yeah that song

You were gathering your things at the end of class when you heard footsteps behind you. You looked up and saw Yozoru, one of the star athletes at your school, glaring back at you. Due to her being in your graduating class, you knew she was one of Sukuna’s past girlfriends. She had her arms crossed and her eyes bored into you. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Despite having several classes together in the past, she’d never acknowledged you before today…and just based on her expression alone, you could tell that what was about to happen was going to be anything but good.

You furrowed your brows, clearly confused, and she rolled her eyes. You weren’t liking her attitude at all. Everything about her demeanor screamed bad news, but it was as if your feet were planted to the ground. You couldn’t move, you could only watch in horror as she finally opened her mouth to speak.

“Whatever is going on with you and Suki, you might as well end it. You’re just another virgin loser throwing herself at him in hopes of getting lucky. It’s embarrassing.” She emphasized the last word like the thought of it alone made her physically ill. You were at a loss of words. You didn’t know where to unpack the word vomit that just left her mouth. Who the hell was “Suki” and why was she just calling you names unwarranted? He came to you for tutoring, not the other way around. And when did tutoring turn into throwing yourself at him? It was obviously by chance. Your head was spinning from the million things flying through your mind.

“We only just now started dating” you replied, voice shaky, “I don’t know why you felt the need to come at me like this. I haven’t done anything to you.”

“I’m doing you a favor by telling you you’re wasting your time.” She scoffed at your puzzled expression and shook her head. “He doesn’t date girls like you.”

What did “girls like you" mean? You weren’t very popular, but you weren’t actively seeking to be. “Please, just leave me alone.” You side stepped and scurried past her before she could assault you with her words again. Even though you knew she was probably being fueled by jealousy and possessiveness, you still felt uneasy. You weren’t sure when or how her and Sukuna had broken up—you weren’t that invested in everyone’s love lives—but you were pretty sure nothing warranted her confronting you. This was crazy and not at all what you had signed up for. 

You finally reached your car and hurried in to lock the doors. Paranoia was one way to describe it, but you’d rather call it being smart. She seemed crazy, and like Rina had told you, she got away with everything because she was so good at her sport. She’s gotten out of cheating on exams, failing drug tests, and so on. It was insane how untouchable she was. You weren’t taking any chances. You took a deep breath and started the car. The drive home was silent. No music, no podcasts, nothing.

“I spend my hours thinkin' 'bout us and the way that things are”

You went over all the events that have brought you here. You couldn’t control that Sukuna ended up being one of the people you were tutoring. You could control how you interacted: focusing more on the actual content, not joking around and indulging in his shenanigans and so on, but you didn’t want to hold back. As much as you hated to admit it at the time, you had looked forward to your sessions. He made you laugh and he kept you on your toes. Each and every session was something new. You never knew what to expect with him. You could have controlled going on the date. Could have said no, could have ignored his texts altogether that night. But once again, you liked talking to him. Him asking you out was the best surprise ever, and you couldn't be more grateful for it. But, was it worth it? How you felt for him, was it worth Yozoru’s wrath?

“It's like I'm over-obsessing over someone I barely know. I convinced myself I think maybe I'd be better alone”

No it wasn’t, you decided. You had other things going for you, all these good things working towards your future. Unnecessary distractions would only make you lose sight of what matters most. Distancing yourself from him might be what’s best. Yozoru would get off your back and maybe then you’d be able to finally find peace of mind. As much as you ran this thought through your head—to the point of exhaustion—you didn’t believe yourself. Your head hurt so badly, the stress from this past week has been getting to you. If it weren’t for your applications already being turned in, you’d explode from the stress of all the pending tasks alone. With a heavy heart, you got in bed and slept off the headache.

The next couple of days, you kept your distance. Burying yourself in your studies was what you knew best. Doing so was anything but healthy, but it was all you’ve ever known. It robbed you of making and maintaining the relationships in your life, but it was a fair trade. Pouring yourself into your work only ever ended with you reaping the benefits anyway. It was your fault for thinking you could have your cake and eat it too.

Rina was in and out of the dorm as usual. You were yet to tell her about the run in with Yozoru. She’d definitely be on your side, but you weren’t sure what advice she’d give you. You knew deep down, you couldn’t ignore your boyfriend forever. He’d never admit it but, he could be pretty clingy behind closed doors. It didn’t help that he could always see right through you. Nothing could get past him.

That night, you came home to the sound of the sink running. You walked into the kitchen and saw Rina washing dishes. 

“Rina?”

She turned around and beamed at you. “Oh my gosh hi, how are you?” She dried her hands with a rag and pulled you into a hug. She smelled nice, like a sweet cinnamon, which was fitting for her personality. You pulled away and smiled back at her. “I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m good, I just miss you. I cleaned up the dorm as my sorry for disappearing, I’ve been picking up a lot of shifts at work and school has been…well, you know.” She sighed.

“I understand. I’m glad to see you too. Thank you! You didn’t have to, that's so sweet.” You squeezed her arm lightly. Your eyes scanned the dorm. It was sparkling clean. You weren’t a total pig, but the place had definitely been overdue for some tidying up with you being distracted and all.

“Let me finish up here and we can catch up?”

You nodded and she turned back to the sink. You walked into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Your belongings were long forgotten on the floor. These past few days, you’d done every homework assignment available, including the ones due in a few weeks. You watched videos online to be able to understand the ones that went over content you haven’t covered yet in class. That’s how you kept busy: constantly searching for something to do.  

You heard the sink turn off and Rina knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside.

“Okay, I’m all done. What’s new with you?”

You started off light, telling her about classes and other school related things. You were afraid of telling her about Yozoru. Saying what happened out loud made it more real, including the harsh things she had said to you.

“How was your day though? Tell me about it.” She handed you your favorite snack and took a sip of her water. Rina had always been genuine. Despite her spontaneous disappearances, she always made sure to catch up with you and check in to see if you were okay.

“Honestly, not the best. Yozoru kind of ruined it.”

Rina sat up. “Yozoru?!?”

“Yeah, she confronted me today in class.”

Rina choked on her water. “She did what?”

You took a deep breath and explained the incident to her. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and her mouth curved in a deep frown.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” she said sympathetically. “She’s insane. Why is she pressing you? She’s acting as if Sukuna gives her the time of the day. He ignores her now and she hates it. Instead of thinking maybe, ‘Oh, I must be the problem,’ she bothers any girls he interacts with to cope with the fact that he doesn’t fuck with her anymore. It’s sick.”

You blinked in confusion “Wait, so she has no place to be bothering me over him?”

“None at all. They broke up ages ago because she was trying to homie hop back to Gojo. I guess Sukuna got tired of her being unfaithful. Are you okay though?”

Her question barely registered in your head. You were too focused on what she just dropped on you: Sukuna was cheated on? He never mentioned that to you. Was it on purpose? Withholding that information seemed pretty deliberate. Then again, maybe it was just a sensitive subject…

“I was a little shaken up at first, but I’m fine now,” you lied, “I can’t believe she cheated on him and expects him to still want her in his life.”

“The audacity of that woman. Honestly, Ryomen Sukuna is many things, but he is loyal. Yozoru’s infidelity was one-sided. Sukuna will break up with a girl out of the blue if it meant making sure she knew how he felt, when he felt it. He’s never been unfaithful, just blunt. And girls hate that,” Rina chuckled, “I don’t blame them, but I’d rather that than finding out my boyfriend is sleeping with someone else. Sukuna might be the last loyal frat guy left.”

“Or ever,” you joked.

You both laughed. The cheating scandals out of that fraternity house were insane. And when they mixed with the sorority girls? Hell on earth.

“Wait. Did I tell you about…” She complained to you about one of the classes she was taking that you took last semester. You nodded and gave your input here and there, but your mind was still stuck on all that happened. You’d made a point not to say what Yozoru had said verbatim, it was too humiliating. Sure, Rina probably knew, but you still felt embarrassed. There was some truth to what Yozoru was saying, and you didn't want to hear what Rina thought about it, afraid of your worst fear being confirmed. 

“I think about it time to time, think about what it'll be. To be with somebody similar, somebody just like me. It doesn't make a lot of sense 'cause boy, you give me the world” 

It was obvious to pretty much everyone how different you and Sukuna were, that was no secret. But did these differences, specifically your own, make having something together—or him—completely unattainable? All of this would be so much easier if you were dating someone more in your league. Someone as quiet and shy as you, who you could experience your firsts with together: first date, first kiss, first time having sex, and so on. Complications would be minimal compared to what you had going on with Sukuna. Though, what you had with Sukuna was good. Outside of all this craziness, he made you feel seen and loved. There were obstacles of course, but he constantly made an effort for you. Were you really that ungrateful to wish for someone else? You felt guilty for even entertaining that thought. You couldn’t decide what to feel. On one hand you were immensely grateful, but on the other hand, your mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. You just hoped that you were making the right decision.

