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terminosdevozsuave · 24 days ago

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Cruel Summer - G.S.

Synopsis. The five times Gojo Satoru would rather díe than marry you, his (infuriatingly pretty, oh-so-irresistible) arranged fiancée - and the one time he comes back from déath to.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, arranged marriage AU, enemies-to-Iovers, 5 + 1 things, PINING, Geto and Shoko cameos, matíng press, big D, tummy buIges, GOJO’S POWERS, creampíes, maIe squírting, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, he’s FÉRAL, fíngering, chokíng, spítting, p talking, down bad Gojo, slight exhíbitíonism, making him PÚSSYDRÚNK, those Gege sketches, slight spoiIers, HAPPY ENDING, swéaring, pet names.

Word count. 11.5k

A/N. Oh y’all don’t know how those Gege drawings had me, I just had to…

“I’m never marrying you.”

“I’d rather marry a special grade curse than you.”

“Huh- I’m much hotter than a fuc-”

SLAM!

That sharp, pointed noise of a ceramic teacup hitting the winding table you were seated at had almost become ritual at this point. The first few jabs of an argument escaping the mouths of both you and the other heir being a signal for at least one of the grim elders to interrupt before either of you could ruin a four-hundred-year-old contract.

And with a stubborn huff, you’re leaning back into your seat on the tatami mat to appraise the boy opposite you.

Everything from his cropped, snowy bangs to the way his summer-blue eyes blazed into you. Honestly, if you closed your ears every time he spoke, he could almost be- nope, he was sticking his tongue out at you now.

The ever-mature Gojo Satoru; new head of the ancient Gojo clan, freshly-enrolled student at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

And your soon-to-be husband.

All cooped up in this traditional meeting room, one where generations of matches had been made and very rarely broken.

A coming-of-age ceremony, where the two of you had officially been declared leaders - and an engagement.

Your engagement.

It was a business transaction of sorts. One that didn’t require any input from either marrying parties, according to the council of elders who sat upon either side of the table and stroked their beards in smug success.

You’d heard that several clans had physically fought over this chance, before the Gojo clan ultimately chose you. And you knew why - you were one of the very few that had something to lose.

The chance to attend Tokyo Jujutsu High.

In short, play sorcerer all you want for three years, and in return they’d be free to enforce an old betrothal alliance between your two clans and demand a powerful new heir to jujutsu society - a win-win.

Though- looking at your reluctant fiancé, still donned in his dark silk robes from his ceremony, you wonder if you really should have just run away as your friends from Kyoto had urged you to.

And one look at Gojo’s scrunched-up face told you he might just be thinking the same thing. Delicate features marred. Pouty lips nothing of the whispered legends you’d heard of the young prodigy—a monster. A blessing. The strongest.

He sounded very much his age as he echoes, “I’m never marrying you.”

You open your mouth- “And I-”

“-will be part of young Satoru’s high school journey!” Your father puts a hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing. Becoming part of the Gojo clan was just as big of an opportunity for him as it was for you. Apparently. “We’re sure the young couple will get over their pre-wedding jitters by the time they’re back from graduation to continue their duties- right?”

A tap on your figure, that was your cue to answer.

Instead, you just turn your face towards Gojo, look him serenely in the eyes, the sweetest practiced smile on your face- and flip him off. Pre-wedding jitters your ass.

The gasps that cloud the stuffy summer meeting chamber atmosphere were almost comical. As if you’d just sprung out of your seat and made an attempt on the poor, sheltered heir’s life. Out of the corner of your vision, you think you see one member of the council clutch his heart and faint-

“Pffft–!” That slight snigger rips through the air in sheer contrast, and every pair of eyes in the room peaks curiously over at the way Gojo muffles a slight chuckle.

Your eyes widen, you think you liked him better like this.

Almost as if he’d just sensed your thoughts, he’s schooling his face into one of a steady lack of emotion, lightly clearing his throat.

Though, you catch the pointed tips of his ears scorching cherry-red.

“Where is the ring, boy.” Gojo’s father was a stern man, and his commanding voice was just as cut-throat. Seated right beside his son in a mirror image of you and your own father, he didn’t have to be loud to make Gojo’s spine stiffen almost unnoticeably still.

Ramrod-straight, silent- the younger version of the former head stuffs one hand between the fabrics of his yukata.

And you weren’t sure what sort of ring might be bestowed on you by the famed Gojo clan - you didn’t allow yourself to imagine it. Perhaps a clean silver to match their emblem? Perhaps studded with sapphires for their new head’s irises?

Whatever it may have been, you don’t get to find out.

Because in that moment, Gojo Satoru flashes you with the obnoxious plastic pink of a ring pop. The very same kind you’d sneak out of your estate to buy from that little corner shop down the road, fifty yen maximum.

“Satoru.”

Make that twenty yen.

“What?” His voice almost lilts into a whine as he responds to his father - trying oh-so-hard to pretend nothing was wrong, and this was totally the silver heirloom engagement ring of his family. Just…smelling slightly of artificial strawberry.

Gojo senior pinches his nosebridge, “I swear to- if you are not serious about that damn- school-”

“It’s alright!” Your fiancé seems just as bewildered at your interruption as you are, and you narrow your eyes enough to tell him that if he messed up your chances at going to Jujutsu High then his blood would be on your hands. Strongest or not. Reaching out your left arm, “I don’t mind, truly.”

And while the rest of the chamber murmurs, Gojo leans over the table to slip his mocking engagement ring onto your finger. To be married. To be his.

Holding your hand in his larger, slightly roughened ones, “I’d rather die than marry you.” He’s crouching to whisper in a heated pant, each syllable sticking to your skin. Only mostly meaning it.

And you whisper back into his furiously pink ear—“And I’d rather marry a special grade curse.”

Gojo Satoru met you in the summer, like one of those heat-induced fever dreams.

Okay, perhaps that wasn’t the best comparison- but in his defense, penning flowery literature was never his best subject after he nearly caused a clan rift by comparing Zenin Jinichi to a bullfrog.

It was a compliment, really!

But you were a whirlwind, one that left his world tilted and his skin sizzling with heat in the aftermath- in a bad way, of course! You were a bad fever dream - a pretty one, sure, dressed in your most decadent cerulean robes and a withering glare - but still one of those you think back to even months later.

Even nearly a year later when he’s sixteen and had insisted on walking up the ancient stone steps of Tokyo Jujutsu High without his entourage of attendants and elders.

“Hello hello—” Gojo’s running his pale fingers through even paler, short hair to free it of pinkish cherry blossom petals. Looming around the naturally green gardens of campus, “Where is- oh!”

Just as soon as he was about to tug his opaque, round sunglasses off to inspect whether it would impress his fellow students- that lady working at the store said so, so it must be, he bought twenty-five! Gojo spots a figure leaned against one of the ancient oaks by the dorms.

That velvety blue of the dress code was one that he could recognize anywhere after so many years of yearning for it.

And before he can stop himself, he’s sprinting towards the dark blob as fast as his lanky legs could take him. Calling out, “Yoohooo–! Your one and only favorite classmate is here~”

“Ieri–!”

“Wait-”

“You-”

So caught up in both your excitements to meet your new classmate - one of Utahime’s friends who happened to be your age - you two didn’t notice the one, single thing that you two couldn’t deny. Right by your side.

Your betrothed.

You snarl, stopping short. “What are you doing here-” And he does, too, hands haughtily planted on either side of his slender hips as he leans in close.

Snapping at you, the brief glimpse of his electric blue eyes sends goosebumps down your body. “I could ask the same from you. Couldn’t resist my charms so you had to follow me, hm~?”

“I’m here to learn, obviously. Why are you here- to get exorcised?”

“Take that back! I’m here to learn, too.”

You knew that it was part of your betrothal contract that the two of you would attend Tokyo Jujutsu High, you knew that the two of you would end up seeing each other one way or the other. And you already knew your clan stowed that stupid pink ring away deeply at the bottom of your suitcase (where you’d hopefully never have to see it ever again).

But you still raise a brow at the flashy designer stamping on his shades. “…Really?”

And Gojo could’ve taken disgust- hell, he would have even welcomed anger.

But that genuine, wondering confusion in your tone as you swept your eyes up n’ down his defensive stature made him flush- “H-how dare you- duel me. Right here, right now.”

“Haaah? You would duel your future wife?”

“Scared?”

“No, just wondering why you didn’t ask sooner.”

Scoffing, both of you dart your heads in unison to the girl with the shortly-cut hair that was following your argument like the fiercest of tennis matches. Immediately turning ashen-faced at your attention, and damn near devastated when Gojo happily keens. “Bob girl! Can you keep score of-”

“No.” She deadpans.

Frankly, you wondered just how she managed to sound as if she’s seen every horror there was to see in the world already. Possibly because she already had, right there, but Shoko doesn’t spend her time answering your unspoken question.

Too busy digging in her jacket pocket for-

“Cigarettes!” Gojo squeals, never having seen someone his age take a puffed-out drag of one so close-up before. The clan always detested anything that would ‘stain the purities of the body’- and right now, Ieri Shoko looked like she couldn’t handle sitting there one more second longer if she didn’t have one.

He points a lengthy finger your way, accusatory. “I blame you for this- somehow- you must have corrupted her with your ways and made her feel all strange like you did me.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah? I blame you for our marriage-”

And he’s uttering for the second time, “Oh yeah? Well, I’m never marrying-”

But just as Gojo was about to whirl on his feet and flick out a few cursed tendrils of energy like he’d taught himself. He was thinking of calling this one ‘Blue’ after that shade of your robes the first time you met, and the way you were about to be it’s first-

A deep voice cuts off his train of traitorous thoughts- “Yeah- mhm, I’ve gotta go. My new classmates are here.”

A new-comer.

And the black-haired boy looks as if he’d no sooner flip his cellphone closed to end his ongoing call and pretend he never walked out of the dorms than join whatever mess he’d just walked in on.

Amethyst eyes slowly swivelling underneath his tied-back bangs to look at a fuming Gojo…to an equally-matched you…to Shoko, already chain-smoking her fifth cigarette away by now.

“Actually…could you stay on the line for a bit longer, momma.”

“It’s legal if it’s personal property, isn’t it?”

You groan, “It’s not your personal-”

He quickly taps the polished handle- “Now it is.”

“That’s…” You’re squinting your eyes, as if it will somewhat blur and spare you the sight of Gojo Satoru attempting to steal that shiny red moped parked at the outer edge of campus. If anything happened, you didn’t want to go through the hassle of getting called in as a witness, at least.

Shoko puts you out of your misery as the one voice of reason, “Yeah, that’s a lie.”

Geto cups a hand over his gaze to fight off the breaking rays of sunset, voice amused. “Well, I don’t see any cameras here.”

“Perfect—!” Gojo sings, clapping his hands together as he stares over his ridiculously gaudy glasses. It was nearing the end of first year, early December wind your fifth uninvited guest as the four of you chose to stay over in the dorms for your first high school holidays. “The key’s still here so we can sneak out, buy me the best birthday cake in Tokyo- no, in all of Japan, and sneak back in right before grump ol’ Yaga-”

“Sneak off from who-”

And, there, was aforementioned grumpy ol’ Yaga.

Running at full speed toward your deviant little group from the top of Jujutsu High’s stairway. Which, considering the tough, rocky path, wasn’t too fast at all- but the four of you just bolt.

Faster than you’ve seen anyone move during any cursed mission, if you’re being quite honest.

Shoko running, phone in hand with a suspiciously blinking camera light that meant she was recording the entire ordeal. Geto urgently twisting his fingers into what you’d learned was his summoning technique - he’d meant to call his Rainbow Dragon for a rapid escape, but ended up manifesting the massive, sleek form of his Giant Catfish who scooped him up into the murky depths of its mouth and slithered away.

And Gojo?

Oh, Gojo was letting out the most impressive high pitched squeal before he’s slamming something hard, and helmet-shaped on top of your head.

“Wh- hey!” Before you can even register it, two massive hands are grabbing onto your waist to sit you down on the cushioned back of the moped. Backwards. “Wrong way-”

“I don’t know how to drive!”

Your feet hitting the side, your back hitting Gojo’s larger one, it takes only a singular split-second for him to jam that lil’ key and speed off down the stony path of the campus. With Professor Yaga yelling from behind and you yelping, “Gojo I’m gonna kill you-”

“My bad, I meant to grab Yaga.” He’s grumbling at you from the front, the roll of his eyes practically carrying on the whipping wind.

“Yaga would’ve known how to seat a kidnapee-”

“You want to touch me?”

“…No”

“Scared?”

Your wide eyes watch the disorienting way the lush nature of the Jujutsu High passes by, as if you were stuck in a kaleidoscope. “No.”

He only hums, finally getting used to controlling the vehicle enough that he was mostly sure he wouldn’t crash into every upcoming tree. “Prove it~”

Wordlessly, Gojo slows down enough that you won’t be part of his definitely-opportune traffic accident as you shift your body ‘round. The faux leather cover creaking! once you rover your palms onto his shoulders for balance- “There.”

“Ever seen anyone hold onto the driver like this? Ya prude-”

“Fine-” You’re cutting him off- cutting yourself off by clinging your hands in a neat knot around Gojo’s firm core. And through the flashing shard of the side-view mirrors, you catch the way his ears burn. “You better not get an erection.”

Okay, only partly sure he wouldn’t crash into an oncoming tree.

The deep timbre of his voice cracks- “H-hey!” You knew how to push his buttons just so. “Gods- why’d it have to be you?”

“And why’d it have to be you.”

The part he doesn’t say out loud is that it would’ve been stranger if it was anyone else.

Not that you needed to hear it- of course not, you were still his infuriating, bold- stubborn fiancée who was forced onto him, after all.

Yet, to Gojo who’s held close by you, and to you who was clinging onto him for dear life as the haven of Jujutsu High melts into the bustling city, he doesn’t think he’s had a more peaceful birthday.

It takes fifteen minutes for the two of you to ride to that cozy convenience store on the outskirts of Tokyo, and what felt like hours (but in reality was five minutes) to give up on convincing the elderly clerk that you both were totally not a couple out for an after-school joyride.

And then - as if the universe was directing its very own prank at your expense - only three for Gojo to grow impatient and throw a tantrum swerving the moped to and fro until you finally tore open that packet of sparklers bought as birthday celebrations.

Honestly, what else did you expect from a man who organized his own surprise birthday party?

“Cake? Check. These things? Check. Happy birthday to me~” He’s tipping the starlit firework upside down to draw bands of gold in the darkening air. “Must be in the top seventeen birthdays I’ve ever had-”

You scoff, your breath emitted as a small cloud. “You’ve only had seventeen.”

“It just dropped down to eighteenth thanks to you-” And you swear you see the strongest outline a dick in the air with his sparkler, you swear he purposefully made it bigger than the one you’d drawn. “And nineteenth if we get arrested for the moped.”

In response, you draw the biggest dick. One with his face.

You were parked on the side of a lazy road, only the occasional car and Gojo’s wonderment breaking the tense silence - perhaps the most civil one you’ve had in years.

It was odd being out with Gojo Satoru. No sniping over your betrothal, and if he tried hard enough- he could pretend that there was none. That there might be. But for now, the two of you were just two classmates sneaking out to ransack your local stores, “If we do get arrested, I’m blaming you.”

He nods, dramatically. Bumping his broad deltoid against yours, “As husband, that would be my duty.”

