starriesworlds - Tumblr blog

starriesworlds · 6 hours ago

Text

love's laziest worker

call me cupid

(un)lucky you. it seems Sukuna will do anything to stop you from meeting your soulmate just for a few more days to slack off!

synopsis: in desperate need of a vacation day or maybe just a new job that doesn't involve helping idiots fall in love and create more mini-idiots, Ryomen Sukuna decides to take his frustrations out on the next case file dropped on his desk - you!

pairing: cupid!Sukuna x bratty!Reader

content: mdni, fluff and light angst and smut, who knows what kind of au this would be considered lol, sukuna has wings, he's sick and TIRED of working LMFAO, both of them are bratty, begrudgingly falling in love, jealousy, stuck-up sukuna, roommates, fingering, unprotected piv sex, bathroom sex, hickies and biting, semi-public sex

a/n: gorgeous sukuna art by @alukaforyou + divider by @bronzewasp

Humans were pathetic.

Seriously.

What, a few flowers? A sappy note? Meaningless words whispered between calculated caresses? Was that all it took for them to fall in love?

Sukuna had seen it a thousand times before. He was sick of the same old scene. He chooses a random file left on his desk, usually containing some sorry loser wishing for someone out of their league and watches them make a fool out of themselves for a few weeks to study them, or pretend to, at least. Usually, he'd end up disguising himself as one of them and drinking at the closest bar.

It wasn't like it mattered what he did - the happy ending was always the same.

Two arrows and two weeks later, his target would be madly in love with whatever idiot he picked out for them. Sometimes he went with their coworker, a passing stranger, or even someone on the opposite side of the city. On the days he was in a particularly foul mood, he'd just close his eyes and let the arrow fly.

Why should be care?

They found each other anyway.

Most of them were so lonely they'd take the smallest scraps of love they got and convince themselves of whatever lies they were being sold.

It was boring. Dull. Dragging himself through each day, finding excuses to stick around longer than he had to until he had to start something new and do all the same stupid shit all over again.

But here he was.

Reading some typo-filled rant some idiot had left via a request form, rambling about how all attractive guys were assholes and that all you wanted was to meet one semi-nice man who didn't look like he crawled out of a sewer.

He guessed from the way all your words clustered together you'd been wasted when you wrote it, probably fresh from a breakup or mourning a one night stand that hadn't called you back.

And maybe it was the attitude in your letter, the accusatory tone behind it as if he was personally responsible for your failure of a love life, but he found himself scowling on the street a couple hours outside an investment banking building.

Spitefully searching out a man who looked like he was dating four women at the same time, probably bitched about his stocks during sex, boring and self-absorbed, precisely the kind of man he was willing to bet on you hating.

He didn't even notice the arrow when it planted itself in his shoulder, too busy looking down at his phone to pay attention to his surroundings.

Sukuna let him walk away, more than a little smug to see what a moron he looked like, oblivious to the arrow in his back. The arrow would return on its own to his sheath after a few minutes even if he didn't retrieve it. All that idiot would be left with was a small mark to prove that he'd been paired with someone.

Soulmates, according to the corporate lingo management tried to push on them.

It wasn't even luck or fate. Just him.

So why the fuck did it feel so strange knocking on your front door?

Really, he could just pop inside if he wanted, teleport in just to scare you. His wings settled heavily against his shoulder, a few stray feathers fluttering as he impatiently tapped his foot.

It would be even easier to just wait for you to leave your apartment on your way to work tomorrow, shoot you and wash his hands of someone who was surely insufferable.

But he wanted to put a face to all that fucking hostility and haughtiness.

To at least sleep tonight thinking about it pouting and whining a few years from now, miserable and married to the kind of asshole you complained about and convincing yourself you were fine with it.

You pulled open the door, scoffing before he even said anything. Catty eyes scanning over him, rolling at the sight of him as you leaned against the doorframe.

"Are you, like, a stripper? You've got the wrong place," You mocked, a brow arching up at the wings, the muscles on his tanned and broad chest, a thin toga barely covering him up.

The first thing that came to mind was a word HR would not approve of.

So he pulled out an arrow, drew his bow and sent it into your thigh before you could snarl out something else snappy at him.

You yelped.

Blinking back surprise while your brain quickly worked to make sense of the situation.

The bond between you snapped into place, something unseen, intangible, an annoying feature that came with the arrows. Technically, speaking, he was bound to be at your service from now until your case was closed.

"Did you just shoot me?" You glared at him like it was supposed to be scary. Brows drawn together and lips pursed as if your little scrunched up face was somehow scary.

"That's my job," Sukuna glared back, bow hanging by his side, his sheath of gold-tipped arrows still slung over his shoulders. He yanked the arrow out of your leg and dropped it in with the rest, no blood or wounds left behind on your thigh, just a faint little heart to show you'd been marked too.

You scoffed at him when he pushed open your door all the way, walking into your apartment just to see what it looked inside. He expected it to be messy, clothes scattered on the ground and unwashed dishes, but it was well-kept, the tv playing some braindead reality show where girls were shouting at each other and a window wide-open to let fresh air in, a sheet curtain fluttering with the breeze.

"I didn't send in a fucking request," You huffed. Arms folded across your chest, following on his heels, a gust of wind sending your mini-skirt up before you gave up on your attempt at being serious to hold it back down.

"You did," He deadpanned, pulling out the form from his pocket, crumpled and wrinkled but still stamped with approval.

You took it, but not before rolling your eyes, your scowl only softening when you read it and realized he wasn't lying.

"Shit."

Sukuna didn't ask questions. Didn't care to.

You chewed on your cheek, glancing at the paper and back up at him. Making some stupid decision that was probably painfully human.

"So where is he?" You asked, tilting your head up at him. Even just your stare was a challenge, something burning in your eyes when they focused so sharply on him. "My soulmate?"

"Probably fucking a girl on his lunch break," Sukuna shrugged.

"You're not funny," You wryly said, shaking your head before throwing the paper back at his chest.

"That wasn't a joke," He grunted, letting it fall to his floor rather than catch the crumpled sheet.

"Do you guys have like, a complaint form I can fill out?" You grumbled, still glaring at him.

"You think I'd give it to you if I did?" He cocked his head to the side, leaning down and still not at your height, his wings twitching at your next eye roll.

He might've left it at that.

But then you did something no one else had ever dared to do. Reached out and plucked one of his feathers. He winced. Surprised at the sudden pain before his hand shot out reflexively to catch your wrist.

"Tell me or I'll take out another one in your sleep," You threatened him, holding it up like a trophy.

As if he couldn't snap your bones in a second if he wanted to.

"I'd break you first," He warned, but you refused to back down, ripping your hand free.

"Asshole," You hissed at him under your breath, and a funny flicker curled inside his chest, a warm flare of something he hadn't felt in forever. Amusement. One of your pretty manicured nails poking at where his heart would be if he had one, stabbing at the hard muscle like you wished you could puncture his skin. "Seriously, you-"

Sukuna stopped listening.

Smirking as the idea took shape, planted roots in his brain. Like it or not, he was tied to your case until you sealed the deal with your soulmate with a kiss.

But that also meant he wouldn't have to take another case while you searched for him. So why shouldn't he have a little entertainment of his own?

Pissing you off suddenly sounded like a pastime Sukuna might actually enjoy.

Listening to you shout and throw a few kitchen utensils at him from across the room when he sprawled out on your couch, crashing at your place like it was a hotel, eating all the food in your fridge, takeout boxes stuffed in the trash can.

You came home from work threatening to call the cops each day he was still on the couch when you opened the door, finding new ways to annoy him by constantly changing the channel and calling him every colorful insult your brain could come up with after trying and failing to convince him to tell you who your soulmate was so he could get the fuck out of your life.

And okay, he wasn't a totally horrible houseguest. He took out your trash. Occasionally did a load of laundry. Refrained from stealing a pair of panties even if he did think it'd be funny to watch you get worked up over it.

But a bucket of freezing water thrown in his face one morning was overkill, towels tossed at him next, your lips pushed together in a pretty pout when you demanded he clean up the mess you made.

That night though? You crammed yourself in the corner of the couch staring at him with contempt that looked more like consideration in the low evening light.

"I hate you," You murmured.

"Uh-huh," He dryly said.

He was still better company than the man you wanted to meet so badly.

"Really," You added, the crease between your brows not nearly as intimidating as you tried to make it. A kitten was still a kitten even with its claws out.

"You could get a hotel, you know," You muttered, flicking his leg where it was pressed against yours. "Bet you could find one with a pool."

"I don't swim," He shrugged, wincing internally at the thought of his wings getting wet again.

"You can't keep sleeping on my couch," You tried to argue, but there wasn't any relief on your face when he stood up. A flicker of panic maybe, like you hadn't actually meant what you said.

"Guess I'll take your bed then."

Cockblocking you was the closest he'd come to fun in the past century.