You felt awful. You’d taken the distancing thing a little too far, and now he was demanding to see you. The notifications from him spamming your phone flooded your lockscreen.

sukuna: feels like i haven’t see you in forever sukuna: yes i know our session is tmr, i don’t care sukuna: wanna meet up ? sukuna: if you say no, i’m leaving you a bad review on yelp 

Yelp? You weren’t even on Yelp. You giggled and unlocked your phone. 

you: i’m not on yelp, but thanks for the suggestion

sukuna: so she’s alive

Okay, now he was just being dramatic. You have been replying to his texts. Yes, you were dry and the responses were a little delayed, but you were replying.

you: someone’s a bit dramatic

sukuna: k.

you: wow, we’ve devolved from “ok” to “k.” monumental.

sukuna: Ok.

sukuna: is that better ? sukuna: are you coming or not

You hesitated. You felt like a huge jerk, but if that’s what it took for you to not have a repeat of last night where you felt the insecurities eating you alive, even before the two of you could really start something, then so be it.

you: Can’t, sorry. I have to work on internship applications

sukuna: alright, then. good luck 

You’d worked on and submitted them the day before yesterday, but he didn’t need to know that. You yawned and stretched before you laid your head on your desk. A wave of drowsiness hit you. You desperately needed to get your mind off of things. Drowning in schoolwork definitely wasn’t the way to do it. It was starting to drain you more. You glanced at your bed and contemplated going to sleep early tonight. It would help you relax and you’ve been sleeping so late since you were up working…

You got up from your desk and crawled into bed. The second your head hit the pillow, you knocked out.

The beeping sound right next to your ear was not a part of your imagination. You groaned softly and lifted your head up. You fumbled your hand around your nightstand until you grabbed your phone. The bright light blinded you and you winced. The time read 9:07. You rubbed your eyes and blinked at your phone. 9:07…?

Crap. You leapt from your bed and dashed to shower. Of course you slept through your alarm. You didn’t even get to finish reading for your lab procedure for your second class today. You’d fallen asleep in the middle of it yesterday. You dashed out of your dorm in record time and got to class with a minute to spare. The professor started the lecture promptly at 9:30 and you took a second to catch your breath. It felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. The adrenaline was still rushing through your blood. The professor droned on about last night’s reading, which you luckily completed before your nap turned into deep slumber, though there was definitely something you forgot to do you just couldn’t put your finger on it…

It wasn’t until you saw Yozoru, who had been shooting daggers your way, as you left the room once lecture was over that you realized. Once again, you had forgotten to prepare a study plan for you and Sukuna’s session. It was remarkable really. You pushed him out of your head so far back you forgot about the one and only that you couldn’t avoid. You groaned and checked your schedule. If you studied during lunch, you’d have time to get some of it done. You dragged your feet to your next class, which was lab, and prayed it would all work out.

It did end up working out, thank god, but barely. By the time of the session, your brain was fried and you just wanted to go home. On top of that, you had to make a point of not engaging with his usual shenanigans, despite you really wanting to. You took off your headphones and reminded yourself it was for your own good and sanity. You just hoped your efforts would be worth it.

The second Sukuna walked up to you, you knew something was off. His eyes narrowed at you suspiciously before he took a seat.

“How are you?” 

You looked up from your notebook and blinked at him. “Um, good. What about you?”

“I’m okay. Could be better,” he replied flatly.

You frowned at your paper. You weren’t going to bite. Engaging would distract you from what really mattered: helping him with his statistics coursework. Aimless conversation was out of the picture for the two of you now. “Ready to start?” You asked him cheerfully. 

He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Yeah sure,” he said in a monotone. Great. So he really was upset with you for not hanging out with him yesterday. If you told him upfront that you wanted space, you weren’t really sure how he’d take it. Knowing him, it would probably hurt his ego.

The two of you got to work. You were glad that you squeezed in some time to create the plan. The statistics class he was in was progressing to more difficult material. He struggled a bit, but halfway through he was starting to get the hang out of it.

“This isn’t as hard as I thought.” He scanned the page of practice problems that the two of you just completed together.

“Mhm,” you murmured in agreement.

“Maybe. You’re still speaking in riddles and this class is still a waste of my time.” You blinked at him in confusion. All you said was “mhm.” No, you were not falling for it, you refused.

“Okay! Next page,” you said cheerfully. Trying to ignore it wasn’t the best approach, but it was all you could muster. It killed you not to say something witty back, something that would take him a second to understand. You didn’t even get a chance to mourn your past sessions and appreciate them, you immediately got hit with whatever the hell this was.

“Nah, I wanna take a break.” Without waiting for a response from you, he got up from his seat abruptly and walked off.

You gaped at his empty chair for a few seconds before scrambling to follow after him. He made it halfway across the library by the time you caught up with him.

“I meant a solo break,” He said pointedly. You scoffed. He needed to cool it. He was starting to get on your nerves again.

“We’ve never taken breaks before so I just wanted to clarify,” you chirped. This was starting to put a strain on your resolve. There was no book, no class that could teach you how to handle a wounded ego. Even if there was, you were sure he was too big to tend.

He narrowed his eyes at you for the nth time today before sighing. “We’ve never done any of this before. What’s going on with you?” He put his hands up in surrender. “And I don't mean passing on seeing me yesterday. That’s valid, you have your own things. I mean the fact you didn’t have your lesson plan ready for today, the eyebags under your eyes, and the way you’re treating me like some fucking stranger.”

You were stunned. He just read you to filth in the middle of the library. You were unarmed, completely unprepared to be hit with that. Your brain could barely process what was said before he started again.

“I’ve tried my best to reach out and get to know you. I thought you wanted the same. It seemed like you did, but the way you’re treating me now is like I’m this huge asshole. If I did anything to offend you, please tell me. I’ll fix it, whatever it is, just please…it feels like I’m basically begging you to make fun of me. I kinda am since I miss joking around with you and you using your smart puns and your statistics nonsense on me, but I don’t even care at this point. The vibe is off. Can we go back to the way we were? The day at Pam’s, the party, the everything has been the highlight of my year. Don’t tell me that that was our peak.”

“Sukuna … slow down.” Your head was spinning. You took the chair nearest to you and sat down. His brows furrowed in concern and he sat next to you.

“Shit, sorry. That was a lot to dump on you at once.”

“It was,” you agreed. “How did you know I didn’t do my notes ahead of time?”

“Your handwriting gets super shitty when you don’t. Like our second session, when I saw you with your headphones on right before we were supposed to meet, your handwriting was straight ass compared to the first, third, and so on,” he said matter of factly. You glared at him and he grinned.

“Gee thanks,” you said sarcastically. You made a mental note to write a bit slower when you were in a rush to avoid sloppy notes.

“Anytime,” he said with a wink and you groaned. 

“Are my eyebags really that bad?” You braced yourself for his answer.

He shot you a sympathetic look. “Do you want me to lie to make you feel better?”

“Wowww, okay. I’ll just die then I guess,” you deadpanned.

“If you die, who’s going to teach me the wonders of pastel pens?”

You glared at him once more and he laughed. “Seriously though. Get some sleep. You look like a fucking zombie,” he paused, “Respectfully.”

You gasped. “Oh. Oh okay. Noted. Also, saying respectfully at the end doesn’t automatically make it respectful,” you protested. 

He stared at you. “Um, yes it does? 

“No it doesn't."

“It cancels out,” he insisted, “PEMDAS.”

“PEM—,” you couldn't hold your laughter in, “PEMDAS?!”

“Why are you laughing?” He grumbled.

Your stomach burned as you laughed over how ridiculous he was. You were sure to have abs by the time you caught your breath, your abdomen was on fire.

“Holy shit,” you wheezed. “PEMDAS? Oh Ry, I think the alcohol is starting to seep into your brain and destroy your brain cells."

He scoffed, “Just say you don’t get it, it's okay.”

“You’re right, I don't. Because it’s wrong.” 

“Wanna bet on it?”

Not this again. “Err…no?” 

“Why not? You get so cute when you win them.”

There it was again. He was doing this on purpose, flustering you so you could get off track. It was the way he could counter your jokes by immediately stunning you into silence. Even though you were together, it still worked every single time. Your eyes glued to the floor to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Uh, I think break time is over,” you muttered, barely audible for him to hear.

He leaned in to hear you better. “Sorry, what was that?” Your heart stopped at how close he was. Memories flooded of the very first time he did this. You couldn’t even tell if he really couldn't hear you, or if he was trying to fluster you again. Honestly, it was probably a mix of both.

You got up from your seat and pushed it back in place. “Break time is over. We have another—” You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Five-ish minutes until our scheduled time is up. Let’s make the most of it!”

Sukuna groaned, but followed you back to your table. He completed two more problems before the session was up. Once it was time, you quickly packed your things up. You zipped up your bag hurried to get out when you heard a soft thud behind you. You turned around and saw Sukuna picking something up. You froze as you realized it was your to do list. 

“Oops, that’s my fault. Thank you,” you tried to take them from him but he inspected it.

“‘Work on internship applications.’ Huh, it’s dated three days ago. But I thought you told me you were working on them yesterday? That’s weird,” he wondered out loud. He placed the paper in your hand and grabbed his bag. He brushed past you without a word. No goodbye. No “see you next week” with his stupid smirk. Just silence. He had caught you in your very stupid lie, and now he was even more upset at you. You then realized you addressed all of his points except one: why you were treating him like a “stranger.” To be honest, you didn’t have a clear answer yourself. Yozoru definitely was why, but not for the reasons you wanted to admit. You dragged your feet back to your car and drove home.

To no one's surprise, Rina wasn't home. You laid on your bed and tried to unpack the nightmare session you just had. Were you being too prideful? Just coming clean about it would make it all easier. Sukuna could talk to Yozoru and tell her to leave you alone, then the two of you could move on like before. That sounded right, but it didn't feel right. Deep down, the seed that Yozoru planted was beginning to blossom. An ugly, dull flower of self-doubt. This flower couldn't be uprooted from telling her to back off. It was far too late. Her words had done enough damage, confirming the fears that had only lived in the deepest depths of your mind.

