palms upon either side of your body and lean down just to hear you speak, “Do you want to do this? Y’know we don’t have to-”

“Yes.” He’s breathing, labored. Uneven. Before catching the glint in your eyes and sputtering- “I mean- ah, I mean, why not.” Wincing, “…Do you?”

You hum, taking in the heady scent of his cologne. Cherries. “I mean— we should be good sports about the game.” 

“The game- the game, yes.” Gojo nods, a thin line of sweat starting to bead from his temple. And maybe it was the punch, maybe it was the dizziness of being so close- but did Gojo Satoru just stutter? “So you…want to kiss me?”

Your head tilts in question, and he flinches at the teasing look in your eyes. 

Fuck, was he ever-so-glad it was too dark in here for you to see the way his ears burn. 

“I-I mean, of course you want to kiss me.” With a slight puff of his sculptured chest, Gojo fluffs up his hair. Nose turning up in that haughty way it often did whenever someone asked for his number. “Who wouldn’t? I’m Gojo Satoru, after all. So, of course, I should kiss you, too- and I should s-stop talking and do that right now and- wow, is it just me or is it really hot in here-”

Then you’re shutting him up - with your mouth on his. 

Murmuring into his parted maw, “Shut the fuck up.” And the only thing sweeter than the taste of his soft, candied lips was the way that Gojo presses his ripped body further against yours and moans. 

Low, primal. Like it was something being wrenched from the deepest depths of his throat and he couldn’t possibly control it even if he wanted to.

So the only thing his poor, muddled body can think to do is lap at the glossy crevice of your own lips. Wobbly mouth tuggin’ on your greedily, it was almost cute the way that Gojo’s grunting just as soon as you pull away with a lewd wet noise-

Staring at him in awe, even in the darkness you could make out the ruddied shade of his blush. 

“Uh…” You pipe up, after a few seconds of silence, your friend’s gaze still locked on your lips. The skin of his cheeks flare red-hot underneath where you’d grabbed him with your hands. “Hello? Don’t tell me I broke y-”

He’s attacking your mouth once more. 

Ravenous, Gojo’s sultry lips drag allll across yours. Washboard abs pinning you to the wall of the closet, the pointed tip of his nose bumping messily into yours. He lets off a throaty keen as you’re parting your mouth with a gasp, “M’sorry.”

“H-hngh, Satoru-” The temperature inside this lil’ space heightens enough to make your goosebumps sizzle.

“M’sorry.” He’s drunkenly whispering, one of his meaty knees saddling right between your thighs. You’re whimpering at the feeling of his flexed muscles, “M’sorry m’sorry I-” 

One of his trembling hands slides up n’ down your back, as if Gojo didn’t trust himself to hold too still. And his touch was seeping warmth through your thin dress, lungs screaming for air-

“I’m sorry, it’s just- you. I don’t think I can control-” He’s interrupting himself with another chase of your mouth, sloppily sucking on the tip of your tongue. Gojo lets a slick puddle of drool formulate on the corner of his swollen lips, eyes glassy when he’s kneading his hips forwards to rut- “D-did you know that this is my first-”

“Time’s up lovebirds—! Oh.”

The sudden explosion of light strikes you like whiplash, and both of you snap your heads towards the entrance to the closet.

Geto stands frozen, slightly silhouetted by the bedroom glow. But nothing - absolutely nothing - can hide the way his sly eyes widen ever-so-slightly, caught off-guard by the vision before him.

He darts his peripherals to Gojo’s hands dipping dangerously low on your hips, to the manner you’re pinned against one wall, to the way your lips are swollen.

And Gojo’s were worse. 

It’s only then that your head’s clearing up enough for you to try and half-heartedly push at your friend’s heaving chest- to no avail, of course. Because Gojo doesn’t move a single inch, in fact, he’s only tugging you closer to him with a slight growl. 

Looking over his shoulder at the intruder, his eyes narrow—“Fuck off.”

“This- we-” You’re starting, unsure why you were so heated when this was the entire point of the game. 

But Geto beats you to it- “Well, this is certainly better than I thought. I expected our dear Satoru here to piss his pants and faint. Congratulations.” He points at something near Gojo’s khaki shorts, “Fix that.”

Fix…? In unison, you slowly swivel your heads down and find your mouth drop-

“Fuck! Suguru-” It’s only then that Gojo lets go of you like the mere feeling of your body scalded his own. 

Back shoving against the other end of the closet, both hands flailing downwards to hide the massive outlined bulge you’d caught just a glimpse of. And yet, even that wasn’t enough for him to hide the utter raw tightness in his pants.

Your mind sparks once you register that he was rock-fucking-hard. 

Handsome cheekbones all stained with rouge, you catch the smear of your lipgloss glitter all across Gojo’s lips when he hisses at the other man. “It went down just looking at you.”

“Liar.”

“Asshole.”

“Vir-”

“Shut up.” Slightly slurred by your moments prior, there’s a slight daze within Gojo’s stare as he turns to you - still covering his erection. “I-I can explain, I actually-” 

Whatever half-baked excuse it was, you don’t have the privilege of hearing it. 

Because just then, rings out a call of your name—Shoko. And you could recognize her rarely-serious tone anywhere, making you hastily step out of the closet. Leaving behind a sputtering Gojo Satoru and a snickering Geto Suguru to instead head back to your circle. “Everything alright?”

A few cackles escape your friends at the sight of you - all dishevelled and kissed stupid. 

Hell, even Shoko manages to break through the worried furrow in her brow to let off a slight giggle. “Mhm, my greatest apologies for interrupting Satoru’s little wet dream-” Ignoring the aforementioned man’s cranky ‘hey!’ as he closely follows you. “-but Uta isn’t feeling well, so we might just head back.”

You nod, “I’ll come-”

“No no, stay with-”

“We should get her to bed.” You’re waving off her protests, a no-brainer to go with the friend who was visiting all the way from Kyoto. Picking up Utahime’s bag as she starts to fight back her gags once more. “It was probably that cheap beer, I told her not to trust anything Usami bought.”

It’s with a few rapid goodbyes and promises to send photographs that your little trio staggers out of Haibara’s room, Utahime clinging onto both of you. Babbling weakly, “M’sorry for ruining your love story.”

The pit of your stomach twists with something you don’t know how to name, “You didn’t ruin anything.” Brows furrowing, “And what love story?”

“B-but-” She wails, making a few heads turn. “-but it’s been years- mmpf!”

Shoko sighs, one hand firmly slapped on Utahime’s mouth now. She throws a meaningful glance at her friend, “We’re never drinking again.”

Meandering through the throngs of people and alcohol, at an equal ratio - you’ve just got a foot out of the penthouse doorway; the one that Gojo rents for him and his friends, the hotspot for your university’s student body to be on a weekend night-

-when Gojo himself breaks through the overstuffed crowd. 

“W-wait–!”

“Satoru?” You’re swerving back in confusion, eyelids squinted at the flashing strobe lights. 

The party atmosphere paints his pale hair in red n’ pink, bringing out the prettiest specks of grey in his blue irises. 

And Gojo gasps, he heaves - seemingly more at the sight of you than the entire trek it had been to weave through a party that yearned for but a simple glimpse of him. Even now, he was deaf to the calls of his name from all sides, the hands patting him on the back- only letting out—“Do you…want to do something?”

You almost have half the mind to look behind you, “Do something?”

“An outing.”

“An outing?”

“A science experiment.”

“A science experiment?” You gawk, slightly appalled at the fact that Gojo Satoru of all people wanted to take up extra credit on a weekend. “Did you drink that bad beer too? Because-”

“Dammit-” Without warning, he’s smacking his forehead. “Just- just meet me, to talk about something. I’ll text you.”

You have to fight to keep your voice even- from amusement if not for genuine concern. “And you couldn’t text me that? You had to run all this way.”

He almost pouts with a huff, “Had to say it before I lost my nerve.”

“But-”

“She’ll be there.” Shoko’s vocalizing from your right, still holding up a dangling Utahime. And there’s something knowing - something meaningful - in her smirk, “I’ll make sure of it. If you beg on your knees, that is.”

Gojo flips her off in two seconds.

Then he’s on his knees in one.

“G-get up–!” You damn-near shriek, feeling the party buzz and gape at the encounter - you think you even see one attendant pull out her phone and start recording, sure to make a splash in the campus bulletin by tomorrow. “I’ll be there- just- go-”

Still unsteady from whatever the fuck that was, you’re shuffling into the elevator for Shoko’s Uber. still feeling Gojo’s stare burning into you afterwards. 

Blissfully dazed as the doors close behind his slight, anxious wave, Utahime cups your cheek and slurs. “You’re going to make such beautiful hck! babies. All from you, of course.”

.

.

.

“So…what did you need to talk to me about?”

“T-talking? Did I say talking? Well, I was really gone that night, y’know that-”

“Satoru.”

“-and we’re talking right now, aren’t we-”

“Satoru.”

If it was physically possible for a basketball player - numerous inches over six feet, unfairly chiselled, with a shock of white hair above all - to hide behind a humble convenience store shelf then Gojo certainly didn’t know how. 

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

And his tufts of pale bangs flinch at the stern tone of your voice, despite being separated by an entire aisle. 

Blatantly avoiding being in your proximity, Gojo’s simply pushin’ aside a few bags of chips to peek at you from the other side of the shelf. Shoulders hunched, eyes crinkling once he’s noticing your no-nonsense stance. “You see…remember how, last night, had that little erm- problem-”

“Your erection?” You’re questioning, purposefully not lowering your voice to make him squirm.

And he shushes you frantically, looking around the store - there was only a sweet elderly lady a few shelves down, and he was hoping to the heavens above that her hearing aid was turned down. “Yes- yes, that. And I said I could explain…well…”

“Well?”

Inhaling a deep, deep breath, “I’mactuallykindofatotalvirginandIwantedyoutohelpmewithsomepointersmaybe.” He’s forced to inhale an even deeper breath after that. 

“Y-you’re a…” It felt like you’d just short-circuited. Only one word from that entire jumbled mess standing out to you - virgin.

Not that there was a problem with that. It’s just- there was no way that Gojo was a virgin - not after all the stories that girls and guys alike would whisper about him in bed. Not after the harem of fans that would follow him ‘round each party like a second skin unless your friends dragged him away. Not after the way he had a new number being begged to be put into his phone every day. 

And yet, Gojo’s nodding at your unspoken question.

Somehow, it suddenly made sense that in all the years you’d known him, you’d never seen him go on a single date. But no one had to actually date to hook up. Sputtering, “And was that your-”

“First…kiss…” He grimaces, fingers twitching like they were about to topple the entire aisle of chips just to escape this conversation. Before smoothing his features back with a gasp- “B-but that was the best first kiss I could’ve ever dreamed of- I kinda did dream about it later but…”

As you start to slowly back away, he waves his hands fervently. Panic seeping into his voice, “Don’t run!” Withering at the way the old lady nearby turns, “I-I mean, that’s exactly why I need you. I need you to teach me–!”

You feel your heart race, voice lilting high. “Teach you?”

“Teach me how to—” Your friend waves his hands wildly, and you’ve never seen him so stressed - not even before his biggest games. “-not embarrass myself if I do something like that.”

Crossing your arms, the thought churns over and over in your brain. He wants to…kiss you again? “So…let me get this straight- you want me to give you lessons on how to kiss someone?”

“And maybe…other…stuff.”

“Satoru, you us want to hook up-” 

“Teach me.” He pleads, baritone crackling just a bit. A sharp smack resounds as he clasps his hands together in prayer position, “I just need you to give me a few tips- a few pointers, I swear. Just a few lessons so I won’t embarrass myself like that ever again. I could get on my knees again if you want-”

“No! Shut the fuck up.” You bark out, hands coming up to massage your temples. “I need to…think.”

And all it takes is one look at the other lady beside you two, discreetly turning her hearing aids up, for you to stride your way to Gojo’s side of the aisle. Right where he was holding up a packet of chips like a shield, waiting for you to burst. 

He wants to be intimate with you.

He wants a repeat of the party.

He liked it?

Something about that, you liked. 

You sigh, a sound that felt years older than you were. “Fine.”

“Yes-”

“But we’re doing this platonically. And I’m only doing this because I don’t wanna hear you begging. Or hear any girls laughing at you, because that’s embarrassing for me.”

Your head swivels behind you - ah, perfect. The two of you were loitering right between the chips and contraception shelves. “Lesson number one, wrap it before you tap it.”

Gojo starts into motion, eager to please. Though, it wasn’t very pleasant for you once his hand shoots out immediately to pluck at the gold n’ black box of Trojan Magnum…XL. 

“Hah! That’s funny.” Your grin twitches at his blank expression, “That’s a joke, right?” Then completely dissolving at his silence. “…Right?”