You were cute. In a frustrating way. How you would go from complaining and poking at every last nerve just to end up falling asleep on his shoulder or stealing the food off his plate. Talking to him about your work problems or groaning about your family or friends sometimes, like it'd slip your mind you were supposed to hate him. You admitted to him that you'd been on a bunch of bad dates before, usually dickheads that only wanted to fuck you over one way or another.

The last one's wife had shown up when the dessert arrived.

A prick of something he refused to admit was guilt settled in Sukuna's stomach at the reminder of how little thought he previously put into pairing you with someone.

A month slipped by him, work calls piling up on his pager, his manager asking what the hold up was just to get ignored.

And still, when you asked again, he refused to tell you who the guy was. Where he found him.

Why did you even want to know when you didn't try to shove him out of your bed anymore?

Just got under the blankets beside him, limbs thrown over his, stealing the covers and curling up against his body. You burned up enough that he didn't mind, your skin hot to the touch as you tossed and turned, your hair sticking to his face and your thigh caught between his in your dreams.

It wasn't quite a truce when lately, you started trying to leave in the evenings, changing clothes and ignoring the man lounging on your bed like it was his own, probably out to search for your soulmate.

That was annoying.

Irritating to watch you try so hard to sneak around on your phone, flipping through dating apps like your find that guy on there. Not that you'd know what he looked like.

Last night had been more of the same.

"You're wearing that?" He interrupted you before you went out, squinting at the skimpy outfit that barely covered your skin, makeup smeared around your eyes.

"Some of us have needs other than stuffing our face," You scowled at him as he peeled an orange, your nimble fingers readjusting your dress so it pushed up your cleavage more. You didn't have to say it for him to see it. Sick of not having sex since your unexpected guest insisted on constantly hanging around, usually shirtless or half-nude, never bothering to put up a disguise given you already knew what he was.

Heat stirred in the pit of his stomach, too low for comfort, mixed with something that burned and roared at him.

Tension crackled between you, held between your glare and his, the air thick with it.

"I could do both," He scoffed, his offer only earning you slamming the bedroom door in his face.

You holed yourself up in there the rest of the night.

Gone again by the time he woke up the next day, although it did appear you might've plucked another feather or two off his bottom row of wings when he was sleeping.

Sukuna didn't feel bad. Okay, maybe the smallest sliver of him did. But he shoved it down, cleaning up around the place and grumbling to himself while he did it. Reclining back on the couch only after the sun had started to slope back down mid-afternoon, the floors vacuumed and the counters wiped, the clothes put up (and maybe a pair of panties slipped in the jeans he'd begrudgingly wore for you).

Changing his mind to stand back up, impulsively teleporting outside the only restaurant you had a takeout menu for, ordering and using his company card to pay for it, teleporting back inside your apartment to arrange everything on your coffee table.

Ten minutes passed. Then thirty.

And an hour after you usually returned, you were still absent.

What the fuck?

Begrudgingly, he tried to reach out through the bond that tethered him to you, feeling it still there, although it was more faint than it should be. He yanked on it, trying to figure out where you were, wondering if you'd feel it too.

He never actually attempted to use it like this before.

There wasn't any kind of change or reaction, so he supposed it didn't work.

But he could still use it to teleport to you.

Grimacing while he glanced at his face in the mirror, fixing a stray strand of hair, and sighing as he shut his eyes and focused on you.

When he opened them, he was outside some shitty fucking bar.

You really had terrible taste.

He guessed his own was worse when he walked in and saw the fucking man he shot in the shoulder standing there buying you a drink, your work clothes wrinkled and hair a little mused, giggling at something he was saying.

Sukuna wanted to strangle him.

What could he even be talking about for you to smile at him like that? The subtle tilt of your head, eyes sparkling under the dim lights as you drank up every word.

It struck Sukuna that he needed you to look at him the same. That no mortal man deserved to be on the receiving end of it.

He was walking over and grabbing the guy by the collar before he could stop himself, directly intervening despite what his instincts told him.

"Back the fuck off," Sukuna growled.

"That's not your decision," You hissed in his ear, your smaller hand on the sleeve of his hoodie trying to tug him down to your height. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you," He murmured, as if it should be obvious.

You turned to the man he hoped you hadn't figured out was meant to be yours, apologizing with another soft smile that made Sukuna seethe inside. "Can you give us a minute?"

He was being dragged to the bathroom in the back before that prick could protest. Letting you lead him there, studying the anger burning behind your glower.

You locked the door behind him, the mirror cracked, your reflection in it just as flustered as the real you.

"Seriously, what the hell?" You gritted your teeth, demanding an answer that he didn't want to give.

Because, if he was honest, his vacation had filled a vacancy in him, your scent, your scowl, your warmth, all of it occupying his brain, burrowing in and burying itself into his bones.

"What is it? You don't want me to meet my soulmate? Do you just want me to be miserable?" You asked, exasperated, arms folded across your chest, your work skirt riding high up on your thighs, your dark tights begging to be ripped off.

"Yes," He admitted, brows furrowed before he finished. "And no."

"Well, which is it?" You huffed at him, too annoyed to piece it together until you suddenly blinked, the realization hitting you why he'd bothered to find you in the first place. "Oh my God."

"Shut up," Sukuna preemptively muttered under his breath.

"You like me," You accused, pointing that finger at him, pride flickering in your eyes.

"Do not," He argued, but he couldn't even convince himself.

"Do too," You challenged, a cocky smirk curling up on your face, like you solved some great mystery. "You're jealous, aren't-"

He captured your lips in a heated kiss, breaking the very first rule of playing cupid.

Not to fall for his client.

It was hard to follow when you tasted better than divinity. Sour on the outside, sure, but your lips were sweet, nectar on his tongue. Pulling you in with a hand on your waist, pinning your back against the cool sink, kissing you harder, claiming you as his so no one would even be able to slip between you.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, roughly tugging at the roots, giving in to whatever tension has been building between you like it was always going to end up broken like this.

"I still loathe you," You murmured into his mouth as his hands grabbed your ass, hoisting you up to sit in the edge of the porcelain. You still moaned when his palm slid over your cunt, applying precise pressure to have you grinding up into the heat of his hand.

"Loathe me all you want," He chuckled, ripping off your tights so he could have proper access to that pretty pussy of yours, biting down on the inside of your cheek when he saw the damp spot on your little lace thong, proof of your affection for him. "Only look at me though."

He bet you couldn't even remember the color of that asshole's eyes when Sukuna had three fingers shoved inside your tight cunt, clenching around him and crying his name, desperate and whining for more as you squirmed in his grip. Leaving hickies over his skin, teeth sinking in as he stretched you out.

"F-fuck," You whimpered, eyes glossy when you glanced up at him like you'd never really seen him before.

"Louder," Sukuna barked, watching you start to unravel, sweat beading at your forehead, panting before he'd even fucked you. "Let him hear."

"You're such an ass," You scolded him between gasps of air. He pulled his fingers back out, licking each one clean before fumbling to unbutton his jeans. Stupid modern clothes.

You got irritated, smacking his hand away and doing it for him, unzipping his jeans next. You yanked his cock out, cooing at how hard and aching for relief it already was, the tip an angry shade of red, swollen as your smaller fingers swabbed it for pre-cum, popping it in your mouth for a taste of him too.

How the fuck was he ever supposed to hand you over to some human who wouldn't appreciate that?

Watching you suck on your fingers, your eyes never leaving his, making good on his request.

He fucked you like he'd never leave you.

And right now? He didn't plan on it.

Pushing his cock past the first ring of resistance with a groan, your soft thighs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his spine as he filled you up. You didn't even have to beg.

His mouth sucking a starving trail down the side of your neck, hoping that your soulmate suck around so Sukuna could scare him off for good.

Biting down to leave the outline of his teeth, your shudder only making him more sensitive to how tight you were squeezing him, sucking him deeper.

He hoped you wouldn't let him go. Wouldn't want to after this.

"Tell me you want me," He grunted, a gravelly rasp, molars grinding as your head tilted back to give him more access to your throat with a whine.

"T-tell me you want me first," You stammered, mewling his name under your breath when his hips slammed back into yours, cock grinding into you with a filthy squelch. Your thighs were damp, slick sticking to both of you, your skirt pushed up around your hips and your shirt now missing one of the top buttons.

"Fine," Sukuna growled, jaw clenched as he held back the urge to cum just from how devastatingly beautiful you looked like this, possibly the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. "I want you."

You sighed, content and slightly smug despite your fucked-out haze, enough of you there underneath it to still smirk at him. "Say it again."

"Brat," He murmured, cutting off your next remark by dragging his thumb back over your clit, watching how quickly your lips clamped shut with satisfaction.

Hips readjusting, unable to decide if you wanted to run towards or away from the pressure, your expression going dumb the second he started rubbing rough circles over it.

God, you were fucking gorgeous, gasping his name in weak whimpers like you'd been made for this. Carved out of the same stone his heart was, a missing piece he'd never realized he needed.