“I, I feel selfish

Don't deserve you

Do I even know what love is?

You wanted Sukuna badly. So badly, you considered acknowledging his third point. He didn't deserve to be in the dark, he didn't do anything other than be sweet to you. Now he had reason to believe he'd done something awful for you to pull away. That couldn't be further from the truth, but still...you couldn't bring yourself to tell him what was actually going on.

You wished Rina was here to give you some advice. She'd know exactly how to handle it and explain it to where you'd understand. Even without advice, she's always been a good listener and a shoulder to cry on. Lord knows what you've gotten yourself into now.

SUKUNA'S POV

If Sukuna took a shot every time you’ve sent him a mixed signal in the past twenty four hours, he’d be blackout drunk. Actually, he’d die from alcohol poisoning. He prided himself in being a good communicator—too good at times, girls hated how blunt he was when he wanted to call it quits—but it felt like all his efforts were falling short. You were pushing him away, completely out of the blue at that, and he couldn’t figure out why. “Why?” was the number one thing on his mind. He ran through every scenario in his head, everything he said to you and how you reacted. Did he go too far? Before today’s session, you hadn’t seen each other in a bit, and you weren’t upset with him a few days ago. What could possibly have changed in such a short amount of time?

Geto and Gojo dragged him to a party to “clear his head.”

“We all go through girl troubles, but it’s not the end of the world.” Gojo patted him on the back and handed him a shot. “Not much you can do now.”

“Even you know you’re smarter than that Gojo,” he replied and downed the glass. “I could go over to her place and talk to her so I can finally get to the bottom of this.”

“What happens if you don’t find out what’s going on? What if she pushes you away even further?” Geto pointed out. Sukuna glared at him and huffed. “Then at least I can say I tried and not have run away like a coward,” he gestured at Gojo who was stuffing his face with chips. He looked up and pouted at him. Geto shook his head in disbelief and turned to Sukuna.

“I’m confused. I don’t think there’s ever been a time where you are the one fighting for the relationship. It’s always been the other way around. Is she really that special? Be completely honest with yourself.” 

“Obviously,” Sukuna replied, “Why else would I be worrying about all of this whilst being here?” He nodded to the lively party: people were dancing, some were playing beer pong in the living room, and others were scattered around in groups, chatting away. "She's worth it.” Sukuna meant it. When he walked into the library all those weeks ago, he had low expectations. The class wasn’t even that hard, he just couldn’t be bothered to care about it. The promise he made wasn’t a part of the plan at all. He was to only bring his grade up for the time being. He didn’t expect to promise to actually try and make good on it, but he was so glad he did.

Now he sat on the couch, watching other people have fun while he wallowed away. It was ironic really. Usually, the roles were reversed. Sukuna hardly let anyone in enough to care so much about it. If it didn’t work out, fine. He’ll find someone else, like he always did. Though, he doubted he could find anyone like you.

“Bro come on.”

Sukuna glanced up and saw Geto approaching him. He looked slightly annoyed and he had his drink in hand. “Guess who’s here?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “If it’s not her, I don’t care,” he said bluntly. He was bored of Geto and Gojo’s antics. Shoving him towards another girl wasn’t going to fix the problem at hand.

“It’s a different her…” He trailed off to see if Sukuna would bite. He didn’t. He was extremely unimpressed by Thing 1 and Thing 2's attempts to distract him. He had a bored expression as he watched the football game on the TV screen in front of him.

“Yozoru?” Sukuna didn’t even blink. His eyes were glued on the screen in front of him. “Dude, she’s walking over here right now,” Gojo urged him, waving his hands in Sukuna’s face.

Sukuna barely even acknowledged Gojo. “Move your chubby hands,” he snarled. He really wanted to see which team would score the touchdown. He couldn’t if the idiot got in his way.

Gojo lowered his arms and slowly inched away from Sukuna. Him and Geto scurried off and Sukuna got a whiff of a rather strong floral perfume. He sighed deeply before glaring at the woman beside him.

“What do you want now?”

Her face broke into a grin. Sukuna exhaled, already agitated. He gave her what he wanted—attention—but he still felt as though he was about to be punished for it.

“Just saying hi, I can’t just say hello and be friendly?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen. “No.”

Yozoru frowned. She had him, then she lost him, as usual. Still, she needed to rub this in his face. “I met your new girlfriend the other day. She’s cute.”

Sukuna closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Yozoru and her damn games. Her timing couldn't be worse. Did she know the two of you were having issues? Or was she just rubbing it all in his face for the sake of it? Sukuna couldn’t tell, both were plausible reasons. Either way, finding out would give her the validation she was so desperately seeking, and he didn’t want to be the one to give it to her.

“You guys are so different though. I didn’t expect you to go after a girl so… sooo…”

As she struggled to find an adjective, Sukuna was on the edge of his seat. The team he was cheering for was this close to scoring and he was very invested. He silently cursed himself for not betting on a team earlier. It could have been an easy pay day.

Yozoru’s eyes lit up. “Timid, that’s the word. She’s like a little mouse, which is so different from anyone else you’ve been with,” she said, voice dripping with venom. She was back with the condescending tone she always used on him, and now, she was armed with Sukuna’s latest weakness: you.

Sukuna clenched his jaw. He didn’t like that she was insulting you, especially right in front of him, but what she wanted was a reaction. He vowed not to retort, even though she deserved it. His eyes followed the screen as one of the players in red dashed down the last couple yards to the opponent’s side. Come on, come on, Sukuna silently urged, Bring it home. 

“And you’re emotionally invested for once. The roles are reversed. This time, you’re the one all in your feelings when she could care less.”

“Anddd…TOUCHDOWN!” The announcer yelled on the TV. The audience painted in red went wild. The players jumped around and did a celebratory dance, but they no longer had Sukuna’s attention. It had now shifted to her.

“That must fucking suck, huh? The one time you put your heart on the line and actually give a fuck about the person you’re dating, you mean nothing to them.” Her words cut deep, severing whatever tenacity he had left into shreds. Now, fear settled as her words sunk in. Was that what it was? Did you just not care about him anymore? On a random day, you decided he wasn’t worth your time? He thought there was something there, something that was worth risking it all for. Did he have it wrong all this time?

The smirk returned to Yozoru’s face. It was working. Self doubt was closing in on Sukuna, he could no longer out run it. He couldn’t ignore the fact that everything he’s ever wanted was slipping from his fingers, and right before his eyes. The instant replay review played in the background as Sukuna unclenched his jaw and muttering, “Just fuck off Yozoru.”

She scoffed, “What? You’re mad because she’s just using you to get into parties? You really think your selfish ass is actually lovable?” She snickered and shook her head. “No, you’re clearly being used to raise her social status.” 

What the actual fuck was her problem? Sukuna’s chest tightened and he glared at her. “Must take one to know one, huh?” His eyes bore into hers and she frowned. “Leave me and the people I care about alone, you parasite,” he spat out.

She blinked at him, slightly taken aback, “Whatever that means. Just know you have to confront the truth sooner or later.” She shot him one last look and walked off. Sukuna finally let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He knew better than anyone that she was just trying to get under his skin. She’s done it millions of times before, even trying to get in between him and Gojo in the past. As much as he tried to get her words out of his head, her strong perfume was still lingering in the air, so he got up from the couch and made his way into the kitchen.

Gojo and Geto looked up from their game of beer pong and looked at him expectantly. “Well? How did it go?” Gojo demanded.

“You look like you just shit your pants,” Geto noted.

Did he? Sukuna huffed and shook his head. “Shut up. She’s just trying to get at me. It’s nothing.”  He shrugged his shoulders casually, but his heart wasn’t in it at all.

“She’s lame anyway. Wanna join us?” Geto raised an eyebrow at him.

Normally, he’d be so down to drink and goof off with them, but after Yozoru’s little stunt, his stomach was in knots. “Nah, I’m good. I think I’ma head out.”

Gojo and Geto exchanged a look before nodding. “Alright man, get home safe.” They patted each other on the back and Sukuna made his way out, away from the prying eyes of everyone at the party.

"Wake up! Gosh, you're a heavy sleeper."

You jolted awake and saw Rina staring back at you. She still had going out clothes and her makeup was somehow still flawless. You didn’t even bother attempting to contain your jealousy.

"Hello stranger. I'm back bearing news." She turned on the big light and you groaned softly. "Turn it off please."

"Oh oops." She turned it back off and turned on the lamp on your nightstand. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. This better be good.

"Do you want the good news or bad news first?"

What was up with that question lately? Edging you with the illusion of choice wasn't going to make the news anymore digestible.

"Why don't you pick?" You yawned again and stretched. You wanted to go back to sleep. Couldn't the gossip wait?

"So Yozoru approached Sukuna at the party I was at. Obviously he wasn't having it. He ignored her until she had the audacity to bring up you. She basically bad-mouthed you and claimed you just wanted to social climb or some bullshit like that. And holy shit was Sukuna pissed." Her eyes were practically shining as she told the story.

You blinked at your roommate. You were baffled. Here you thought you'd hear about your favorite couple breaking up or something, but no. For some reason, you were being brought up at social events. And for what? You kept to yourself and didn't bother anyone.