You’re still ogling in utter disbelief even as you walk to the weary young cashier, in line behind that old lady. “Satoru- are you sure you need that one? Lesson number two is you don’t have to compensate.”

“I’m actually worried it won’t fit.” He frowns, closely reading the measurements in the back. And from the corner of your eye, your imposing fellow customer gawks, discreetly hurrying up the payment. “Maybe lesson number three could be the pull out game.”

And right before you can answer - maybe make fun of his confidence, maybe even call off the entire deal altogether - the grim elderly lady taps your arm before leaving. “Good luck, dearie.”

.

.

.

“Sh-shit.” Gojo’s mouth closes and gapes stupidly, and no matter how much his firm chest heaves, he can’t steady his pitch. He can’t catch his breath. 

He can’t even think about anything other than the feeling of your soft, pretty hands wrapped ‘round his rock-hard dick.

A quick trip to your apartment later, with him backed into the corner of your couch, and you’re not making fun of him anymore. 

You knew what they say about men with big feet - but Gojo’s throbbing erection was even bigger than you could’ve imagined. 

Just about nine- maybe even ten hot, pinkish inches that glistened with a steady stream of precum. So hard that it looked painful, so thick that you’re having trouble closing your wrist over his circumference. 

Gojo’s slender hands grabbing onto each side of the couch to push n’ push his restless body upwards. “Shit shit shit- what the fuck-”

Grappling, fighting, in a split-second he feels the crown edge of your thumb graze his slit and damn near loses his mind. 

“Shiiiiit—” Almost whiny, if this was any other time then he’d be fucking embarrassed about the way his bass cracks at the very end of his sentence. 

“Shush, Satoru.” Your voice purrs, and just the sultry sound of it is enough to make his swollen cock twitch. Glistening out a treacly line of pre from the strawberry-pink orifice at the top of his shaft, “Lesson number three is to learn to be quiet. My landlord’s gonna complain.”

“Well, lil’ landlord Higuruma doesn’t have your cute hands on his cock, does he, beautiful?” 

“Well you’re failing the lesson then.”

“Fine.”

In retaliation, you’re giving him a looong, languid stroke along his vein-covered length. Mouth watering at the delicious way it makes him throw a hand up to cover his flushed face, other hand resting on your wrist.

Gojo’s hands were big- bigger than yours, and much more suited to help pump his prolonged cock with ease. 

Possessively, he’s curling your pretty fingers tighter ‘round his girth and bounces up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down. Whispering, “Faster- faster now, my girl- I mean- beautiful.”

“It’s just-” You’re nearly biting down on your own tongue, reluctant to state anything that would feed your popular friend’s ego. 

But you just couldn’t help it when he looked so pretty - eyes glazed with unshed tears and need, high cheekbones permanently pink, his fat cock pulsing between your fingertips with each passing second. And you swear the blushin’, bulged tip of his shaft swells even bigger with your intense stare, “Lesson number four is that you’re big. It makes it almost…difficult.”

“O-oh.”

Without a second of warning, Gojo’s slouching his muscular body over. Rosy lips pursed to depart with a glob of spit— straight down to the tip-top of his erection.

Letting the sticky mess trickle down the side of his shaft, he’s moving your hands to glue over his tender underside. Fap-fap-fapping rapidly, the sides of your pinkies spank against his bulky base and make him keen. 

“Difficult? Difficult?” Tonality just seeping with grunts, your touch smears the glossy webs of saliva down each vein. “M’passin’ this lesson with flying colors- oh, you’re gonna take it. How could anyone even- ngh- compete?”

“And here I thought y-you were the competitive one.” You’re garbling out your words, feeling your palms massage with the zig-zagged ridges of his length. 

“H-heh- hell yeah, I am.” With a pant, Gojo’s twisting his hand - one of his encapsulating both of yours, and something primal in you twitches at the stark size difference - to jerk down his slicked cock. “Faster.” Voice ruined. “Faster.” Breathy. “Fast- ngh-”

He can’t even think to finish his sentence before his body ruts- ethereal head thrown back, lips gnawed raw like bubblegum. “Oh, ohhhh, never felt like this.”

And Gojo Satoru - famed for his steadiness, his agility - had never sounded so uneven. With his sweaty scalp lolling back and forth like he didn’t know whether to push backwards or keep looking down at your work. 

Drag after lewd drag. 

He was so lengthy n’ big that your arms were almost aching at this point, repeatedly pumping from the ruby-red globe of his cockhead, and down, down, down. 

“Pretty hands hck! tired, huh?” But Gojo’s only maneuvering faster- capped knees spreading on the cushions of your couch to buck into you faster. “Come on- come on come on- don’t stop.”

“S’this any different from your- hah- usual routine, Satoru?” Even you were out of breath at this point.

You’re flicking your doughy fingerpad in a lazy line underneath the flared line of his slit and watch as Gojo only babbles. “Yeah- never felt something so…f-fuck, why are you so soft.” Large palms pressing down on yours, exactly where you could feel the outline of his shaft pulsing the most. His shoulders shake with each singular thwack! of your hand hitting his hilt, white curls bouncing. “So tight-”

Your friend’s fingers were dexterous, curling inwards so that your manicured nails would graze his swollen balls. 

They were slightly tanner than the rest of him, glittered with speckles of buttery precum that you take it upon yourself to gyrate your palm against. Purposefully pressing down lecherously–

And when Gojo looks up with a slight, dopey grin you knew that whatever fell next from that devastating mouth would not bode well for you. “Wonder if your pretty pussy would be just as ngh- tight.”

You feel your poor heart stutter—“Sh-shut the fuck up.”

“Ohhh- that almost made me cum.” He’s admitting through a raspy gasp, cadence giving way to something needier. Something harder. Something that was nearly scraping the flesh of your hands raw with his white happy trail. “S-say it again-”

“Shut up-”

Sapphire eyes squeeze shut, and the front of your poor skirt starts dripping with a few creamy wads of his pre. He was close. “Ngh-” 

Thighs pressing together, suddenly you’re realizing just how drenched your panties were. “Aren’t you supposed to be- fuck, learning a lesson?” And oh, were you shocked you managed to keep your voice even.

“Mmm, I’m learning alrigh’---” Gojo drawls, looking at you with such heated half-closed eyes that you can only more thoroughly drag your thumb down the line of his sensitive slit. “Shit- stop that- wait, don’t stop-”

Brain sparking, he’s singing out in protesting groans at the same time as your furniture. The cushions dipping as Gojo’s lurching his lanky body off of the couch, like he didn’t know whether he wanted to fuck your first for more, more, more or run away–

“Learning, huh?” You’re cracking a grin in amusement, hands letting off the sappiest squelches as you decide to slow down for his own sake. “Lesson number five…”

“No!” He’s pulling you back, he’s wrestling your hands to jerk faster, he’s grabbing you by the throat- left hand clinging onto the sides of your neck and squeezing. 

Scorching hot breath wafts your face as Gojo’s staring dead-on into your own pupils, “Stay. K-keep going. Keep going.” Something at the back of his throat makes him choke. “M’so close- don’t you fucking stop.”

“Fuck, Toru-”

“So fucking—” Your skin heats up with clammy warmth following the feeling of his sleazy eyes sweeping all down your body. Your hands working over time. Your hips slightly bucking back. Your tits-

Which he’s tugging down to see with an index hooked to the front of your top.

And you catch the exact moment that he does - the exact moment that his long, ivory lashes flutter further open, mouth parting with slick drool, face flushing.

Because that very day, you’d just-so-happened to have worn a special set of blue underwear. The exact same color as his eyes.

And it’s enough to make Gojo cum. Instantly.

He couldn’t even have the rationality to be mortified at the pathetic suddenness of it, because all he could do was lock his heady gaze onto your bra-clad tits n’ cream all down your wrist. 

Hot and aching.

Throbbing.

“Mmm, Satoru.” Splurging out from the swollen end of his shaft - the same shade as a strawberry, and twice as plump. Now with buttery sap to match. Something about that makes your mouth water. “Cum f’me- cum more.”

He was fucking up through each peak of his high like he was dying to pump each n’ every drop into your pussy. 

“Fuh-fuck.” And it’s hot, almost like he was melting out into you. A slow line of sweat dripping down his temple at the utter bursts of pleasure behind his hazy peripherals. “Cumming—m’cumming so much for you, beautiful.” Hauling your body closer to his, he’s spraying such thick, ribbony volumes of cum that you almost couldn’t believe it.

Jaw unfastened at the rapidly-growing puddle of ivory sap on your skirt. He’s so sensitive that he’s flinching just from the sound of your voice, like his favorite song. “Do you always cum so much, Satoru?”

“N-no—” Gojo huffs, slightly squeaky with his unstable pitch. “Only for you. When it’s you, I…”

Trailing off, both of you look down in synchronization at the glaze of white cum that’d started to trail down your forearm. And before you can let out a single word, he has one hand tuggin’ on your wrist.

Guiding your trembling fingers to unglue from Gojo’s pulsing, reddened cock with a sluuurp! He’s promptly sucking on your glossy fingertips with a moan. 

“Mm, so good.” Heavy erection still bobbing with the zaps of his euphoria, he looks up at you through long lashes - in a way that makes you gulp. Something he’s surely feeling, if the way that those fingers tighten on your neck says anything. “S’sweeter when it’s by you.”

Oh.

You’re fucked. 

.

.

.

“Oiiiii—Satoru—!” Whenever Geto spoke in that tone, it couldn’t mean anything but trouble. He looks past the (multiple) groups of the usual onlookers, “Your cute lil’ girlfriend’s here~”

“Geto Suguru, you know my name.” You’re snarling from your close seat on the first row of court bleachers, realizing only too-late that you made a fatal mistake. “A-and I’d never be this one’s girlfri-”

“Ohhh, did you hear that?” Of course, the inky-haired man is ignoring every word that falls from your traitorous mouth. Nudging a disinterested Nanami, who pretends to read something on the ball. “Didn’t deny the girlfriend part. I think you owe me ten yen.”

You squawk, “You bet on us?”

“You bet only ten yen?” Gojo Satoru, equally as indignant, but for a completely different reason, waltzes off of the court as Coach Yaga approves his dribbling check and calls for the next. “Way to show your faith in me, bro.”

Geto grins, walking onto court, “Can you blame me?”

And you didn’t know what made you sigh more - the furious cheers and cat calls emanating from Gojo’s fans, who never failed to show up to a single practice, or the way he saunters right up to you.

Expensive sneakers squeaking on wood, carrying with him the scent of adrenaline and cherry bodywash. With such a devastating grin, he winks towards the audience - and you swear you see at least one in a replica of Gojo’s 06 jersey faint. 

“Y’know, I think our lessons are working, beautiful.” Snickering at your surprised gasp, “The aura of…experience, it’s working. Yaga told me I was on fire today, Sugu said I was glowing and asked me for my skincare routine. Hell, even Nanamin - Nanamin - didn’t recoil in disgust when he first saw me today, which, considering Nanamin, is the equivalent of getting a big kiss on the lips as hello.”

“I thought these were lessons just for your future reference?” You raise a brow in suspicion, one that makes him sweat. 

“S-semantics. Hey, something’s working, isn’t it?” He waves a lengthy hand - and you can’t help but get struck by flashbacks to just a few days ago. 

It’d only been about two weeks since your little deal - and you’d been taking it slow. Well, as slow as you could get when your first day was spent fisting his furiously needy cock. 

A few kissing lessons here, maybe another handjob there. And Gojo was lapping it all up the exact same way he would when he was in the middle of a game, focus laser-sharp - and constantly locked on you. Only you. 

“…Right.”

Your partner-in-stupidity opens his mouth- but just then Yaga barks—“Gojo Satoru. If you have enough time to flirt, throw some hoops before the Kyoto match.”

“Ay ay, captain.” With a slight roll of his eyes, he’s giving you one last glance over his shoulder. Mouthing—‘After. Practice.’ And your heart races as you manage to make out, ‘Locker.’

Throwing a wink just for you - and the basketball in his hands, right along with it. That dimple at the edge of his grin was dazzling, “This one’s for you, beautiful—!”

He shoots. 

And he misses. 

Geto misses too, too busy rolling on the floor cackling. 

.

.

.

“M-mmm.” Gojo’s hiccuping, tone coming out ragged. And then he’s gasping- like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the tight feeling of your mouth. “Take it-”

You whimper, strugglin’ with the thick, reddened end of his cock bulging all the way near the back of your throat. Oh-so-swollen that it was swabbing into every nook and cranny inside of your maw without even trying. 

Gojo was ruthless - he was mean. 

Fucking into your mouth like this was the first taste of the pearly gates he’d ever gotten, and he’s writhing with each of your hollowed-out sucks. 