Watching you cum around him was the closest spiritual experience he ever had, your cunt milking him for every last drop, his plans to edge you until you were crying and saying you wanted him over and over again, thrown away in favor of giving you pleasure just so you knew no one else could help you reach that high.

Lashes fluttering and mascara running, lip gloss smeared and your tights ripped in ruins on the floor, body trembling at every tiny touch. Your thighs were limp, pliant as he pumped you full, cum dripping down to coat your skin, a pretty sheen that caught the light.

You struggled to catch your breath, resting your head on your chest, fingers clawing at his shirt.

"You didn't say it," He grumbled when you finally seemed to be coming back down to earth, counting the milliseconds until your face scrunched back into a pout.

"I want you too," You murmured, face flushing as you looked back towards the door.

That was all he needed to hear.

What, were they going to fire him?

Sukuna didn't give a shit.

They might take his wings, condemn him to being a mortal, a fate fragile and fleeting.

But you'd be there. His for the taking.

Tugging your thong back up before helping to your feet, pulling down your skirt until you were semi-covered, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

"Let's go back home," He muttered.

"So, my, uh, soulmate-"

"You don't need one," He shrugged.

You had him.

He could sense the incoming eye roll. But instead, you stared at him for a second, studying him, taking in the casual way he said it, the confidence.

"Okay," You murmured, letting him pull you in closer.

You know, maybe it was time to retire.

His pension would probably pay for a pretty nice vacation in an actual hotel. One with a pool.

#jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader

1K notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 18 hours ago

Text

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are definitely, so definitely just friends. and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible). personality mentions are as follows: career-focused, likes sweet things, drinks alcohol sometimes, little regard for self care especially when busy, doesn't like to be touched by people they don't know, is alone often. word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan,

What are you doing here, Sae?

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

#bllk #itoshi sae x reader

196 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 1 day ago

Text

feedback

rockstar!ryomen sukuna x reader x rockstar!satoru gojo

synopsis: Two rival bands. One sound engineer. Trapped between Gojo’s charm and Sukuna’s intensity, you navigate a world where music is war, tension runs high, and falling for the frontman, or both, could change everything.

a/n: this will be a multi-chapter fan fiction which is heavily inspired by @/indiewritesxoxo ‘s no. 1 party anthem series! (which you should 100% check out! it’s such an incredible concept and it’s very addicting. you can find it here) I’m still starting out as a writer so I can’t promise my series will be any good, but I do hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

if you would would like to be added to the tag list please let me know! :)

soundcheck

static

detuned

ch. 4 coming soon

dividers by @/redroud1 <3

header art by @su2kuna on twitter <3

#jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader #gojo satoru x reader #starriesworlds tbr #oooooh i love a rockstar au

381 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 2 days ago

Text

bully!Sukuna x nerdy!reader | PT.1

slow burn, school AU, heavy tension

Your day had been uneventful - until it wasn't.

You had exactly three minutes before your next class, and you were digging in your bag for a flash drive you swore you hadn’t lost when a familiar shadow loomed over your locker.

“Looking for your sanity?” Sukuna’s voice curled like smoke behind your ear.

You stiffened, slowly straightening to face him. “Don’t you have someone else to terrorize? Maybe a mirror?”

He clicked his tongue, leaning against the locker beside yours like he owned the hallway. "Cute. You’ve been practicing your comebacks in front of the bathroom mirror, huh?"

“I wouldn’t waste my time thinking about you.”

That earned a bark of laughter. “Liar.” His gaze drifted down to your tote bag, his smile sharpening. “You dropped something.”

You followed his gaze - your flash drive had fallen to the floor.

Before you could grab it, he crouched low and picked it up, twirling it between his fingers. “Should I be a good little classmate and give this back, or…?”

You snatched for it.

He lifted it again.

Of course.

“Sukuna.”

“I just wanna know what’s on it.” He grinned, turning it over in his hand. “Your manifesto? Maybe more of those little love notes to math?”

“Give. It. Back.”

“Say plea—”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out his lighter.

The expensive one with the black finish and the scratched bottom - the one he always fidgeted with but had apparently forgotten on your desk when he cornered you earlier in the week.

You held it up between two fingers, your own smug little smile forming.

“Trade?” you offered sweetly.

His eyes narrowed the way someone’s might when a chessboard gets flipped mid-game.

For a beat, he said nothing. Then, with a quiet scoff and a curve of his lips that almost looked impressed, he extended your flash drive.

You made the exchange, metal brushing metal.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he muttered as you walked away, your flash drive safely in hand.

You didn’t look back, but you knew he was still watching.

Score:

You – 1.

Sukuna – 0.

#jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader

524 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 2 days ago

Text

Notes, my brain is just filled with roommate sukuna ughh.

★ Roommate!Sukuna who can't keep his hands to himself.

You're not dating.

You’ve said it so many times that even you are starting to tilt your head and wonder if you’re lying.

Because roommates don’t do… this.

Roommates don’t slap your ass in the middle of the kitchen just because you’re in his way grabbing a spoon.

“‘Scuse me, princess,” Sukuna says behind you as his palm cracks across the fabric of your shorts. You yelp. He smirks, crowding close as he opens the cabinet over your shoulder like you’re not even there.

You try to glare up at him. “You could’ve just said ‘move.’”

“I did. With action.”

Roommates don’t randomly walk past the couch where you’re sitting with your friends, loop an arm around your waist, tug you back into his chest and ask casually, “Hey, you see my black hoodie?”

The one you're wearing? Yeah. That one.

“Right here,�� he grunts, fingers slipping under the hem like he’s about to yank it off. You have to slap his hand and shoot him a don’t you dare face before he finally backs off, grinning like the devil.

Your friends stare.

You clear your throat. “Don’t mind him.”

They exchange looks.

Later, one of them corners you while you’re pouring drinks. “So like… what are you guys?”

You freeze. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” they whisper, eyes wide. “He literally grabbed your waist like you were property and then sniffed your neck.”

You blink. “Oh. Yeah, he does that.”

“So…?”

You hesitate. Smile a little. “Roommates…?”

They stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

He’s touchy like it’s built into him. A hand on your hip when you’re both brushing teeth. Shoulder pressing into yours when you’re walking down the hall. Sprawled out across the couch and dragging you onto his lap like it’s nothing, arms slung lazily around your waist while you whine that there’s “literally a whole other cushion.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your neck, “but that one doesn’t have you on it.”

If you try to move, he holds tighter. Not in a you can’t escape way, but in a try and see what happens way.

He’s never pushed your boundaries. You know that. If you ever actually told him to stop, he would — not without a muttered insult like “boring ass”, but he’d stop. And you haven’t. Because, well… have you seen the man?

Shirt always missing. Tattoos crawling up his arms and across his chest like they were painted on by sin itself. Low voice, low eyes, smirk that could probably be outlawed in 43 states.

Yeah. You’re not exactly complaining.

When you're sick, he's a different kind of annoying. Tells you not to breathe on him and then lays right next to you. Feeds you soup and talks shit the whole time.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

He scoops more broth into your mouth. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

You’re falling asleep to his hand absently rubbing circles into your hip. You should ask him to move. You don’t.

When you’re dressed up for a night out, he stares too long. Calls you a brat, tells you not to get kidnapped, then kisses your temple on the way out like that’s normal.

Sometimes when you get back, tipsy and laughing, he’s still awake.

Still touchy.

“You have fun?” he’ll say, cornering you in the kitchen again, his palm sliding across your lower back as he traps you near the fridge. “Didn’t let anyone else touch you like this, right?”

You never answer. Not with words.

You call him an ass.

He calls you worse.

But when you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder during a movie, he doesn’t move a muscle. Just watches the screen like it’s no big deal while his hand drapes around your thigh like it’s his.

You’ve been just roommates for eight months.

You don’t know how much longer you can pretend.

And you’re starting to think?

He’s not pretending at all.

#jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader

1K notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 3 days ago

Text

・☄︎ CRUSH: masterlist

PAIRINGS — geto surguru x f!reader x gojo satoru

CONTENT — female reader, canon universe, spoilers, angst, eventual smut, time jumps, mental health: depression eds self harm, potential happy ending... chapters will contain relevant content warnings

SYNOPSIS — The last thing ten-year-old you ever imagined was falling in love at fourteen, getting your heart broken at seventeen, and spending your early twenties hunting down Jujutsu Society’s most wanted — your (ex?) boyfriend. But the last thing your twenty-something-year-old self expected? Falling for his best friend... just before your ex comes crashing back into your life after over a decade of silence.

01. wide awake all night thinking about you

02. we should stop watchin’ the news

03. tired of you still tied to me

04. tell me i’m no one else’s but yours

05. do you think of me too?

06. ...