"He said that it took one to know one and told her to leave him and the people he cared about alone, then he stormed off."

"Oh." was all you could say. He still cared about you despite you pushing him away lately. That was nice to hear, but guilt was starting to build up. You didn't deserve that loyalty, especially not from him with the way you’ve been treating him away lately.

"I know right. I can't really tell if that's the good news or the bad news actually,” she furrowed her brows as if she was deep in thought. “Anyway, he's here."

You went still. Now you were awake. "Here? As in....?"

"Yep. Told him you were asleep, he said he'd wait outside until you woke up. I stated the obvious and said that probably won't be until morning, and he asked if it was okay if he sat on our front porch..."

"Rina," you said carefully, "How long ago was this?"

"The argument at the party or him coming over to the dorm?"

"Both?!"

"Oh, hmmm. Maybe an hour or two ago?"

You scrambled out of bed and headed to the nearest mirror. You yanked off your bonnet and tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable. There was no drool or eye crust—thank god—but your damn eye bags...You scanned the counter for your concealer before you heard Rina behind you.

"You're seriously wasting time putting on makeup? If he can’t accept you at your worst, he doesn't deserve you at your best. You look fine. Now go. I know you, you're stalling,” she said sternly.

You frowned. Okay, so what if you were stalling? He did mention the eye bags earlier and he was right, they have gotten worse, you hadn’t been sleeping well as of late. Dedicating your blood, sweat, and tears to working came with costs.

"Did he say what he wanted to talk about? I'm scared." Even though he had told his ex to back off, you still felt uneasy about everything. You didn't feel worthy of his touch, his praise, his anything. The more you spiraled, the more you pulled away from him. 

“I have zero clue. All I know is he asked for privacy, so I offered to drop by Jason’s while you talked. I’ll slip out the back door,”

You gaped at her. “You’re leaving me?!”

“Yes, it’s for your own good. This way, you can finally resolve whatever’s going on between you and be happy. The weird ass bitch has been dealt with now. And I don’t know, he seemed pretty angry when he came by, but sad too,” she squeezed your shoulder, “I think he misses you.”

Your heart ached at her words. You missed him too, how could you not? But that didn’t mean you were ready to confront the feelings that had been looming over you.

You slowly made your way from your bathroom into the living room. You turned on the light and held your breath. A few seconds later, you heard a light knock at your door.  You took a deep breath before unlocking it. Your boyfriend stood there in a disheveled state. His hair was slightly mused and his eyebrows were furrowed in concern, eyes wide as he took you in.

"We need to talk," he said instantly, brushing past you as he walked in uninvited. You blinked at him and closed the door. He made his way into your room and sat on your bed like he's done hundreds of times, but this time was different. You could feel it.

You sat down beside him and stared at your feet. Moonlight poured in from your window, shining down on the two of you like a spotlight. Taking center stage was you, anxious out of your mind for what was to come, and Sukuna, who was silent despite coming all this way just to talk.

By the time he cleared his throat, you had convinced yourself it was over. Everything felt wrong: the awkward silence between you too and how far away he was from you. Sukuna always wanted to touch you somehow, by hugging you, holding your hand, and so on. Despite your nervousness surrounding it all, you didn't dare look up. You weren't sure if you could stomach the look that was probably crossing his face. A stricken expression, you were sure, that said everything that was on his mind without him even uttering a word.

"Whatever is going on, please just say it," he sighed and shifted on the bed. "I can't keep continuing like this." The soft creaking snapped you out of it and you snuck a glance at him. He was staring right back at you and your heart broke right there and then. Sukuna, your ever so arrogant boyfriend, looked so meek sitting there on your bed. He loved being in control, and he was anything but right now. The uncertainty that surrounded your relationship had seemingly crushed his ego and confidence. "I’ve been up all night, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong, but I can't. Help me understand," he swallowed hard, "Like you always do."

Your stomach lurched at his words. You felt sick. Help me understand, like you always do. Did he really have to make this harder than it needed to be? Reminding you of tutoring sessions that brought you together, and ultimately, here. Your eyes flew to the door like you were planning to get up and run if need be. Of course you were being ridiculous, but it felt like your dinner was what was to leave your mouth instead of an answer. You pressed your lips in a firm line and sighed.

"I've just been thinking a lot about things...How you and I differ and it's affected the way I view us." That was the best way you could put it. You didn't know how to put your newfound insecurity into words. It crept up on you before you saw it for what it really was.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head and scoff. "Yeah, we're pretty different, that was obvious when we first met. But we've always made it work, haven't we? What in the world could have possibly changed since then?" he asked, his tone strained. He was once again, using every ounce of patience left in his body, on you. Why? He never gave anyone the same grace. If you were anyone else, he'd sure have dismissed them out by now. Written them off without a second thought. The special treatment made you feel sick. You weren't some charity case…you hated the fact that it was what made you stand out from everyone else in his life. You finally pinpointed it: over time, it felt like the entire relationship was built on pity for you.

“Maybe we should break up, I don't wanna feel this way, It's not enough to stay with you in the dark”

"Maybe we've been wasting our time here," you heard yourself say, "Maybe it's all just a lost cause." You don't remember rehearsing that line over and over in your head like you typically did. It seems like you were on autopilot with the goal of ending the conversation as soon as possible. Even if you were too scared to be anything other than subtle.

The silence after your insinuation was gruesome. You fought the urge to sneak another look at him because you knew you would fold. Dealing with those thoughts every day was absolute torture. You felt stupid in your own skin. It wasn't enough to stay with him and suffer silently, nor was it worth sacrificing your sanity over.

"Alright, if that's how you feel then,” he finally said. You heard shuffling as he got up to go to the door. He paused, and you felt his eyes on you. Of course he just had to shoot you one last glance before leaving entirely. 

“Maybe I'm the one to blame”

When you heard the front door slam shut, the ache in your chest was almost instant. The reality of what you'd just done crashed down on you. Were you really walking away over that? Like he said, the two of you always made it work. Well, not as of late but—

And him. He didn't even fight for you. If the roles were reversed, you'd have insisted on actually discussing things and having a productive conversation about each other's feelings. Four, maybe five sentences were exchanged between you two, all of it anything but productive. What did you just do?

Those five words rang in your head as you fumbled for your phone. He couldn't have gotten too far. Maybe if you just called him, he'd hear you out. You found your phone around where he was sitting and froze. You didn't see him go on it...but then again, you barely looked at him for longer than two seconds.

You opened it and immediately found his contact, or, his number. The contact was deleted and his number was blocked. The asshole did the rest of the hard work for you. You were speechless. Had he secretly wanted things to end too? Did he see the opportunity and ran with it, letting you do all the hard work? Whatever it was, you were stunned. You didn't unblock his number. You didn't call him and beg for him to turn around. Instead, you spent that night drowning in your own tears, reminiscing all the good times before it all went wrong.

At first, you didn’t cry. You were too numb to. That shocked you to your core. Wasn’t that the normal reaction to such a loss? After that night, you were back on autopilot: getting your school work done, tutoring other peers, going to interviews and so on. Life moves on, you reminded yourself, even when it feels like it shouldn’t. 

If you said you didn’t miss him, you’d be lying. Texting and calling him was a part of your everyday routine. The day felt empty without it. You tried finding other things to distract yourself: mediating, starting a new show, listening to music. Each time, your mind somehow drifted to him and that night. You were trying to ignore it, but you couldn’t. Somehow, you found him in aspects of your everyday life: The toothpaste you used in the morning, how he teased you one day and said that he was shocked your toothpaste wasn’t also a vibrant pink. Anytime you saw someone do something stupid on the road, you were instantly reminded of Sukuna and his horrific road rage. Visiting that one corner at Pam’s shop made your heart break. The bowls and mugs you made on your second date? Stored in the very back of the kitchen cabinet. The playlist you played that first date was now deleted. Your pink bonnet? You swapped it out for a black one. It was the little things that made him cross your mind, and you hated it. No matter how hard you tried, he was inescapable.

When the day of your following session came, you weren’t sure if it was worth showing up. You doubted he would. But unlike him, you were obligated to. So you sucked up your pride and made your way to the library. You sat down at your usual spot and waited. Then waited some more. Your eyes flickered back and forth from the clock on the wall to the time on your phone as if you were convinced your mind was playing tricks on you. He actually flaked, as if it was your grade on the line, not his. It was laughable, and so him. When things proved to no longer serve him, he deemed them a waste of his time and discarded them. Turns out you were one of those things. 

With fifteen minutes left of your now solo session, you packed your things up. You stopped by the front desk to check in with your manager, one of the upperclassmen.

“Hey Lia, do you know if a ‘Ryomen Sukuna’ no longer needs tutoring services?” 

She tilted her head at you before her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to let you know he called at the last minute to pull out.”

You plastered a smile on your face. You were right. Again. And you really wished you weren't.

“I was checking to make sure, thanks!” You waved goodbye and headed out. Even though you were just doing your job, you still felt like an idiot. Why did you show up? What did you expect? He took your phone and blocked himself for you. If that didn’t scream “I want nothing to do with you,” you weren’t sure what did. Still, a fraction of your heart held hope he would have shown.

You had told Rina what happened that night the following morning. She hovered, constantly asking you if you were okay, bought you your favorite snacks and kleenex just in case. You didn’t cry, you haven’t and you had no plans to. She insisted that it was normal and okay to, but put the box back on her dresser anyway. The tears never came, even as finals and winter holiday approached. Rina was now hesitant of bringing up her boyfriend around you, but you encouraged her to. 