Acting like he wasn’t damn-near spearing your mouth permanently open into a cute ‘oh!’ with his size. One hand clawing onto the crown of your sweaty scalp, the other letting go of his useless wet towel now.

You’d just barely seen all the members of your university’s basketball team filter out, before Gojo - freshly showered, already half-hard - had dragged you into their spacious locker room.

And it almost reminded him of that first night in the closet, back scraping against the metal of the locker. Pushing you in so close that he can almost feel the way your tastebuds flood with saliva, “Take it take it- t-take it-” 

Rutting. Grinding. 

Your nails claw red, red lines down the pale expanse of his thighs, each muscle getting newly-decorated by you. “M-mmpf, Satoru.” Nostrils flaring, you feel his plump mushroom tip slip deeper past your throat the moment you relax. 

“Fuck- fuck yeah, say my name.” He’s spitting through grit canines, “Say my name like that- s’better than any fanchant I’ve heard.”

Gojo always became so honest any time he was bending to your every whim like this.

And right now he couldn’t stop prattling away between each heavy groan, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of his weighty girth sagging on your tongue. “Bet they didn’t know you’d be on your knees like- ngh, this f’me, huh, beautiful?” He titters, giving you a thorough rut of his inches until you feel the globe of your friend’s tip scrape down your throat. “Fuh-fuuuuck.”

It was almost too much.

The scratch of your ridged taste buds, salivating down every sensitive ridge on his erection. The prettiness of your teary eyes peering up at him. 

“Bet they didn’t know that- ngh, that sharp mouth would be shut up like this, huh?” Bucking. Thrusting- the heat of your mouth was just so heavenly that he can’t stop chasing it.

Not stopping for a single second to let the clingy back end of your throat part from his cock. He sticks his pelvis up and probes deeply into a sinful lil’ spot at the back of your maw that you didn’t even think was possible. 

Something hitches in his breath, snowy brows furrowing once he feels the dripping slope of your pussy gyrate up his calf. “That you’d like it so much.”

Again and again. Gojo’s repeatedly pushin’ in until he could feel the soft back of your mouth form a bruise in the exact circumference of his girthy tip. “Think ya like it even more than me, beautiful.”

“E-easy there, tiger. Lesson number number five is to pace yourself.” You’re trying to smoothen your tone - unsuccessful, of course, when he’d just been hitting your voicebox hoarse. 

Sensually - slowly - he’s managing to regain a mere ounce of control in that sloppy cadence of his. Loooong, massaging drags that plunge the ruby-red crown of his girth, Gojo’s still making sure that your velvety tongue licks up every solid inch of him.

You plop your swollen lips specifically down on the flared line of his slit and suck. “And lesson number six is to just- hah- shut up and take it.”

“N-ngh, love when you’re mean to me.” He’s grinning, one hand snaking down to his meaty base. Soon enough, your pursed maw is being positively showered with a spray of his dewy precum. 

A glittery gloss gluing all down your chin, you make sure to stick your lips along the prominent lines of his veins and smear-smear-smeeeear. All down the extra-tender spots of his shaft that makes Gojo shoot his free hand out to grab your throat with a labored whine. 

“R-real fucking dangerous.” He’s spitting - literally, a wad of spit that aims straight onto your sizzling tongue and makes an even bigger mess. 

Squeezing your neck, feeling the large cylindrical bulge that was reaching for your lungs. 

He could feel himself move with each back n’ forth of his toned hips, tightening until that particularly bumpy outline was making him lose his mind. “You’re real fucking dangerous with this pretty throat n’ these- hngh- preeeetty lips.”

You’re mewling, tears welling up behind your eyes when Gojo’s using the restraint on your throat to pull you off of his cock ever-so-slightly. For a few sultry seconds, just to spew out a translucent polish of precum. “And this pretty- pretty gloss.” Milky beads decorate your lips, they’re dripping down the front of your chin and makes him flinch carnally. “H-heh, say it again, beautiful. Say it when you’re hck! like this?”

“Shut the fuck up, Satoru.” Muffled, through the press of his painfully hard cockhead sliding between your lips. Once. twice. 

Thrice. “Nghhh- just like that.” The star player’s head falls back against the lockers with an echoing thud! when you start bobbing your head even faster. Syrupy precum welling up inside your mouth as if someone had just opened up a fountain. “Makes me s-so fucking hard.”

“Tight-” You manage out, gasping for air. Past all the animalistic ruts, past the squeeze of his lengthy fingers on your throat. And you can’t help but motion your pussy down and up the muscles of his leg, leaving a glittering trail of slick everywhere you go. “So- ngh-”

“So- so fucking—” Shit, Gojo cracks open one of his dazed blue eyes and can’t even finish his sentence at the pure sight of you.

Your eyes dazed, jaw stupidly unhinged. the entire lower half of your face glistening with all his bittersweet sap. Taking and taking each of his visceral ruts - you were absolutely ruined.

And he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful.

So much so that Gojo’s body moves before his mind, barely even stopping to think before unplugging his cock from the back of your throat with a filthy squelch–! Manhandling you into a standing position with only one arm, he has your back shoved against the lockers with the other.

“S-Satoru, what are you-”

Flipping up your skirt- plump, pinkish cocktip kissin’ the wet slope of your pussy. It’s the only thing Gojo needs to be creaming himself near-dry.

To plaster your jittery thighs together with the silky, white syrup of his cum, soaking your flimsy panties. Gojo’s sweaty bangs tickle the inside of your throat when he plops his face down on your shoulder and groans, “Fuck. F-fuck fuck fuck-”

And he isn’t just reaching his high- he’s trying to fuck you through it.

Trying to drill his aching hot cock between your legs, the fatness of his length keeps on pushing against your clothed cunt needily. “Y-y’know, I’m reeeally good with my hands, beautiful?”

“Y-you are–?” Your breath hitches, limbs starting to quiver weakly. Your entire spine zaps with eager pleasure as he’s lazily sliiiding aside your panties. “S’that lesson number seven?”

“Seven- eight- sixty-nine, heh, whatever.” Chuckling into your skin, you swear he’s tugging astray your panties and cumming once more just at the sight of your pretty, sopping panties. 

Hips surgin’ forwards automatically to smear a line of seed between your plump folds, Gojo’s mouth drops. “Oh.” His forearm comes banging down on the locker beside your head to cage you in, “My first time c-cummin’ on a girl.”

His entire body’s wracking with shivers once he’s guiding up stripes of his meaty mushroom tip along your pussy. Uuuuup and down, stray hand pryin’ your sloppy folds apart to paint your cunt a syrupy white from the inside itself-

Slimy fingerpads pushing you all open to dollop out generous helpings of his cum - fuck, honestly he doesn’t know what feels better. Those electric bursts of his orgasm, or the feeling of your fluttering wet cunt as you take it. “And she’s so preeeetty.” 

“Pretty–?”

It’s a fucking battle for Gojo to rip his half-lidded eyes away from your naked pussy, but when he does it’s to kiss your temple sweetly. “You’re pretty too, my girl- beautiful.”

Something in that gentle tremble of his voice makes your hands grip for purchase on the holed surface of the locker. 

And you can only whisper, “Sh-shut up, Satoru.”

“Shit-” Nearly forgetting that the rotund, throbbing end of his shaft was still aligned with your cunt. Just one move and he’d be throwing away just about all his first times. You’d be all out of lessons. 

Somewhere along the slight pang of disappointment at the thought, you feel his overstimulated length twitch—

Catching Gojo staring wildly at that one particular hand of his - the one that was stuffed between your messy legs and spreading your pussy so that he could splurge out his splotchy cum to the maximum.

“Oh.” Realization hits you like a truck. “N-no, Satoru, don’t-”

Before he sucks on his stained, white-topped fingertips like candy— moaning, the blur of his irises roll all the way back to the depths of his skull. “Yeah–” He’s noisily lapping up each ounce of your slick n’ his cum, like the utmost delicacy. “Yeah, m’learning a loooot from these lessons of yours, beautiful.”

“You’re filthy.” You sputter.

“You made me this way~” He leans in close for a kiss, and you can’t admit to yourself that you’d gotten slightly addicted to the taste of his mouth. The plush, cherry-tinged flavor of his lips, glossed with your filthy concoction from before. “Ya like the taste?”

You scoff instead of an answer, “Go shower.”

Pulling back with a mwah–! of lips-on-lips, he reaches for the puddle of his towel on the floor. “Wanna join?”

“In your dreams.”

“You have noooo idea.”

“Shush- before I end your lessons.”

Gojo laughs, loud and beaming. And you can’t help but smile to yourself, something bittersweet, making a hasty escape from the locker room before you stretched your luck too far. 

If only you’d taken your time.

Because then you might have seen a lone, towering figure standing by the wall leading to the doorway. Hidden by the sharp corner, and his lengthy raven hair. 

He watches as you waddle guilty away - as if leaving a crime scene - and Geto Suguru frowns. 

.

.

.

“Alright- it’s time to lock it in.” Yaga’s gruff voice bellows through every corner of the locker room, “Play your game, play fair, prove you belong. This is D1 basketball and I expect each one of you to play like it. Show those Kyoto fuckers who we really are.”

As deep cheers rattle the atmosphere, Gojo finds his hands almost too shaky to knot his laces - too full of adrenaline, full of pride.

Full of the thought that maybe you might be here in the stands, watching. Maybe.

Beside him on the bench, Geto silently tightens his own sneakers. And Gojo can’t help but crack a smirk, “Why so quiet today, Suguru? Don’t tell me you’re nervous about fucking Kyoto.”

“No, not at all.” He responds simply. 

And ‘simply’ would never be quite good enough for Gojo Satoru. Which is why he’s furrowing his twinkling eyes at the other man, “‘Nooo, not at all?’ Appropriate spaces for commas and all? Who are you- Nanamin?”

“Right.”

Gojo frowns, “You’re off today.”

“Are you sure that you’re not the one off?” Geto states, tense. Until he was registering what’d just slipped out of his mouth, immediately shooting into an upright stand. 

“What do you-”

“Forget about it-”

“No.” But he can barely take a single step before the taller man’s honed reflexes make a swipe at Geto’s elbow. Stopping his teammate in his tracks, Gojo’s voice dips low in that serious, tight way it usually never did. “What do you mean.”

A statement, not a question.

And his best friend can barely stand to look at him, head tilted slightly to the side, as if giving into the concerned looks thrown their way. “I told you not to play with her heart.”

Seething, “What?”

“Satoru, when I said I’d support your feelings for her, it wasn’t to make a fucking fool out of yourself.” Shrugging off the hand, which gives way easily. “So many years, and this is how you make a move? She’s my friend first- and you’re treating her like some fucking game.”

“She-” He gasps, face burning. “She’s just teaching me lessons in-”

But Geto always was the quicker of the two - and the more stern. “How long did you expect this to go on, huh? When you’re all done with your ‘lessons’, then what?” 

“I…I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think that she might actually enjoy that nice restaurant downtown you’ve kept the pamphlet to since meeting her? Didn’t think that she might want to know that you’ve always kept extras of your jersey for her, her favorite flowers, her favorite movie, just in case?” Geto’s fists clench, “Didn’t think that it’s fucking stupid that you two aren’t together, yet? You deserve to be happy- but she does, too.”

Silence. Deafening, deafening silence. 

“What are you doing, man?”

“It’s sex-”

“Stop fooling yourself.”

As he watches Geto’s disappearing back, Gojo wasn’t sure whether he wanted you watching him anymore. 

But it still stung, just a little, when you weren’t.

Kyoto won that day. And Gojo Satoru has never faced a more devastating loss. 

.

.

.

“-my hometown friend, don’t you dare flirt with her, Satoru–”

What was Geto saying again? 

Ah, does it even matter? Gojo Satoru, freshly-titled ‘campus boyfriend’ after only a few hours on said campus, hadn’t heard a single word out of his high school best friend’s mouth after your name.

After you’d batted your lashes cutely and smiled his way–

Oh– blah, blah blah— He’s letting out an audible sigh as you begin speaking something or the other about your major, the usual for orientation day. Proper name, proper place, backstory stuff-

“-toru- Satoru–!” It’s only with a hearty smack on his shoulder that Geto manages to snap Gojo out of his daze, still staring at you from afar where you’d decided to talk to Shoko. And the black-haired man shifts his weary eyes between you n’ his other friend. “Oh no-”

“Suguru, I think I just found my wife-”

“Hell no.” Dramatically, he shakes the other’s shoulders as if desperately trying to jolt some sense into that basketball-addled mind of his. “Satoru, you’ve gotten about fifteen different phone numbers-”

Geto pauses as another fresh-faced student flounces up to the duo and gives them both two slips of paper with a number scrawled on, one that Geto’s immediately tearing up.