“So…” You’re blinking, your own sparkler’s ashy ends drooping onto the ground. There was no doubt on your mind that Geto would not have mercy on the two of you for finishing about half of these sticks. But you had something else on your mind right now, “You’re saying you don’t mind-”

“Wait. wait, no, that’s not what I meant. O-of course I mind!” And Gojo doesn’t give you the time to call out the way his breath gasps- the way his voice shakes, the way he’s flushing. Furious, “Never- in my right mind- would I marry you.”

A ring of gold from the dying sunlight wraps around your irises and irritates him so much when you finally look away to rustle your hand inside the numerous shopping bags.

Airily musing, “Then, I guess as my not-ever-husband you wouldn’t want your not-ever-wife to gift you this-”

“I take it back, I’m marrying you.”

If the elders of your clan knew that all it took for Gojo Satoru to accept the betrothal would be a packet of extra, extra-caramelized popcorn then they would have had the two of you married off by yesterday.

“Make no mistake, this was meant for me.” It wasn’t. You did eye this particular brand too long before swiping it off the shelf and paying when he wasn’t looking. You did think of nothing but the plastic ring burning a hole deeply inside your skirt pocket. And the way he’d whined and thrown himself on the floor of the nearby theatre on your last outing to the city, when Geto refused to buy him caramel popcorn.

So you’d bought it- to shut him up and spare your poor throbbing temples, if anything. Of course.

But you can’t help the words that tumble out of your mouth at the glowing expression gracing his features. “But- here- happy…birthday. I’m not getting you anything for the next ten years.”

He’s silent.

Pondering.

And he can’t think of anything more flat than a little ‘thank you.’

The red, red metallic bag with enough sugar content to put anyone but Gojo Satoru into a coma sits carefully where you’d plopped it into his arms. And he looks at it with the sort of twinkle in his eyes that you’d never seen before. “Well…If I brought Yaga instead of you, he wouldn’t have bought me this.”

“I take it back-”

“Thank you.” Almost as if realizing those awful, treacherous two words himself, he backtracks with a sputter. Strange, he should bug Shoko into doing some sort of heart check-up on him soon. “W-we’re married for as long as I eat these. And after that? Divorce, sweetheart.”

Pretending to wipe your forehead in relief, “Thank goodness-”

“Oi-”

“What-”

And with your grumblings and partially-filled bags in tow, he’s fastening the singular helmet on you - so fast that you think he might’ve just taken advantage of his powers to do so.

Just to watch you strangle out in what was definite annoyance as he pets the plastic top as if you were a child. Smack, smack!

“I’d be a good husband- not that you’d ever know.” Gojo sticks his tongue out at you, vrrrrr—ing the moped engine so that your snarky reply gets drowned out. “And next time I am bringing Yaga instead.”

He takes back those words soon enough when Yaga catches the two of you right at the gates of Jujutsu High. Trying to race back away on his brand-new moped.

“So- you see” Long, white lashes flutter rapidly, “Take pity on your poor, sheltered student. The Gojo elders really didn’t teach me-”

“I should’ve set the mission sooner so that I could be rid of-”

Geto pipes up above Professor Yaga’s booming lecture, a hand raised in every ounce of solemn discipline that his best friend didn’t show. Another mission. Constant. “In my defense, it was his idea.”

Valentine’s day. Also the early first day of second year; and it only brought about more missions, a couple more students as first-years, and a slightly-longer haired thorn at your side betrothed. And, apparently, this - three annoying, grating voices muffling through the gaps of your dorm’s front door.

“I call shots on not answering to that.” Utahime pipes up where she was sprawled out on your bed and knitting her brows at your interrupted girl time. It’s not often that she gets time off from Kyoto to bother her only friends in Tokyo.

Snickering at Shoko’s absent-minded ‘ditto’ and Haibara’s- why was he even here, anyway - “I could! But maybe you should do it, he is your fiancé!”

Utahime cackles, face twisting from mirth to disgust when she inspects that plastic ring from where she’d dug it up from your drawer. “On Valentine’s day, too- oh I would rather die if I were you.”

It takes you a few moments to realize that all three occupants of your bedroom were staring at you for an answer. Pointing at yourself, “M-me?” Facing Haibara, “And why do you know that- you’ve been here for a day.”

He smiles, dazzling. “Ah, Gojo-senpai was telling us- it was why Nanami was trying to call home and leave.”

“Oooo, you heard the man.” Shoko presses a few buttons on her phone, and you hear the suspicious beep–! of the camera starting. Only incriminating herself further when she’s raising it upwards and flapping her hands forwards to urge you to open the door.

You groan, “Next time, we are not having girl’s night in my roo- wait.” And it had never caused you any trouble to leave and enter your dorm, it had never taken you more than a gentle push to open your door. So why was it that it just refused to open right now- “What the-”

It’s as if the door was locked from the outside somehow.

Shoko leans in further with her recording camera as you prod, as you turn your shoulder to hit the wooden pane and shove-

“Why- isn’t this-” You’re hissing through grit teeth, feet planting firmly on the surface and cracking open the bedroom door inch by inch. Gasping, “-open-ing–!”

And the sight before you was one you’d remembered for years.

Not just because smack-dab front n’ center to your vision was a pathetically kneeling Gojo Satoru, cowering in front of your looming teacher- but because of what was actually blocking your entryway.

It wasn’t some lock on the outside as you’d suspected, it wasn’t a large desk or anything of the sort. It was a massive, heaping pile of buttons.

Gold with bits of purple. So many that it was almost as tall as your door.

“What. The. Hell.” Your deadpan voice cuts Gojo off in the midst of some complaint to Yaga about ‘why is it named the Vessel Mission anyway, that’s stupid.’ And three sets of eyes snap to you as they finally register your entrance.

“Ah…” Geto’s the first one to break the silence of your impromptu staring match, even though Gojo was pointedly staring away. Eyes twitching the longer his best friend stared at the mountain of buttons on your doorstep, he looked exhausted. “Satoru, care to explain?”

He’s gulping, “You see, this all has a very reasonable explanation and a very reasonable line of thinking-”

“It’s all Satoru’s fault-”

“What-”

“Of course, it is.” Yaga rubs his aching temples, as he often seemed to do whenever he was around his group of second-years for just a minute too long. The older man turns to you with a weary, tired expression - and you make note of his dark circles, “This is the fifth pile of second buttons I cleaned from your door today- this hour.”

Ah, that explained it.

And it feels like your brain had just short-circuited, “Oh…wait- second buttons-?” Nevermind how he’d come across so many. Bought, most likely.

“I told you the elders taught me nothing-” Gojo squawks, scrambling onto his feet. He’s flailing his hands about, it was not his fault he didn’t know that second button meant…a confession. Or the fact that Geto hadn’t bothered to tell him and only watched with an easy smile as he made a fool of himself. “It was a prank- a prank! And his idea- he helped! I was going to block your door with buttons-”

“-second buttons.”

“-and make you all huffy and puffy that way you get-”

“-on Valentine’s day.” You’re finishing off, arms crossed. Carefully scrutinizing up at him- he hadn’t come across a growth spurt since last semester, he’d rammed into one at full speed. You shudder, in disgust, surely. “Did the elder’s hypnotize you or is there something you’re not telling me…”

And he hates it.

He hates how you look right through him in a way that induces some sort of heart condition in him- and Gojo would know, he’s visited every doctor in Tokyo just because of it. They all laughed.

One even wrote up his letter of resignation.

Sputtering, ears pink in anger- and Gojo was glad that his pale hair had grown out just enough to cover it. Strangely. “Y-you wish, ex-wife.”

You’re swatting the back of his soft locks, and Geto doesn’t note how Gojo seemed to have put down limitless so you could swat him.

“Dickhead.”

“Delinquent.”

“Blind mouse-”

Gasping, he clutches onto the frame of his shades. “Oh, now I really don’t wanna marry you-”

Yaga’s had enough.

“Enough!”

One of the veins near the side of his forehead nearly pops, and you step back with a wince at the oncoming scream- Gojo shuffling behind as if he was bravely offering you up for sacrifice.

“Enough- enough with the- the confessions-” Yaga spears a finger straight at Gojo’s directions and speaks over his protests. “-and the flirting! Flirt after the mission-” Then at you, and you could hear your friends cackling from either side. “Detention for everyone!”

Dammit- another line on your divorce document.

You didn’t get to ‘flirt’ after that Star Plasma mission - not that you would, but still.

In fact, you didn’t get to do all that much after tasting death so close to your little haven at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

And life goes on, sometimes leaving those behind.

And other times honing others who choose to stay and snap-

“It’s Suguru.”

“I know.”

The defection of Geto Suguru. The murder of his parents. His mother.

Your voice was more empty than he’d ever heard it- and he wanted you to scream at him, he wanted you to sob. Anything and everything other than the trained, stable tone that clashed against everything he was feeling right now.

But you only stare out into the yolky yellow tint beaming over the sprawling grounds. Sat on the flat, stone staircase of campus with your knees hugged to your chest- and he was close enough on the steps to hear your low mutter. “I’ll be leaving, too.”

Gojo’s head snaps to you- “What?”

“It’s my clan.” You’re swallowing, refusing to look at him directly. And that in and of itself almost hurt as much as when you did- and, for perhaps the first time, he’d rather have his heart race in those strange little palpitations. Right now, it was just heavy. “And yours. They don’t think it’s safe for a ‘future Gojo bride’ to be so close to danger.”

“Then we won’t marry.” He’s declaring, snowy brows set stubbornly.

“I know.” You lilt your head back to watch the sluggishly swimming clouds above, likely the last time you will from here. The council will be here tomorrow, and with them, your departure. You had that silly pink ring on your little finger, he notices. “I’m leaving.”

“I already said we won’t-”

“No, dickhead. I’m leaving.”

Widened, quivering blue peripherals lock onto you- and Gojo’s rosy lips part into a soft oh!

He knew what you meant- hell, when he first wanted to enroll in this damn school, he’d threatened to leave the clan over and over until they’d finally relented. And suddenly he’s hit with the loss of his little group - no more missions, no more convenience store runs, no more you.

You were to graduate in a year, with only half the students left in both your grade and the one below. Nanami wasn’t even going to become a sorcerer anymore, not after Haibara.

And he knew - he just felt - that you won’t be there for it. That you might never be.

How he wished to run, too.

“Utahime’s friends with that one special grade sorcerer- Yuki Tsukumo. I’m leaving with her today to continue training my own way.” You’re continuing, hands flexing in your lap. “And leaving the clan. Officially.”

Huffing, “What? Gonna leave your poor husband at the altar—?”

“Like I’ve always wanted to.”

“Without even a kiss for the bride?” And he doesn’t know why he says it. Even more, he doesn’t know why he holds the line of your gaze and can’t bear to look away, even as his heart starts up that familiarly strange ba-dump–! rattling his chest.

The tips of his ears tinging the very same blood-red as the sun now, Gojo thinks he can hear his eardrums whistling once you lean in. Once you close your eyes. And once you press your lips to his plush, soft ones for a mere single second.

“There-” You’re murmuring, trying to sound stern even though the waver in your voice gives you away. “Now you’ve been deflowered and can’t complain. You’re an absolute curse, you know that?”

And, suddenly, he gets it.

Oh, so that was why all those cardiologists he visited laughed at him for about a year straight.

He gets it.

Chuckling bitterly, of course. Of course, he has to understand now. Of course, he loses every shred of sun just as soon as he closes his hands- because for what reason should a weapon crave normalcy? Crave sealed fate? For what right should he demand that you stay here to bind you to him?

His mouth quivers, head turning so that you won’t see the wet glitter of his eyes in the dying daybreak. “So now I’m a special grade and a curse? Does that make me the special grade curse you want to marry?”

Your flip phone buzzes, and he already knows it’s time. Standing up, “You had the curse part down pat even before you were a special grade. Probably why your bride’s running off, Satoru.”

It was the fifth and last time that Gojo Satoru would be declaring that stupid sentiment. Smile only half-true. It was a cruel summer.

But he always was good at waiting.

Gojo tugs on that cold second button of his uniform, calling out in place of a goodbye. “Good thing we won’t be getting married, sweetheart~”

Itadori Yuji has spied on his teacher’s phone before.

He didn’t mean to–he swears it! And was it even that much of an invasion of privacy if he simply glanced over at the glaring lockscreen wallpaper? Surely, it wouldn’t have been as bad as if he had peered over Gojo’s shoulder when he actually unlocked his phone…

…Okay maybe he had seen a snapshot of the older man’s home screen as well, but like he said- it was an accident. Flickering his curious eyes over as he opened up his catalogue of movies during their training together.

But what wasn’t an accident was just how vividly he remembered each wallpaper.

On his lockscreen; taken from the inside of what looked like one of Tokyo Jujutsu High’s dorms, with a massive pile of toppling buttons in the center and a much younger Gojo Satoru (and someone who looked faintly like Kenjaku?) kneeled on the floor. Clearly being punished.

Yet, what was most interesting was the scowling, arms-crossed figure of another student he was staring up at. Unable to tear his eyes away, even through his shades.

It was you.

That familiar face also featured in Gojo’s home screen - a more blurry photo, this time, as if it was still in motion. Of his teacher in the process of scrambling onto a shiny red moped, keys turning, with you stowed away in the backseat - yelling and sat backwards.

And Itadori tried not to think much of it, but he saw you in the small framed photograph that Principal Yaga pretended not to have on his desk, yet, polished every day.

He saw you in the postcards that Professor Shoko pinned up on the packed bulletin board of her infirmary, amongst diagrams of dissections and slaughter. He saw you in the brief, blurry facetime that the other teacher, Utahime, from Kyoto was on during parts of the exchange event.

And he saw you at the foot of Gojo Satoru’s bed, after he’d won.

Older, more mature now - but inevitably you.

Itadori could tell, even in the forlorn way you were slumped over the side of the mattress in Shoko’s clinic, body half-seated on a chair like you’d been there all night.

“You…” He’s breathing, making you stir against his will.

You blinky your teary eyes up in groggy confusion, fingers instinctively tightening on the large, callused fingerpads of Gojo’s digits. “Huh? Oh, you must be Yuji. And Megumi, and Nobara.”

Itadori was just about to open his mouth and answer that no, he was actually just Yuji- when a disgruntled voice behind him makes him realize he isn’t alone. “We apologize for the trouble, we can come back later if you-”

“Oh, no no.” You wave Fushiguro’s words off as the three enter - well, as Fushiguro enters and Kugisaki shoves Itadori inside. “I’m sure he’d want everyone here when he wakes.”

Gojo had won in Shinjuku, but Satoru was still sleeping.

Famed eyes closed. Bundled in the arms of bandages and reverse cursed energy ‘round his toned middle, he was breathing in slow unison with the beep! of the nearby heart monitor. Alive.

You really did have Shoko to thank later.

And Itadori knew that as a student he should be more invested in how his unconscious teacher was doing, but he just couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances over and over. Wondering just who you really were-

“So, is the wedding going to be anytime soon?”

Fushiguro speaks, and the rest of the trio gapes. How dare he ask something like that from a sorcerer so lovely. And wait- why were you chuckling? “Oh right-” Nodding down at Gojo’s large form, of course, he told his honorary son everything. “I am his fiancée.”

“His what-”

“How much did he pay you-”

“Kugisaki, don’t be rude-”

Fushiguro nods, “No, she’s right.”

“Unfortunately, only this.” You’re scrunching your nose as you answer Kugisaki’s question- pulling out a tiny chain from underneath your uniform with an aged, faded pink plastic ring pop.

And she responds like she’d been personally wronged, dragging her hands carefully down her eye-patched face. “Ohhh- I knew it- not only is he a deadbeat teacher, he’s a deadbeat husband, too.”