“I’m happy for you, the stuff going on with me won’t ever stop that,” you reassured her. She was hesitant at first, but over time, she got comfortable with it again. Turns out her boyfriend was going back home with her to meet her parents. You hyped her up and assured her that it was going to go well. You ignored the icky feeling creeping up on you, sadness and a hint of jealousy that that wasn't you and Sukuna like the two of you had originally planned.

Now that you weren’t dating one of the most popular guys at your school, your social life was lack-luster. No parties—though Rina urged you to at least consider going to one—no dates, no football games, no nothing. It was quiet, too quiet. It’s pretty much exactly how it was like before you met Sukuna, but you were no longer the same. He changed you: he encouraged you to speak your mind and be yourself, pushed you to give things a chance and step out of your comfort zone. Emboldened you to believe you could share your time and energy with someone else. You hated change, especially when it had to do with the fundamental parts of what made you who you were. But, the change was only for the better. You were so happy then and you didn’t fully appreciate it then. You wished you had, because here you were.

Visiting home filled you with dread. You had told your parents about him when you first started dating. You remember it like yesterday. They were so excited for you:

“Mom, Dad, guess what?” You had grinned and wiggled your eyebrows at your phone. You loved being corny and cheesy with your parents. They had the romcom meet cute and have been married for over twenty five years. They were the literal definition of couple goals. So you getting your first boyfriend was a huge deal.

“What?” They asked in unison. You giggled at their expressions. They were so invested in what you had to say.

“I may or may not have a boyfriend…” You trailed off and snuck a look at your phone.

Your mom squealed and clapped her hands together. Your dad raised an eyebrow, but you didn’t miss the way his mouth curved into a smile.

“Is it the one you’ve been tutoring?” 

“Yes actually,” you asked, surprised. Were you that predictable? And had you talked about him that much? Surely you hadn’t.

“I knew it, we haven't heard the end of him since the two of you met,” your dad chuckled.  Oh. You stand corrected.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” you said defensively. You swore you talked about other things too.

“It was,” they said in perfect unison again, and the three of you giggled.

Now, they were concerned with the way you were processing your first major breakup. With your mom being a psychologist, she was pestering you the most. The amount of Facebook videos she forwarded you about processing your emotions was bothersome. It would only get worse when it was actually time to visit.

Finals week was your Super Bowl. Instead of taking it on begrudgingly like you used to, during your first year of college, you gaslit yourself into loving it. You romanticized studying and hyped yourself up for the feeling of being free once you were finally over. Rina, on the other hand, was much different.

“I’m going to rip my hair out.” She said to you the second she shut the front door behind her.

You glanced up from your computer and gave her a sympathetic look. “Hello to you too, and no you got this.”

“No, I really don’t.” She dropped her textbook on the coffee table and a cloud of dust hit your face. You sneezed and waved the air in front of you frantically.

“Oops sorry. As you can tell from the dust, I haven’t touched my textbook in ages. It might be over,” she dragged her hands down her face.

“How have you been surviving this whole time?” You asked her carefully.

“She posts like small parts of the reading on Canvas for a need to know basis. She just told us today that for the final, we need to have a ‘broader understanding of the content to succeed.’ Does she want us to fail?”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed her arm gently, “You still have time, there’s about a week left. I can try to help. What class is this again?”

“Organic chemistry…”

Yikes. You took orgo chem your first year and it fucked you over so bad. You still made it out with an A, but barely. Rina took one look at the hesitant expression in your face and shook her head, “See, even you know I’m fucked. It’s fine, thank you for the offer though. I know you have your own finals, plus you have to prepare your mentees for theirs.”

That was a fair point. Of course, you were well prepared to help them succeed and you were confident in your own abilities. As long as everything stayed as is, you were fine. With Sukuna dropping out of the tutoring program, your workload was significantly lighter. Your mind wandered to how he was preparing, if he was at all. He’d pinky promised to try, but you weren’t sure if the promise was still valid given the current circumstances.

“Wish me luck,” she sighed dramatically before taking her textbook and making her way to the room. She was smart, you believed in her, though her professor deserved jail time for leading everyone on like that.

You checked your email for the millionth time today. You too were paranoid of professors dropping random stuff on you related to finals without warning. Instead of an email for one of your courses, you had one in regard to tutoring. The subject line read: Addition to Tutoring Agenda

Hello, I hope all is well. I want to apologize in advance for the inconvenience. There's a student that was placed on academic probation this afternoon. It's listed as an emergency, as he's at a high risk for failing the course. His scores soared when the two of you worked together, but after he pulled out, they've since plummeted. I hope this isn't too huge of an ask. You're one of the best tutors in the program, I believe in you. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions! Thank you, Lia Herring Student Leader of STEM Tutoring

You were speechless. There was no way this was your life. You were being forced strongly encouraged to re-admit your ex boyfriend into your tutoring lineup. Cut the fucking cameras. Your life was a joke.

You got up to tell Rina and she was upset for you.

"She can't just dump that on you, that's pure laziness on his fault! You have your own finals and your current mentee's finals to worry about already," She blinked rapidly, "Does she expect you to conduct some sort of miracle and magically make his dumbass pass?"

"I honestly don't know." You liked Lia, she was always sweet to you, and she was the one who told you about Pam's shop. You didn't want to lose your spot as one of the best in the program. Him being mandated to return to tutoring most likely meant that he was on severe academic probation. Which meant he was at risk of being kicked out. You wished a lot of things on Ryomen Sukuna, but you didn't want him to get kicked out of college. He wasn't dumb either, he just didn't care when it mattered.

"If it's too much for you to handle, don't be afraid to say no, " she said firmly. "And don't do it if you feel like you owe him. You don't owe that asshole shit, remember that."

You nodded, but the two of you knew you were going to accept it. Even if it wasn't him, you would have. That's just who you were. You exhaled slowly. Now it was time to face him, just a few weeks after it all went down. Were you ready? Absolutely not, but like you keep reminding yourself: Life goes on.

SUKUNA'S POV

"Did you know that the longer you stare at her Instagram page, the more likely it is she’ll post?" Geto said sarcastically. 

Sukuna ignored him and refreshed it once more. Nothing. He knew you didn’t post on social media like that, but this was the only way for him to keep up with you from afar. He called out of tutoring with you and blocked his number on your phone. He knew you didn’t want anything to do with him, but that didn't automatically mean the feeling was mutual.

“This is kinda pathetic,” Gojo called over his shoulder. Thing 1 and Thing 2 were busying themselves with Mario Kart. They offered the controller to Sukuna numerous times, but he didn’t feel like getting up.

Sukuna wasn’t good at showing his affection through words. He never claimed to be. Showing it was always easier for him. He’d always believed they expressed more than any words could ever convey. So he gave it his all, gave you his all. Somehow, that wasn’t enough for you, and it killed him. Yozoru was right, the one time it mattered, really, truly giving himself to someone else, it didn’t count. He even tried words: showing up to your dorm in the middle of the night, urging you to say something, anything before he wrote you off for good. And you didn’t. So now he was here, instead of with you where he belonged.

“Dude, what the hell?” Gojo yelped. To no one’s surprise, he had just lost, again. 

“Not my fault you’re awful at the game,” Geto rolled his eyes. He turned back and looked at Sukuna. “Are you done with your whining? I want an actual challenge. Gojo sucks ass.”

“I’ve literally been silent this entire time,” Sukuna countered.

These two have never been in love before, so they had the privilege of nagging him about moving on so quickly. To them, having someone was solely a benefit for them. Sex, status, you name it. Sukuna used to be like that too. He detached from relationships so easily that he would forget girl’s names at times. You changed him for the better. You humbled him so badly he had to sit with himself and realize he needed to improve. To be better for you.

He wanted to be the one to give you the world. He couldn’t do that with the way he’d been moving previously. The full one eighty he did for you didn’t go unnoticed either. Everyone around him pointed it out. It wasn’t until they met you that they understood. You had a big heart and you were genuine. You cared for Sukuna in a way no else had. They teased him and called him whipped, but when he asked them, “She’s great, who wouldn’t be?” they’d all murmured in agreement. You were beautiful, smart, and funny. He missed you so badly it physically hurt.

Blocking himself from your phone that night? A petty move for sure, but it would stop him from reaching out and folding. You had Sukuna in the palm of your hand and you didn’t even know it. If you called him up at a time like now, he’d be up and out the door to see you. He melted like putty at your touch. He knew how special it was for you. To you, anything physical was sacred. It was about sharing an actual connection with the person you loved. Sukuna cherished it. He missed you playing with his hair when you cuddled. Missed wrapping his arm around you when it started to grow colder. Missed peppering kisses down your neck and watching you squirm. Missed your warm hugs. Life felt so empty without you. He can’t believe he went so long without knowing what it was like to have loved you.

He pried his eyes away from the TV screen when he heard his phone ding. A notification, from mail? When did he turn those on?

Subject: Academic Probation Notice Dear RYOMEN SUKUNA, Your current academic performance indicates that you are at risk of failing INTRO TO STATISTICS. Due to your current standing, you are required to resume tutoring sessions effective immediately. Continued tutoring attendance is mandatory through the remainder of the semester. Please take immediate action to improve your academic standing. Failure to meet these requirements may result in further academic consequences. This is an automated message. Please do not reply.