“-sixteen just today itself.” His dark brows furrow, as much as he loved his best friend, he knew the mind-numbing popularity that came with him, too. The reputation. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin who’s never held hands-” Ignoring Gojo’s protesting ‘hey!’ “-if you think I’m about to let you play any games with her heart then-”

“I wouldn’t even imagine it, Suguru. Really.” Leaning back in his chair, Gojo’s azure eyes stray to you - as they’ve always seemed to do since then. Second nature. And only a second before tearing them away, undeserving to have you notice. “There’s just…something.”

There’s a tone there that Geto couldn’t place.

Something tender. Something that makes his eyes light up like they did when he was about to nail a slam dunk.

“Something about her that makes me feel like I can win all the championships in the world.”

.

.

.

“O-oh my god, mm—” Your mouth hangs lewdly open, thighs trembling where they were thrown over the far end of your bed. 

Gojo had himself nose-deep in your syrupy wet pussy and it still wasn’t enough for him- he was still clawing both hands onto your thighs and forcefully dragging you halfway down the silken sheets. “What has- hah! what has gotten into you, Satoru-”

For perhaps the first time in his life, he doesn’t have an answer.

Can’t even think of one.

Not when the long, slimy edge of Gojo’s tongue was dipping past your drenched panties and pushing them juuuust barely to the side. Darkening that pale blue shade with the wetness of his maw, he’s plastering his taste buds to the slope of your pussy and watching you squirm.

And it’d started right after you’d arrived home, wondering whether it was too late to text him about the match - only to find the man of your thoughts himself sat outside your front door.

Waiting for you.

Towering, he’d thumped his head down on your shoulder in silence. 

That is, until you two had made your way inside-

“I-is this about not coming to your- ngh! game?” You’re wailing out a broken whimper, twitchy hands weaving between his ivory locks to try and steal a glimpse of his face. “Because Gakuganji held me back for a club thing and I’m sorry- fuck!”

Without a single warning, without even a speck of hesitation, your friend’s shovelling the inches of his tongue past your elastic entrance until that tight rim resists.

Until he’s keening into your puffy core at the tightness, until he’s usin’ a thumb to spread-spread-spreeeead your glittery pussylips apart even further. “Taught me- taught me lessons, didn’tcha, beautiful?”

Murmuring into your cunt, each syllable is ended off with a heavy lashing of his silver tongue. 

Spat straight into your quivering hole, Gojo’s licking away primally. Each raw scratch of his wet muscle trying to push past your hole, trying to fuck you the way he’s been aching to for years. “Taught me ta kiss those pretty lips- now you’re teaching me a whole hah- other type of kissing.”

“N-ngh, oh my god- Satoru.” He was just filthy. Both his babbling, pussydrunk words and his motions.

It’s like he didn’t know where to stick his tongue to like adhesive - wanting anything and everything, all at once.

From the throbbing nub of your clit, to the weepy orifice of your cunt. Though, he was making sure to lap up every ounce of slick glistening out of you, like the sweetest honey.

You’re whimpering, begging for fucking mercy from the wide, glissading edge of his tongue. You grip the soft tufts of his hair and try to lift him slightly off for dear life. “Fuck- Lesson number eight is to s-slow down–!”

“Then m’gonna hafta fail.” He’s rasping out, starved. 

Barely even breathing, whatever words escaping Gojo depart only reluctantly. Between each pant he’s forced to take by his screaming lungs, he’s unfastening his slobbery maw even wider to suck on your clit. 

Thighs closing sensitively ‘round his clammy head- “You’re being sooo—” You think that might just deter him, but he’s only climbing further up from his position at the foot of the bed, on the ground. 

Chasing your pussy no matter how much you were bucking. Feral. 

“Mmm, think I like it better when you hngh- shut me up like this.” He’s blubbering through a greedy mouthful of your cunt, slick-glossed mouth pinching your clit. 

You’re damn-near yelping as his plush, puckered lips start rollin’ side to side just to tease that nub like bubblegum. Your own thighs ache with the flesh-ridden press of his big, beefy biceps curling ‘round your thighs to push them even closer. “Can you even ngh- breathe?”

“Suffocate me.”

And he sounded dead-serious.

Throwing your trembling legs over two muscular shoulders, Gojo’s leering his handsome face impossibly closer.

Right up until the straight button of his nose bridge presses against your clit, and the front of his face smeeeears with a pathway of your pussy’s sweet, sweet juices. 

“Don’t care.” Spitting, a great glittery glob that sticks just to the side of your outer pussy and makes it so much wetter for him to start dipping his wide tongue inside. “Don’t care don’t care don’t care- I don’t need air, I just need- hah! You.”

Lavishing your snug hole with so much attention, you can’t help but clench ‘round his grazing taste buds. Letting your entrance be tugged n’ snagged according to Gojo’s every whim.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Letting him spit on your pussy once more-

“And her.” Slimy, wet muscle flopped right now, he was running through each line he’d read online about this like a gameplay. Zig-zagging from your clit n’ back to jackhammer into your hole, “We’d made such a loooovely couple, wouldn’t we, beautiful?”

And you don’t even know who he’s talking to you - you or your poor, battered pussy.

But before you can ask, Gojo’s patience snaps with a rut-

“Fuck, your walls-” Just as soon as you’re clamping your thighs surrounding his head. He’s whining, he’s shoving his face in deeper like the prolonged length of his tongue could scour your channel even more. 

Like that particular muscle could maze in a slithering up n’ down- Gojo’s sharp jawline strikes the base of your cunt and he groans in disappointment. Unable to dive in even deeper.

Feral. Thirsting, He’s nose-deep and still filling up your every orifice with his textured tongue for more, letting each ravenous taste bud stir about your sweet innards. “Your walls want me so ngh- badly. Wants ta suck me up so badly- look.”

“What do you- oh!” You flinch at the sudden warmth of another puddle of saliva striking your pussy dead-on, smearing about.

Gojo’s eyes were widened, mouth unfastened as far as it would go. “How the fuck doesn’t anyone get addicted?” Genuinely serious. Genuinely asking. 

“Y-you’re too much-”

“Oh, you want more?” Wait…what? You’re momentarily speechless at how his melty mind had just understood your sentence. Mouth thrashing about on overdrive, grin sleazy. “Heh, I’ve always wanted to do this.”

And then you’re snapping your head down in a split-second, just in time to see two of Gojo’s lengthy, roughened fingers tease the crevice of your slit.

All lightly calloused by basketball, he’s sloooowly circling your puckered hole. “Cute, s’like she wants ta- ngh- kiss me.” He’s giggling, prying apart your folds to ease his way in with a raw, noisy sluuuurp–! “Hope she doesn’t mind how looong they are- or do. My lesson number one is that you’re going to take it all.”

Bucking into his touch, and that makes him copy you - crushing the thick, bulging outline of his erection against the bottom of your bedframe. 

So hard that the mahogany panels creak– jostling you, right alongside the bed. “Fuck-” He hisses, looking down. “Look how you’ve got me - like a fucking animal.”

“You’re so filthy…” 

“S’all your fault.”

You’re sobbing now, legs twitching cutely on top of Gojo’s deltoid after every time his knobbled fingerpads scraped a spot that was particularly sensitive.

His size- oh, you should’ve expected a size to match a basketballer’s hands - because they’re plugging every nook n’ cranny without even trying. Scissoring your gooey walls far apart to claim each hidden area of yours, “All- all your fault.” 

Almost whimpering because it’s just that tight. He’s swervin’ rapidly and surely. “You made me like this-” But he wasn’t done- he was leaning over to spit a web of spit once more, dampening your soft cunt just enough to bully in a third finger. “Made me so stupid.”

Barreling straight into your g-spot. 

“Foooound it…”

“Oh- oh my god–” You’re losing your mind at this point, hips thrashing about. The blankets stick to you like they’re made of adhesive as you’re arching into the perfect curvature-

“Stay down.” Gojo barks - a stern edge to his voice. And before you can make a single move, he has one bicep pinning down your hips, maw opened to suck on your clit so you stay down.

Left too weak to do anything but cry out at the feeling of his tastebuds rolling over n’ over on your nub. Sensitive. Overstimulated. 

You’re gasping at the heated sparks of white that burst behind your lids, “Toru- I th-think m’close- don’t think m’gonna last- hck!”

“Told you I was good with my hands—” He slurs out, ruined on your pussy. "That's lesson number hck! three- maybe two? Ah, I dunno…”

Pump after pump, Gojo curls his digits so they bruise right into the spot locating your bundle of nerves. Feelin’ your soft walls clamp down sappily, “Only thing I do know is that I want you- hah-” Pulling back, he teeths your clit with a sinful squelch. “-oh, I wan’ you cumming on my mouth.” Fingering you so hard that the mountains of his knuckles were reddening with impact. “And I want you screamin’ my name every second of it.”

“Oh please-” The roughness of his fingertips are starting to plunge even deeper, as if Gojo was ready to probe into your womb right then and there. “Satoru-”

“Call me ‘Toru’, beautiful-”

“Toru-”

“Louder.”

Harder. 

It was so hard to speak with tiny sobs catching in your throat, with your body being run ragged by him. Lips wobbling with each long push of his digits- “Toru.”

“How about- ‘my Toru’?”

“My- my Toru—!” You’re squealing; the exact same moment that your pitched voice cracks, your sanity does, too. 

And in mere sultry nanoseconds, you’re shattering into white-hot explosions of bliss. Your orgasm sweeping your entire body with goosebumps, you can only scratch carnally at Gojo’s crowned scalp. 

Your fingers maneuvering his head up and down in sloppy gyrations, it’s as if you were riding his pretty features through each peak of euphoria. “M’cumming- oh-” Your high hitting you so hard that tears pinprick at your pupils, and Gojo was only happy to make them overspill. To dangle his hefty tongue out so that he can lap up your cunt with every drag. “Can’t believe you- oh. Are you sure this is your first time, Toru?”

He finches at the nickname, “Fuck yeah, sweet thing.”

Brushing his tastebuds up and down- probing against your clit. 

He was still ravenous.

Even when you’re blinking back your vision, though, you still couldn’t see with the way that Gojo’s velvety mouth made your pupils criss-cross constantly. 

Toes curling, limbs shaking with sensitivity. 

It was getting to the point that your mind was slowly going blank, spittle falling from your mouth. “I-I’m hngh- m’high’s over-” Still sparking somewhere at the back of your throat, even though you push and push at Gojo’s forehead, he’s only digging deeper. “Oh my god, Satoru-”

He blubbers, “M’fucking starved, beautiful. Been wanting this for sooo long.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

Oh.

Oh, that did it.

Because Gojo lurches his head up as if he’d just been zapped with electricity; eyes snapped open, strings of slick still connecting his lips to your swollen ones. 

“F-fuck you…?” He grunts- buying more time, those buried fingers of his pull out from your walls with a slurp. Finding their usual pathway between his greedy lips, he catches your look. “What? Haven’t I ever told you that you make me so–”

Thoroughly cleansed by now, Gojo smacks his lips with satisfaction. 

“-greedy?”

The dark glint in Gojo’s eyes makes you squirm your body slightly backwards- all the way up until you hit the headboard with a gasp. And he only looms closer. Only prowls up to you like he was closing in on the most appetizing prey.

And now that he’d gotten one taste of you, of course he’d be craving more. 

Like you were the sweetest of desserts, he’s gliding his tongue allll down those slick-glossed lips of his. Your juices worn halfway down his face - smearing up to his cheekbones - with utter pride. “And I think m’ready for another lesson now.”

You take one look at him - pupils glassy, face glistening, ears flushed - and immediately dart your hands down to Gojo’s belt buckle. 

Meanwhile he’s shedding himself free of his t-shirt, whatever’s left of your bra, hooking over your panties—

RIIIIIP—!

“Th-those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you fucking ten more.” Pointedly, Gojo stuffs the ruined fabric into the back pocket of his trousers before disposing of them somewhere by the side of your bed. “Then tear those off, too, next time.”

Next time.

“Excited ‘bout a ‘next time’?” Oh- fuck, you’d just babbled that out loud.

He couldn’t have looked more smug if he tried, pointed canines flashing in a smirk. His thick thumb dips into the hemline of his boxers, pulling them down in a flash.

And Gojo was hard - so fucking rock-hard that his upright erection smacks the front of his abs with a thwack! 

Long. Perfectly thick. Always just so pretty. Bedazzled by a few veins down his pinkish shaft, Gojo’s sensitive cock twitches as he’s panting. Ruby-red tip painting a horizontal line of precum, you’re mentally calculating the measurement and wondering just how deep he’d be inside of you. 