“To be fair I did leave him. Of sorts.” You wave a hand airily, already having heard from Ijichi about the fate of the higher-ups. The clans. Over the younger girl’s ‘understandable!’ “I just landed in Tokyo today, I wish I could’ve come sooner but- ah, well.”

“B-but…” Everyone looks at Itadori as he stammers out, cheeks burning a slight rouge once your hand drifts over Gojo’s exposed core. Whispering in one breath, “How did he get a wife so pretty…”

“Hey- that’s my wife you’re talking about.”

You could recognize that smug, simpering tone anywhere. You’d be able to pick it out from a crowd of thousands.

Laughing- as he’s tackled into a hug by an overeager Itadori, and the falsely reluctant rest.

It was quite strange to see Gojo Satoru like this - not just laid barren and sprawled over some hospital bed, but without any of his usual blindfolds and sunglasses. Just like when you’d met. And he always was so honest with his eyes.

And he was back.

And you were back - after ten years.

Which is why Itadori and Kugisaki have to fight the urge to look away at the expression settling over Gojo’s serene face. Wondering how you - his fiancée, of all things - would react. Winning against the King of Curses was quite the accomplishment, even for the strongest.

Would you cry? Would you throw your hands over him as they just did? Should they actually get up and leave the room-

“You- you complete idiot.” Gojo half-wonders whether your strength could rival Sukuna himself once you strike down a punch to his scarred shoulder. Yelling, glaring- crushing him into a hug.

Your voice is suspiciously thick once you’re gurgling out into the pale crook of his neck, “I thought you said you’d rather die than marry me.”

And they don’t know what they’re more surprised about- the way that Gojo had the audacity to say those words to you, or the way that Gojo had the audacity to listen to those very words and laugh. Head thrown back, “Sweetheart, I’d come back from death just to marry you.”

Pulling away, you take the longest look at your betrothed that you think you ever have.

Everything from his longer, still-snowy hair, tickling the tips of sparkling sapphire eyes. Slightly slicked back to reveal shyly red-dusted ears, and a cute lil’ dimple at the edge of his boyish grin.

He was still the same Gojo you’d left behind - even though he was taller, stronger. So much bigger that you could feel the flex of his deltoids underneath your palms, and the ripple of his beefy forearms looped around your waist.

He was still Gojo. Always beautiful.

SLAM!

“O-oh.” You’re jolting at the sudden closing of the clinic door, clearly his students had left the two of you to some privacy, and you’re almost embarrassed. “We’re an awful example.”

“When have we ever been a good example?”

“Well, I could say that about you-”

He only tugs you closer, breathing out as if the first breath he’d taken in a while since Shinjuku. Since you’d been gone. “I missed my wife.” And the two of you knew you should alert Shoko by now, but you only stay still- with you nearly in his bed by now.

For what felt like hours. Years.

“Yeah? Well, I- I missed you, too. I thought I lost you.” You wince, “I’m sorry for departing so suddenly.”

It was sincere - but the feeling of Gojo’s smirk pressing up against the side of your thumping pulse almost makes you reconsider it. “I know how you can make it up to me, wifey~”

Scoffing, he was really ramming up the ‘marriage’ part of your relationship by now. “Nothing with buttons or mopeds or-”

“No no-” Lurching back slightly, the plush, puckered fringes of his lips lean in oh-so-closely. Until you could practically taste the saccharine sugar of his heated breath, “You know, I never got to kiss the bride.”

Oh.

Then he’s kissing you- and you’re kissing him. And it’s all that you’ve ever wanted with the sharp, pointed ends of Gojo’s canines digging into your bottom lip to drag you back.

Drinking you in like a man parched- he’s finding life in your mouth. Slipping his tongue in past the spit-glossed crevice of your mouth and uttering a hot pant. “Please-” Manhandling you with his strong, scarred arms up to straddle him on the rickety mattress. “Please.”

And you’ve never heard the strongest beg like this.

Never heard him flutter his droopy lashes and look at you through starved, feral eyes. A translucent bubble of spittle sparkling by the end of his swollen lips, “P-please.”

Never heard him stutter.

Clearly he’s reading something in your sultry eyes because Gojo’s hastily shuffling the two of you down the bedsprings. Head hitting the puff of his pillows, your ass hitting his sharp pelvis.

Your fiancé holds you upright and rubs a clawing hand doooown the back of your spine, toying with the metallic zipper on your sorcerer’s uniform skirt. “Fuck that about hah- not marrying you.” He’s crooning out in a throaty tone, strands of white nearly covering his greedy gaze. “M’ready to consummate our marriage right here, right now.”

“B-but Satoru- you just woke up-”

“So?” There’s something deep n’ dark in his tone that made shivers skitter up your spine. Attempting to clench your thighs together but all it does is make your outer pussy push against the smooth path of his white happy trail. “Your husband’s the strongest, sweetheart.”

And then you’re being roughened up- then your skirt’s bearing the brunt of being almost torn clean off your hips.

Gojo barely even registered his power, not giving two shits if it meant that he got to admire your pale blue panties up close and personal. A firm hand groping your right cheeks help push your clothed pussy up until your slit strikes the edge of his chin, thighs now straddling his pretty, pretty face.

Rosy lips purring over that darkening wet splotch between your legs, “Bon appétit.”

“Shut up and just- oh, fuck!”

He’s flopping the pinkish crown of his tongue out just enough to dab a lil’ dewdrop of spit between your swollen pussylips. And it’s just all that it takes for the first taste of your saccharine pussy to coat his tastebuds-

“O-oh!” He gasps, his hazed peripherals widen. You’re faintly registering the way that the shiny overhead lights of the private room flicker-

Gojo grins as you gape, “Did you just…”

“Guess m’not in control anymore.” He’s snickering, stuffing himself nose-deep into your cunt. And there’s such a primal hunger in him, the way he’s not even caring for your poor, sodden panties before he’s hanging his jaw open and slide-slide-sliiiiding the edge of his mushy tongue up n’ down your folds. “Heh-” A light goes out somewhere down the corridor. “Whoops.

He’s whacking his jawline on the soft inner parts of your thighs and it still isn’t close enough. Tilting his head just so to slip his damp muscle between your ruined fabric.

“Shit- shit, your tongue is sooo big.” You find yourself keening, hips rocking back and forth at a mindless pace. And, truly, you now knew why Gojo talked so much because his tongue was so-very-lengthy, already circlin’ your sticky hole, “Like you better- hck! better like this.”

And the way he looks at you gets you even more drenched, haplessly watching as Gojo opens his throat wide enough to let the cloying droplets of your slick fall down to his maw.

“Oh yeaaaah–?” Gurgling already with the beads of sap that soak the lower half of his face, he’s starin’ you right into your fluttering eyes once he’s tugging your panties to snap! back on your heated core with an index. “Whaddaya gonna do about it?”

Before you can answer - before you can even think, the very tippy-top dome of his fingertip coils slimily down your naked slit. He feels you - so soft n’ warm - for the first time and pants. “Gonna ngh- argue with me from here to make up for it? Hmmm—?”

Almost as if on cue, your pert pussy is letting out the rawest lewd squeeelch at his touch. Bucking wildly, “Are you all talk or what ngh-”

“Looks like you’re all talk.” And you seriously were so wet that it was dripping down Gojo’s handsome chin, rovering a few more solid inches of his index to keep pryin’ your cunt apart with a wet plap!

Then a second inch- and a second finger.

His probing fingers are so big that the gummy channels of your walls have to mold to each size and measurement just to take him. “Look at ya- taking me in sooo well but ya don’t even- sit-” One of his hands claws on your left ass cheek to hold you down where you were hovering your weight, the other sinking in—

You’re squealing at the press of his thick, knobbled middle finger curving against one of your most tender spots. “What if I suffocate-”

“Then suffocate me.”

“You just came back to life.”

“I came back to life just to ngh- see this pretty pussy.” Gojo snarls up at you, tugging you down. Pulling you. Manhandling you. He just wanted to French kiss your pussy until he had that smart mouth of yours stupid. And those silly lil’ panties were a barrier-

Within seconds, he has shreds of your underwear tattered and ripped between his pearly whites.

Looking like a fucking animal once he’s finally sitting you down properly and stuffing himself so deep that you nearly see his pale, straight nosebridge disappear between your folds.

Snaking his tongue to stuff and stuff where two of his fingers were pumping in n’ out in n’ out in n’ out. You were being dually stuffed open, the sting of him stretchin’ you out and swiping the gooey bottom of your core just delicious.

“Don’t mind- haaaa-” Breaths ragged, movements sloppy. Gojo wastes no time in pursuing his delicate lips and spitting, “-dying now that I got ta see her. Now that I got to- hck- taste.”

Hand shaking where he slides it along your thigh, breaths stuttered.

He’s feeling your slick waterfall down with every lap and slash of his tongue, bearing no mercy. Your thighs rendered all jittery and sleek with a sheen of syrup every time he flicked the tip of his tastebuds on top of your clit.

“I’ve been so fucking thirsty- sooooo fucking thirsty.” Gojo whines, and you swear his baritone voice cracks. Hitches. Hips rutting up into the empty air, “You know how long I’ve wanted this- do you have any. Fucking. Idea?”

He sounds genuinely ruined, spitting back into your treacly pussy just to follow the wad dooown the seam of your pussy with his tongue.

A third finger puckers ‘round the edge of your entrance, and you’re whining once Gojo lazily slugs the first pad inside and scrapes the roof of your cunt. “Please- since when- ngh- s-since…”

Giggling, higher-pitched than usual. “Oh, sweetheart- you don’t even wanna know.” You’re whimpering when he’s swatting down the velvety edge of his tongue on your sensitive nub three times before pulling away. Smack-smack-smack. “Spit in my mouth n’ I’ll tell you, h-heh.”

Breathless, “What did you just ask—?”

“Scared?”

And Gojo’s pale brows raise when you’re hunching forwards just enough to grab his clammy cheeks, streaming out a glittery streak of spittle straight into his ajar mouth. “Not if it gets you t-to- shut up-”

You spit in his mouth, and from the slightly-angled turn of your head you catch the way that his throbbing erection twitches.

His fingers thwack so hard your very bones rattle, and Gojo drools the knot of slick straight back through your hole. Letting the jointed bumps of his digits stretch rub your pussy all red and raw from the inside.

“That’s it that’s it.” He’s goading you on, scouring the searchlights of his digits inside of you for that one fragile target. And you’re feeling him poke his fingertips into the nooks n’ crannies near your g-spot, making you see stars. “I’ve wanted you to shut me up- use my ngh- face since I fucking knew what it was. Heh- if you’re not scared-”

“As if I’d be scared-”

“Prove it. Ride me.”

“I am-”

“Not enough.” Within just a single blink of your glassy eyes, Gojo’s raising his non-dominant hand up with enough cursed energy that the neglected ol’ blindfold strewn on the edge of his bed flies into his grasp.

Twisting his thick fingers over the silken fabric, circling it over your neck and immediately hauling you further down- “Ride me. Ride the st-strongest like you own it- h-haaaah- I’m your husband, aren’t I?”

With every word, with every second he’s thrashing four exact strikes of his fingertips scraping your poor g-spot. Slurring out a damp sluuurp every time your sheeny pussylips are gobbling him up.

“Yes- hck! yes.”

Grumbling, sleazy grin just glued to the knobbly tip of your clit. “Yeah- yeah, then use me like I am.”

Kissing right back every time he’s surging his head up and mazing the flexible ends of his tongue muckily. It’s so wet n’ long that you’re damn near feeling the scrape of his tastebuds by your favorite spot, sloppily—“D-don’t think m’gonna last, Satoru.”

Gojo audibly, pornographically moans as you start carnally hastening your tempo.

Cumming on his face- fuck, this was the wettest of his dreams all those long, lonely nights. In response he only latches his strawberry-pink lips against your cunt further, feeling every hot gush flood his throat.

And you were so close that Gojo was drooling- pupils stirrin’ around the whites of your eyes with every circle of his thick tongue, throat cracking with whines every time he’s slushily spearing your pussy with his fingers. Over n’ over.

Rovering alllll around to prick your tenderest areas with- fuck, now four of his fingers.

Your husband spikes the edge of your g-spot, hard. Pulling you down with the corner of his blindfold just to dig his finger in deeper, “W-wanna cummm— ngh- please.”

“Call me husband.” He cockily smiles over the rim of your cunt where he was devouring you like a feast. “Call me- nghh- husband and I’ll let you cum.”

“Please-” Grabbing a fistful of his hair to shove him deeper and hopefully quieten his teasing. “-h-husband.”

Gojo groans like he’s the one cumming, “Ohhhh- again. Louder.”

“Husband-”

“Again.”

“Husband– Toru–!” Pouting stubbornly, “Unless you fucking can’t- oh, fuck.”

Both you and the protesting bedsprings sing out in embarrassing synchronization once he’s shoving you into your high with a soft, sudden zap–! of one jujutsu-coated fingerpad across your g-spot. “Cumming- nghhh- m’cumming m’cumming–!”

And it feels so good you lose your vision to pure white, it feels so good that you can only throw your head back and ride him through each one of your peaks.

Milking the highs of your orgasm in repeated, filthy drags of your hips that knock the top of your glazed slit against his buttony nose. Whack!

“O-ohhh—” Gojo throws his head back at the sheer, sensual motion. It just feels so good having you slickly rovering your pussy over his gaping maw, chasing the heat of his tongue slithering across your clit. Your sweet insides squeeze around his long fingers that Gojo thinks he could just cum right then n’ there.

And he almost does.

Almost- with almost inhuman reflex, he’s sneaking his free hand underneath the covers to plug up his leaking, red-hot orifice. Drivelling out a few creamy cobwebs of pre before he can plop his thumb over it. Close one.

You ogle with a parted mouth as he grits his teeth hard enough that the plane of his neck throbs with a few veins, “Fuh-fuuuck–!”

And if you didn’t know any better, you’d have claimed that sounded like a whine.

A whimper.

But before you can call Gojo out on it, he’s sitting nearly ramrod straight against the cool metallic headboard. Starchy blankets - all drenched and coated at the hem with your trickling sap - all but thrown to the bottom of the bed.

“Don’t worry- hah-” Suddenly, you feel something hot and moist gliiiiide between your puffy core. And it was so thickly curvy that your folds are being smeared apart as much as possible, “Made sure to save the big one for when m’inside, sweetheart.”

Mewling, “Big one?” Pathetically swaying your mouth open the moment he starts suckling on your tongue like some cute candy, “You sure about that?”

“See for yourself, my wife.”

You don’t know what to gape at more.

What Gojo Satoru looks right now - eyes hooded, face flush, ivory tendrils of hair slicked back with sweat, several layers of sickly sweet slick stuck from the tops of his cheeks and gleaming down to his jawline - or the way that his cock looks like right now.

He was completely naked underneath, and you’re mentally counting about nine inches- possible even ten. Ten inches of solid, barreling length scrubbed all red n’ raw with ribbons of precum. Bursting out from the hole at the top of his fat mushroom tip and all the way down to the soft white hairs at his base.

Drenched.

And Gojo gives the left of your ass cheek a good spank when it seems like you won’t be talking any time soon. Too hypnotized. “There there- big, huh?”

You’re huffing, “Y-you wish.”

“No need to liiiie- s’all yours.” Something in him cracks when he bucks up ever-so-slightly to let the shiny bulge of his cocktip scrape down your slit, mixin’ a heady concoction of white pre and slick that makes him salivate. “Look at her- she’s sayin’ she wants more.”

“You’re pussydrunk.” Such loud squelching noises that he jerkily lurches his head closer to listen to, as if his favorite song.