He tossed his phone to the side and groaned. Gojo and Geto looked up from the came and frowned at him.

"Don't spoil it for me," Gojo said mockingly, "She didn't post?"

"Shut up," Sukuna snarled. Geto tilted his head at the pink haired man. "Wait what happened?"

Sukuna rubbed his neck and muttered something under his breath.

"I can't really hear you from over here, you gotta speak up man."

With a vexed exhale, Sukuna dropped the bomb. "I'm on academic probation, so I have to go back to tutoring." He dragged his hands down his face and look up and saw the horror on their faces.

"With her."

You were currently hiding in your car with no plans of leaving anytime soon, even though the scheduled time to tutor your returning student was soon. No matter how hard you tried to pretend, you knew it was going to hurt seeing him. You'd avoided going to places he was bound to be, so you hadn't seen him since that night. Your mom insisted that the first time was always hard and that it was normal. She advised you to take it easy and not to stress over it, and the best way to handle it is to just let it happen. You begged to differ. You were going to show him exactly how you felt about him.

When he walked up to the usual table, he took the seat across from you instead of beside you as usual. You almost laughed at his arrogance. Like it or not, the both of you were here because of his incompetence.

"I know this isn't the ideal situation for either of us, but I really need to pass."

You pressed your mouth in a thin line and nodded.

“So um, where should we start?” He asked awkwardly.

“I have no idea. It seems like all my efforts from those weeks helping you were thrown out the window,” you said flatly. “These test scores are awful. It might take a miracle for you to pass,” you echoed Rina from earlier. The two of you were screwed, royally.

“I got kind of distracted,” He shrugged. His nonchalance was bound to get on your nerves. Once again, his grade is on the line, not yours.

“Snap out of it then.” You let out a sigh of disgust and opened your previous notes. Looking back now, it was obvious how hard you were crushing. The pages were filled with notes with little doodles on the side. Some attempts to draw him, some hearts, some things you wanted to say but couldn’t find the courage to. Your parents were right. You were smitten. Key word "were."

“I’m trying,” he shot back.

You snorted. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

He fell silent and glared at his textbook in front of him. You wondered if that if he stared hard enough, would it burst into flames?

“I’m sorry if my efforts aren’t enough for you. I’ll try harder,” he hissed. You paused. Has the King of Kindness graced you with a double meaning? You sure hoped not. He was not ready to get into it with you, right here right now.

“Wonderful,” you said sarcastically. “Now tell me, how would you approach this problem?” You reached across the table and tapped your pencil at the problem he had open.

“Obviously I don't know or else I wouldn’t be here?” He replied, attempting and failing at keeping his tone level. His frustration was evident, but you didn’t care. Yours was too. In fact, you’d argue that you had more of a right to be considering how much of a major inconvenience he was being.

“Just try it,” you waved your hand dismissively, “Be sure to block any distractions and really focus your attention on what matters most,” you said coldly. His eyes met yours and it felt like time slowed. You held his gaze and you narrowed your eyes at him. Good, it seemed like the message was received. If he really wanted to do this, you were now ready to.

After a beat of silence, he swallowed hard. “Okay,” he muttered.

You watched for a couple of minutes as he struggled. He used things you’d gone over together, but it could only do so much to help his level of understanding.

After repeating the problem over and over, erasing his work and rewriting so much his hand hurt, he met your eyes once more. “I need help.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I could have told you that fifteen minutes ago.”

“That’s fair,” he said carefully, “I just wanted to make good on my promise.” He held your gaze and that’s when tears started to prickle in your eyes. You quickly looked away and busied yourself with organizing your already neat notes. You wanted the floor to open and swallow you whole. This could not be happening to you right now. Crying in front of him in front of a stupid pinky promise made ages ago was pathetic at best. And yet, here you were.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. “To start off, you shouldn’t be doing this,” you tapped your pencil at his paper, “That just threw you off entirely.”

He erased all of his work and looked up at you eagerly. “How do I do it then?”

“When we have problems like this, we always make sure to…”

After the session, you took the long way to your car. You survived. Sure you were this close to screaming at him and bawling your eyes at simultaneously, but all in all, you survived.

Rina was waiting for you in the living room to hear how it went.

“Well?” She asked, voice full of hope. She supported you when you told her you’d still help him. You knew she definitely would have refused to, but you were appreciative of her.

“I was really rude, which is so unlike me,” you replied and put your bag down on the couch, “l almost cried too? It was him bringing up this promise we made at the very start that brought up memories and I don’t know I—” You tripped over your words as you tried to rationalize it all. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I’m angry and sad and I miss him, but also hate him?” You plopped down on the couch beside her.

“That’s completely fine. Feel how you feel, but don’t suppress it,” she gave you a side hug and you rested your head on her shoulder.

“I can’t believe I have to do that until his final next week.”

“You don’t have to,” she reminded you, “You’re doing him a favor you know.”

“I know,” you sighed, “but I guess I decided it was time to make good on my promise too.”

After coming to terms with how you felt, you decided you didn't have it in you to pretend to be nice to him. Each and every session, you were aloof, and in return, he was extremely patient. You watched him grit his teeth, mutter under his breath, and clench his jaw each time you dismissed him. And yet, he held his tongue. You guessed that even though he left, his pity for you still hadn't.

He didn't even tell you how his final went. You got an email informing you about his results: he passed the class with a B minus, just like you had originally hoped. Against your better judgement, you were so proud of him and considered congratulating him. But he didn't tell you the news himself, so that ultimately stopped you from reaching out.

Rina applauded you for a job well done. "You might be a wizard, holy shit. You passed your finals with flying colors, of course—"

"Of course," you echoed with a grin.

"—And also helped the other people you tutored succeed too. Not to mention you coming in clutch to save your evil ex boyfriend from expulsion. You're literally an angel sent from heaven." She clasped her hands together as if to pray. "Please thou' angel, I need fifty bands by Friday."

You giggled and shook your head. "You're ridiculous."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Just taking advantage of rooming with the best."

"My services are limited to academics only."

Her eyes lit up. "Can you make my orgo chem professor mysteriously disappear?"

"Er...that sounds like a crime."

"So what? You'd totally mog everyone in prison with your mugshot," she exclaimed.

The two of you laughed at how silly she was being before turning back to packing. You'd won the championship, and now it was time to reap the benefits. You were excited to go back home and see everyone and Rina was excited for her parents to finally meet the guy she was absolutely smitten with. Winter holiday meant new beginnings too. The New Year was quickly approaching. You wanted to be able to say you were entering the New Year with high hopes, and expectations. That meant leaving any bad feelings in the past. Even though you were surrounded by so many blessings, your heart still called for the one thing it shouldn't.

Your parents picked you up from the airport and pulled you into a warm hug. You hadn’t realized how homesick you were until you were finally in their arms. Your heart swelled as they beamed at you.

“How’s my angel?” Your dad asked, squeezing your cheeks. 

“Hey…” You swatted his hand away playfully and he laughed. “Don’t do that, we’re in public,” you whisper shouted. “I’m good I just missed you, how are you guys?” 

They caught you up on everything you missed. Some petty beef going on between the neighbors on either side of them. Your dad’s thoughts on real Christmas trees. The two of them were considering getting a puppy. “Considering,” your mom emphasized, and side eyed your dad. It was all mundane really, but it was nice to talk to them face to face.

The feeling of being in your childhood room was so overwhelming. A rush of nostalgia hit you as you walked around and reminisced. Your mom was the biggest neat freak ever, so she made sure to clean it periodically and make it look nice for your visit. The holidays always made you remember your childhood and how excited you were for Santa. When you got older, and you found out the truth about the man in the North Pole, you just asked for more of your nerdy interests. You couldn’t bring most of your things with you to college, so you loved coming back home to them during break.

Your phone buzzed on the counter beside you. You glanced up and unlocked it to see a few texts from Rina.

rina: how was your flight?

you: it was alright, there was a crying baby though you: didn't get a wink of sleep 

rina: dang, i’m sorry 

You bit your lip and sighed. You wanted to ask her about how her trip with her boyfriend was going, but it made you think of him. What was he up to? He didn’t really talk much about family. You wondered if he even went back home to visit during breaks like this. Back then, you brought visiting home with you since you wanted him to meet your parents. There was so much you got to know about him, yet so little in the grand scheme of things. What was he up to now, you wondered. And another thought crept in: Had he already moved on, just in time for the holidays?

SUKUNA'S POV

Sukuna hated being the bigger person. He found it pointless, letting the other person basically get away with doing whatever they wanted and taking it like a bitch. Each time you snapped at him, he froze and reminded himself you were hurt, and reasonably slow. All things surrounding the breakup were hazy and there were definitely left over feelings. Hard ones at that.

"These test scores are awful. It might take a miracle for you to pass,”

“Snap out of it then.”

“I’m trying."

“It doesn’t seem like it.” "Be sure to block any distractions and really focus your attention on what matters most."

Those last two hurt a lot. He knew what you were implying. He tried his hardest to communicate with you. And he wasn't proud of blocking you that night, at all. Did you hate him for it? Did you hate him in general? It sure seemed like it. Whatever it was, you were probably on your way home to see family, even though he was originally supposed to come along. Now, he was crashing at his knucklehead of a friend's apartment until winter holiday was over. They were playing Mario Kart again and he was stalling your Instagram once again. It hadn't changed since before the breakup, but he still stared. He rolled his eyes each time Gojo and Geto yelled at each other during the game. Was this really how it was going to be?