Swatting away your sheeny thighs, that’d just started to close. “Ah ah- where’d you think you’re taking her?” Before his glossy, sleek jaw unhinges ever-so-slightly in wait. 

“You want me to-”

“I’ve spit on her so many times.” Gojo muses, quirking one snowy brow. Holding you by the throat, he pushes his face into your personal proximity, “Think s’time for you to return the favor.”

Whimpering, restless, it was just so cute to him how you’re pressing your lips together shyly. 

Whacking a bead of slobber precisely onto the target of his tongue- and Gojo barely even gives you the time to register your little ministration before surging his entire body and kissing you. Open-mouthed, heated.

At the exact same time that his globed, weeping cock pushes straight past your swollen folds. 

But it wasn’t so easy- “F-fuck.” Gojo shutters his eyes, expression looking like he was just in prayer. Hiccuping, rutting- back and forth in rapid half-thrusts as if he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of your pussy any further. “What the fuck…what-”

“S-Satoru, are you okay?”

“No.” SMACK! He’s trying to strike his pelvis against your own so hard that your thighs are jostled. Fat cock stuck by the resistance of your cute, cute cunt. “No no no- s’just…I lost my virginity to you.” 

You’re speechless as he looks up at you with a giggle. 

Repeating, “I just lost my virginity to you and it’s too- good.”

“And you’re t-too big—” You claw all down his pale back, feeling every muscle flex underneath your touch. 

“Remember my first lesson?” Head tilted, the smile on Gojo’s face was oh-so-tender - even though his mushroom tip was furiously pumping in and out of you like anything but. “You’re going to- take it- all.”

Fuck, but he didn’t know who he was torturing more. 

Because your cunt gives way to swallow up one more of his solid, rovering inches - just past the slick line of his slit - and Gojo hunches over. He heaves. His vision blurs with tears- “Ohhh my god, I c-can’t.” Voice octaves higher, breaking. He’d just started to put it in and he was crying.

Shit, he’d learned nothing. 

With a hand pushing your left thigh open, Gojo’s trying to pull his ravaged cock out. Just too good for him to handle. Maybe he’ll keep some part of his sanity intact if he fucks you with just the tip-

But in that instant, your clingy insides are squeezing around him so tight and he’s thrusting.

Out-of-control. 

Fighting against the stretch, you’re clawing for the headboard above your scalp- “Oh my god- I don’t know if I can- fuck! It’s just so big.” Nine - nearly ten - inches throbbing at the mere sound of your voice. 

“Lesson number one lesson number one- oh, lesson number one-” Echoing like a broken record-player, he’s ruthlessly haaaauling you back with a hand latched onto your hip.

Soft grunts wafting your features like a furnace, “Breathe” Gojo begs into your ajar mouth, pinning you with the prominent muscles of his v-line. “Breathe- one- two-” With each stroke. “Breathe with me-”

Those exact same exercises that he’s taught himself over and over again during the toughest of training regiments. “Feel it in your s-stomach.” You’re nearly screaming as one of his over-large palms come pressing down on your stomach, making you feel like he’s spearing his plump tip all the way into your lungs. “Then let it allll out through your lungs- breathe w’me, one, two.”

One-two. In and out. One-two. In and out. 

Mewling, “One- t-two.” Mindless hips swervin’ back and forth to meet his desperate drilling and it makes him gasp.

“Breathe- breathe. Lesson one, you hafta take this-” Scrambling for your hips, for your throat. “Even just the tip. Just an inch.” Using the leverage to pull you down, “I’m begging here.”

“T-Toruuu–”

And it’s with a final, resounding spank of skin-on-skin that he’s managing to bottom out.

The hot, pulsating feeling of his sheathed cunt barely even registering in your mind before Gojo’s letting off a wet sob. It just felt too good. “You passed with f-flying colors, my beautiful.”

And now that he’d gotten started, he couldn’t stop.

Gojo was pounding you into your cheap bedsprings like a madman, like it was painful for his swollen, vein-covered cock to go even a second without dragging down your walls. Designing your slick insides with the patterns of his veins, “How are you reachin’ a-alll those spots, Toru?”

“Alllll those spots, huh?” Mockingly, he ends up pushing down on your tummy just like before. 

Except this time, Gojo takes the lecherous time to feel the dull thud! of his split-ended tip poking into your cervix. This time, he can follow each single inch you’re clenching ‘round—“Wh-what is…”

Pushing down harder. “Is that my-” Thrusting even harder. 

Gojo’s size is just so staggering that he’s feeling the exact bumpy outline of his mazing shaft. The way he was spreadin’ apart your walls with his circumference - it just renders his mouth watering.

Gracing you with a dopey grin, one that had drool spilling from one side of his rosy lips. Moaning, “Oh, just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect.”

Sweet-talker. You whine, just so you won’t pay too much attention to the way your heart races, “Shut up, Toru.”

“Yeahhh- say that again.” Bulky base just drenching with your sweet slick the harder he’s thrusting in, you can feel his rock-hard tip twitch after your words. “S’like you’re made f’me.”

“Shut up, Toru-”

Palm massaging down on the tummy bulge he was fucking into you, he could feel each flinch of his oversensitive cock. “See? See? The way this pretty pussy takes ngh- all of me. The way you make me react-” Pumpin’ a thorough push against your slick-filled sweet spots. “The way you make me s-sooo fucking hard. Ohhh, we fucking fit like a- a…”

Poor chatterbox Gojo Satoru is just so pussydrunk by now that he can’t even go on.

He can’t even speak. Can’t even breathe— entire fuzzy brain honed in on spearheading your walls with his flared cockhead like a flashlight. 

Hips gyrating into the exact angle that it takes for him to strike your needy, waiting g-spot. Hard. 

“There-” Your heart-shaped peripherals sprint to the back of your head, back jerking off of the mattress. “Right- ngh- there–!”

And, usually, Gojo would’ve taken this as the perfect opportunity to brag about how it was ‘so easy’ for him to find the almost-mythical g-spot. Usually, he’d have been snickering outright at the cutely awed expression on your face.

Usually.

But the only thing he was fucking capable of doing right now was marvel at both you and your pussy. Gaze darting up and down so fast it was almost like a blur. 

“Cat- hah, pussy got your tongue, Toru?”

“Sh-shut up…”

“You shut up.”

Shit, that makes him nearly cum. Right then and there.

And to cover up this little weakness, Gojo spanks your overstuffed pussy instead. Open-palmed, with the doughy tips of his digits striking accurately on your clit. 

“Y-you little- ngh.”

“What was that–?” Oh, it was like he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. And before you know it, he plants down three more rude smacks on the slope of your cunt; exactly in sensual unison with the thrashes of his cock. “Why don’tcha write my name on your clit, beautiful? Unless…” 

SMACK–!

You get the message fast enough, even despite your thoughtless mind. 

Your twitchy dominant hand slithers between your thighs, thumbing down your perky clit just in that way you liked. “T-Toru–” Trying for all your might to spell a ‘T’, “Oh- wait, Satoru.”

Then an ‘S.’

But you couldn’t do it just how his big fingers had managed to do, and the only thing you’re getting out is a sultry figure-eight. One that renders your throat dry, “Satoru- oh.” An ‘A’ that looks more like a silly lil’ ‘V’, “I can’t ngh- don’t think I can- fuck.”

And Gojo notices your little struggle - of course, he’s noticing. 

It’s the sweetest little entertainment for him, of course, watchin’ you get fucked too dumb to spell out his own name on your clit. Your lips wobbling when he finally smacks your hands away-

“Honestly- aren’t you supposed to t-teach me?” Groaning at the squelching noise of your growing even more aroused. “Watch and learn, my girl- fuck. My beautiful.”

But it’s not like he was any better, thank fuck you were too gone at this point to realize. Just as much as he was. 

It takes Gojo a few slips n’ slides to latch his plush thumb down on the nub of your clit, “F-first there’s a ‘T’- I mean, an ‘S.’” The dual stimulation of his shaft stretchin’ out your tiniest ridges inside, of his fingerpads writing on your clit, was simply incredible. “Then an ‘A’...‘T’...”

Even through the lust-fogged haze in your mind, you could distinctly make out the messy scribbles of Gojo’s fingerpads. 

S-A-T-O-R-U

Repeated. Over and over until it was like that pattern was burned onto your clit, joints working manually faster. Faster. 

S-A-T-O-R-U

S-A-T-O-R-U

S-A-T-O-R-U

And it’s so much that you don’t even realize you’re shrilling out his name with each movement- “Satoru-” Thighs kicking in pleasure, he’s quickly throwing them over his shoulder and folding you in half. Bending you into a mating press. “Satoru- Satoru Satoru—”

You feel a slimy, wet tendril gleam down your cheek, “Why’re you crying?” Gojo’s licking up salty tears you didn’t even realize you were setting free. “S’not because of my hck! biiiig fuckin’ cock, is it?”

In this mating press, your friend(?) had the freedom to plaster his washboard abs down your front. To scratch your pelvis with his pale white happy trail.

“S’not because I’ve wanted to do this for- for aaages, is it?” Nuzzling the crook of your neck, Gojo gives you a slam so hard that you’re being driven further up the bed.

Only for him to pull you back down. To do it over again.

And over and over and over again until the spongy layer of your cervix had memorized the size of his cervix. Stretching open your cozy lil’ walls, he pricks his strawberry divot firmly against the base of your womb like he was meant to be there. “Not because I’ve always wanted to- to break myself on this pretty pussy-”

Roughly, the wooden frame of your headboard rattles-

“O-oh-” Gojo slams his hand down on the banging headboard, remembering something from the earlier lessons about a landlord. 

Only for the mahogany panel to shatter, for your creaky bed to sag on one side– your eyes widen. Gojo Satoru had just broken the bed but he was still going.

He was still claiming your cunt with each sultry jackhammer, still babbling pussydrunkenly. “S’not because you’re haaaah- close, is it?”

“I am–” You don’t have half the mind to be shocked that he could feel your oncoming high before you. Walls clamping down with each vibration of electric euphoria, “M’gonna cum, Satoru. Lesson number nine is to make- me- cum-”

“You’re gonna cum.” More statement than question. “Really, really gonna cum? Because of ngh- me?” 

You can only nod.

And Gojo’s voice is small, cracking. “She’s gonna- fuck! gonna on my cock?” Furiously nodding, “My cock? Because of- oh- me? Fuck–!”

You’re barely even getting out an affirmation for those last few rapidfire questions of this before Gojo’s tense, driving cock explodes. All into thick, gushing ropes of cum that slather your walls.

And if you thought he’d cum in massive volumes before, then you weren’t ready to be faced with how eager he was to fill up your pussy.

Your geysering slick was nothing in comparison to the way Gojo was buttering up your slitted entrance, cobwebbing your tight hole shut with his sticky cum. Again. And again and again he was pumping each drop into you. 

“L-lesson number two-” But it was not like he would let you get off the hook that easy. And the flesh of your inner thighs sting when Gojo only speeds up, accelerating his shaft to target your g-spot in a way that makes you keen. “-n-never cum after me. Only before-” 

Two roughened crowns of his fingers tweak your clit– a final, ‘Y’ And you’re wondering what the hell that stands for.

Y-O-U-R-S

Gojo flushes as he finishes off the singular word, like he almost couldn’t believe it himself. Before pinching on your clit—“Sh-shit- shit shit shit, m’cumming, Toru.” 

Right now, watching your cunt quiver n’ cum around his cock was better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed of. 

Because your mouth was possessive, crashing into his and whining his name with each twinge of your high. Your pretty eyes were practically mosaics of tears at this point, ones he could stare into for eons. 

And he does - straight into your irises when Gojo’s filling you up from the inside out. “I know-” Feeling his own seed slosh out of him and drip straight down to your womb. “Take it- take it, all inside like it- hah- should be. Like it was always meant to be.”

“Inside-” Gasping at the press of his tensed core, pushing down on your stomach. Right where he was spearing straight through you, “A-all inside, Toru.”

It was one of the best orgasms of your life, and, strangely enough, all of them seemed to have been pulled out by Gojo.

Who was filling you up until you were overspilling, like some fountain. 

Now purposefully slapping the veiny length of his shaft against the roof of your cunt, pounding you through each volt of pleasure until you’re seeing stars.

Until your thighs are left shaking stupidly, your mouth gaped, brain so filled with the static of your stomach being in knots that you don’t even register the damp splat-splat-spat–! splashing onto your shoulder.

Something…wet. 

At least, not for a few seconds until your eyesight can adjust. You’re blinking back your vision to look up and see that Gojo Satoru was crying.

Pretty cheeks ruddied, eyes glistening with even more unshed tears. And you wonder just how long he’d been holding them back.