“Hell yeah I am, my wife.” With a raspy chuckle, Gojo slips the circle of his divot just underneath your swollen folds and hisses. “Now- I won. Your husband ngh- won today, why don’tcha gimme my reward, sweetheart?”

Oh-so-ready to make him cry on your tongue, you eagerly start snaking your hand downward.

Fist almost enclosed around the bulky cylinder of his hilt before he stops you right there. V-line hitting your pelvis as he fucks up, up, up-

“Nononono- another time. Right now…” Gojo slouches back, liiiicking that candied glaze of your juices off of his right hand. One by one. Before cushioning it underneath his head and watching you through sexy half-lidded eyes. “How do you want me?”

You hum, pretending to tap your chin in thought. “How you’ve wanted ta- ngh- have me, Toru–”

How he’s dreamed of having you.

Of shoving his thick cock between your pussy folds and fucking that smug smile off of your face while you tried to snap back at him. And his body moves before his brain.

Your back hitting the dampened sheets, your shirt and bra puddling onto the floor.

He doesn’t think he can breathe, he doesn’t even think he can think—especially when he sees that pink plastic ring pop as a pendant on your necklace and leans down to kiss it.

Every ounce of blood sprinting down from his hotly melted mind to balloon up his shaft so hard and cherry-red. Gojo’s tip is practically bawling by the time he’s flipping the two of you over and swiping the hard, aching bulge of it down your cunt.

Your thighs on his shoulders, his pelvis against your ass.

Eyes widening—a mating press. A fucking mating press.

Gojo’s barely even done folding you completely in half before he aligns the round, spheroid edge of his cockhead to crown your sloppy hole and rut. Gasping, he shuts his eyes firmly at the warmth. “Wanted this.”

“O-oh fuck–” Coming your jittery fingers through Gojo’s sweat-splattered hair. He’s just so big that just the feeling of his globular tip makes you see white.

“Wanted this wanted this- wanted this.” Gritting his teeth, furiously. He’s hiking his thighs up so that yours are pushed all the way up to hit your tits, bending you with all his powerful strength. “Have no idea how long- I’ve wanted you like this. Always in this position.”

“Why this one?” It was so filthy - even for him.

“What? Your husband’s the ngh- strongest and you expect him not to put you in a mating press the minute he sees you?”

Spanking the slivery slit of your cunt with one hand, Gojo fucking angles his head and grins at the slight puddle of sap that collects on his wrist.

“So soft n’ sweet-” He bends his knobbly thumb in to twist the button of your clit, licking his pink lips lazily at the way your arousal glitters further soaked. And it wasn’t just that- your husband was just so girthy that he’s tuggin’ your entrance apart to fit his heavy shaft inside. “Oh, always wanted this pretty hole begging f’me.”

Just as he speaks, Gojo slips yet another inch inside and makes your oversaturated pussy keen. “B-bold of you to assume- ngh- I’m the one begging.”

“Ohhh- she’s not?”

“She- fuck!”

Before you can even speak, he’s rolling his sculpted hips and slamming your spit-glued mouth shut. Cooing down with fluttering lashes, “What was thaaaat–?”

You feel a damn sob break at the back of your voicebox at the feeling of his rounded slit lodging against the treacly roof of your cunt. So wet that he’s constantly rubbin’ his veins back and forth on your walls, half-ruts. Half-thrusts. Just to fit in. “Fuh-fuck you!”

And then you’re swearing that Gojo grows harder. Bigger.

The corner of his head swelling up to an even thicker circumference that strikes your soggy cervix with a plop!

He’s bottoming out with a breaking tone, “Who’s fucking who now?”

And now that you’d given him an inch, he was taking a mile.

Fucking you into the rickety clinic bed like he was trying to stop your cute, arguing mouth from shrilling out. Every swab of his bulging cock enough to make your tongue flood with cockdrunken spit, he pounds his entire length into you like he hates you.

Slap!

So hard that the skin on his prominent v-lines stains completely red. And Gojo isn’t even feeling the pain, he’s only spanking hard abs into your front again. And again. And again.

Mouth falling into a sagged oh! as Gojo tilts his head down and watches when your geysering cunt swallows him up from the ruby-red tip to the bulk of his base. Heavy balls just peeking out cheekily.

All the way up until his pure white tufts of hair scratchily massage your clit and make you rut. “There- there.” The flat mountains of his palm come creeping down your tummy to press as he sliiides inside. With a smile, “Inside. Fuck- it’s inside. Can feel me all deep inside, s’like you’re hngh- made for me.”

“S’just s-sooo big, though!” You’re whimpering once he rubs over the callous of his thumb right at the bumpy point of his mushroomy head spearheading in.

Gojo grunts, “And what happened to me being small~”

You clench in response- the only thing you can do. And it’s like the entirety of the chamber tenses with something thick coating each atom of the air.

You just had to clench once and his cursed energy was lapping. Out-of-control.

So powerful that it might just be enough to cause alarm-

“Oh.” As if alerted by something invisible, Gojo raises his free arm towards the door. Lengthy lashes coating with a flicker of blue lightning- before, like nothing ever happened, he’s back to rutting and rutting. In long, methodical strikes of his bashing, bulbous head. Probing deeply into every ridge.

Before you can ask what was the matter, there’s the metallic jiggling of the hospital doorknob. Locked - by his power.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“I-is anything the matter in here?” Someone- you think it might be Ijichi - calls out from the other side. “The cursed levels were just so high that-”

“Listening to the voice of another man when I’m the one fucking you?” Gojo snarls out, two of his battle-hardened fingertips swatting the side of your cheek so that you’ll stop staring at the door.

Not when he was looking at you like that.

And not when he was the one unsticking your left hand from the side of his muscular obliques, gently kissing your ring finger even though he was drilling into you ferally. “Don’t you think of anyone else when- haaah- I’m the one fucking you-” The fangs of his canines bite in to the flesh of your digit, “Not when I’m your husband.”

“Wh-what if he hears—”

The end of your whine is caught up in his mouth, gnawing down on your lower lip and draaagging. “So let him.” He melts his glissading abs down onto your core, making you feel every bump and scar. “Let him- fuck. S’our long overdue honeymoon- and you’re gonna fucking- take- it-”

Mewling, “Fuck- fuck yes. More.”

It’s like those words have him going mad.

Gojo’s slick orifice grovering into the very bottom of your pussy, he tugs back on the blindfold dangling ‘round your neck to arch you further. Letting his zig-zagged veins creep down your g-spot, precisely.

“Yes- fuck. Your husband.” Repeating and repeating every time he hits your sweet splotchy areas. “M’your husband” And then he clings onto your clit, then he twists his wrist and lets the pads of his digits buzzzz–! with cursed energy. “Your husband.”

Almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

He’s departing his breath out in a scalding breeze every time you squeeze. Bodily shoving apart the inner parts of your legs with his large, flexing shoulders.

“Please- please please-” You’re wailing out utterly raw, the top of your throat feeling like it was clogging up after every ba-thump–! of his sweetly leaking cock probin’ every space inside your cunt. Swelling up so big that it was almost hard for you to clench- “Feels so ngh- good–”

“Yeaaaah–? Your husband’s makin’ you feel all good, huh?” The strongest couldn’t even give a shit about the way your screams were reaching a fever pitch.

Faster, sloppier.

Fingers starting to stain with a bright syrupy coating of your slick, he doesn’t even mean to- but he can’t help the way that the air touching his skin crackles with energy. Drawing out hearts on your perked clit like a lil’ bullet vibrator.

“Go on- say it.” He outlines a very obvious ‘S’ on top of your rugged nub that makes you quiver like a leaf underneath him. And then an ‘A’, a ‘T’, ‘O-R-U.’ Coaxing out your tiny whimpers, “Say my name—”

“Toru- hck! Satoru.”

He twitches, syllables taking on a shaky manner. “O-oh right, that’s my name.” Chuckling, fuck- did he forget his damn name? Just that drunk on your pussy that he’d rather just be called your husband forever and ever. His flushed face pushes forwards to bite on that blindfold and pull you back down, “Call me your heh- husband again.”

Just uttering those words makes him jolt his mushroomy, flared tip inside you until the ridge hits the door to your womb. His balls on your ass. Bruising.

You almost felt shy as he hastily brings down one of your hands to caress his rippling core. From each washboard ab to scar, sensually. “H-husband. My husband.”

Shit- he needed to make you cum now or he was going to, already feeling a steaming drop of pearly liquid empty out from his balls.

“There- there we- go-” And by now Gojo’s fucking you so hard that he’s starting to scrunch his partially-closed eyelids with the weight of big, sparkly tears of sensitivity. “Whatever my wife wants.” The crowned tip of his shaft red and swollen enough to burst, pushing and pushing. “Anything my wife wants.”

“I’m close-” You’re sobbing, reeling him in so close with a grasp of his tensed back muscles. And it was true, his Six Eyes was showin’ him the way your nerves were sizzling, the way your mouth flooded with spittle.

He counts underneath his breath. Five. Four.

Lips wobbling oh-so-adorably, “Toru, m’gonna cum. Let me cum.”

“Ohhh— s’that what you want, sweetheart?” He rolls his thumb over your overstimulated clit until you scream a yes. “Cum then.” Three. Spitting on the hills of his crowned fingerpads, Gojo makes sure they’re tight with particles of cursed energy. Two. Before spanking down- “Cum, my wife.” One.

You don’t know who cums first.

But to Gojo Satoru it doesn’t even matter- all he needs is to make sure is that you were creaming all over his ravaged cock, and that he was there to pump all his columns of wadded seed inside.

Room lights shattering, somewhere in the distance sounding with a sonic boom! Gojo fucks himself hoarse on your pussy until the expanse of his skin was littered with pure power and lightning.

“O-oh my god s’too mmm–” Your mouth dribbles with sap, gooey walls of your cunt sticking to the sides of his veiny shaft. Every tiny drag of his winding lines makes your high explode- “There’s so- hah- so much of it-”

So much that it was overspilling.

And Gojo can only glide the planes of his digits down the saccharine white sap that leaked from between your legs. Gluing his fingers to the stray gaps of your hole, and they were buzzing. “No wastin’ now.” He bites down on the plush gum of his bottom lip and still can’t hold back his snickers. “Gotta g-give you the ring- and my second button. Then take you out for a- a ride-”

He could almost laugh at the dazed confusion on your face, arching up his spine just so that his cock pummeled into you deep and stayed there.

“A ride and then a real ride. On a moped.” Giggling at his own joke, “Take you to eeeevery sweet convenience store in Tokyo you ngh- missed out on. Tell each one m’your husband and we’re having a summer wedding.” Kissing you softly, “M’thinking theme colours blue.”

That in and of itself is enough to make his drivelling orifice stream out yet another jetstream of cum, wadding up the entrance to your womb with clingy sap.

He finishes off with another lecherous slurp that makes you feel so hot inside that it was almost feverish. “A-and then what? S’this all for you big- ngh- honeymoon idea?”

“And if it is?”

“Should’ve left you at the altar-”

Gojo’s red, raw cock jolts. ��Ohhhh- just for that m’gonna fuck you in every hah- convenience store, too. Maybe they’ll hear- doesn’t matter.” Grinning, he hikes up a thigh until he is gyrating just enough to swirl his pummeling length in circles. The plump curve of his balls digging into your ass, eyes glowing with blue in the darkness. “Your husband’s the strongest.”

You don’t know if you can do anything but scoff through your embarrassment, “A-and real humble, huh?”

“Well…” He tilts his head with a dopey smile, “Did I tell you that was my first time? Been savin’ myself for heh- marriage, my sweetheart.”

Fuck.

“I love you. Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

Oh- “I love you, too.”

And something in you told you that this was far from over.

Maybe it was the way that Gojo’s cock strikes the back of your cunt with a splosh of sap, slimily mazing through until it feels like he streams out a squirt of something. You’d just made him squirt- or maybe it was the way that he kisses your plastic engagement ring.

Gaze delirious. Ears red. Fucked-out.

“So…what was that they said about a Gojo heir, my wife?”

“The electricity has been suspiciously unstable today.” Shoko wrinkles her nose up at her completely shattered office lightbulb. The sixth today.

Urgently flicking through her notes before she made a break for her most important patient as of late - the strongest.

Or, as she knew him, that damn Gojo with a penchant for tantrums and harboring a hopeless love for his betrothed. Often both at the same time. Speaking of said betrothed, she’d already shared a hasty greeting with you once you’d first arrived here- before you practically ran to the idiot’s room, that is.

Two peas in a pod.

“We have been getting strange him-level readings on cursed energy levels in this area since a few hours ago.” Utahime grumbles, barely out of the hospital herself but already steady at work as one of the new higher-ups.

“That so? Strange.”

“Yeah, and when I asked Ijichi about it he only looked pale and ran like he saw a-”

The two gasp. In unison.

“He finally proposed.”

A/N. Wrote this with a fever (Gojo was just that hot aha).

Plagiarism not authorized.

#is it bad the smut made me wanna cry #i love pining gojo #THIS WAS VERY CUTE

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terminosdevozsuave · 24 days ago

Text

Careful What You Wish For...

...Because you just might get it.

The clone you've made of Satoru Gojo is, much unlike the original, quite taken with you. Or, more accurately, you've been taken by him. But you don't mind... right?

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning. non-consensual exhibitionism, voyeurism, recording.

"See, isn't this just perfect?"

You can't answer, of course, though you don't have to - it is perfect, after all. Satoru knows you very well.

Every last fold of your cunt, every pulse and throb of your clit, the exact degree he should curl his fingers to make you whimper and sob while his other arm squeezes you close and he presses nibbling kisses into your neck.

It's perfect. Everything is. You're so much happier like this.

Oh, he'd tried talking. But there wasn't anything he could say, no combination of words that would alleviate your unfounded fear that he - the actual strongest sorcerer in the world - was somehow an unwilling captive forced to accept your affection.

To fix this, he had to get to the heart of the issue. Dig his fingers deep, deep in, press hard, in long strokes -

"Hngh - nngh!"

You whine, high pitched and pitiful in a way that makes his heart clench. He just can't help it; you're so cute, so helpless, entirely at his mercy, all hazy and fucked out. Satoru kisses your cheek, rubs his thumb over your clit.

"Nnnh..!"

Makes his dick hard, too. You can feel it, can't you? So hard, just for you, just like you trained him. Just like you wanted. Grinding into your ass. Even incoherent, blinded by overstimulation and drugged into docility, you know him.

Satoru can see it all. Your nervous system all lit up, flickering like a dying neon sign. Reward centers glowing like embers as he strokes your poor, tender bud.

There it was - the heart of the issue. Your big beautiful brain; overworked and overwhelmed.

You think too much. Satoru can fix that. And he will - since he's so nice. Since he loves you.

And of course, how could you continue to suspect that he's your captive, if he's the one who takes you captive?

It's poetic, really, when he thinks about it. He really is good at everything. You'll know his love when you see it, because you'll recognize it. The shape of your love, returned to you.

"Ahhh... aughh... hng~"

It's so easy to wrench another orgasm out of you. Your cunt is slick, pliant, so perfectly sized to his long fingers that reach on, press on just the right slot, all while rubbing circles over your clit.

With fascination he watches. Neurons firing off as the pleasure shoots through you, the pure dopamine flooding through your cute little head in the aftermath.

Astonishing. It's like every single thing you do makes him like you more. You're pretty when you cum, pretty when you're pleased, when you're exhausted. Just one look at you and he's hard again, or burning with the urge to snuggle, or spilling with love confessions he know you won't believe.

He can see every single brain cell firing off in your head but he never gets tired of guessing what's on your mind. In fact, it just makes him more curious.