TAGLIST : open

comment to be added (29/50)

@twilightsumu @mik4kn0x @bubblegumcat229 @poopooindamouf @se-phi-roth @twinkling-moonlillie @11thlife02 @perqbeth @love-me-satoru @pillkits @not-a-glad-gladiator @xarnesss @irwinchester @myabae @linaaeatsfamilies @nanamisbbygirl @timedisappears @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @chewiebee @por0u @ppejmurde @ssetsuka @deathicus-sling @acowboykisser @kyungjunnies @pipteo0428 @juliarchiv3s @not-aya @laceymerolling

#jjk #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader

261 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 3 days ago

Text

・☄︎ CRUSH

chapter 01

WC — (2.7k)

CONTENT — pre hidden inventory, smooches, idk

a/n: this isnt edited enjoy! first couple chs are slow cuz i dont plan my fics😁

series m. list | m. list | next >

Mid-summer, 2005

Tap, tap, tap.

You’re somewhere unfamiliar. The sky’s a little brighter than it’s been all summer over Jujutsu High’s Tokyo campus, washed in a soft blue that makes everything feel just a bit too normal. Your knuckles are pale in comparison to the usual red on your skin — left over from hours of sparring. It kind of looks like your old middle school, but bigger and louder and packed with faces you don’t recognize.

Tap, tap, tap.

Some of your new friends are there — the ones from your new school. But something's... off. Gojo’s suddenly taller, towering over you in a way he wasn’t just a few days ago. Geto’s hair is much longer, and he’s quiet in a way that makes your stomach twist. And Shoko... she smells like cigarettes now, almost like she’s been smoking for years. It all feels real — the air, the sounds, the ache in your shoulders — but none of it is the way it should be, the way it is.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your eyes open, with a start, focusing on the sounds coming from the door. You rub the weight from your eyes and turn toward the bedside table. The old alarm clock you brought from home blinks back at you, the red numbers a little too bright in the dim room.

3:17 AM.

“Coming,” you say groggily, sliding into a pair of slippers and making your way to the door. The floor is cool against your bare feet.

You swing the door open, and there he is. One of your classmates, but the real one this time. Not the off-version from your dream, with hollow eyes and a too-quiet mouth.

His arm is still midair, like he was about to knock again. “I’ve been knocking for a while,” he says softly, almost like he’s afraid to wake the hallway.

“Geto,” you breathe. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, gaze flicking down to your torso. That’s when you realize — the tank top. Thin straps. Bare shoulders. Cleavage. His eyes drop to the floor, like the hallway suddenly got really interesting.

“I just got back from that thing they sent me on with Shoko,” he says, voice low. “But I don’t wanna sleep.”

You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself more out of habit than modesty. “Well, you can’t be here.” It comes out sharper than you meant. “I know,” he says, taking a few steps back. His hands slip into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders drawn up like he’s bracing for a no. “Walk with me? Please?” He nods toward the door that leads out to the fields.

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around your arms. The air’s cold for a summer night, and so is the look in your eyes — but not for long.

“You’re buying me lunch tomorrow,” you mutter, already turning back inside. “Let me grab a hoodie.”

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding. Doesn’t say anything, he just waits in the hallway.

You pull the hoodie over your head, the fabric still warm from where it sat folded on your chair. It smells like your room at home still — detergent, a little lavender, and something faintly burnt by your dad in the kitchen. You tug the sleeves over your hands and step back into the hallway, door clicking softly shut behind you.

Geto doesn’t say anything, just glances at you and starts walking. You fall into step beside him.

The corridors are quiet. Everyone else is asleep. The kind of silence that only exists past midnight, where the world feels more fragile.

Outside, the air bites at your skin, cool and sharp. The grass is damp beneath your slippers, and the field stretches out like a shadow under the moonlight.

Neither of you speak at first. You walk side by side, your arms tucked into your sleeves, his hands still buried in his pockets. The only sound is the soft crunch of gravel and the distant hum of campus lights.

Finally, he says, “It was hard.”

You glance at him. He’s staring straight ahead, like if he looks at you he’ll fall apart.

“I figured,” you say gently.

He nods. Swallows hard. “I kept thinking about coming back. About seeing someone who… wouldn’t ask me to explain it.”

You stay quiet. That part, you understand.

He stops walking, and you do too. The trees ahead sway slightly in the breeze, tall and dark against the pale sky.

“I didn’t wanna be alone,” he says. “But I didn’t wanna talk either.”

You look at him. “So… you picked me?”

He finally meets your eyes, a small, tired smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You’re the only one I’d want to say nothing with.” “It’s alright,” you say softly. “It’ll be better in a few days.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but it’s the only thing you can offer. The only thing that feels safe to say.

He doesn’t respond right away. Just shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyes still distant.

But when he speaks again, his tone’s lighter.

“We’re still going to Shinjuku this weekend, right?” he asks, elbow nudging you gently in the side.

You nod. “Gojo wants us to try that new bakery that opened up on the corner.”

He huffs a laugh. “Imagine how much money his dentist makes off his cavities.”

“He probably just blinds them with his eyes and skips the bill,” you mutter.

“That’s not even a joke, that’s probably real.”

You walk past the field, your steps quiet against the damp earth. Up ahead, the faint outline of the baseball diamond comes into view, tucked near the edge of the boys' dorms. It’s hard to see in the dark, but the soft glow from the school’s main building spills just enough light to make it feel safe.

“You know,” he says, pulling his hands out of his pockets, fingers flexing in the cool air. “I actually really like it here.”

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice low. “Me too.”

“I mean—” he pauses, eyes trained on the path ahead, “—when we moved in back in April, I was so hyped. Like, I thought I knew what to expect. But then school actually started, and everything hit at once. Training. Missions. I don’t think I was used to… my body hurting all the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. Yeah. That part still surprises you too.

“But,” he goes on, glancing at you, “I’m glad I met you. I mean—” he corrects quickly, “—you guys. All of you.”

You smile, not bothering to correct him.

“Yeah,” you say. “I know what you mean. I’m glad I met you too.”

You look up at him.

He’s only slightly taller than you — just enough that you have to tilt your chin to meet his eyes, if he ever let you see them. But right now, his hair falls in loose strands around his face, just past his shoulders, hiding most of it in shadow.

It moves a little with the breeze, brushing against his jaw. You wonder if he notices, or if he’s too caught up in whatever he’s thinking to care.

For a second, you consider brushing it back for him.

You don’t.

Instead, you tuck your hands deeper into your sleeves and look forward again, pretending you didn’t feel whatever that was.

“Hungry?” he asks.

You glance up briefly.

The boys' dorms have two vending machines on the first floor. Everyone knows that. It's the unofficial late-night pit stop — the place you all end up when the cafeteria food is disappointing or training’s left you too wrecked to make the trek for anything better.

“Yeah,” you say, “I could eat something.”

Before you even shift your weight, his hand wraps around your wrist, unthinking, like muscle memory. You don’t pull away. Instead, curiosity flickers in your chest. You glance down and tug up your sleeve with your free hand, just a little, like you need to see it to understand it.

His fingers are warm. Steady. There’s no pressure in his grip.

“Come on,” he says, already turning toward the dorm entrance, still holding onto you like this is something the two of you have always done.

You feel the cool rush of the air conditioning the moment you step inside. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead fills the quiet, and your slippers make soft, muffled sounds against the tile.

He doesn’t let go of your wrist until you’re halfway down the hallway — not that you mind.

The vending machines glow at the end of the corridor, casting soft blue and orange light across the floor like some kind of cheap, modern campfire.

“Ice cream?” he offers,.

“Nah,” you shake your head. “I don’t want a sore throat tomorrow.”

He snorts. “You sound like Shoko.”

“Well, one of us has to be the responsible one.”

“Tragic,” he sighs dramatically, crouching down to scan the options. “Guess I’ll eat my feelings alone.”

You roll your eyes but step up beside him anyway, peering into the vending machine like it holds the answers to life. It doesn’t — but maybe a bag of chips will do for now.

You point to the bag of Lay’s tucked in the corner slot. “That one.”

He follows your gaze, nods, and punches in the numbers. The machine whirs to life.

Sleep starts to pull at you again, soft and heavy, wrapping around your limbs like fog. You blink slowly, shoulders sinking just a little.

“Getting tired?” he asks without looking at you, focused on catching the chips before they drop too hard.

“A little,” you murmur. “Thought I was past it, but… guess not.”

He straightens up, chips in hand, and glances over at you. “You always look kind of half-asleep.”

You yawn, not bothering to hide it. “Thanks. I try.”

He grins and hands you the bag. “C’mon. Let’s go sit. Just for a bit.”

And even though the hallway is cold and the machines are humming and your bed is calling, you follow him anyway.

He walks a few steps up the stairs and drops down onto a middle step, resting his elbows on his knees. Without thinking, he uses his teeth to tear open the wrapper of his popsicle, the plastic crinkling softly in the quiet.

You follow, settling beside him with the bag of chips rustling in your hands. You fish one out, pop it into your mouth, and chew slowly, the salt waking your senses just enough to keep your eyes open.