Before he could stop himself, he left Instagram and opened his messages. 

sukuna: rina, can you do me a favor

The three dots popped up almost instantly. 

rina: no, and you shouldn’t be contacting me. you know better 

sukuna: please. i want to see her, just one last time. then i’ll never bother her ever again. i swear

rina: she’s out of town visiting family

sukuna: i know 

The three dots stayed there for a while. Then, finally:

rina: what are you implying?

sukuna: you know damn well what i’m implying sukuna: i know she’s the smarter one but c'mon sukuna: oops. i mean dang well.

rina: okay, woah. humble yourself. drop the attitude if you want my help 

It was his turn to take a bit to reply.

sukuna: got it

rina: if this blows up, it is all your fault, not mine. rina: i’m only doing this because she’s in denial, not because you deserve it

Denial? What did that mean?

sukuna: i appreciate it, thanks 

Rina forwarded the details of your itinerary. She instructed him to only reach out when you weren’t around your parents. He looked bad enough, he didn’t want to add stalker to the long list of names he was probably already being called. Sukuna complied, grateful for the advice. He knew he definitely didn’t deserve it. Nonetheless, it was time to catch a flight.

He got up and started to pack his things. Gojo and Geto watched him suspiciously from the coach.

“Am I that trash at the game that you’re packing up to leave?” 

“No, but you’re that dumb,” Sukuna shot back. 

Geto laughed at Gojo’s shocked expression and shook his head. “He’s right. How many classes did you end up passing this semester again?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Gojo turned back to the game, but Geto wasn’t done with him yet.

“It should if you don’t want to take summer classes. Ryomen, how many did you pass?”

“All.”

“Even the stats class? Weren’t you skippi—oh. The girl.” He gave Sukuna a knowing look. “Take notes,” he said and swatted Gojo. 

“That would require studying, and I’m good. Where are you going anyway Ry?” Gojo questioned. 

“None of your business,” Sukuna replied simply. He wasn’t in the mood to be talked down by these two. He was on a mission.

“Ryomen,” Geto paused and frowned at him, “Don’t tell me you’re…”

“He’s going to the girl? Isn’t she visiting home?” Gojo finally caught on. He chuckled at his friend and leaned back on the couch. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day. Ryomen Sukuna is chasing a girl halfway across the country. Miracles really do happen.”

Sukuna let out an exasperated sigh. “While I’m gone, do me a favor Gojo and get your head out of your ass. You’re starting to get on my nerves,” he paused and glanced at the screen, “And get better at Mario Kart before Geto flings the controller at your head.” 

Gojo grinned at him. “Roger that.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at his corny reply. “And Geto, call me if you need anything.” 

“Got it,” Geto replied. Sukuna made his way to the door with his suitcase in hand and reached for the doorknob before Geto continued: “And good luck man.”

Sukuna lowered his hand and nodded . “Thanks.”

“This is some shit straight out of a romcom I'm not gonna lie, but you got this. You really like her to the point it’s kinda gross, so I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Gojo called from the couch. 

Sukuna chuckled. “This is no romcom, this is real life. If she doesn’t want to see me then,” he shrugged, “At least I can say I tried.”

“Isn’t flying across the country to beg for her back more than trying?” Geto wondered out loud.

“I’m not begging,” Sukuna frowned. 

Gojo and Geto gave him a look. 

“Okay, whatever the technicalities are, it was worth the risk. It always has been.” And with that Sukuna stepped out and slammed the door behind him. He was ready to bite the bullet and stop mopping around. The fear of you rejecting him never left the back of his mind, but he still had meant what he said. You were a risk worth taking, and he’d make that same bet again, and again, and again.

© DOLCEMISU

Just the thought has him wrenching out an animalistic groan. Using his inhuman strength to haul you even further down the sinfully soaked silken sheets, he throws your trembly legs over two broad, sculpted shoulders. 

You moan and Toji can’t help but snicker. Can’t help but throw his head back with a sleazy grin, “I t-told ya not to catch me like this, needy girl.” Eyes glowing, dragging that pert scar of his smugly down the side of your ankle, before plugging you full- “Now, jus’ sit back n’ let me make a pretty momma outta ya.”

He grunts once your velvety walls close in around his heavy girth, massaging down the sensitive divots of his rock-hard shaft. Shit, he was going to spend every waking minute of this week making you memorize it. 

Viciously he snaps his hips down, bulging knot kissing your swollen folds with a wet thwack! thwack! thwack!

“D-didn’t think you’d be so mean.” you’re puckering your glossed lips into a pout. Gliding your fingers across his rippling abs, it makes his hulking body just shiver, hips stuttering sloppily. 

“D-d-d-didn’t think this cunt of yours would be so slutty.” he’s mocking in his baritone rumble, big beefy arms caging you in to split you apart with every swollen inch of his massive cock. Fucking out those utterly bratty words on your tongue. 

Toji’s thick digits curl firmly around your throat, running a fat thumb down the side of your still-unmarked scent gland. He positively titters at the way you jolt, “So would ya ah- c-care to explain why my girl s’suddenly smellin’ like fuckass Shiu?”

Fuck - you’d forgotten. Being too caught up with Toji to remember how you’d run to the other alpha to understand how to help your dear boyfriend, still wafting with his smokey sweet scent.

Your inner omega whines, clawing to prove him wrong. “N-No–” The words are barely falling from your stupidly drunken mouth before your voice just hitches, strangling out the remnants of a syrupy moan that makes him twitch. “P-promise I jus’ met him to h-help-”

But oh, Toji was more animal than man right now.

A thundering growl cracks at the very back of his throat, rummaging at the very bottom of your pussy with no mercy. And no apologies, either. “Is that so?” His teeth nip on your lips, “Heheh, sure tha’s right. But when I’m done with you-” And something oozing from his tone told you that Toji didn’t mean it to be “done” for a long, long time. “-every other fucker’s gonna look at you n’ know you’re mine.”

The bed creaks riotously when he’s bucking his toned hips into you so hard that you see Toji’s creamy skin redden. 

And Toji was always massive - but in rut he couldn’t stop all the blood pumping twofold into his expansive girth, nudging past every bruised sweet spot and even more. 

“My pretty girl- fuck- even prettier full w’me-” he’s spitting wetly into your pathetically slack lips. Peppering eager kisses down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lolling his tongue out to suck on your tits. 

His eyes were drooping shut, mouth babbling out drunken purrs of your name. “Fuck- fuck when m’gonna ngh- have these girls all swollen f’me.” One of his hands attach thoroughly at your breasts, circling his fingers over where your nipples were the most sensitive. And he’s smashing into you so rawly, sneaking his fingers all glistening with cum into your already snugly stuffed cunt. Plugging more in and in. “Fill you up so much yer gonna ngh- gonna feel me for months-”

“Yes yes yes-” you’re sobbing out, being fucked utterly stupid on his cock. “Wan’ ah- wan’ it so bad, Toji.”

He chuckles out smugly when your teary sweet lips glide across his in a messy kiss, tightening the fingers around your throat to crane your pretty neck upwards. Into a proper kiss, pinkish lips wrapped around your tongue - he sucks.

“You don’t just ‘want’ it, ma.” His pants grow harsh, shuddering, stars bursting behind his dewy, dark eyes every time your spongy cervix makes his slams recoil backwards. “Yer gonna need it.”

Your spine curves so deliciously upwards into his front when the two long digits sunken into your entrance spread just enough for your sloppy hole to be fed Toji’s achy knot. Pinning you down with his pressurized weight to stop your squirmy wrangling. 

“Gonna need me in ya, so hah- much that this sweet lil’ pussy’s gonna be twice her size, heh-” Those obscenities in his voice make you gasp. “All round n’ gorgeous- they’ll hngh know what I’ve done. Every single fucking one s’gonna look at you and see me me me-” He sinks his teeth into your scent gland, hard.Bonding. “Cos’ you’re mine, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - More, more, more

“K-Ken, s’everything alright?” Your voice trembles with the tiniest whimper when you’re whirling your glassy eyes over your shoulder, meeting your husband’s darkened ones locked on you.

“Of course, my love.” Comes Nanami’s answer - but, shit, you already knew better. “J-just keep doing what you’re doing.”

There’s such a sodden drag of clothes on clothes resounding throughout your cozy kitchen, and your fingers shake where you were whisking a batch of sweet, sweet frosting. 

Because you could already catch the way his words broke into a gruff moan, the slight shiver in his Adam’s apple as his hot, thickened cockhead twitches ferally. Hips buck up against you desperately. 

He’d come home to you in rut. 

He was needy, bothered. Barely even changed out of his work clothes before he’s clutching roughly onto the fabric of your apron.

You’re whining, “Ken– we needa get you-”

“Shhh my pretty wife, m’alright, m’alright. Don’t- ngh! Worry about me, darling. Just-” He gulps before loosening his favorite yellow tie - the room too hot. Scent glands puffing out another heatwave of his expensive pine smell, his massive hands trace down the curve of your hips. Mindlessly. Kneading.

SMACK!

Shit, he didn’t even mean to do that. 

But oh how you gasp so prettily at Nanami’s unusually harsh treatment, the barely-there sound being instantly picked up by his sharpened senses. Restless. Mouth watering. 