If he didn't know for certain he was a clone - that another Satoru Gojo walked the earth, and had done so for decades - Satoru would truly, genuinely believe that he had been custom-made for you.

"Hey," He nudges your shoulder, tipping your face up to look him in the eyes.

Glassy, dreamy, there's only the barest stirring of recognition in your gaze, but that's okay. He can work with that.

"Who loves you most in the whole wide world? Hm?" Satoru purrs, cupping your cheek with one hand.

Your head presses into his hand, like you don't even have the strength to hold it up.

So weak - so adorable. Something hot and thrilling churns in his chest at the thought; like you're weak, something that needs protecting. Needs him.

"Who?" He urges, nuzzling his face close to yours. "Who loves you most? Tell me, baby, and you'll get a reward~"

"Ah... hhhn..." Oh, poor, pretty thing. Not a thought going on in your head.

"It's me!" He says, laughing, kissing you on the mouth. Tasting you with a flick of his tongue over your limp one. Pulling away, licking his lips. "It's Satoru. Can you say that for me? Sa~to~ru~"

"S-sato..." Slumping forward, you nearly fall, but Satoru's arm is ready to pull you back against him.

"Baby..." He kisses up against your cheek, "Come on, you can do better than that. Wake up for me, okay? Don't you wanna come out and talk?"

A hand reaches up, over your brow, stroking gently. Tenderly.

"Tell me who," He breathes, hooking his head over your shoulder with a sigh, "Tell me who loves you most in the world, baby... you've got to practice this..."

"Satoru...How did you..." Your eyes blink, slow and bleary, dilating until they focus on him - where they should be.

"There you go," Satoru crows, though you probably don't remember his question.

With a gentle hand caressing your hair and an even softer smile, he kneels at your bedside. Give you a view of his pretty face you like to stare at so much.

See, he's generous. Nicer than you'd been. But that's okay - he likes being nice to you. He likes you.

Even if it was going to take a hundred years to get that through your poor, neurotic, anxious little brain; he'd enjoy every second of it.

"The biometric locks were sealed with your eyes," Satoru says, grinning widely, "So that's what I used."

His fingers trace over your temple. Thumb feathering past your eyelid, your fluttering lashes.

A nail digs into the skin at the edge of your eye. Pressing hard, harder, enough to draw blood. Your eyes widen - he can see the alarm bells ringing.

"Don't worry," He laughs, pulling his hand back, licking the blood off. Your gaze is heavy on him, locked in. Like it should be.

Satoru leans in close, kissing at the cut on your temple. Licking over it. There's heat there, and something else; he relishes how your body tenses in confusion at it.

He pulls away, lips stained red, and swipes his fingers over your temple once again. Pulls them away to show them to you - unbloodied.

"Reverse curse technique," He half-crows, licking his lips while he stares down at you.

The shock is naked on your face. Really? It's that surprising?

"I've got to say, I'm a little offended," He lurches forward, leaning over you. Crossing his arms and resting his head on them, "Don't tell me you thought I was like that loser. I can use it on myself as well as others. It's really not that hard, he just sucks."

"I - you took out my eyes?" Your whole form stiffens up, heart lurching, "While I slept?! How did I not wake up?"

Ohhhhhh, that's what it was.

With a laugh, he pulls out another hand, "That one's actually really easy when I can see your central nervous system. Here - "

"You can see-"

A finger taps, gently, in the center of your forehead, and your words stop in their tracks. You stare forward, almost puzzled for a second, and then your eyes roll back as you slump over, asleep.

"Night~" Satoru says, crooning your name as he kisses over your forehead, smoothing your hair back.

Gently, he sets you down on the bed, settling you carefully into place while he lies next to you, holding you against his chest.

His smile is brilliant as he snaps the picture.

Of course, the whole area where you were was covered in cameras, too, but who didn't love a good selfie? Satoru knows someone who'd like it.

He gets why you have the setup. Really, it's perfect - he can watch you all day if he wants to. You're always asleep when he's not there, though - it would be downright cruel otherwise. Why have you awake only to leave you all by yourself?

It'd ruin all your progress, if you've even made any yet. Poor thing. It hurts his heart just to think of how you'd feel, lonely and abandoned like that.

Thought, he has to admit, it would be ever so lovely to come home to you after that. But it remains just that, a daydream, something to amuse himself with as he watches you on the camera feed.

A little sigh escapes him. Lovestruck. He can't help it, really, you're just that cute.

And up here in this lab, he really does have all the angles.

Not just of what he's done with you, but also what you've been doing him, since his very earliest memories.

All his training sessions, the fun ones, and the agonizing ones. Your punishments, your rewards. Every moment of fun or affection together.

Mostly, though, he's compiling the training.

Little vignettes of how you'd stuck that cock ring on him, left him home alone to moan and squirm and cry, unable to get over the edge. How you'd cooed at him, whispered in his ear, forced him to confess his love and devotion for you when you finally allowed him release -

Ahhh. Fond memories. And how can he forget you showing him how to eat you out? That was a fun one, too, not really laced with pain, just your playful hand tugging in his hair, a tweak against his nipples, or a foot on his dick.

God, he wants you to step on his dick again. It felt so fucking good having you grind into it, with force, he'd burned with desire and heat and the overwhelming need to explode all over you.

Other times, too, where you'd showed him how to enjoy any touch on his cock. It all felt good, coming from you; your hands, your foot, your tits, your cunt.

One time you'd made him cum just from tweaking his nipples - that was such a treat. Took you days of edging him to tears, begging for release, but you were right in the end; he could do it.

Satoru could do anything if it was for you.

He's too impatient, too horny to try to cum like that again, not when he can just stick his cock inside your sweet, welcoming cunt at will. But he remembers the lesson.

Right now, it's you who needs training. And he puts that together, too. Some of the best pieces are there!

How you're limp in his arms as he makes you ride him, bouncing you up and down on his cock while you ragdoll against his shoulder, panting and whimpering and clinging to him weakly for dear life.

Another time where he has you in his lap again, but this time facing away from him. How his long fingers press down on your tongue and you drool on it, suckling mindlessly while he creams your cute little cunt.

What better way to teach you how much he wants you than showing you over and over again how hard you make him? Not very creative, he'll admit, but he's got time. He can think of more ideas.

Other than that, he's here to watch over the "original". See if there are any tricks left.

It was confusing for a bit, watching him. He figured out all the limitless techniques easily enough - those were fine - but it took a while to learn how to use reverse cursed energy. And a bit longer to use it on someone else.

You'd gotten a bruise from walking into something while climbing out of bed. Satoru would have pulled you away - but you'd had him all tied up for some punishment or another.

Just goes to show, you didn't know what was best for you. Your anxiety was hurting you. Stopping him from protecting you.

It felt like such a relief when he finally was able to heal you up. Finally, he had mastered all the techniques of the original - he could stand as his equal.

Except, Satoru Gojo - Gojo, rather - can't perform reverse curse technique on other people. He teaches first years, the most vulnerable students, often by tossing them directly into danger to fight on their own... and he can't heal other people?

And then he'd watched more and more, waiting to see what was so good about this guy. What he had that made you fall in love to begin with.

Snarky humor? Maybe, but Satoru's just as funny (if not more). Insulting attitude? That would just make your insecurity worse. Looks? They're great and all, but they're identical. Confidence?

Well, if it was his confidence that had roped you in, Satoru's got heaps of that as well.

It's crazy, how hard he's searched this loser's life for a single redeeming moment or feature.

No hobbies. No friends, really. No girlfriends for sure. Satoru kind of suspects he doesn't have regular sex - or worse... he couldn't be a virgin, right?

Satoru hasn't seen Gojo satisfy a single woman (or man) since he started watching, but maybe his personality was just that repulsive, despite having the world's most perfect body?

Honestly, he's drawing a real blank here. Why doesn't this guy do anything but work? Satoru puts together that the dude is killing curses (which can't be captured on video) but like... so what?

He's got money. He's got looks. He's got confidence. Why is he alone all the time? Is it really just because he's afraid someone will get hurt and he can't heal them?

What an absolute chump. Just learn how to do it. How can he suck this badly? Is he stupid?

It haunts his mind. Satoru wonders if maybe Gojo is just so genuinely unlikeable that he's never had a friend before and doesn't know what human companionship is like.

Can't miss what you've never had, right? That would make sense. It's really the only explanation for turning down someone like you.

That's what plants the idea, he thinks. Or so he tells himself.

But deep down, he knows it's just about his ego. The stinging thought that no matter how you loved Satoru now, you'd loved Gojo first.

It's okay, though. You have Gojo's number on your phone -

And Satoru know just what to send him.

Gojo had to admit - you were determined.

What you were determined to do by sending him all these videos and pictures of yourself with the admittedly convincing doppelganger (if it hadn't been straight video editing magic), he wasn't sure, but you were determined.

"Oh, happy for you babe. But keep it between you and him next time, yeah? Little creepy of you to share all this with some stranger."

No response. Just more videos.

"Listen, I don't care about your sex life. This is getting kinda cringey and desperate. He's not even that good-looking."

The guy in the videos is eerily good-looking, actually. The closer he looks, the more it... it really does look like him.

And like the freak you are, you call the guy his name. Satoru.

"Seriously, stop it or I'm blocking you."

It doesn't stop. It never stops. If anything, it gets more risqué. More... obscene.

The double of him in the videos gets more desperate. More clingy. Begging on his hands and knees, clawing at your thighs, crying in your lap for a taste of your cunt.

"What's wrong with you? Fucking freak. How funny would you find it if I were sending you this kind of shit? Lay off."

The voice sounds like him too, but he's never said those words. Certainly not with your name attached to them. I love you, I love you, you're my whole world, my everything, I swear, I love you, it's like a chorus.

"This is so obviously desperate and staged. I feel sorry for you. Not enough for the pity fuck you're hoping for, though, so fuck off."

It's so like him it's starting to get really fucking creepy. They say everyone has a person who looks exactly like them but this is just too much.

Gojo knows you watch him, spy on him, you even stole some of his things back in the day - you'd sent an apology text and he hadn't heard from you since. Though he could still tell you were watching, it wasn't all the time.

But where would you get footage to edit something like this together? You couldn't possibly be this good.

What was this? What the fuck did you want?

And then - he sees it.

It's not obvious. Only in a scene later on. He can only tell by watching, re-watching carefully. Even with the six eyes, on video it's hard to see.

A bruise. On your upper thigh. Barely there anymore, but he sees it.

And then. The double, your hired whore or whoever he is, kissing up your leg, mouth watering for your cunt -

After he passes over the bruise, it's gone. Completely. Like it was never there.

Like it was healed.

Except, you're not a sorcerer. You could see curses - even had some cursed energy - but you have no curse technique. No way could you pull off reverse curse technique.

And as time goes on he starts to notice other things.

At first, he didn't block you because he was curious. It looked like him in the thumbnail, after all. You were basically sending him your homemade porn, it was only polite to take a look!

Plus, maybe you were having some kind of episode or something. It could be a cry for help!

If he jerked off to one or two of them... or more... if he got hard seeing his own face painted in desperation, laving over your cunt, red-eyed and teary as hands tug in his hair... if he bought a cock ring for himself and stroked along to the body double's agony, edging until he gets to the part where you come home and let him open...

If he gets hard every time he sees you've texted him a new video, it was just porn.

It's not his fault, either. He told you to stop, and you didn't! In fact, you never responded to any of his texts. Didn't pick up any of his calls.

His calls. He called you. With video, even!

Sure, you ghosted him after the rejection until now, but this was crazy behavior. You were absolutely crazy for him, you literally stalked him for months, and this was him calling you!

Something is off. Gojo works around sorcerers - around crazy people. He knows crazy, and that's what you are, deep down to the core.

Researching him, watching him, looking up everything around him, leaving absolutely no stone unturned in the pursuit of his affections. Honestly it was kinda flattering! Creepy, but flattering.

Point is, you were crazy. fucking crazy. And even if you were completely over him (which, come on, how could you be?), why would you reach out again like this?

Why make such an obvious, desperate bid for his attention and then not accept it when he deigns to give it to you?

And when it came to the videos, they've started to get kind of... worrying.

In the earlier ones, it was obvious you hired some male hooker to dress up as him and boss around. Generic, but hot. Very femdom. He could respect it. Get off to it, even.

The hooker, or escort, or whoever he is - he's convincing. Too convincing. He's obviously happy to be there, even though you seem all to willing to slap him around, chew him up and spit him out, step on his -

Anyways, the point is. The escort had been a willing participant from the start. But you're starting to look... less so.

At first he thought you were just drunk, or high on something. And yeah, it was hot. Seeing you limp and boneless and making low, little noises as his perfect copy folds you over, manipulates you like a doll.

There's an appeal to it, he'll admit. You're smaller than him - the double has a similar frame, all broad, terribly tall, long, muscled limbs that bend you in half and bounce you on his dick like a living fleshlight.

Then the way you cum - you're so unguarded, so open. Face flushed, panting open-mouthed, twitching in the aftershocks as your lover holds you close. Drooling freely over his fingers, his cock.

It's hard not to wonder what it feels like. Being there. Inside you.

You weren't his type before, but he's touched himself so many times to you - and 'him'. You scolding him, punishing him, teaching him.

He's watched you force him to eat you out for hours, and thank you for it. And god if it didn't make him hard.

Gojo can admit, he's a little jealous of the double. What an easy life he has; jerking off with his cock stuck in a ring, waiting for hours for you to come back.

To some people that might sound like agony. To him, it sounds like something to do to himself during missions to make them more fun.

Rile himself up, stick the ring on, fight and kill while he's hard until he can get home and watch, listen, to you coming back and cooing at him before you grant him sweet release.

Suddenly, you're not just hot. You're erotic. Instantly arousing. The sight of you makes him hard and seeing you like this? Undone? Weak and pitiful and clinging to him - god, fuck. It does something to him.

And then there's the way the double looks up into the camera. His eyes are - fuck, they look a lot like his. Could it be some kind of visual effect? He can't tell over a video.

But as they keep coming, Gojo can just tell. There's malice in there. Pure disdain and loathing. The double touches

...and the he puts together something he should have known since the beginning.

Why weren't you answering him? Why did you keep sending these videos? Why did you call that man "Satoru"?

It all falls into place instantly. How did he not realize sooner? There's only one thing that would prevent you from picking up his calls. A freak like you would never willingly pass up on his attention, but if -

For the first time in years, Satoru Gojo makes a call and tells the Higher Ups he'll be out for the next couple days.

He has to get to you.

#RSAAAHDH THIS IS SO CRAZY GOOD

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terminosdevozsuave · 25 days ago

Text

#i am incredibly sad and empty #i want love so bad i want a person i want light and understanding and acception and tenderness #im so sad so alone so lonely #and i cant do a single thing about it

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terminosdevozsuave · 25 days ago

Text

slim pickins

good graces | bed chem | busy woman

they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?

pairings: toxic!Satosugu x ex-roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader

content: MDNI, angst and smut, heavy pining and yearning, satosugu are dicks, oral (m! receiving), rough sex, consensual recording during sex, unprotected piv sex, arguments, men fighting over you, will the men learn their lesson??, PETTY reader, multiple povs, happy ending

art by @winterrbluess + dividers by @i-mmaculatus

It had been 143 days, eighteen hours and approximately twenty-seven minutes since the day Satoru found your key on the counter.

It might as well have been yesterday.

Your note was in his wallet. Folded up and slotted between his credit card and a Polaroid of you he'd taken a lifetime ago, the ink scribble on the paper seeping through his thoughts still. A blot that he suspected had permanently stained him.