His perspired head drops down to your shoulder like it had hours prior in front of your door, and you can make out the unsteady gasps of his words. “You- you took my virginity but…” Something raw. Something honest. “I-I just…”

He bites back his words until you’re forced to pull him away from the crook of your neck. Pushing back sweaty, ivory bangs until Gojo can look at you properly. 

Look you right in the eye when he utters—“I’ve always wanted to be yours, too.”

Your heart leaps to your throat, and so do those words that have always, always been on the tip of your tongue. “You already are, Toru.”

Something escapes from his lips - maybe a sob, maybe a laugh. But it’s a sound that makes you beam back, though, you think you’d never be able to match the sunlight in Gojo’s smile. Instead, you take the time to memorize the crinkle of his eyes, the wink of that lil’ dimple of his. 

“My lesson number three is I love you, my girl.” ‘My girl’, he can finally say it now. 

He can finally watch your slightly surprised reaction as you hear it, kiss-bitten lips twitching upwards into a grin. “My lesson number ten is I love you, too.” 

Heart shaking, body fully shivering at the music of those words dropping from your lips. “You- you don’t know how fucking long I’ve waited to hear those words.” He nuzzles his nose against yours, still smelling of that same cherry bodywash and utter fuckin’ love. “How fucking long I’d wait just to hear it again.”

“I have a feeling you won’t have to wait long at all, Toru.” You’re combing your fingers through his angelic hair, head turning to the side with a giggle once he starts pecking your face. Your jaw. Your neck. Over and over and over– 

Only for the moment to be broken when you gasp, “Satoru.” Gojo follows your beeline of sight, straight to the top of your bedside dresser. Right where it was proudly displaying a familiar black and gold box, one with a glaring ‘XL’. “We forgot about lesson number one.”

.

.

.

You think you’d never get used to wearing Gojo’s famous 06 jersey. 

An original, of course - one that’d been safely tucked away in the back of his closet, that he absolutely refused to tell you how long he’d kept ‘just in case’ for you. 

It drew stares, though, you think part of that came from being at the very front row to the final NCAA championship game. Your eyes follow each slide of pristine sneakers, each cut-throat pass, each swat of the basketball hitting the polished court. 

Tokyo vs. Curses; it was a tie. 

And right now, you didn’t care about the gaggles of numerous fans gossiping behind your back, or the way Coach Yaga kept yelling at Gojo about showing off for you - and the fact that he was telling your boyfriend to do more of it.

To leave no mercy once Geto’s passing to him, to sprint faster with only two seconds left on the clock, to slam dunk the basketball straight through the hoop—

And that’s exactly what he does. 

A buzzer rings, and suddenly you can’t even see Gojo’s figure through the heaps of confetti bursting from the arena. In blue and white for Tokyo Jujutsu University.

Tentatively, as you’re spotting family and coaches rush onto the court, you’re taking a step. Just a single one - but Gojo always did say he could find you amongst a thousand crowds. 

Heart leading him to you. 

As the confetti and streamers phase just a little, you spot him rip out of his team hug with a call of your name. Being dragged back as MVP, Geto pauses to dap his best friend up - before thumping him on the back and letting him tear through the throng of people to get to you. 

“Excuse me- excuse-” Maneuvering nimbly with his towering figure, “Beautiful–!” He’s calling out, loud enough to turn heads. But Gojo doesn’t care, he doesn’t give a fuck. Not when he’s crashing into your arms, and murmuring into your lips. Such a loving kiss. “Beautiful.”

His grin was contagious, and somewhere in the distance you can hear his team jeer. Hell, even Yaga seems to chuckle from somewhere. “Congratulations on the slam dunk, Toru.”

“It was always for you, my girl.”

A/N. FAWK- the things I would do to have him. Can you tell I’m ovulating because I made him whimper?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[savethefix]

˚₊‧꒰ა gojo satoru ﾉ f. reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𓂃 ovulation trouble

⤿ ꒰ you get so needy during ovulation but thankfully your boyfriend knows how to handle you ⭒ marathon sex ꒱

"toru— oh my god, toru,"

that's what he loved to hear. arms thrown over his broad shoulders. legs hugging him close. plunging him deeper into your needy, drenched cunt.

"enough for ya sweet girl?" huffed your boyfriend into your ear. his hands splayed over your ass and pressing you further into him. suffocating you in his body that already dwarfed you. "fucking the need right outta this pretty pussy aren't I?"

his filth smoothed with a tender concern for your pleasure. ovulation was always hell on earth for you. it didn't matter how many times you spasmed around your vibrator or endlessly humped your pillow— nothing satisfied you.

it's why you tried to hide away in the shame of your desperation. tried to avoid thinking about sex altogether, and even your boyfriend. lost in your own thoughts and needs. one in particular always reared its ugly head.

could he handle it?

"that's it. there we go pretty. taking it like a good girl."

well, four orgasms, a barely faltered pace, a spluttering tip french kissing your cervix and those endless, darkened blues staring down at you? satoru had proven he could do a lot more than handle it.

your thighs bundled in his palms. you're wrenched back. so pliable. so his. your knees kissed your tits as he pulled you into a void of limitless bliss. the same way he yanked you back on his cock. hammering you down onto his pistoning thrusts.

white clouded your vision. hazes of heat, and nothingness, and him. oh him, your perfect, nymphomaniac boyfriend.

"there she is." his grin carried in the air. flexing forearms slammed beside your head. his face hoovered your dumbstruck expression. "there's my girl, fuck. there's my gorgeous girl."

his thrusts grew near erratic. fucking out every choked moan and whimpered whine your static mind could manage. pleasure weighed on your tongue. lightened only by satoru who swooped in to suck on it with his lips on yours.

he encased your senses. brutal, and beautiful and oh so blissful. bruises painted across the backs of your thighs. you returned them with red scratches down his back. hickies all over your arched neck. tears clouding your eyes as he took you higher- and higher—

"satooorruuuuu," you sobbed. hands abandoning your favourite canvas for his hair instead. he choked a whine.

"talk to me baby," he rasped.

"I'm cumming— cumming - again, please."

please? you needn't beg. not you. his scoff and mindless, ruinous pace said it all. he angled just right. pounding on your sweetspot and catching your clit on his pelvis. fading into a tempo that fucked out that cute little— 'ah ah ah!' from your spit-webbed lips.

"c'mon," he groaned above. cock pulsing at the base, throbbing at the tip.

"cum for me. need it so bad. need my pretty girl to cum— mngh, so I can. please baby? please."

now he's the one begging. you know he doesn't mean it. or does he? the needy rumble in his throat was the last burst. the knot unravelled. you clawed his hair and sobbed his name to the ceiling as it all crashed down. shattering. blinding. his.

"torrruuu ohgod- yesyesyes," he caught your praises with his mouth and gulped them down. losing rhythm in the mindlessness of his bliss before he too crashed. spraying your clenching walls white. creaming you so full that excess squirted from your quivered slit.

the world spun. then stopped. like your head. your heart. you tugged on his strands and he collapsed into you. aimlessly humping and grinding until your whines became one.

"more," you croaked.

"more?" he laughed. broken, manic.

you pushed on his shoulders with little strength. he let you. tumbling back into the bed and instinctively cupping your ass. the rhythm flowed so natural. a choreography of your passion and need with him as your lovely partner. always ready to catch you.

"I've got you sweetheart," his deep drawl came with a promise, sealed by his bucking hips and guiding hands. fucking you down on his still hard, overly sensitive cock. guess that makes the both of you. your pussy wept with her need.

still you clung around him. face buried into his neck. drooling. crying.

"toru, toru toru — toru,"

"yeah yeah, let it out." he huffed into your ear. bouncing you just right. aiming just perfect. giving you exactly what you needed and so much more.

"gotta make sure my girl's got it all. give her all of this dick cause she fuckin' deserves it."

and still, he pressed a loving kiss to your hair.

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[savethefix]

𖧁୧ ┈ you getting pouty with toji ૮Ꮚ ྀི ˊ ˋ ꒱ა ❤︎

✉️ ྀི . . mehehehe >:3 something for my lovely luu @bluukive <3 !

you're looking away from toji, lips formed in a small pout and arms crossed over your chest as his large frame hovers above yours, a sigh escaping him as his brows draw closer together. "c'mon doll," he says, leaning in as he tries to kiss you but he's met with you pushing your head even further away from him. "i was only jokin'. you know that."

"it wasn't funny," you reply deadpanned, narrowing your eyes at him, staring daggers at him that nearly cut through him.

just before, toji's head had been buried in between your legs, ravaging on your sweet and sappy folds like a man starved for days. you were moaning and whimpering for him so sweetly, thighs wide open for him. but then he did something that made you close them in a heartbeat. he lifted his head up a bit and then began to imitate you! "ohh toji~," he trilled in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice. "mmm just like that," he continued, that shit-eating smirk of his sprawled across his face.

"doll," he sighs, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. "i really was only messin.' don't tell me you're this hurt about it."

he's about to say something more when he notices you blinking away the little tears pricking at your lash line and he feels a pang within his chest. he truly didn't mean to hurt you — he had thought it was all in good fun.

he presses his body flush against yours, his warmth radiating unto yours as he places chaste kisses on your face. you don't move at first, trying your best to avoid his gaze and stop the tears from spilling. but the more he does it, each time more gentler than the last, you finally look at him, eyes slightly glossy and puffy.

"sweets," he says, and he only uses that nickname when he truly means something. "i'm... i'm sorry," he whispers softly. "i wasn't tryna say you sound bad. i was just... i was expecting you to get all bratty with me. y'know, the way i like it."

you roll your eyes a little, giving him a soft smack on his chest. "shoulda done something else, dumbass," you mutter, carding your fingers through his hair.

"yeah yeah i should have," he admits, continuing to litter your face with dove-like kisses and licking away any tears. you giggle at his ministrations and that has him chuckling, scar tugged upwards to form that smug smile of his. "now can i go back to eating you out?," he huffs, already lowering himself down to get back in between your legs.

"if you do anything like that again—" you begin but he cuts you off with something that has you wide eyed. "yeah yeah you can peg me or whatever you wanted to do." and without a second to truly process his words, he's lapping at your slick folds at a dogged pace that has your mind turning to a puddle.

[savethefix]

₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: in the week following the hospital discharge, nanami's thrown into the married life. affection, routines, looking over photobooks - anything to help him remember. but will it ever be enough? part 2 to the memory loss!husband nanami fic (part 1 here) word count: 3.7k

this is what married life is, nanami learns.

sleeping next to his wife. he practices breathing deeply in bed, letting his body soften next to you as you squish your cheek against his chest, mumbling something incoherent at 3am.

he pulls the blanket over your shoulders when you pass out in front of the tv. sometimes he finds you folded over the cushions whilst waiting for him to come back from a grocery run. other times, when you've stumbled back home late from another midnight shift, grumbling quiet thank yous when he carries you bridal style back to the bed.

in the evenings, he does the dishes whilst you shower. dinners are homecooked, nutritious meals curated meticulously by nanami researching recipes and walking around various different grocery stores during the day.

sometimes, a recipe calls for something incredibly rare and difficult to find in store. but the hours of frustration and mild inconvenience wash away when he can see how your eyes light up upon tasting his cooking, feet kicking in delight under the table.

"it's perfect, nanami."

then in the mornings, he grinds your preferred brand of coffee beans to perfection - calculating the exact temperature and time needed to make your morning coffee the way you like it. he's pre-packed your lunch, ironed your coat, and checked the weather forecast for the day.

"bring an umbrella, love. it says it'll rain later on in the day."

it's strange, this married life of his. his wife knows him infinitely better than he does: all his little quirks and cravings, what he's thinking about, and what he might do.

whilst he's still learning as much as he can about you: puzzle pieces slowly being fit together over domestic routines and wine dinners.

"i think what you need right now is time off of work. and i mean real, genuine time off. slow days filled with routine. no curse chasing or late office nights." your tone was light, but it was laced with the kind of finality common amongst doctors that made it clear: this was not up for debate.

"if those are my doctor's orders." he'd quietly teased, fingers tapping against his teacup.

"they are."

"then it's done." he'd paused, before adding on. "and maybe, it'll help me remember."

"maybe." you'd admitted, weary optimism on your lips.

he'd placed a warm hand on top of yours, trying to give you his most reassuring smile.