The stairwell is still. Dim light spills in from the hallway, casting soft shadows on the floor. Neither of you says anything for a moment — just the occasional crunch from your chips and the faint, wet sound of him biting into the popsicle.

It's peaceful in that odd, late-night kind of way. Not quite awake, not quite dreaming. Just enough.

You glance at him. “What flavor?”

He looks down at the popsicle, then at you. “Blue. Always blue.”

You hum in response, barely audible, and rest your head lightly against his arm. He stiffens just a little — not because he minds, but because he wasn’t expecting it. After a second, he relaxes.

You feel him turn his head to look at you, the subtle shift of his weight beneath your cheek.

“You’re really pretty, you know,” he says. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but didn’t stop himself either.

You stay still for a beat, lips parting like you might say something back — but nothing comes out.

“…Thanks,” you whisper, voice barely above the hum of the vending machine behind you. “You’re really pretty, too.”

That makes him laugh.

“Pretty, huh?” he repeats, glancing down at you with a lopsided smile. “That’s a new one.”

You shrug, your cheek still resting against his arm. “Felt accurate.”

He doesn’t argue.

Instead, he leans back against the stairwell wall, popsicle balanced loosely in his fingers, and lets the silence settle again.

“I’m sorry if this is weird,” he says after a while, voice quieter now. There’s a hesitation there — not nervous, just careful.

You pause, fingers brushing the bottom of the chip bag. Almost empty.

“What’s weird?” you ask, not looking at him yet.

There’s a beat.

“Can I kiss you?” he says. “Please, I really want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t say it like a line. Doesn’t try to make it cool or clever. He just says it like it’s the only thing that feels true in this moment — like it’s been sitting on his tongue all night.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his, and everything feels still again. The hallway is quiet, the air still. Even the hum of the vending machine feels distant now, like it’s waiting too.

You don’t say anything right away. Just study his face — the way his bangs fall a little into his eyes, the faint color in his cheeks, the way he’s trying so hard not to move unless you give him something back.

Your fingers crinkle the chip bag as you fold it closed, setting it gently beside you on the step.

“…Okay,” you say, so softly it barely counts as a word. “You can.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the moment he asked.

And then he leans in — slow, careful, like he’s afraid he’ll break the moment if he moves too fast. His hand brushes your cheek, thumb tracing just below your eye, and you close the distance between you both without even thinking.

The kiss is soft. Hesitant, at first. Then warmth takes over your body.

It’s not perfect — his popsicle hand is still a little cold and your hoodie sleeve gets caught between you for a second — but it doesn’t matter. Because in that moment, everything else fades.

You pull apart a minute later, your breath just a little uneven.

“You taste cold,” you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He huffs a laugh, eyes still half-lidded as he leans back against the wall again. “That’s the popsicle. Blue. Premium flavor.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tastes more like a potential brain freeze.”

He grins, that lazy, sleepy kind of grin that only shows up when he’s too tired to pretend. “Still kissed me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite behind it. “Yeah, well… I wanted to.”

He doesn’t say anything to that — just looks at you like you’ve handed him something delicate, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it yet. So instead, he bumps his shoulder gently against yours.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “I’ll walk you back.”

You glance at him, not quite ready for the moment to end, but you nod anyway. “Okay.”

He stands first, offering you a hand without thinking. You take it, and he pulls you up with an ease that makes your chest feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with body heat.

You both toss your wrappers into the bin on the way out, your footsteps echoing softly in the stairwell. The vending machines hum behind you as the door clicks shut, sealing the quiet moment between their glowing lights.

Outside, the night is still cool, the campus quiet. The path back to your dorm feels shorter now, like the space between you has shifted — something small, something subtle.

You walk in step, side by side, fingers brushing now and then but not holding. Not yet.

And when you reach your door, he stops, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze lingering on you, like there’s something he wants to say but hasn’t figured out how.

You step forward, hands resting on his shoulders as you press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Goodnight, Geto,” you say, pulling back.

You’re halfway through closing the door when he calls your name, voice barely above a whisper.

“You know you can call me Suguru,” he says.

There’s a beat. Then a sheepish smile tugs at your lips.

“Goodnight, Suguru.”

You close the door the rest of the way, the latch clicking gently behind you.

In the quiet of your room, you tug off your sweatshirt, letting it fall to the floor, and slip back into bed.

taglist : @twilightsumu @mik4kn0x @bubblegumcat229 @poopooindamouf @se-phi-roth @twinkling-moonlillie @11thlife02 @perqbeth @love-me-satoru @pillkits @not-a-glad-gladiator @xarnesss

taglist is still open, comment on series masterlist to be added

#jjk #geto suguru x reader

155 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 3 days ago

Text

snapshots | prev<< | pairings: dilf!Gojo x f!reader x uncle!Geto

content: mdni, fluff, childhood friends to lover au, domestic dilf gojo, dadjo dadjo dadjo, content family life, pda, their kids are spoiled, suguru acting like the kids uncle

"It's too hot."

Was it your child complaining? No, it was your husband acting like he was about to have a heat stroke from sitting on a park bench.

"Toru," You scolded him, but he just leaned his head down on your shoulder snuggled up next to you like you weren't in public.

"Can't she play inside?" Satoru whined, interlacing his sturdy fingers with yours, fiddling with your wedding ring while he did.

"You wanna ask her that?" You hummed. There were only two people he couldn't say no to. You. And the tiny five year old who looked like you currently going down the slide. His precious baby girl. "Besides, Suguru is bringing the boys back here soon."

Suguru ended up adopting a few kids of his own not long after you had your second kid, the opportunity falling in his lap through a family friend. Twins first, two girls that were painfully shy the first time you met them, and now right there with your daughter, giggling as they taught her how to get up to the big swirly slide. And somewhere between your third and forth kid, he ended up adopting a boy too, barely older than an infant. A year or two younger than your youngest son, but still older than your daughter.

Well, he said it was adoption. But the dark hair and sharp eyes looked an awful lot like the boy in your childhood photo albums.

You always knew he'd make a good father.

Today he'd taken all the boys - yours and his - to some new science exhibit that opened up nearby while Satoru had spent the morning dragging you and the girls to buy new toys and ice cream before they asked to go to the playground.

"You think they missed me?" Your husband sighed, pulling you closer by your leg. You glanced at your daughter again, watching her gap-toothed grin, missing one of her baby teeth as she chased after the twins, legs too short to keep up with them. Satoru's hand squeezed your thigh, and you turned your attention back to him.

"Probably not," You laughed yourself at how hard he still pouted.

There were more lines now, wrinkles here and there despite how well he took care of his skin, his sunglasses pushing his hair back so you could see the glint in his eyes. A blue button-down was stretched across his shoulders, although he was starting to sweat through it.

Age tended to sneak up on you, the years slipping away faster every day. It didn't feel like yesterday, but God, it also didn't feel like over thirty fucking years since you'd been a couple kids arguing on a playground and now you were watching your daughter running around on one.

"Am I not cool anymore?" Satoru lamented, huffing at the fact his boys found his best friend less embarrassing to be seen with in public.

"It's just that age," You shrugged, leaning into his side, still craving being as close as possible to him despite the heat.

He hmph-ed, distracted and still distraught at your kids growing up too.

You smiled at him when he wasn't looking, watching the way his jaw automatically unclenched the second he saw his little girl laughing at something, the cute crinkles by his eyes and the faint dimple in his cheeks forming.

And you didn't have a reason, but you didn't need one, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to catch him off-guard, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

He still blushed even after over a decade of being married. Staring at you with wide eyes, mouth parting like maybe he'd ask for a second one before a tiny voice shouted and you both turned.

"Mommy!"

Your youngest son was stumbling over as fast as his legs could take him, waving excitedly ahead of his brothers and Suguru, who was making a valiant effort of telling him to slow down, as if one of Satoru's kids would be any better at listening than their dad was.

He practically launched himself into your lap, the clingiest of all your kids, already excitedly rambling about his day while you couldn't do anything but nod along.

"Sorry," Suguru chuckled when he was close enough, his long hair tied up in a bun, a few loose bangs hanging his face. He'd gotten more angular, his features sharper with the years without being harsh.

"It's fine," You smiled, brushing the white hair back off your son's forehead as he switched to telling Satoru every little detail of what he saw. "Were they good?"

"Yeah," Suguru nodded, looking down at the way your other two sons were huddling around his legs like smaller shadows.

"Are you lying to me, Sugu?" You teased, tilting your head to the side.

"Maybe a little," He admitted.

You glanced around, realizing who was absent probably at the same moment he did. You found his son first though - picking a weed that looked like a flower and walking back over to where his sisters were standing with your daughter.

It wasn't history replaying itself - but something new being written.

He held it out for her to take, not shy, but blunt and serious, thin brows furrowed together as she smiled brightly and snatched it from him.