He didn't need to pull it out anymore, by day sixteen he already had every curve and line memorized. Slotted neatly in the box in his brain right next to your smile, the shape of your body when it was folded underneath him, the sound of your laugh.

Seven words were all the past four years were worth to you.

Moved out! Sorry for the short notice :)

That was all.

Seven measly words and the memory of you picking your clothes off the floor, the pout on your lips and the purr of your voice, a bitter last goodbye he hadn't seen for what it was.

Walking away from them with a pretty smile on your face and your phone in your hand.

What killed him the most was how casual it was. Like you had just gone to grocery store. Not emptied out your whole fucking room and dropped off the face of the earth.

Did he not mean more?

Was that all years of friendship had dissolved into? Sharing snacks and sneaking kisses? Limbs tangled and longing stares? Just to be nothing now?

Suguru didn't like talking about you. Didn't want to listen to his never-ending concerns and complaints. Didn't want the reminder of what part he played in pushing you away.

But Satoru couldn't stop.

What were you doing? Where were you?

Were you happy now, at least? Without him? Without Suguru?

It didn't matter how badly he wanted to know, how many hours he spent sitting in your barren bedroom and counting the seconds in silence, how hollow his heart felt in you absence. Because none of it would bring you back.

None of his pining would piece him back together.

Or make you belong to him again.

"You're moping," Suguru dryly commented, reading the ingredients off the back of some cereal box.

Satoru huffed, looking around the empty aisle and leaning against the metal shelf.

Grocery shopping sucked.

It used to be fun. He used to wrap his arms around your waist and plant kisses across your collarbone when no one was looking. He used to throw candy after candy into the shopping cart while you scoffed and scolded him, putting half back up and hiding the smile that curled up on your face when he whined and tugged at your clothes.

They didn't need a cart anymore.

Not when they were only shopping for two now.

But now he kept catching himself absentmindedly tossing your favorite foods in, forcing himself to put it back on the shelf and wonder if you were eating enough without them to cook for you.

Maybe your boyfriend made you meals.

Satoru hoped he hadn't stuck around.

Sure, it was selfish, but wasn't that what Satoru was? Had always been?

If he couldn't have you, he certainly couldn't fucking stand the idea that someone else did.

That another man might be sleeping in your bed and tangled in your sheets. That while he was staring at the ceiling wondering what went wrong, you were staring up at someone new, getting split open and stretched out without even giving him a second thought.

"I'm fine," Satoru forced a strained smile, folding his arms across his chest.

Suguru glanced over at him once, but didn't say anything, just dropping the box in the shopping bag.

And that was the problem, wasn't it?

They knew it was wrong and waited for it to fix itself? For you to be fine?

"I'm gonna go look at the protein bars," Satoru murmured, walking away before he could get stuck spinning in the same circles he'd been in for months.

He was supposed to be moving on.

But if he was still thinking about you, surely, he had to be on your brain too. There was no way you'd just forget the fun times, the fucking, how freely you used to giggle at his dumb jokes.

Suguru just didn't understand.

He could say he loved you, and yeah, he did, but Satoru was the one who found you first, had forced fate to tie you together.

It was his idea to introduce you to each other, his idea for you to live together, his idea to share you after Suguru snuck his way into sleeping with you first.

What kind of world was it where you weren't his too?

Sometimes, on those shitty nights where he ended up counting the seconds on the clock, he sorta wished he'd knocked you up when he had the chance.

At least then you couldn't completely cut him out of your life, like he was some sickness you had to cull.

He glanced up at the signs hanging over the aisles, searching for the one he was looking for. It wasn't their usually grocery store. Suguru's suggestion - a silent way of saying he was sick of hiding from your shadow too. But even going somewhere that held no memories of you didn't help the creeping feeling that you should be here.

With them. Him.

Satoru found the aisle, turning the corner just to freeze at the familiar outline and pretty face waiting for him.

Maybe fate hadn't forgotten him after all.

꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱

"The fuck are these so overpriced for?" Sukuna grumbled, dismissively picking through the selection of protein bars while you tried not to smile.

"I dunno," You hm-ed, sneaking peeks at him while you looked through the shelves. He wasn't your boyfriend. But you guessed grocery shopping together post-sex wasn't too bad. "We could probably order some online cheaper."

He spent half the week at your apartment anyway.

You might as well stock up on them.

He hmph-ed, but after the past few months of forming a genuine friendship (and sleeping together), you'd figured out that was his way of agreeing.

"Chocolate? Or vanilla?"

You glanced over your shoulder, holding up equally-overpriced protein shakes in each hand as you offered them out to him.

Sukuna huffed, but he shuffled closer anyway, snagging the heavy shopping basket from off your arm after tossing both bottles in. His scowl only softened when he noticed you watching him.

"No strawberry?" He muttered, scanning the shelf in front of you.

"Nope," You hummed, glancing down the aisle and slipping away to find the next item on your grocery list while he trudged after you.

He never let you stray too far though.

A hand squeezed your wrist right as you turned into the next aisle, nearly making you crash into the chip bags lined up on the end cap before you turned around to see someone who wasn't yours - not anymore.

"Hey gorgeous."

Charming smile. Pretty blue eyes. Wild white hair.

Your former roommate.

You didn't get the chance to breathe before Sukuna was shoving Gojo away. Hard. And he did crash into the next end cap over, a few gift cards falling off their hooks and hitting him in the head while Sukuna stepped between you.

"Try that again," Sukuna didn't have to snarl or shout, just three short words in his husky tone was threat enough.

Your second assessment of Satoru Gojo was more critical. The wrinkles in his shirt and the dark circles under his eyes, the once soft buzz of his undercut grown out.

Recognizing that awful ache in his eyes you'd once seen in your own reflection.

He looked like shit.

"Sukuna," You forced his name out, swallowing hard as you folded your arms across your chest, as if it'd do anything to shield you from how hollow you felt seeing Satoru Gojo again. "Let's just leave."

Wherever Satoru was, Suguru was probably close behind.

"Don't," Gojo sounded panicked, his plea cutting through as Sukuna only stepped back enough to wrap an arm around your waist, still glaring at him. "Can we please talk? Just us? You know, catch up?"

You didn't understand how he couldn't see there never had been an us.

There was only ever a them.

"No thanks," You shook your head, settling into Sukuna's side. His grip was tight on your hip, like you might actually slip free and take Gojo up on his offer.

You ended up telling him the entire convoluted history one night half-wasted on wine coolers while you were supposed to be watching some movie, the tv forgotten and the volume turned down so he could listen to every embarrassing detail. How pathetically in love you were. How long they left you out. How empty you felt after being used so easily.

Sukuna hadn't said much in the moment, but his face made it obvious he loathed them even more than you did.

And even though you both established you weren't really looking for a relationship, he fucked you that night like you were, slow and sure, his mouth on yours and his hands holding your wrists.

"They don't bother you still?" He had murmured in your ear afterwards, your fingers coming through his hair as you laid flat on his chest.

"I blocked them," You shrugged, sighing as he pulled you up so he could press a kiss to your forehead.

For a guy who claimed to be only be concerned about getting his cock wet, he was hellbent on aftercare anyway, making sure you were comfortable and carrying you to the bathroom and checking the temperature for the shower or bath before letting you step in.

But it wasn't like you could compare him to Satoru, or even Suguru.

He was just different.

"Sweetheart," The Satoru in front of you now protested, standing up straight and ignoring the gift cards now scattered by his feet. One had gotten caught on his jacket, but he hadn't realized it.

A petty part of you hoped he would try to leave with it and set off the sensors.

But mostly?

You didn't really feel anything for him anymore. The holes in your heart had been patched up. Caulked and painted over until it was brand new. Or as close as you could get.

Time was funny. The past four months had felt longer than the last four years.

You accepted what happened already. You could blame them and point fingers and cry about it, but you had to face the fact you let them. Love wasn't an excuse.

"I hope you're doing okay," You managed a polite smile, letting Sukuna start to pull you back towards the cash registers.

"I'd be better if you heard me out," Gojo called out, his voice still saccharinely sweet, a pretty purr that stopped working on you long before you'd left him. "Two minutes, please."

If you gave him an two minutes, he'd ask for an hour. And then what? Beg you to come back? Promise he missed you? That all he wanted was to try again?

"Your boyfriend really won't let you talk to me?" He just couldn't help himself, could he? Bitterness bleeding through, a big dramatic pout probably plastered on.

He only cared when you slipped through his fingers.

Gojo would never be your boyfriend.

And sometimes you wondered if he'd ever really been your friend.

You didn't reply, chewing on the inside of your cheek when he reached back out, his fingers grazing your arm, about to grab you before Sukuna caught his wrist.

"Touch her, and I'll break your fucking fingers," Sukuna scoffed. You suspected he would've done it already if this wasn't where you regularly shopped at. A few of the cashiers were glancing nervously at each other, one of them reaching for the phone to call the manager or maybe even the cops before you pulled Sukuna back.

"Come on," You murmured, tugging on his sleeve as he let go of Gojo with a disgusted sigh. "He's not worth it."

Satoru made a sound that was half a scoff, and half, well, you weren't sure what.

Something hurt? Wounded? Betrayed?

You decided it didn't matter.

The show was over. You bowed out. Whatever you were to each other now, it wasn't anything more than background extras.

Sukuna slipped his hand into yours, fingers holding on tight as he followed you to checkout, mumbling something about what a fucking idiot Gojo was under his breath and readjusting the shopping basket hooked over his other arm.

"Goddamn prick," Sukuna muttered, throwing a mean glare over his shoulder as he started taking items out of the basket and setting them on the conveyor belt.

"It's whatever," You replied, trying not to find the fact he was more bothered than you funny. You snagged the basket when it was empty, glancing around to where the others were stacked. "I'm gonna put this back."

"Fine," Sukuna grumbled, digging his wallet out from his jeans. "But I'm paying."

You cracked a smile, watching him out of the corner of your vision while he tried to answer semi-politely to the cashier's small talk while you walked over to add your basket to the stack.

But a flash of something dark caught your attention.

Suguru was watching you.

Maybe had been for the past few minutes. A basket of his own hooked over his elbow, filled with familiar foods and snacks you hadn't tasted since you'd lived with them.

He didn't make any move to walk over. His hair piled on top of his head in a messy bun, bangs swept away from his face so you could see how intently he was observing you. Dark brows knitted together, a phony smile he couldn't pretend reached his eyes.

His hand lifted up to wave, and you hesitantly returned it.

They missed you.

But you hadn't missed them.

꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱

"Seriously," Sukuna huffed. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

You giggled, getting up on the tip of your toes to put up a box of pancake mix. He grabbed it from your hand, neatly putting it up on the shelf for you while he sighed. His hand settled on your hip though, his chest to your back and broad frame blocking you from slipping away. You looked over your shoulder at him. "Kuna."

"Don't 'Kuna' me," He wryly said, face scrunched up. "I should've beat his ass for just talking to you."

You did laugh now, unable to stop yourself when his jaw clenched, lips tugged down in a serious frown.

"I'm not joking."

"I know," You grinned, shaking your head like you disapproved.

If you were somewhere else, a dingy bar or out on the street, he probably would've hit him. Grabbed him by the collar and given him a black eye or a broken nose.

You might've liked it a few months ago.

But you didn't need him to defend you now.

"You should go blow off some steam," You softly said, twisting so you could brush his hair back, running your fingers through the soft pink strands and craning your neck up to plant a kiss on the hard line of his jaw.

"Yeah," He reluctantly grumbled.

He leaned down to capture your lips against his, your back hitting the door frame as his greedy hands traced over the outline of your waist down to your ass, squeezing like it was some stress toy for him. His kiss was greedy, tongue lapping at your lower lip before hurrying to slip between them, to remind himself you were his to taste. You broke away first to catch your breath, lungs straining for air.

Sukuna groaned, his nose brushing against yours and sharp eyes searing through you.

"You're right."

"Usually am," You hummed back, offering one more peck to his cheek before slipping out of his grasp to finish unloading the groceries you'd managed to buy before you were interrupted.

"I guess I'll go the gym," He relented, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, you could ask Jin to go with you," You suggested before he could try to ask you.

All you wanted to do was nap. Catch an hour or two of sleep while you had a free afternoon since a certain someone would probably be cutting into how much you'd be getting tonight.

He helped you unload the rest, putting up the stuff that went on the higher shelves while you stocked the fridge. But when he went to pull out his phone, you snuck out to your bedroom, peeling off your shirt and jeans to change into something more comfortable, a thin tank-top and pajama pants. You tossed your phone on the nightstand before crawling in bed and pulling the blankets over you.

Sukuna popped in right as your eyes started to shut, squatting next to the bed to flick your forehead. You swatted at his hand before rolling over, hiding your head under a pillow.

"I'm heading out," He sighed, and you felt something in your hair, a small pull for your attention, or more likely, him fighting the temptation to tug on it.

"Okay." Your voice was muffled by the pillow, but you didn't bother peeking out.

"I'll come over after," He added, like he didn't really want to leave.

"You don't have to," You shrugged under the covers. Maybe you were friends with benefits, but it was on your terms this time. You enjoyed his company, but you didn't expect anything from him. If he wanted to go out afterwards and fuck another girl, it was fine by you. If you didn't see him again for weeks, oh well.

Being alone wasn't bad at all.

Sukuna huffed, his steps shuffling in place.

"I want to," He begrudgingly admitted.

"You can take my key then, I guess," You yawned, readjusting the blanket as you got more comfortable in bed. "Not going anywhere anyway. Just lock the door behind you."

Sukuna tch-ed, and you were glad the pillow hid how hard you rolled your eyes.

He'd been hinting at wanting a key to your place for the last few weeks. Well, hinting was an understatement.

The reality was he told you point-blank it'd be easier if he could just come and go as he pleases instead of texting and calling and feeling like he had to make an appointment to see you when he was over all the damn time anyway.

But he wasn't your boyfriend.

Shouldn't he have to make an appointment?

That's what this was? Or well, you wanted to think that's what this was.

Without a title, without something concrete and certain - which you weren't even sure you could handle - you didn't want to hand him a key into your heart home.

"Where's it at?" He grumbled, not pushing the issue though.

"On the counter," You hummed, trying not to yawn again, something about his warmth, his presence so close was lulling you closer to sleep, eyes getting heavy.

"I'll be back soon," He muttered, and there it was again. Fingers in your hair. But then he kissed your back. A handful of seconds where his lips brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

You listened to him leave. Counted his footsteps and felt your heart stutter at the door shutting behind him.

And just maybe?

You might miss him.

꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱

You woke up to the slam of the front door. It didn't startle you, probably because you'd just sort of adapted to the sound of him stomping around. The heavy footsteps and the thump of his gym bag hitting the ground. Making himself at home.

Settling back in and shutting your eyes again, face nuzzling into the pillow while you listened to the shower start in the spare bathroom down the hall.

It was almost cute, supposing he probably remembered you were sleeping and was trying to be quiet after he already woke you up.

You'd actually almost fallen back asleep before he walked in. It wasn't that he said something. But it was the silence that made you sit up, the fact he hadn't even grunted or offered some raspy hey.

Sukuna was just standing there, glaring at something on his phone, one of your towels slung low around his hips. Muscles defined and still damp, beads of water dripping down his sculpted chest to his happy trail peeking out. You had to drag your eyes up to his face, forcing yourself to focus despite the dreamy haze the world seemed to still have.

You were accustomed to attitude.

This was just different.

His eyes were too dark, his frown too tight, shoulders sagging with stress. It took him a few seconds to really look at you, and even then, his stare felt strange. Like you were some problem to solve.