"i know it'll happen. not a matter of if, but when."

that had been a week ago.

and on weekdays like today, nanami spends most of the day counting the hours until you return home.

at this point, he has a mental list of things to get done in the house. fulfilling each task carries a slither of hope that his past will suddenly jolt back to life, a familiar routine unlocking his brain.

but mostly, it feels like an odd guessing game of who he was before, what his marriage was like before the accident.

he waters the flowers by the windowsill (peace lilies and marigolds). he doesn't know if these were planted a month or three months ago. or if they were your idea's to get or his.

he washes, dries, irons, and folds the laundry. sometimes, when he's re-arranging the closet, nanami discovers a new piece of clothing that bears semblance to something important. just holding it in his hands elicits a strong emotion, though he can't exactly place what he's feeling or why.

he fluffs up the cushions on the couch, vacuums the oak wooden floors, and scrubs down the marble kitchen counter till it shines. he passes by polaroids stuck to fridge magnets and printed photos bookmarking half-read books, snapshots of a life he cannot remember.

his hand on your thigh on a sunny beach. your frozen laugh and his scowl at someone's birthday party (he guesses), with frosting caking half his face. a fluffy white cat snoozing on his chest in a sneaky photo clearly taken by you, as nanami's left arm covers his eyes in a midday nap.

as if on cue, a gentle meow interrupts his thoughts. yuki pouncing onto the kitchen table, her light blue eyes burning holes into his head.

"hello yuki." nanami mutters, setting down his cleaning products for the first time in hours. it's only then he realizes that he hasn't sat down since 9am, and he gladly collapses onto the nearest armchair.

yuki is watching the whole ordeal from the kitchen counter, her tail swishing as if she's deep in thought, her piercing blue eyes never leaving his figure.

nanami suddenly remembers your comment from earlier this morning.

"it's weird. it's like she recognizes you, but knows that you're not the same."

yuki meows again, extending one paw towards him, a tell that previous nanami would have understood instantly but one which puzzles him in the present. instinctively, his hand raises to pet the top of her head, his thumb carefully stroking the fur on top.

her spine tenses at first, eyes flickering in hesitation, before she suddenly melts in to his touch. rubbing her face closer to his calloused palm, she eventually climbs up his back and onto his shoulder. head nudging the crook of his neck, fur tickling his bare skin.

he attempts to finish up the rest of his cleaning with her on his shoulders, but she meows in protest every time he tries to resume cleaning - her tail nearly slapping him in the face with dissatisfaction.

"what now, yuki?" he wonders aloud, amused. the cat simply stares at him, then at the door of the home office, before looking back at him. "you want me to go there?"

she meows again, as if understanding every word he's saying. thinking maybe she's managed to lock one of her toys in the room, he slightly pushes the door open. to his surprise, she instantly bolts through the gap to curl up against the bottom drawer of his desk, a space he hadn't really bothered to look at given his break from work.

"what is it, you silly cat?" he mumbles to himself, crouching down. curiosity getting the better of him, with yuki watching him quietly from the corner of the room, he pulls open the drawer to find a heavy stack of leather books.

his breath hitches at the discovery.

they aren't just any books.

they're photo books.

hundreds of pages of dated photos pasted messily next to faded handwriting (yours and his), sandwiched between crinkled receipts and ripped out pages of travel brochures.

tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, he turns the first page.

he needs a pen and paper, he thinks.

=================

you're so tired when you close the door behind you that you don't immediately call out for your husband, your first priority being to shrug off your coat (hanging it messily by the front door) and toss your work bag onto the couch (to be dealt with later).

you frown when you turn the corner and don't see him in the kitchen. he's usually standing there when you've returned from the hospital, adding the final few garnishes to whatever dish he'd decided on cooking, sculpted face pulled in deep concentration.

stumbling into the shared bedroom, where he sometimes like to draw a bath for you, knees folded over the floor as his hands dip into the tub to check the temperature - you also find it empty, though perfectly cleaned and organized as always.

"uh... hello?" you question aloud, returning to the living room.

"in here, darling."

his voice comes out muffled from the last place you expect him to be: the spare room converted to an office. when you carefully creak open the door, hesitant eyes trying to find his, you find that his usual work files and binders have now been thrown onto the floor.

instead, his desk has been transformed to a glorious mess of half-opened photobooks and hurriedly scribbled notes. he murmurs a quiet hello, eyebrows furrowing in a deep concentration, the type that you know you can't easily break him out of. his shirt is slightly unbuttoned, cuffs rolled up past his elbow, and his cup of tea is no longer hot when you touch it to move it out of the way.

"what... are you doing, nami?" your question comes out as more of a whisper, shock minimizing your voice.

you think he's going to ignore you for a moment, as his gaze is unwavering from the pages and his hand continues to furiously scribble onto the notebook, until he suddenly slows down.

"if i can't remember, i figured..." his voice is hoarse, voice hollow as he continues to avoid your gaze. "i should learn."

your heart breaks at his confession.

because it's so like him to try and recall his marriage the way someone would memorize an equation or re-organize a budget.

analytical. studious. data driven.

the petname escapes your lips without you even realizing.

"oh, honey..."

your trembling hand touches his shoulder, squeezing his collarbone in a comforting manner. he's watching you nervously as you sit down onto his lap, his pen now long forgotten on the edge of the desk when his hands move on their own accord to touch your skin. left hand drawing circles onto your knee, right hand sneaking up to link fingers with yours.

the two of you stay like that for a few moments, your head finding its resting position against his chest, the only sounds in the room being the ceiling fan whirring above and the steady breathing of your joint bodies.

you feel him take in a deep, shaky breath, and look up in time to see him finally looking down at you. gaze burning, voice low when he speaks.

"i'm sorry i still don't remember."

you notice his hands are shaking as well, as you try and calm him down with your own touch, fingers curling around his.

"i-i thought maybe if we gave it time. if i did the domestic routines. if i, fuck, looked through the photos-"

his voice is so heavy with guilt and self-hatred that you can't stand it.

"don't blame yourself, kento." you cut him off, shifting around in his grasp to cup his face with your hands. "you've done nothing wrong. and i'm so appreciative of you even trying."

"still..." he trails off, unconvinced. his head finds its way to rest on your shoulder, pale eyelids slowly blinking. "i wish it was enough."

and just what are you supposed to say to that?

what can you say to that?

your broken husband, still trapped in the past?

ignoring the thundering in your own heart, you just smile, squeezing his hands again.

"you never know what might happen, okay? you just have to take it one step at a time."

nanami lets the optimistic comment hang in the air, appreciative of the comfort but letting out a deep sigh of frustration. your weak smile is confirmation that you empathize with him, your smaller hand now drawing circles onto his palm.

"it's a Friday." you offer. "let's just... sleep late and do whatever we want over the weekend."

he laughs at that - the melody short, but sweet. his eyes crinkles at the corners and his whole body reverberates when he does.

"sounds perfect. then would you like to pick the movie for tonight?"

you raise your eyebrows.

"i picked last time."

"mmm, and I'm letting you pick again this time."

dinner is thai takeout - both of you too drained to cook and wash up. you fall asleep with your head on his lap and yuki curled into your chest, whilst nanami's lost in his thoughts till 3 in the morning.

thinking.

pondering.

worrying.

====================

when you wake up the next morning - miraculously in bed, tucked in, and in your comfortable sleepwear - someone is knocking at your door, waking you up. rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, eyes bleary and still half-closed, you stumble over to the doorway and open it to find nanami.

he's impeccably dressed, hair slightly cut and styled, holding a large bouquet of flowers in his hands.

it's as if someone has suddenly dumped fifty gallons of ice water onto you. and you feel wide awake, blinking at him wordlessly, your tired brain taking extra long to make sense of the situation.

"i've been.... thinking." he starts off, slow and deliberate. you're still staring at him, dumbfounded, only being able to nod along.

"yes?"

"if i can't remember our past... i want to at least create our future together. now."

you raise your eyebrows, unsure of where this is going.

"okay..."

"how does a romantic day out sound?" he asks, offering you the bouquet of flowers in his hands. you look down at them and see it's from the flower shop you've always wanted to visit down the street, purple hyacinths intertwined with yellow daffodils and red roses.

you accept the flowers with a slightly opened mouth, sleep-fogged brain needing a few moments to grasp the weight of his words, before you're jolted to reality.

"nanami kento, are you asking me to go on a date with you?"

he flushes red at that, coughing nervously.

"i suppose i am."

you would tease him more, enjoying the way his muscles tense and his handsome face contorts in worry, but there's something so precious about your own husband asking if he can take you out on a date. so you swallow your remarks and grin like an idiot.

"sure. i mean yes, i'd love that."

he refuses to tell you much about what he's planned for the day, your biggest hint being to wear comfortable walking shoes. you chastise him for staring at you for too long when you touch up your makeup in the mirror, him raising his two hands in mock surrender, and you swear your heart might explode from how much you adore this man when he ties up your shoelaces for you in the hallway.

"ready?"

"ready."

his first choice is a bakery uptown. pastries and coffee, latte foam on his upper lip that you smear away with with your thumb. (and you don't miss how deeply he flushes red when you lick your thumb afterwards, him mumbling something that you don't quite catch but still makes you giggle nonetheless).

he asks you if he can hold your hand before he's leading you to a nearby park, cherry blossoms floating down from the sky, covering the ground in pink confetti.

"hold on."

his left hand doesn't drop yours as his right slides up to take a lone pink petal out of your hair, tossing it to the side and continuing to walk with you as if nothing happened. a small group of elderly woman "aw" out loud from the side and you look away, embarrassed, but nanami just smiles wide in a way that says he has no regrets.

next is a 30 minute train ride to an aquarium, his tall muscular physique sticking out amongst the hordes of schoolchildren on their school trips and exasperated parents running after their toddlers. you're too busy marveling at the fish, the endless blue water, the colorful corals - to realize that nanami's looking more at you than the tanks.

"woah, do you see how big that eel is?" you squeal out, pressing yourself against the glass.

"mmhmm." is his response, affirmative but his mind elsewhere. he's too busy committing to memory how full of wonder and joy you look - fingers tracing the cold glass, giggling at the sting ray passing by the glass roof, face glowing with happiness. his stomach full of warmth, skin buzzing with love.

lunch is quick and convenient - a bento box and green tea from 7/11, nanami happily sacrificing his chopsticks for you to use when you realize you've forgotten to get a pair. (it just gives him an excuse to have you feed him mouthfuls in between bites).

when the sun begins to set, he steals you away to an italian restaurant hidden between a bank and a local library.

ever the gentleman, nanami takes off your coat and pulls out the chair for you when the waiter confirms his reservation. and when you try to put down your handbag on the floor, he stops you. saying it'll get dirty, before hanging in on the coat rack beside his seat.

to strangers looking in, it looks like a first date. nanami's asking all kinds of questions about yourself - what's your favorite movie, what do you like to do during your time off, do you have any siblings - and his hand occasionally brush against yours resting on the table. lingering, but soft, the type of touch only two people truly comfortable with each other could do.

when the pasta comes, he lets you take as many photos as you want before he starts eating, offering you as many bites of his dish as you want. he refills your glass of water before you even have to ask for it, and his eyes never dip below to stare at his phone while you talk.

"god, you're brilliant." he suddenly says mid-conversation, voice soft with sincerity. you were half way through describing how you two had first met - him wheeled in by stretcher to the ER, a panicked gojo yelling for help in every direction with you the only available ER doctor working on christmas day.

his sudden compliment makes you hot with embarrassment, causing you to nervously twirl your fork in your pasta in an effort to suppress your shyness.

"what's with the sudden compliment, nanami?"

he shrugs, as if it's the easiest thing in the world.

"how could I not compliment my stunning wife?" he seems almost proud to make you embarrassed, a faint smirk on his lips.

you narrow your eyes at him in accusation.

"... you know, you were nowhere near this flirty on our first date."

"really? what was i like on our first date?"

"a little tense. you hit your knee on the table while pulling out the chair for me and then you apologised three times for mispronouncing prosciutto when you were ordering."

the tips of his ears flush red and he's quick to change the subject.

he asks about your first impression of him (bloodied but handsome), who said i love you first (him), whose idea it was to adopt yuki (yours). anything and everything, your answers slowly filling out the missing spots in his brain, anything to piece together his past.

the hours flow by quickly, the sun now fully set over the horizon, your smile brightened by the golden glow of the candlelight.

this is heaven, nanami thinks.

and when he's walking back home with you hand in hand after the dinner, sharing an ice cream cone that is quickly devoured and leaves a sheer strawberry gloss on your lips, his body actually itches with the urge to kiss you.

he hasn't dared yet, since he's woken up. the most he's done is hug you, hold your hand, and wrap his body around you in bed when you sleep (his favorite).

but he's wanted to, of course. god, has he wanted to so badly at points. when you'd woke up shaking from a nightmare, when you'd squish yuki in your arms and quiet her protests with soft kisses on her fur, the urge to kiss you nearly deadly when he found out gojo used to have the biggest crush on you before you two were married.

but he's been over rationalising to himself - he's only "known" you for 2 weeks. even if his body has this constant pull towards you, like the moon pulling the tides back from the oceans each night, he's been telling himself to take it slow.

the last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, what in between the never ending hospital shifts and this situation.