It felt like you were watching in slow motion when he leaned down and kissed her flat on the lips. It was innocent and clumsy, just a quick peck, but, if you had to guess, he unfortunately was just copying what he picked up on from you and Satoru's constant affection.

You couldn't even tear your eyes away to look at your most definitely horrified husband.

"I think someone has a crush," You commented, trying not to giggle when Satoru murmured something under his breath about his baby girl being too young for her first kiss.

Suguru didn't say anything.

But then your daughter was wiping her lips and running over to where you all were, flowers in hand as she stopped right in front of the bench. Clearly flustered, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout to rival her father's, pointing a finger back to where she left Suguru's son standing.

"He just gave me cooties."

a/n: this is the end of the main story for snapshots. hope you guys have had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. extremely grateful beyond words for all the support you guys have had for me throughout all of this. geto's ending will be out eventually <3

#jjk #gojo satoru x reader

725 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 4 days ago

Text

★ asking roommate!sukuna to give you some space. literally.

“don’t you think if i could, i would have by now?” he fires back in a drawl, rolling his eyes.

right now, you two are squished together in a dark supply closet in the campus atrium, bodies pressed so tightly there’s barely any room to breathe. you keep hushed, listening out for any shuffling less than a metre from where you are holed up with your roommate; the door’s locked and there’d be no reason to suspect you’re both in here but neither of you want to take the chance.

because, outside the door, is a girl with a furious appetite for revenge. she had seen you in the hallway around the corner and questioned you. apparently, your roommate owed her a date on friday night but he hadn’t turned up. that was the third time he’d made a promise to her he didn’t keep. not one for the drama, you were intent on keeping yourself out of it, but because the universe hates you, she narrowed her eyes and said that her friends saw you and him coming out of a movie theatre that very evening.

of course she didn’t listen when you stammered that you didn’t plan to be there with him. you just wanted to be dropped off because it was late but then, for reasons you can’t really imagine, he chose to stay. she didn’t believe you. a ping went off. distracted with her phone for a moment, you skedaddled out of there, wanting to keep your head on your shoulders for a little longer. in comical fashion, when turning the corner, you saw the second person she has on her kill list.

things quickly got out of hand after that.

he didn’t fight very much when you yanked him in here nor did he seem very surprised to hear that a girl was out to get him.

“ugh, where did she go?” the scorned woman screeches. “i’m gonna beat that whore up, i swear. she totally stole sukuna from me.”

‘stolen’ man huffs in amusement. you smack his chest.

she must be on the phone. briefly, you wonder how many people are building up hatred for you on campus by the simple virtue of living with the pink haired promise-breaker. guess his reputation is contagious. crossing your figures, you hope this won’t be a regular occurrence. and, showing no signs of leaving, if the frustrated stomping of feet pacing the hallway is anything to go by, your head slumps against sukuna’s chest in defeat. innocent of all charges, you’re not sure why you felt the need to hide, much less with him when he should be facing the consequences of his actions on his own.

it’s not as if he deserves your protection – the stubborn bastard won’t move back just an inch even though he obviously knows he’s threatening to flatten you out like a bug against the wall with his towering body.

“just text her an apology or something,” you hiss.

you can’t see it but you do feel his pierced brow quirk up. “i’m not gonna apologise ‘cause she can’t take a fucking hint. woman’s been hounding me since forever.”

“well, maybe you shouldn’t be asking her out and then flaking. ever thought of that?” mumbling against his shirt, you’re forced to breathe him in. he smells of burnt wood, the leather strap of a guitar, and nicotine. it’s both exhilarating and calming; you’re gonna fall asleep at this rate.

something gentle and calloused brushes your hair away from your face. it lulls you deeper into slumber. his words vibrate against your cheek, a little aggressive with a tinge of vulnerability. “i didn’t. she made those plans on her own. don’t wanna go on a date with her.”

“oh.”

minutes pass. you can’t hear anything outside anymore. neither of you rush out. despite how cramped the fit is, it’s oddly comfortable. on second thoughts, maybe you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day here. with him.

“quit fucking moving; you’re practically humping me a like a dog.”

never mind.

you flick his nipple in retaliation and yelp when metal meets fingernail. he snorts. a little embarrassed, you retort, “you have a boner pressed right up against my stomach – who’s really the dog here, s’kuna?”

shoving him away, you emerge from the storage closet and take a deep inhale of relatively fresh air. she’s not here anymore. good. hopefully you won’t run into her for a while. you look back. your roommate doesn’t step out, instead he flexes his jaw and rolls his shoulder back, avoiding your eye. the tips of his ears are pink. gruffly, he mutters, “go ahead. wait by my car. i’ll be out in a sec.”

blink. blink.

a sponge smacks into your face when you laugh like a madwoman.

#jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader

4K notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 4 days ago

Text

snapshots | prev<< | pairings: dilf!Gojo x f!reader x ex-fwb!Geto

content: mdni, fluff, childhood friends to lover au, domestic dilf gojo, dadjo is finally here, content family life, casual intimacy, kissing and cuddles

You hadn't gotten used to it.

Hearing the pretty way he purred wife in your ear when you woke up in the mornings, curled up against his chest in your king-sized bed, snuggling together despite the chill in the house.

Snow was sticking to the window outside, dusting over the front yard, the barren branches of the tree he planted when you first moved in currently weighed down with ice.

"Good morning, sweetheart," He nuzzled in closer, his hair tickling your throat as you giggled and swatted at him. He'd grown it out longer lately, just trying something new, but you guessed it was better than buzzing it.

Which you had threatened to divorce him for when he first offhandedly mentioned the idea.

"Can we go back to sleep?" You murmured, trying to turn and bury your face in his broad frame. He felt bigger lately, his shoulders broader, his frame more stocky as he got older. No longer lean and lanky, his daily gym sessions traded for weekly ones, somehow ending up more bulky in the process.

Your hand traced over his chest, feeling the hair that has started to grow in there, getting thicker over the past year.

"I'm hungry," He complained, trying to poke your side, your own skin softer now, faint stretch marks left over your stomach. You tugged a strand of his chest hair, a silent threat to pluck it out if he didn't comply.

"Toru," You whined, and he immediately relented, his palm pressing flat on your spine to hold you closer instead.

"Ten more minutes," He murmured, tracing a small heart over your back.

It seemed another member of your household wasn't on the same page.

The bedroom door creaked open, tiny footsteps padding over to the edge of the bed.

"Daddy," Your son yawned, tiny voice making it sound like dah-dee, all sleepy and tired as a small hand pulled at the blanket. "Wake up."

"Mm?" Your husband yawned too, craning his head up to look at the miniature version of him you made. "Go back to bed."

"No," He huffed. You weren't sure which one of you he got that from. You rolled over to face him just for Satoru's arm to sneak around your waist to keep your back to his chest.

Your son was pouting, nearly strangling his toy robot in his hand and dragging a blanket behind him, white hair sticking up in every direction and a familiar set of blue eyes scowling at you.

"I wan' pancakes," He grumbled.

Did your genes even try with him?

Sometimes you could see it, in the edges of his smile or the way he laughed, the shape of his eyebrows and a few odd habits he picked up from you. But there were more moments like this where it felt like you just cloned your husband.

"Get up and make them," You gave in, and Satoru groaned, rolling on top of you to get off the bed even when you huffed and tried to push him off.

He stretched, thick arms flexing, muscles bulging as he picked up last night's shirt from the ground and threw it on. You watched him through tired eyes, your hips and thighs still sore and love bitten, bruises and hickies probably marking the inside of them while you snuggled against the pillow. It smelled like his shampoo, and you exhaled, savoring the moment of watching your husband take your son's hand and walk towards the door.

"Breakfast in bed for you?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder back at you.

"Please," You stifled a sigh, content to capture these few seconds, to linger in them, studying his sturdy jaw and the sharp line of his nose, his pretty smile he saved just for you.

"Anything you want."

Still as sappy as ever.

You had almost shut your eyes while their footsteps faded, their voices quiet as Satoru asked him how he slept.

"Uncle Sugu was in my dream," He yawned, and you couldn't help but crack a faint smile.

It'd been a few months since you'd seen Suguru, but Satoru had mentioned a few days ago that he'd be back in town to visit soon. You hadn't realized little ears had been listening.

You had almost drifted off back into your own dream felt something climb under the covers with you. Scratch that, someone.

"Baby," You murmured, a fluffy head of hair trying to snuggle against you.

"I'm not a baby," Your older son scoffed, like he wasn't six and sneaking into bed with you after his dad and younger brother started cooking.

"Uh-huh," You sighed, wrapping an arm around him anyway and letting him get comfortable under the blanket. He favored you more - your hair and his eyes, more serious, but still just as stubborn.

Gojo had you outnumbered

Living with three boys who constantly wanted your attention, always someone tugging at your clothes or begging for a cuddle.

But honestly?

You couldn't imagine living with anyone else.