"Wha' happened?" You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

His head dropped down, combing through his still-damp strands of hair. "He was there."

"Oh," You breathed.

"Yeah," He grunted, all gravelly and rough.

His attempt to seek solace from Satoru had backfired. Your problems following him wherever he went.

"Well," You slowly spoke, and he met your eyes again. "You're the one here."

He didn't even smirk.

No smugness in any of the lines of edges of his face. Your stomach flipped, unsure what you could even say. Yeah, you had terrible taste? Yeah, Satoru was an idiot?

Sorry for sleeping with someone so stupid?

"You know what he said?" Sukuna slowly drawled, his scowl etched so deeply into his skin you wondered if it'd ever fade.

You didn't say anything, blinking at him with your lips still parted, waiting for everything to somehow get worse.

"To have fun fucking you while I could," Sukuna scoffed, disgusted at just repeating it. "That you'd be back in his bed once you got tired of this."

Like you were just having a tantrum.

"What?"

You had tolerated a lot from Satoru. Missed meetings and cold meals and more mistakes and broken promises than you could count. But to beg you to speak to him and turn around to what? Fucking slut-shame you? Treat you like a toddler acting out for his attention?

"I almost hit him," Sukuna begrudgingly admitted, frowning at the memory. "But they kicked me out first."

"What?" You repeated, still too stunned to form a full thought.

"Guess I'll have to find a new gym," He muttered, unclenching his jaw as he finally stepped closer to you, some of the tension starting to melt.

So what? Gojo had managed to get your not-boyfriend banned from his gym and cut your grocery shopping short all in one day.

What was left for him to fuck up?

"He's full of fucking shit," You grumbled, mulling over his words and wishing they didn't drag such a visceral reaction out of you. Hot, angry, coals stirring in your gut, searing through you and demanding you do something.

Being the bigger person didn't work when the person who pissed you off was a prick.

You wanted to hurt him, carve out a piece of his heart and crush it the way he'd do casually done to you, for him to be wounded and withering and for once in his fucking life, feel an ounce of regret.

And maybe it made you an even bigger idiot than Gojo, but you were grabbing your phone off the nightstand, unlocking it and pulling up the list of blocked numbers until you landed on a familiar one.

"What are you doing?" Sukuna deadpanned, watching you closely as your brows cinched together.

"Unblocking Gojo," You casually said, the seeds of the idea already planted.

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

You'd never actually heard him so upset. His molars grinding hard, reaching out to grab the phone from you. You held it behind your back, slyly smiling as he tried to snag it again.

"You wanna show him just how much fun you have fucking me?"

He paused, his jaw slack and his eyes widening for a brief second when it struck him just how serious you were.

"Give it to me," He grumbled, grabbing the phone. But instead of tossing it away or blocking Gojo again, he angled it carefully, reaching over to fix a strand of your hair.

"Whatever you wanna do, you know, just-" You offered, giving him free reign to fuck you and fold you and bend you until he felt better.

Oh, and whenever Gojo got the message.

"I'll take care of you," He huffed.

Sukuna kept his promises.

He flipped the phone around, the option to video call Satoru Gojo already pulled up, one click away. You knew he'd answer.

But you still hesitated, just for a second, before peeling your shirt off first, leaving you in a lacy little bra you'd only kept on for Sukuna to see tonight. Then, shuffling out of your pajama pants to reveal the matching underwear.

"You don't mind?" You asked, giving him an opportunity to back out, but he just scoffed, looking down to hit the button for you. The phone started ringing, and your face flushed, the idea suddenly seeming terrible but your fingers freezing around the phone, unable to move and hit the button.

He answered on the third ring.

"Angel," Satoru chirped, clearly fucking pleased-as-can-be, his smile bright and carefree as his face came into frame, too close to the camera. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, y'know, I was really hoping you'd-"

"Satoru," You hummed his name as sweetly as you could muster, lashes fluttering.

"Y-yeah, baby?"

"Are you with Suguru?" You asked, pitching your voice to sound breathy, tilting your head at the camera and chewing on your lip.

His face flushed. A few wispy strands of white hair were stuck to his forehead, and you recognized the wallpaper of his room behind him.

Fresh out of the shower too.

"Nah, not right now," He finally answered, taking in your appearance. The sleepy, seductive eyes. The sharp edge of your canine biting down on your bottom lip to to remind what it once felt like to kiss it. "Are y-"

"You wanna record this for him?" You casually suggested, slowly pulling down the strap of your bra, making a show of your fingertips grazing against your collarbone. "Or will this be our little secret?"

You knew what he would pick.

But it was cute he tried to act torn.

"Our little secret," He answered, and you were pretty damn sure he was already palming his bulge. A bet you'd be willing to take by the way the lump in his throat bobbed.

And sure, he said that, but there was no fucking way he wasn't screen recording already, thinking it'd be something to save and fuck his fist to again later.

"Oh yeah?" You glanced past the camera up to Sukuna, who was staring down at you like he was imagining all the different positions he was going to put you in after this.

The signature smugness returning as you winked at him.

How would Satoru feel to be the one left out of the secret this time?

You tapped the button to flip the camera around, letting Sukuna take the phone.

"Fuck."

Not great, you guessed.

You got down on your knees, tracing the edges of the towel and tugging it down to reveal Sukuna's cock, a shade of pink just as pretty as his hair, swollen and throbbing in your palm when you delicately wrapped your fingers around it. Slowly stroking upwards, collecting the pre-cum as you stared up at the camera. You sorta wished you could see Satoru's face, but Sukuna's surprisingly fast fingers snapped a screenshot.

To hide your giggle, you leaned in to drag your tongue over the thick vein bulging along the side of his cock, taking your time before wrapping your lips around the very tip of it.

Normally, Sukuna would scoff and scold you, grabbing your hair to guide you or flip you over and give you head instead. But he was indulging your dramatics, even groaning at the ginger way you lapped and licked every inch of him.

"S-sweetheart, you can't be fucking serious," Satoru flipped from needy to nervous, but he didn't hang up.

"Is there a problem?" You innocently asked, pausing from peppering kisses across Sukuna's shaft, before his free fingers found your hair, wrapping it around his knuckles and pushing you forward until your lips were brushing against his leaking tip again, parting them so he could press inside.

Satoru made some strangled sound when you started sucking on the thick cock shoved into your mouth. Watching you choke and gag on it, bumping into the back of your throat while your nails sunk into Sukuna's hips, grabbing onto him for purchase while he fucked your face.

When he didn't reply, you tapped on Sukuna's hip to get him to pull out, his cock still bumping against your lips while you directed your attention up. "You wish it was you?"

"Fuck, yes," Satoru groaned, and you didn't have to see him to know he was getting off on this.

Although, what he really wished for was probably that it was Suguru's cock you were sucking.

"Too fucking bad," Sukuna wryly mocked, using your hair to force himself back in, hips bucking forward to drive his cock deep enough your airway was closing around him.

"Who do you think taught her to do that?" Satoru snapped back, his voice hoarse and raspy, the sound of his fist furiously pumping his cock filling the background.

Sukuna took the bait.

One second his cock was bruising your throat, and the next you were being half-tossed onto your wrinkled blankets, bent over and your panties torn off.

Something wet and heavy hit your bare ass, glancing glossy-eyed over your shoulder as Sukuna's cock rested on your ass while his free hand traced over your spine.

He drew it out, his rough fingertips running over every ridge. You shivered at the touch, wiggling your ass back, but he didn't budge.

"You wanna watch me fuck her till she can't remember your name?" Sukuna casually asked, holding the camera up as his other hand slid back down, delivering a light smack to your ass, just enough to make it jiggle before he pried you apart.

Slotting two fingers in first, stretching you out in one single, rough thrust, down to the knuckle before pulling them back out to put on display.

Giving Gojo a front row seat to how soaked you were, skin damp and slick, spreading your thighs and teasing your entrance with his swollen tip. A mean grip on your hip, holding you in place no matter how much you squirmed around him.

"You asshole-"

"Sorry," Sukuna bluntly cut him off. "This is a private show."

He hung up on him, throwing the phone on the bed, but it barely took him two seconds to sheath himself inside you, the full length of him forcing past the first ring of resistance before you could stutter out his name.

"Shit," You gasped, clawing at the bedsheets as his hips smacked harshly into your skin, driving himself in to the base, having to lift your hips to fully sink himself in.

You tried to breathe, but each time you sucked in air, it seemed like there was nowhere for it to go, too full to do anything but pant when he bottomed out, grinding his tip in to get you to stop moving so much.

"He doesn't get this," Sukuna muttered, pressing your back into a pretty arch for him, your moans muffled into the blanket as he rutted into you. The fingers on your hip were bruising, nails scraping against your skin. He leaned over, most of his weight resting on you so he could angle himself impossibly deeper.

You didn't know what to make of that.

Or him right now.

Usually sex was the sort of drawn-out affair where you'd yank each other's hair or let him tie you up or fuck until you couldn't feel your limbs.

Switching positions just to try them out, to see how many different way he could drive you insane.

But this was undeniably intimate.

The possessive rhythm of him pounding into you, the weight of his chest on your back, the longing kisses he kept pressing into the crook of your collarbone and across your throat, how he would let his cock throb and stall when he was buried so deep the only sound you could make was weak whimpers.

"K-Kuna," You whined, sweat making his skin stick to yours, his teeth sinking into your shoulder blade while he groaned. You gasped at the pain, but then the hand on your hip forced itself around to find your clit, his thumb dancing over it before rolling it between his fingers just to tease you.

"You don't know what you're fucking doing to me," He grimaced, and you wished he'd just tell you instead of taking it out on your sore and swollen bud.

Massaging harsh circles around it while he readjust to slam into his favorite little spot in the back, the one that made you yelp every time he found it, squeezing around him as he rocked his hips against your ass. The pressure and tension pulling tighter with every brutal thrust, each drag of his thumb back over your clit sending stars across your vision.

You were seeing white when you came undone, eyes scrunched shut as you stammered out a second shattered cry of his name, trying to squirm forward to escape the intensity of it, but he dragged you back down to fuck you through your high. Dumb and pliant on his dick, letting him pull you how he wanted for him to shove himself in-and-out again and again.

He barely pulled out in time, fucking his hands until cum splattered across your back, thick drops of it dripping down the curve of your spine.

You opened your mouth, about to suggest him just grabbing the discarded towel to clean you off so you could go for a second round after a water break. But he was already wiping you clean, flipping you over into your back to trace over the scratch marks and broken skin he left on your hips, frowning at the sight.

"We match," You muttered, dazed and dreamy and still trying to catch your breath while you gestured to where you scratched his hips earlier.

Sukuna wasn't so amused.

"He's not going to leave you alone," He finally said.

"Does it matter?" You hummed.

"I hate him," Sukuna grumbled bitterly.

"You hate everyone," You reminded him. Sometimes, you wondered why he even tolerated you.

Or if he was just like them - what you said, what you did, it didn't matter much if you were sleeping in their sheets.

"Not you."

꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱

It was stupid to show up somewhere they used to frequent. To order a drink at a bar you'd gotten wasted at too many times to count, retreating to one of the few places of solitude you'd found.

Every time you'd ever gone with them, you just ended up alone anyway. Drinking in a corner booth by yourself while they talked to other girls and try to make you jealous.

Still, it was better than staying home. You felt like you were suffocating inside the apartment. Sukuna hadn't shown up all week.

He left when things were still weird, looking at you like he saw you in some new light. Part of you wondered if he'd realized he didn't want to deal with your past.

You told yourself it was fine.

That you were okay with that.

But every day that passed with just a few awkward texts exchanged, the harder it was to breathe. Going to bed early just so you wouldn't have to think about him.

Wouldn't have to wish he was there.

And terrifyingly enough, you were just now struggling to face the fact you just wanted him.

Wanted him to come stomping through your door and over your heart, hear his grumble and feel his hands on your side.

You'd been shoving all those feelings down, scared to accept the risk that he might hurt you the same way Satoru and Suguru did.

He was giving you space, you guessed. Waiting for you to call him and tell him to come over. But you couldn't bring yourself to unlock your phone, to tap a few buttons and break the silence first.

You should.

You should suck it up and ask him to show up. See if he wanted to re-enact your first meeting and fuck in the backseat of his car.

Back when you thought you'd never see him again.

The thought of that happening now had started to curdle in your stomach. All sour and screwed up, the same way you used to be.

But you changed.

And he'd never been Satoru or Suguru to start with.

You sucked in a sharp breath, frowning to yourself when you shared your location with him. You couldn't think of a message to send him. But he would know what you wanted.

It was just up to him to take you up on it.

Although, after a handful of minutes passed without a reply, you were starting to get anxious. Readjusting the hem of your tiny dress and fixing the straps while you debated on getting another drink.

Had he seen it?

Was he just done?

So like an idiot, you called him. Just to feel like the biggest fool on the planet when he didn't pick up.

What did you expect?

Him to come running to your rescue? For him to promise to pick you up? Or maybe just a drinking partner since he wasn't your real one?

You couldn't take your eyes off your phone, polishing off the rest of your glass before you even noticed it was near empty.

But it didn't buzz or light up, even as the clock ticked by, getting later and later.

You were about to leave.

Call a cab or order an Uber.

"Hi, pretty." A soft purr. Velvet and honey and so smooth you sorta wanted to slap him for it.

Once again the wrong man.

This time though, you didn't entertain it. Didn't even look at him. Just got out of the booth and slipped past his broad frame, shoving your phone in your purse while you tried to squeeze between the sea of bodies.

You thought you blended in, or at least he'd have half a brain and know you didn't want to speak to him.

But he was right on your heels, following you outside the exit and into the warm air.

"What do you want from me?" You turned, exasperated and exhausted from bearing the brunt of their expectations for so long. Even after you left.

Suguru stared like a cat who caught his prey, looming over you like you were his favorite little mouse to play with. You'd forgotten how it felt - to be shrunk down to size when he was around. The guilt that gnawed at you.

Satoru made it easier.

He was all sweet talk and saccharine smiles and pretty sentences meant to make you melt until you were a puddle in his palm.

With Suguru?

He saw you. Could see through the lies you tried to sell and counter it until he had you cornered. But knowing you didn't mean he cared enough to change for you.

Suguru only wanted to piece you back together into a shape that suited him.

"Just to talk," He answered, and he sounded so sincere, you might've believed him if you were a little stupider.

Then again, you'd been dumb for deceiving yourself into thinking you were worth more than a few fucks and a fun game for them to share and see who could make you crack first.

"I heard that from your friend already," You bitterly muttered.

No matter what he said, or what they did, it was just a simple fucking fact of life. Satoru and Suguru were a pair. Friends, soulmates, whatever label you wanted to tack to it. You would just be a prize for them to share.

There wasn't space for you.

Not in the way you ever wanted.

And that was okay. You were over it. Didn't need any part of them. Didn't want it.

So why the hell did they have to just keep rubbing it in your face? Why couldn't they just go have sex with some girl that looked like you? That was all you'd ever been good for to them anyway.

"My friend?" Suguru echoed, a brow carefully arched up. "You know he misses you. I miss you."

"I don't care," You hissed, shaking your head. They needed to get that through their thick skulls.

"You don't mean that," He protested, not pushy, but subtly trying to convince correct you.

"I really do," You scoffed, stepping away and glancing around the street at all the people passing by, a few staring at the handsome man you were trying to get away from.

"I saw the video," He spoke up, and you threw a glare over your shoulder at him.

"Yeah? You enjoy the show?" You sarcastically asked.

He rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but huff at him.

"I got the point." You sincerely doubted that when he was staring at you like he wanted to take you home and spank you. Like you were a pet he spoiled too much and had to reprimand. "Now come back home."