"what's bothering you?" you ask, pausing mid-step, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"hm?"

your eyes survey his stoic expression, but something tells him you can read the truth beneath his micro-expressions and calm facade.

"your face is scrunching up in your 'i'm debating something seriously' face. is something wrong?" you joke, pushing his shoulder lightly.

nanami pauses, considering his options for responding.

fuck it, he thinks.

"yes, something is wrong."

your eyes widen, being genuinely taken back by his answer. but he doesn't leave you too long to guess.

"i want to kiss my date silly even though it's only my first date with her." he admits, hands dropping down to above your waist. still respectful, but daringly more intimate than any time before.

you smile so wide your face actually hurts.

"well, good thing you're already married to her." you retort, stepping closer.

he returns your smile - with that boyish, handsome smile that lifts the corner of his mouth and raises his dimples.

"you're damn right."

then in a flash, before you can even blink, his lips are on yours. the taste: a mix of strawberry and chocolate ice cream. his hands come up to cradle your face, and he's so gentle with how he moves your jaw, his fingertips brushing your skin so tenderly as if he's trying to kiss away every worry and sorrow you've felt for the past two weeks.

it's long-awaited.

it's desperate.

but above all, it's loving.

he's cradling you as if you're the most precious artifact in the world. and the way he's looking at you when he pulls away momentarily (dazed, bewitched, hungry), before kissing you again, makes you dizzy.

it feels like ten minutes have passed, when he finally pulls away, ending the kiss with swollen lips. his mouth remains hovering only a few inches away from yours, and your mind still feels hazy from the fireworks.

"i... i still wish i could remember." he chuckles, voice breaking. but this time, there's a certain lightness to his tone. "god, do i wish i'd remember what it was like for the past two years as your husband, instead of hearing about it or seeing pictures of it. but-"

he presses a kiss to your lips again, this time firmer and stronger, teeth grazing your bottom lip. you swear his eyes are golden now: bright, energetic, swirls of yellow reflecting from the streetlamps up ahead.

"but falling in love with you again... isn't so bad."

and you can't help but agree - pulling him down by his necktie for another kiss.

a/n: soooo i have a couple of announcements to make at the bottom of this fic.

(1) i will be posting a part 3 at some point which will be an alternate ending to part 1 (I won't say more than that bc I don't wanna spoil the surprise!!!). (2) there were so many ways i thought of taking this chapter and it took way longer than i anticipated to write/edit because I didn't want to post something I wasn't proud of. so thank you all for your patience and i hope this was servicable uwu. (3) finally, thank you for all your love on this (now) amnesiac husband nanami series! i cannot describe how overwhelmed with joy I've been for all the love it's received and for all the funny/heartfelt comments, reblogs and asks people have sent me. i hope to see you all for part 3 soon x

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

[savethefix]

fanon!choso

jjk smau: choso kamo. (only)

warning: suggestive. masterlist

[savethefix]

✮⋆˙ Halloween with Roommate!Sukuna

“Yo, who let this menace in?” Gojo snickers, watching Sukuna swagger in behind you, an arm slung around your waist like you’re his trophy for surviving hell.

Gojo's dressed like a vampire prince with dramatic-ass eyeliner and a floor-length velvet cloak that he keeps stepping on.

“I came with your mom,” Sukuna grins, middle finger up, “but she told me to come back later. Said she needed a nap after what I did to her—”

“Sukuna,” you hiss, elbowing him.

He just laughs and pulls you tighter, pressing a kiss to your cheek so smugly that you want to punch him and melt at the same time.

“Bro,” Suguru snorts smooth and cool as always in a black and gold Grim Reaper fit, fake scythe slung over his shoulder like it’s part of his spine, sipping his beer. “You show affection like it’s a war crime.”

“Don’t be mad I got the baddest girl in the room, man,” Sukuna slurs, spinning you around dramatically. “Look at her. Look. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re loud,” Toji grumbles, leaning against the wall, black devil horns crooked on his head. “Louder than the fuckin’ music.” Toji groans from the corner, wearing a black T-shirt with “This Is My Costume” scrawled on it in red sharpie. Literal devil horns sit crooked on his head like they’re as tired of him as he is of everything else.

“I’m sexy. I get a pass.”

“No, you’re drunk.”

“I’m both. Cry about it.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a plastic cup off the snack table while Shoko slips beside you, devil wings shimmering.

“He’s feral tonight,” she says, deadpan.

“He’s always feral,” you sigh.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s halfway into a very heated argument with Gojo about who would win in a fight between Freddy Krueger and the IRS. Somehow, you are not surprised.

“Ryo,” you say sweetly, pulling on his sleeve. “Please stop making Gojo threaten to ban you from every party we ever go to.”

Sukuna turns to you, all slanted eyes and sinful smirks. “You tryna distract me, baby?”

“No,” you say, flatly.

“You want me to take you to the guest bedroom upstairs and prove I’m right about Freddy?”

“I hate you.”

He kisses your cheek again. “No, you don’t.” And the worst part? You really, really don’t.

Suguru is wheezing. Shoko’s filming. Toji looks like he regrets being born.

But Sukuna? Sukuna’s just vibing—his fingers sliding up and down your waist, your name falling from his lips like a song he refuses to stop singing. His touch is casual but constant, like he wants everyone to know.

“You good, baby?” he murmurs close to your ear, voice dropping beneath the noise.

You tilt your head at him, cheeks warm from the liquor and laughter. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

He gives you a look—like you just won something he never admitted was a contest. Then he taps your hip. “Come on. Let’s go terrorize that haunted bathroom upstairs.”

“Ryo.”

“Just sayin’. Ghosts would be lucky to see you bent over a sink.”

You swat him. He kisses your cheek anyway. And like every party before this one— You end up both causing and cleaning up the chaos.

notes, guess who's back... me and roomie sukuna!

[savethefix]

The look of love, the rush of blood

Sukuna x reader. est relationship. down bad Sukuna

BoyfriendSukuna wasn't clingy or needy. He's not the type to cry over a day without seeing you, nor is he the type to pester you with constant messages or calls about your where abouts and annoying you to come see him. A simple text about your plans for the day or even a post it note on the fridge -for the days you slept over which was almost everyday - was enough for him. He was possessive, but he can survive a day or two without you.

Or so he thought.

BoyfriendSukuna was dropping you off your best friends house for an impromptu sleepover. Your best friend just got dumped and now you need to be her shoulder to cry on or whatever. That was fine or at least it was until you mentioned that you didn't know when you'll be sleeping over his place cause apparently these things "take time" and are "unpredictable."

Surprising even himself, he didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. He realized if you weren't sleeping over his apartment, he'd usually crawl into your bed late at night. Still he thought it wasn't a necessity, that falling asleep next to you was a want not a need. Yet now that he doesn't have that option..

Vein throbbing, Sukuna can give your best friend tonight, but tomorrow you will be back on his bed where you belong.

You were saying your final goodbyes in front of his car window. Eyes bright and laced with a warmth he believes you only reserve for him, "Bye, Kuna! Ill give you updates everyday!"

He grits his teeth. Why did it sound like you were going on a month long cruise?

"Oi." He calls out before you could turn around.

Tilting your head, "Kuna?"

For a moment he kept quiet. Carmine eyes taking their time drinking you in, having his fill of you as if he won't see you for weeks. They snap to back to your pretty face, tracing every slope and curve. "Come closer, brat."

And you do which makes his lips curl a bit. Always so obedient for him.

With his left hand, his touch firm yet gentle on the back of your head as he pushes your face towards his.

Soft lips against his rough ones, kissing you long and fervently, devouring you whole in one kiss. He feels you melting into it, whimpering such pretty sounds into his mouth. The tension finally eases out of him and it takes everything in him to pull away.

"Ill pick you up tomorrow," He murmurs against your lips, breath mingling with yours.

You blink. Once. Twice, "But Kuna-"

He cuts you off with another kiss, but softer this time. Gentle even. "No buts, brat. Ill pick you up tomorrow evening at the latest. She gets no more than that. You can visit here everyday for all I care, but you're sleeping with me."

A knowing smile teases your lips, "Are you gonna miss me that much, Kuna?"

"Shut up." He grunts, rolling your eyes at how pleased you look.

You burst out laughing and he hates at how pathetically melts at the sound. How it makes his insides warm like some love sick fool.

After brushing a imaginary tear from your eye, you lean back to his face and press a soft kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry. Ill have one of our other friends sleepover tomorrow night."

"Whatever."

Your smile widens into a grin, "I'll just tell them my big bad boyfriend can't sleep without me."

"Don't you dare-"

You run towards the door before he could do anything, laughter ringing out the driveway. And the way you smile makes his chest tighten in the most pathetic way.

The moment you disappear from view. He groans, dragging a hand down his face.

Fuck.

He didn't realized he was so down bad that going home without you felt like a life sentence.

So pathetic. So damn pathetic for you.

[savethefix]

sukuna comfort 🍵

“fine, then i’m never gonna suck your dick again!”

you giggle on top of your large boyfriend, right hand gently encasing your waist as his other holds on his phone. you’re holding yourself up with your hands on his stomach, when he glares at you with a smirk and huffs,

“that’s fine. m jus’ gonna get someone else to do it.”

your giggles turn quiet, the expression on your face melts off a little. you feel a pang in your heart, it hurts.

“oh.”

you sigh out a giggle in hopes to ease the tension, so it doesn’t seem that his mindless little joke has actually upset you. you lift your leg over his body, removing yourself off from where you were originally sitting on his pelvis. you lay back where you slept in your shared bed, slightly scurrying to the edge just to face your back to him.

he notes the silence in the room, that you were quiet, in fact too quiet, for someone who has just been teasing and laughing at him a couple minutes prior. he glances over at you, noticing your arm under your head, and the heavy tons of blankets over your body.

“hey,”

he shakes your shoulder, no response.

he leans over to you, grabbing your cheeks with a gentleness you didn’t see often, just to be faced with the heartbreaking sight of your little pout, and your teary eyes.

“what..”

you shake your head out of his hand with embarrassment, using your free arm to nudge him away from being so close to your face.

“i’m sorry.”

he again, envelops his arms around your body, his huge forearm wrapping under your arm and around your waist. his body gently presses against yours, face buried in your hair.

“i’m sorry, brat. won’t say that shit again, promise. forgive me, yeah?”

[savethefix]

ex-boyfriend w. ryomen sukuna

.nsfw.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who threatens men that are too close to you, letting you wonder why most of them actually fear your approach. It gets to the point where you don’t hear from some of them after they’ve met you.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who absolutely despises everyone, but thinks you’re the least worst of all and won’t give up on having you all for himself even if it means using drastic measures.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who plays it cool, when the subject of your separation comes up, knowing it wouldn’t be the last time he’d see you.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who doesn’t care about putting a label on anything. You might not be his official girlfriend anymore but you’ll always belong to him, wether it’s in this lifetime or another.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who craves your body and yours alone, not wanting to feed on anyone but you. His hunger gets heavier every time he catches a glimpse of you or when any smell or thing reminds him of you.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who won’t leave your mind alone. The results of his traces in you echoing into your whole body, like you’re missing something when he’s not deep into your insides.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who knows the effect he has on you. He knows sooner or later you’ll give in and come back to him. ´we must be together´ he used to say, when his finger traced your jaw and his lips were so close to yours, teasing you with his breath against your shivering skin. And you believed him.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who believes he’s better than everybody else and knows that you won’t be able to find anyone that fucks you as well as he does. Satisfying your needs, and most importantly his.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who finds himself into your bed regularly, despite the breakup, eating you out under the sheets while his hands firmly grasp your trembling thighs as you plead for mercy after admitting that you haven’t been a good girl.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who angry fucks you, hands behind your back, thrusting in and out while you remember why you liked being filled by him so much. He leaves you out of breath every time.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who actually wouldn’t believe you if you ever told him you were seeing someone else, proving his irreplaceability by caressing every spots he knows makes you crazy. ´we are made for each other’ he’ll say while his giant hands cover your breasts like they always belonged there, as he makes his way between your legs.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who always comes bothering you so you always have his image in your mind. His upper arms as bigger than ever, covered with his tattoos, reminds you of the way he holds your hips, when he takes you from the front. His back covered in tattoos and scratch, always there to remind you how tight your grip was when he was really into it.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who’s strong and wide shoulders move along with your bodies, when he visits you for the second time in one day, still hungry.

₊˚ପ⊹ ex-boyfriend!sukuna who watches you leave, naked in your bed, knowing you’ll come crawling back sooner or later.

© shegetsburned 2023. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[savethefix]

clingy boyfriend!Sukuna 🙂‍↕️