#jjk #gojo satoru x reader

520 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 4 days ago

Text

Hiding Her pt3 (end)

They grovel, but you've moved on.

CW: cheating, divorce, angst. Reader stays winning though.

ngl this series hurted bad. ready for some fluff now. And god, was Geto's hard to figure out. He stays manipulating. Thank you all for reading!

Tags:

@comeonatmebruh@linaaeatsfamilies

#jjk #jjk x reader

571 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 4 days ago

Text

snapshots | prev<< | pairings: husband!Gojo x f!reader x ex-fwb!Geto

content: mdni, fluff, light discomfort, childhood friends to lover au, reader and gojo are so in love, awkward conversations, nostalgia, wedding, kissing, he's obsessed, mentions of pregnancy

For all your commitment issues and every complication that lead you here, you still somehow made it to the alter. Willing to walk down the aisle for the one man who'd ever be able to convince you to wear his ring for the rest of your life.

You glanced down at your dress, the blinding white only interrupted by the blue of the bridal bouquet in your hands.

It was stupid and sappy - but you'd only picked them because they reminded you of his eyes.

They were the one thing you insisted on.

It wasn't that Satoru was picky - it was just that he waited his entire life for this. For you. A spring wedding to the girl of his dreams, vows scribbled down and stitched together from notes he'd made on the back of receipts and on post-it notes whenever he thought of something. Although he had no interest in a real bachelor party, forcing everyone to come over and crash on his couch for a movie night instead.

He handled the bulk of the wedding planning, found the venue and the event coordinator, taking care of catering and seating charts and invitations and the hundreds of details that went into throwing a party to announce to the world you were legally his.

You'd been thinking of everything in terms of 'some day's And 'eventually's but it was now.

The music had started and the petals had been thrown and everyone else was up there - all waiting for you.

Your cue came, and your legs felt like lead taking the first step out.

But everything became easy when you saw your groom.

He was so handsome, it made you ache. The fresh undercut, the clean tux, all sharp and crisp and clinging to his sturdy shoulders. Blue eyes glittering under the lights as he literally stopped breathing the moment his eyes met yours.

He immediately started to tear up, wiping them away before they could fall, smiling at you like you were the prettiest painting he'd ever seen. Something to stop and stare at.

Which he kind of did, stammering through every answer he was supposed to give and almost flubbing his way through his lengthy vows about loving you for the rest of his life and into the next one.

Yours felt meek in comparison, focusing on him to get you through it, murmuring that maybe you'd figured it out a little late, but your heart had never held onto anyone how it did to him. And even when you were both old or sick, you weren't going anywhere.

It'd taken time.

But you finally found where you belonged.

It almost felt like blacking out, repeating after the officiant and Satoru sliding the rings on your finger before the big 'I do' came, a giant grin on your new husband's face when he heard he could kiss you, and then you were being swept off your feet.

Dipped back low, his hands holding into you like he'd just unwrapped a new Christmas present before his lips crashed into yours.

He didn't care who was watching.

It was hot and hungry, claiming you to anyone who was looking. Drawing it out as he deepened it, not wanting to break it to breathe or let your first kiss as a married couple end.

But he let you up before your lungs could give out, picking you up bridal style to carry you down the aisle even when you giggled at him to put you back down.

"I love you," He breathed, leaning down to press another kiss to the top of your head, careful to not mess up your styled hair.

"I love you too," You whispered back, wondering where along the way those words had become so easy to say.

"You're so beautiful," He murmured into your skin, still determined to litter your cheeks with more or his affection. "Wanna marry you again."

The reception was packed, the crowd Satoru invited all cheering when you walked in, people hurrying to say congratulations with cocktails in hand as you tried to navigate through them to reach the dessert bar he organized.

"Go sit down," Satoru leaned down to murmur in your ear, gesturing towards the empty seats at the head table. "I'll get you something to eat."

You tugged him down by his arm, enough that you were at the right height to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, husband," You teased, his cheeks turning pink, brain blanking for once. You let go of him with a giggle, winning before turning back towards the table. "I'll save your seat."

Appetizers were already being passed on, dinner was supposed to be served soon, but most of the plates you saw were filled with candies and treats from the dessert table. After everyone ate, you guessed it'd be time for cake cutting and dancing, although you'd vetoed Satoru's idea for a garter toss. He wasn't that disappointed after you reminded him he could take it off with his teeth in the honeymoon suite instead.

Doing it at the wedding was just asking for trouble.

With your luck, it'd probably be Suguru who caught it.

Maybe he could read your mind, because the second you thought of him, he appeared, approaching with Satoru, laughing about something with two drinks in his hands while Satoru had two plates of food.

"I'm back, baby," Your husband grinned, eagerly taking his seat and scooting close enough for your legs to be touching.

"For the bride," Suguru murmured, sliding a glass of wine across the table to you while he sat beside Satoru across from you. You'd only glanced at him once tonight, a brief glimpse of him when you were walking down the aisle, a single second where you stopped to think if he'd imagined him and Satoru's place would be reversed all those years ago - if he'd ever even imagined marrying you at all.

"Thanks," You smiled, eyeing the glass without taking it. "But I'm not drinking tonight."

The brief pause said it all.

"Are you-"

"Yeah," You admitted, shrugging sheepishly. Looking down at your stomach and fiddling with your new wedding band to block our whatever face Suguru was making. "It's still early, but, I'm about eight weeks along, I think?"

That was the estimate they'd given you when you called your OBGYN after you missed your period. Your appointment to check wasn't scheduled until after you returned from your honeymoon.

It took every ounce of self-control for Suguru to put on a coy smile and bring the glass to his lips instead.

"My bad then," He murmured, swallowing hard after taking a long sip of it. "When are you due then?"

"January," Satoru answered for you, a protective arm draping over your shoulders to squeeze you closer to him.

"I didn't know you guys we're trying," Suguru commented, and you glanced over at your new husband just to see his mischievous little smirk.

"Well, we weren't not trying," Satoru laughed, like telling Suguru you were just having unprotected sex all the time would lighten the mood.

Suguru's reluctant chuckle made you want to jump off the nearest bridge.

"I'm just surprised you were able to keep your mouth shut about it," Suguru joked, and you relaxed some at his casualness about it after the initial shock wore off.

He was trying to be happy for you.

You hoped he'd find happiness of his own too. Someone that would make him feel loved and secure. Looking back, you weren't sure he'd ever have felt safe in your relationship when Satoru was there.

"I do whatever my wife wants," Satoru hummed, taking your chin between his fingers to tilt your face towards him and steal another kiss. Even now, he still felt like home. Being with him was warm and comforting, like curling up in bed after a long day or a tender hug from your favorite person. There was no second-guessing it.

"It's weird hearing you say that," You murmured, trying to hide your blush.

"I like it," He chuckled. "My wife."

You supposed you had a lifetime to get used to it.

#jjk #gojo satoru x reader

497 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 5 days ago

Text

Clingy pt4 (Good Ending)

They wake up and you're gone

CW: hurt and comfort, reassurance, it was all a dream <3

in Suguru's I'm trying to hint that he's going to propose lol enjoy feel better they aren't evil after all

dihydromorphinone

@samxnavialover

@borntoexplore11-blog

@samstrav

@humeysaga

@miizuzu

@sylusbiceps

@starlightanyaaa

@i2s2m

@booklover99988755421

@yourmomcallsmedelulu

@entr4p3

@kikikoifi

@justasecretflower

#jjk #jjk x reader

1K notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 5 days ago

Text

snapshots | prev<< | pairings: bf!Gojo x f!reader x ex-fwb!Geto

content: mdni, fluff, light angst, reader and gojo are in love, awkward conversations, nostalgia, some resolution but also unresolved tension, gojo is the cutest cutie ever

You'd never imagined it'd be so awkward sitting across from Suguru.

Satoru's hand was holding yours under the table, a tight grip on your fingers and his palm so clammy you had to keep wiping unlatching your fingers from his to wipe your own off on your dress.

"Glad you guys are doing well," Suguru spoke firmly, not exactly aloof, but still outwardly unbothered. The problem with knowing someone was knowing when they were full of shit.

You could see it in the faint twitch of his neutral smile, the subtle pull of his jaw shut, carefully composed as he browsed through the café menu.

"Thanks," Gojo grinned, but his nervousness still slipped through his own happy guise. "Been a while since we all hung out."

Almost an entire year actually, since the threesome that ended up splintering your relationship with Suguru - and straining their friendship too.

You'd still encouraged Satoru to make up with him. To talk through their own stuff, regardless of you. It was still slow-going, the two of them only meeting up maybe once a month catch up. He told you Suguru had been in therapy for a while, working through his issues. You'd gotten a letter from him once, long and rife with explanations you stopped needing forever ago, but it was still nice, you guessed.

But after this brunch?

You didn't know if Suguru would still be interested in keeping that up.