No waterworks. No begging. No getting on his knees and asking for forgiveness. Not even a fucking apology.

"You don't even care why I left," You spoke carefully, barely able to keep your voice even. It had never been your home. Only ever theirs.

"Of course I care," He murmured, again trying to bridge the distance, reaching out to grab your hand before you smacked it down.

"Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry," Suguru apologized, but you could see the surprise registering in his eyes. It was faint, but uneasiness started to creep into his features, swallowing hard. "I know you're hurt and angry, but we never meant to-"

"I'm not," You interrupted, eyes hardening. "I don't feel anything for either of you anymore."

"Don't say that," Suguru said, and you just shook your head. "This is fixable. We-"

"There isn't a we. And I'm not something you can fix," You mumbled, biting down on the inside of your cheek. "I'm just done, okay?"

"Could I just take you out to dinner?" He hadn't changed. Maybe he'd try to coax you into thinking otherwise - but he still couldn't listen. "One chance?"

"You had a million," You sharply declined. Him and Satoru both. They wouldn't get another one.

His stare hardened, and he tried to step closer, but before he could, someone was moving in-between you, blocking your view.

You heard it though.

The sound of skin hitting skin. The distinct thud of a fist connecting with a face.

It took you a few seconds to process the picture being painted in front of you. The splashes of pink and red. The hint of black. The tan skin.

Then Sukuna brought his fist back and slammed it into Suguru's jaw.

You grabbed at his shirt, trying to pull him back, your lips parted in a protest that just wouldn't come out. Sukuna was seething though, probably seeing the same red that was splattering the concrete.

"You heard her," Sukuna snarled as Suguru spit out a thick glob of blood by his shoes.

"Kuna," You started, but you weren't even sure he heard you.

The door to the bar swung open, and a familiar head of white hair popped out, but Satoru froze before he stepped out, the heavy wood hitting him.

"You must be fucking brainless if you seriously thought she'd ever take your ass back," Sukuna scoffed, shoving Suguru back before turning to you. He grabbed your hand, knuckles still split and bleeding, but you didn't want to let go.

"Yeah?" Suguru dryly asked, wiping the blood away from his mouth, but it was already dripping all over his shirt. Satoru started to walk over, his brows furrowed and frowning at the scene, but you were already tugging Sukuna back.

You were sick of this.

Maybe years from now, when all of this had faded and none of it was fresh, you could stomach their presence. Could look back and find nostalgia in the good moments instead of drowning in the bad.

But not right now.

"Can we go home?" You got up on the top of your toes to whisper in Sukuna's ear, squeezing his hand soft enough you wouldn't hurt his bruised fist.

He nodded, but Satoru was trying to catch up.

"Hey, hey," He called out, once again desperate for attention you didn't want to give him.

"I swear-"

"Just let me," You murmured to Sukuna before he could potentially face a second set of assault charges.

Satoru sighed in relief when you glanced back at him.

"Thank you," He half-groaned, already holding his hand out like he really thought you'd let go of Sukuna's to take his instead. "I know you-"

You weren't really listening.

Studying his face, the softness of it, the pretty eyes you used to adore, the shape his lips made when he said sorry.

What happened to the man you met all those years ago?

The one who laughed and teased you? A sneaky hand under the table and a sloppy kiss to the cheek? Who looked at you like you were the sun instead of some burnt-out star?

Or had this always been him? Selfish and inconsiderate and shallow?

You supposed none of it really mattered.

"I'm not interested," You bluntly said, and Sukuna's palm tightened around yours, fingers pressing into your knuckles.

"What?" Gojo blinked, not comprehending even when you so clearly spelled it out for him.

"Whatever happened, happened, okay? It's over. I don't want to keep doing this," You replied, not caring how short and sharp it sounded.

And part of you felt a little bad, watching his face fall as it finally started to set in that nothing he said or did would change the words coming out of your mouth.

"I don't hate you, but I don't want to see you or talk to you or pretend to be friends when we never were to begin with," You rushed through your words, wincing at the word friends as Sukuna's arm brushed against you, an accidental anchor.

He was here for you.

Not to make you feel like shit or guilt trip you for standing up for yourself.

But you called and he came.

"You're my girl, you've always-" Gojo protested.

"That's bullshit and we both know it," You spoke softly, biting your lip hard enough to split it open, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

Suguru was just staring behind him, holding his sore jaw and watching you with those unreadable eyes.

"I meant it before, I hope you're okay," You forced yourself to finish. "Take care of yourself."

"I'm sorry," Gojo was half-begging, panic flaring up in his face at every step back you took.

"Yeah," You shrugged your shoulders slightly, the thin strap to your dress threatening to fall down as you swallowed hard. It felt like the last time. A proper farewell. "Bye, Gojo."

He opened his mouth to speak just to shut it, pausing just for his lips to fly open again for one final bargain. "Can't we just try again? Please?"

He sounded broken. Voice cracking and breathing stuttering.

But you repaired yourself before.

They would just have to do the same.

"Maybe in another life," You half-heartedly said, and then you turned away.

Let Sukuna lead you back to his car. Open the door and buckle you up. Turn the key in the ignition and pull out into the road.

One glance back in the rearview as you left them behind.

"My place or yours?" Sukuna grunted once you hit the first stop light, his intense stare carefully assessing you in the faint red glow. His hair looked darker, his face suddenly seemed so much more mature, knuckles strained and bone-white under the bruises and blood.

"Mine," You quietly answered.

He curtly nodded, reluctantly turning his attention back to the road as the light turned green again.

"I'm not letting it happen," He abruptly interrupted the quiet a minute or two later, and you almost laughed at your firmness of it, the way his face scrunched up and he didn't even know it.

"What?" You asked, lips struggling not to turn up in a smile despite the night you had. The past week of wishing you were with him.

"You being with them," He muttered, like he was a little embarrassed to say it. "Even in another life."

"Yeah?" You giggled. "You're gonna save me?"

"You make it sound so sappy," He grunted, as if he hadn't started it.

"Uh-huh," You covered your mouth to hide your smile.

"Shut up," He grumbled, and maybe it was the stoplight, but his cheeks looked almost pink.

"Let me clean your knuckles when we get home," You softly requested.

"Fine."

But once you got in, he ended up placing you on the cold marble of the counter, hoisting you up by your waist and digging out the first aid kit from underneath the sink.

He didn't wince or cringe while you wiped the blood away, letting your fingers tenderly examine the scrapes, but he held his breath when you gently brought his hand up to your lips to kiss those sturdy fingers.

"Isn't it s'pposed to be the other way around?" He asked, but he didn't pull his hand away either.

"What? Like you're a knight?" You laughed, trying to picture him in the whole getup - the shiny armor and heavy helmet.

"It fits."

You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"What does that make me?" You tilted your head to the side. "Your princess?"

"If you want to be," He shrugged.

"And if I do?" It slipped out before you could stop it.

And strangely, you found you didn't want to take it back.

Sukuna's lips smashed into yours. Hard and hungry and filled with something you'd both been desperately denying until now.

Moaning into his mouth as his cold, calloused hands slid under your short dress, one reaching around to hold your back and pull you close while the other tugged your breast free from your bra, rolling your nipple between his fingers. Dragging the pad of his thumb over the bud and toying with it until it hardened, his tongue slipping past your lips to trace your teeth.

"My dress," You complained between kisses, trying not to smile and giggle when he huffed and struggled not to tear it when he pulled it off of you, briefly breaking the kiss to lift it over your head.

"There," He murmured, immediately shutting you up with another kiss.

He wasn't rushing though, no, he seemed to try and make each second last. It wasn't a heat of the moment make out or hookup. You weren't just meeting each other's needs. It meant more.

The start of something serious.

Where you would be his and he would be yours and it really was just that simple.

"Hey," You breathed, planting a soft peck on the edge of his lips and cupping his cheeks to stop him from suffocating you with another starving kiss.

His nose brushed against yours, his dark eyes locking onto you. And for the first time in forever, you wanted the intimacy. Wanted to share and soak in the feeling of falling in love.

"Hey," He murmured back, rough and low, sucking in an uneven breath. His hands were harsh, heavy in each touch, but he tried to be soft. Tried to be tender.

You were worth the effort to him.

The risk of putting your faith, your future, into him didn't seem like anything to fear anymore.

"You still want that key?"

꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱

Suguru stuck to his habits.

Tea instead of coffee. Keeping to a schedule - even when Satoru tried to bend it. Refusing to break even when he, they were fractured.

Filling in the empty spaces with meaningless drivel, anything to occupy his heart and mind enough to not thing about what or who was missing.

And it worked. Most of the time.

But some days?

He still thought about you.

In the park. Watching tv. Washing dishes. Wondering what could've been - and what should've been.

Hearing footsteps in another room and picturing you padding around barefoot, or Satoru chasing you down the hall, protectively wrapping an arm around you when you tried to hide behind him.

He saw you in the shirts you used to steal from him. Felt you in the empty bed. Heard you in your old favorite songs.

Years had passed and yet, you still haunted him. Hung over his head ready to rain whenever he forgot his umbrella.

Suguru supposed he was just a man made up by old mistakes. If moving on meant he'd never get those glimpses of your ghost, he didn't care for it.

He readjusted the shopping basket over his arm. Fingers tracing over a bag of your favorite chips, junk he used to tease you for liking, but he was tempted to buy them anyway, just for old times sake - give it a try himself.

Someone else grabbed it first.

"Oh, sorry." His stomach dropped. "Didn't see you - oh."

Yeah, oh.

He had to force himself to turn.

Body switching into manual, his head slowly swiveling as he swallowed hard. Shifting focus to face the phantom from his thoughts.

"Hi, Geto," You acknowledged him with a pretty smile, one that was genuine, painfully real, like he was an old friend.

He expected sharp words, a pointed glare, to repeat the same conversation he'd come to regret. But you looked at him so softly.

"Hey," He breathlessly replied, unable to drag his dark eyes away from your face. How could he when he had no idea if he'd ever see it again? "Been a long time."

"It has," You laughed a little, and there were only a few signs of the years that passed in your face. A few extra lines, all the smiles and frowns and laughter he missed out on now faintly etched into your skin. Your hair was styled differently, and he suspected the lip gloss you were wearing no longer tasted like candy.

"How have you been?" Suguru heard his own voice asking, sounding far more collected than he felt. His throat was closing up, his chest too tight, heart and lungs straining to hold the rest of him together while he subtly picked at his cuticles.

"I'm great, how are you and uh-" You paused, like you were trying to decide if Satoru was still around or if it'd be rude to ask without knowing. You changed your mind, restarting the question entirely. "Anything new with you?"

Satoru was actually with him. Off raiding the candy aisle, probably. All it'd take was a text or a shout, and he'd show up.

But Suguru had never been good at sharing you.

"Nah, not too much," He started to answer, but then his gaze shifted down and he froze.

You were pregnant.

A soft hand resting on the swell of your stomach, probably what? Six months along? Seven? A cute little sundress clinging to your body, the bag of chips in your other hand and a gleam of gold and diamond glittering on the fourth finger.

You belonged to someone else.

"Never thought I'd see Suguru Geto speechless," You teased, seemingly unbothered by his stunned expression. He hated the way you said his name now.

Like he really was just a stranger.

"Baby, huh?" He slowly said, struggling to find the words that wouldn't make him sound like a jealous asshole when he was so desperately trying to be happy for you.

"He's due in a couple months," You smiled again, and Suguru's composure threatened to crack. You were having a boy, one that would have some stranger's eyes or nose, that wouldn't have his last name or even Satoru's.

He watched the way your hand settled on your baby bump, the affection in the simple gesture. His stare returned to the engagement ring on your finger, the wedding band below it.

And of all the times he imagined you'd get married, he always pictured himself playing the groom, or at the very least, the best man you'd be sleeping with after the ceremony. He never considered he wouldn't even get an invite.

"How long have you been married?" He asked, nodding towards the rings.

Your cute cheeks flushed pink, tilting your head to the side to do the math. "Almost five years now."

Half a decade.

It was longer than you ever lived with them.

"Your husband's a lucky man," Suguru managed to say, soft and low. He meant it. He'd probably trade anything to be in his shoes.

"That's what I tell him," You casually giggled, so carefree compared to the last time he'd seen you. Softer now. Happier.

There was the squeak of a shopping cart, a toddler laughing just a little too loud, and you were both glancing back to look.

Suguru recognized him immediately.

Sure, he had a few more tattoos, his hair grown out a little longer, but what grabbed his attention was what he already knew he'd find - a matching wedding band. The jealousy simmering in his blood had barely started to boil before he noticed the little girl swinging her legs in the cart. One with your hair and his eyes.

"Dah-dee," She whined, glaring at him. "Wan' candy."

"Yeah? You want cavities too?" Sukuna half-scolded, a relaxed quality to him Suguru had never seen before. Content somehow.

"I brush my teeth," She pouted, although it sounded more like teef. Sukuna was about to roll his eyes, looking up just to spot Suguru standing with his pretty, pregnant wife.

His scowl was immediate, his jaw clenching before you were already walking towards him, dropping the bag of chips in the cart and getting up on your toes to kiss his cheek.

"Look who I bumped into," You smiled, as if the last time the three of you had been in the same room, Sukuna hadn't given him a black eye.

Sukuna didn't say anything, just giving him a cold once-over before his stare returned to you. The warmth returned to his face almost immediately, the hard edges softening, his muscles relaxing, like he couldn't control the effect you had on him.

"Who're you?" The toddler in the shopping cart turned to him, a scowl she probably learned from her father plastered on her face.

"He was my friend before I met daddy," You hummed softly, poking her cheek and fixing a lopsided hair clip while your daughter continued to huff and stare at Suguru displeased.

Friend.

He guessed he had never asked for more.

Watching you wrap your arms around another man, his hand on your stomach and your kid begging for snacks in the shopping cart. A heavy ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.

And after this, you'd offer him a little wave and walk out of the aisle and away from him for good, oblivious to the part of him still pining for you, for the family you could've built together. That wished he was the one who'd be kissing your forehead and glaring at any asshole that approached you.

Maybe in another life.

Wasn't that what you said?

a/n: ten bucks says him or Satoru crash out and get another girl pregnant after this and sixteen years later reader and sukuna's son brings home a daughter that looks a little too much like someone they used to know lol - for my girls that love pain and suffering I would be willing to do an alternate ending (I was thinking like a time-travel fix-it but yknow just if y'all are interest lemme know)

taglist: @nylve @sukuxna0 @aldebrana @ginginha @hon3yjaxx @shibataimu @tsukuhoe @iluchuuya @imm0rtalbutterfly @sukunasballstickler01 @moncher-ire @atiny-99 @sleepykittyenergy @uhnosav @bxnfire @unbaed-you @leaario @evilari111 @good-mourning0 @curlsnchxos @vamqyx @migueloharacumslut @diduzzula @rikiswifeyyy @violetpurplez @beepbeepyddgjj @trsh-kitty @00frenchfries00 @teenbreakup @chososlefteyeball @ghostreadersthings @stargazing-with-choso @froggkat @tojiwoah @thesunxwentblack @miizuzu @miscellaneous-misty @wisepeachwitch @esnocookie @sadmonke @dazed-lavender @rosieandthethorns @sttm99 @victoria1676 @bunnygirlgonewild

#im gonna throw up this is so good #hurts soooo good #im glad they stayed miserable im glad reader got a happy ending #i love when ppl write sukuna soft it's everything to me #that being said ykw is so sick is i wouldnt have the back bone to say no if they pleaded enough #PERHAPS

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