"Anything new?" Suguru asked casually, glancing over at you for a few not-so-short seconds, his dark eyes lingering longer than they should. You wished they were more unreadable, but you knew what you saw there. The leftover longing and the regret plaguing him.

The waitress stopped by before you could answer, taking all of your orders and grabbing your menus before leaving you back in the thick tension, pausing with your lips parted while you tried to figure out how to say it.

Satoru spoke up before you could ponder too long.

"We're engaged," He blurted out, bringing your hand up onto the table to show the oversized diamond on your finger, glittering in the sun streaming through the window. Rainbows reflecting off of it, the dainty white gold band bright and shiny as you gracelessly flexed your fingers.

Suguru blanched.

Briefly, but it was hard to miss it. As soon as it was there, it was gone, his face resuming his usual mask of being untethered to things like hurt.

"Wow," He let out a low exhale. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," You tried to smile, to act like it wasn't uncomfortable, telling your ex-boyfriend and former lover that you were marrying his best friend that you chose over him.

You honestly hadn't expected Satoru to propose so soon - but you really should've in hindsight. He'd probably had it planned from the second you came back into his life. Popping the question at the first restaurant he'd ever taken you to, reserving the entire place just for the two of you and getting down on one knee before the appetizers were even served because he couldn't wait.

"You don't have to say yes, but, um, I'd still like you to be my best man," Satoru added, slipping his fingers back through yours. You squeezed them for reassurance, reminding him you were still here for support.

Suguru didn't say anything for a second, hesitating over his answer.

"Sure," He eventually said, nodding curtly.

"Seriously?" Satoru exhaled, clearly relieved to not be immediately rejected.

"Yeah," He nodded again. "Can't let Kento or Yu steal my spot."

The tension didn't dissolve.

But it was bearable enough to change the conversation. To act like you were all just friends catching up.

Suguru got a second cat. Switched jobs. His lease had expired too - moved into some new place on the other side of the city. Life was just like that. Space slipping in and separating you even when you couldn't see it, everything changing with or without you there to witness it.

Nothing stayed the same.

Satoru rambled on about you moving in and wedding planning - talking about all his grand plans for a gorgeous ceremony. Suguru listened intently, chiming in at the right moments and interrupting occasionally to make fun of him for being cheesy.

And if you closed your eyes, you could picture the three of you as teenagers, laughing at the lunch table and trading food when Suguru offered you a sip of his drink.

You never would've guessed back then who your fiancé would be now.

"I'll go pay," Satoru grinned, snatching the check the second the waitress dropped it off and sliding out of the booth before Suguru could protest. He paused though, leaning down to plant a quick kiss against your forehead.

"We'll wait by the front," You called out to him, and he blew you another before continuing to the cash register.

You and Suguru cleaned up the table, stacking empty plates and colleting the trash. He threw it away while you shrugged your purse over your shoulder, walking over to the door.

"Look at you, future Mrs. Gojo," Suguru teased, testing out the sound when he joined you. He pulled out something from his pocket, an old photo of the three of you, something one of your parents must have taken back before any of you had even turned ten, your stuffed bunny still clutched to your chest and both boys' arms around your shoulders.

You and Suguru were looking at the camera, but Satoru was staring at you.

"Where'd you find this?" You breathlessly asked, unable to tear your stare away from it.

"Just looking through old photo albums," He muttered. "It's yours if you want it."

You slipped it inside your purse, careful to place it where it wouldn't get crumpled.

"Thanks for this," You hummed. "And being Toru's best man."

"Of course."

"Promise you won't object?" You cracked a real smile at his chuckle, watching him lean against the door frame to run his fingers through his hair.

"Promise," He wryly replied, holding out his pinky like you really were kids. "Besides, Satoru would probably kill me if I did."

"Probably," You agreed, giggling at the thought of Satoru strangling him over it in a white tux.

"It's nice to see you so happy," Suguru commented.

"Yeah," You nodded, looking back over to where Satoru was pointing at a slices of cake through the glass dessert case. It was hard to drag your stare away from him to look back at Suguru. "What about you?"

"What about me?" He shrugged.

"Are you happy?" You asked point-blank. He didn't even react.

"Sure," Suguru slowly drawled, as if it was easy to answer.

As if you couldn't tell he was lying.

#jjk #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader

570 notes · View notes

starriesworlds · 5 days ago

Text

part of snapshots | prev<< | pairings: bf!Gojo x f!reader x ex-fwb!Geto

content: mdni, fluff and smut, mostly sweetness, gojo is so in love, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex <3

"Are you like, officially, my girlfriend?"

Satoru was sweating so much you'd think he was asking you to marry him. Blinking too fast, blue eyes anxious as he fidgeted with a stress toy in bed instead of laying down next to you normally.

But he'd never been normal. And you knew you'd still say yes.

"Ask me again," You teased him anyway, giggling at how his lips pushed out into his most dramatic pout.

He tossed the stress toy onto the night stand, climbing over you surprisingly fast for someone so broad. You blinked and he had already rolled you flat on your back, one of his hands tilting your chin up so you had to meet his intense stare.

"Tell me you're mine," He tried a second time, and you had to admit it made your heart flutter. Insides twisting in not such a bad way when hime was looking down at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

And despite the fact it'd already been three weeks of what you thought was dating after the phone call with Suguru, going on dates that ended in making out in the backseat of his car or eating dessert in the front, he still couldn't help but search for more reassurance that it was real.

That the running away was over and you were here to stay.

"Satoru," You half-whispered, and the lump in his throat bobbed. "I'm your girlfriend."

He kissed you the second the last syllable left your lips.

It was long, drawn-out and desperate, a peck turning into multiple open-mouthed kisses, stealing your breath with each one.

You were returning his fervor, lost in his eagerness, sucked in by him entirely until he forced himself to pull away, his forehead pressed against yours and his nose still nuzzling yours.

"I look at you and it feels like I'm in a dream I don't want to wake up from," He murmured.

"I'm here," You reassured him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, his anxieties melting into awe.

You'd been loved before.

Suguru loved you. Choso had too.

But no one loved you quite like Satoru did.

Adored you so wholeheartedly, looked at you like you were the sun and he was just some fool trying to capture it in his pocket.

"Move in with me when your lease ends," He talked to fast, the words jumbled together. You'd only offhandedly mentioned it last week that your lease would be up in two months. But you guessed he was the type to insist on listening and bookmarking every word you said.

And okay, maybe it would probably be considered fast to other people, but hadn't you been sort of seeing him for months before this anyway? Hadn't you already known him your whole life?

Fate had tied you together for so long, it just seemed like something inevitable.

"Only if you make me breakfast every morning," You bargained with a giggle, watching the smile spread across his lips, the comforter crinkling beneath your bodies.

He dusted your cheeks with more kisses, laughing when you squirmed underneath his heavy frame.

"Deal."

His knee slid up between your thighs, spreading them further apart and applying just enough pressure to make you gasp right as his mouth crossed over your jaw, all warm kisses and soft hands.

Satoru pulled up your shirt, getting it tangled over your head with a laugh before managing to toss it over to the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get your bra off, and his eyes immediately slid down to watch your breasts bounce, all pupils, the blue reduced to a thin strip around them.

Your pajama pants got practically ripped down your legs, pulling your panties down with it. He was stripping down next, hurrying to get his clothes off and almost ripping his shirt off in the process.

He buried his head between your thighs like he wanted to live there.

Licking and lapping every drop of you, dragging his tongue inside you and up over your clit, wrapping those pretty lips around it. Alternating between sucking hard and slow to sloppy and fast, chuckling when you moaned his name, head thrown back on his pillow and fingers clawing at the sheets.

He could laugh all he wanted - he was the one practically humping the bed, grinding down into it to soothe his own ache while you chased yours.

Hips bucking up to meet his mouth, whining every time his tongue traced another tantalizing pattern over your swollen bud.

You grabbed his hair, pushing his face down harder just for him to groan. The sound had you clenching around nothing, impatience seeping in before he abruptly pulled him up with a pout.

"I need you right now," You breathlessly murmured.

Satoru would never say no to you.

He was buried in you before you could even catch your breath, a huge hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you against him as he pushed every last inch in.

Kissing you through each thrust, reminding you what it meant to be his like this, what his love felt like, warmth and intimacy and butterflies. Your thighs around his waist and him wrapped around your finger.

His body was still all muscles, hard and firm, sharp hips sinking into your skin with each forceful stroke, but he was soft with you. Deliberately tender in each movement.

It didn't feel like a do-over anymore, or simply sex. Each moment meant more.

He meant more.

His lips ghosting over your cheeks, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face so he could stare straight through you, see you for you under all the baggage and issues. Promise to love you always in hushed whispers while you whimpered and nodded along, lost in the slow drag of his cock pumping inside you, the snug fit of his tip grinding against your cervix.

No interruptions. No setbacks.

Satoru Gojo was all yours.

#jjk #gojo satoru x reader

515 notes · View notes