God, he could cum just like this. He was ruined for you.

“M’alright jus’ a rut- keep doing- hngh-” he gasps, a feverish puff against your ear as your bodies glissade across one another. “Jus’- ahh- fuck- jus’ need a bit more, my love.” Free hand dancing down your forearm to help you stir your bowl, the other ravenously leading a hot trailway to the hem of your cotton shorts. Pulling - tearing. 

Your shorts are left nothing but tatters on the floor, and Nanami’s throwing his head back with a drunken grin. Eyes falling half-shut at the absolute mess your cunt has made, dribbling a glossy sheen down your inner thighs.

Yeah, shit, this was what he’d left work early for. 

And you could tell he was still staring, still gleaming a translucent coating with just a single roll of his thumb over your throbbing clit. Dragging the very edge of his fingernail down, down, down the crevice of your pretty pussy lips. 

And he’d do it all over again.

You moan - and as soon as you do, you’re finding yourself shoved onto the cool tile of the kitchen counter as Nanami doubles over. “M-more?”

His teeth grit, canines bared, grunts of your name spilling over and over when he hovers them over your racing pulse. Sweat-slicked strands of blond tickle your nose when he’s heaving out, “Yes, darling- j-jus’ a bit more. Just a bit.” One hand of his curls around your throat, wrangling you into such a sweet, sweet french kiss. “-I need it- fuck- need it- s’alright, is it?”

Yes yes yes, your inner omega was keening out to him. Your own shaky fingers tugging lightly on his hair in a way that makes him nip at your mating mark. 

But Nanami didn’t even need that to already know your answer by the way your hip squirm back in wet, swiveling gyrations. Again. And again and again. Honeyed little movements that make him gasp. 

“Shit- ohhh, smell so good- need you so badly-” his gentle baritone voice breaks with something primal. You flinch at the echoing clatter of his belt onto the hardwood floors, and the feeling of something steaming hot pressing into your skin. “Need- you- fuck, didn’t think I’d even make it this hah- long. Been thinkin’ about breeding this sweet cunt all day.”

Then he’s kissing down the very edge of your drooling pussy with a sweeping swipe! of his fat head. Peaking in just the very beginnings of that sinful curve, meshing your sopping folds with his prominent veins that thump thump thump away against your cunt. 

Enough to have him panting - crying out. Pound after pound.

“Stuffin’ ya full- Oh god, y-you have no idea what you do to me-” Nanami’s strict brows furrow into the tightest knit, and his words take on a ragged tone that makes you clench. An obscene little action that he feels against the very tip of his achy cock, gushing out a sticky slosh of precum that sticks to you like a second skin. “No- hah- wait- no no no no- keep ‘er open f’me, my love.”

Those toying fingers on your clit give a sudden pull at the very peak of the sensitive nub - leaving your body wracking with shudders long enough to have Nanami splitting you apart. 

The bowl is knocked over now, and Nanami takes the opportunity to lace his fingers with yours into the most innocent little hold. Dragging your intertwined hands up for him to press a flurry of pecks onto, sucking up that sugary sweet mess on your digits. 

Something you barely even register with how deliciously he was stretching out your snug insides, fucking out each and every thought in your hazy mind with quick, shallow grinds just to fit inside. “Spit.” he’s gritting his teeth at the feeble resistance, and he can feel the way your cunt gapes all around him. “Spit in m’mouth-” 

You do, Nanami groaning appreciatively, gaze flurrying shut. Your puffed-out folds bulging around his hefty cock, snapping deeply into you. Again and again.

All the way until-

“Hah- shit- jus’ a bit more-” Nanami’s groaning, eyes narrowing over his now-disarrayed glasses when he’s greedily thumbing apart your slick-glossed folds. Eyeing himself all stuffed and overspilling inside you, your sloppy hole trying desperately to milk his fattened knot. Clenching around the very tip of the bulge. “Fuck back into me now, darling- ah- fuck back into me n’ lemme make you a pretty momma- jus’ a bit more.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Tongue-twister

Just a taste. Just one.

Two.

Four.

Over and over. Whenever Geto Suguru was on his rut, he couldn’t think of a better heaven than where he was right now - locked in-between those pretty thighs of yours. With you splayed out on the tatami mats of his firmly shut bedroom, your legs on his muscled shoulders, drenched panties pulled just enough to the side to stuff your puffed-up clit in his drunken mouth.

“S-Suguru–”

You feel a sudden - barely-there - nip at the very peak of your sodden sensitive bud. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have your entire body jolting with electricity, Geto snickering against your swollen folds. 

“Fine- hngh Sugu–” you’re crying out, fingers interlacing in his long, soft strands in a pathetically useless attempt to drag him from making out with your poor overworked pussy. “I don’ know- ah if I can cum a-again.” 

That has him quirking up a dark brow in question, parting with your drippingly wet cunt with a gasping grunt of disappointment. You can only watch when his overly-glossed bottom lip wobbles, “Don’t want you to cum again, gorgeous.” He’s pouting, delicate strings of slick snapping with every peck after peck planted on your clit. “I want you to squirt–”

Oh, god, he was hypnotized.

Barely being able to get out the words before reattaching his sly lips down to your own, meshing them in a sopping wet french kiss. It leaves you bucking, and he distantly wonders whether he’d see the imprint of the tatami on your back tomorrow. “Y-you’re so addicted, Sugu-”

“No m’not.” Geto’s pulling out a sudden squelch as he spits a sudden wad of thick, silvery spit down onto the very middle of your puffy pussy lips. Smearing a thumb down between them up and down up and down- before swirling those slender digits easily past your sloppy hole. “S’not my fault you’re so hngh- irresistible- s’yours.”

Shit, to be honest, Geto couldn’t even register what he was saying right now. Couldn’t think of anything but the way you tasted so sweet on his tongue - as syrupy as that scent of yours was puffing out. He wanted- needed more more more-

He’s grinding his painfully aching cock down like some animal, slithering down his free hand to knead over the bulging shaft in quick, solid slides. 

Matching the pace of those two fingers massaging your gummy walls. So hot inside it’s like you were melting, milking his fingers so plianty with every languid push and pull into your g-spot.

“Jus’ one more taste– hah- hold up my hair, can’t see- yeahhh jus’ like that.” Geto’s whining once your trembly fingers wrap tight to collect his stray locks, giving you the perfect view of his high cheeks hollowing. Rosy pink lips wrap around your clit to suck once more. And if his voice cracked ever-so-slightly at the end, well, he was only grateful that his beautiful girl was too fucked-out to notice right now. “S’not addicted if I only want one more- is it? C’mon, honey- please, honey, for me?”

Every groan has such lewd shockwaves sprinting through all your veins, and the sheer overstimulation makes big fat tears well up behind your eyes. God, it was too much. 

Noticing, he’s letting out such calming pheromones of sandalwood - enough to make you dizzily babble out, “Think I’m- ahh- think m’close- Sugu–” To bring you close. Something was pulling taut, knotting in your stomach almost painfully. 

Suddenly, the heady room resounds with a wet gasp - and only later do you realize that it came from Geto himself.

Because oh, are you cumming - and it’s pulled out from all of Geto’s filthiest wet dreams. Because not only do you cum, you’re squirting all down the lower half of his pretty face. Your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter around his head with each crashing wave of pleasure. 

“Shit- ngh-” you’re sobbing out, cheeks wet with all the big, bulbous tears that your high brings. “Oh fuck- Sugu m’cumming m’cumming n’ s’all your fault- ah-”

“M’not addicted.” Is all he can spit out into your convulsing pussy, over and over like his own personal mantra. And it’s only when your orgasm bates into mere tingles, when your eyes roll back down from the back of your head, head just slightly clearer that he can manage to rip himself away. 

Still, groaning gutturally at the loss of your sweet, sweet cunt - he looked so pretty this way. 

Dark hair untamed, curtaining his glassy, pussydrunken eyes. Practically glowing in the dim lighting, devouring you just as much as his mouth had. Glossy, it drip! drip! drips down onto your shaky thighs with every bead of your juices he’d lapped up. Leaving a syrupy aftertaste on his tongue and shit, was he hooked. 

In a split-second, Geto’s smoothly towering his body over yours, placing a sodden kiss right on your lips to let you taste all the honeyed sweetness yourself. 

But just as you were distracted by how rudely he was claiming your tongue, you’re feeling the sharp smack! of something hard and swelteringly hot on your shamelessly spread pussy. His knot.

And then the squelch of ribbon after ribbon of Geto’s hot cum spurting out. Over and over. 

His body half-collapses onto yours, every gushing wave of sticky seed so violent that his head throws back, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Shit, orgasms during a rut always did crash headfirst. Always did have his furiously weepy head dripping out in overly voluminous dredges of thick cum.

“Jus’ ohhh- one more t-taste before I hngh- breed this cute cunt.” Geto hiccups, wet lashes batting up at you in a lazy way from in-between your legs. Long tongue dragging over the mess, smearing across the sheen of white. Every single pearlescent wisp - only to spit it back out onto your cunt. “For now.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please…”

You’re snapping your head down at Choso teary plea, pecking at the corner of his wobbly lips. All pinkened and kissed raw, wobbling when he begs, “F-for my first knot can I oh- cum inside, baby?”

Shit, your poor boyfriend was so pretty looking up at you with his twinkling, dewy eyes like this. His creamy skin flushed, twitchy fingers craning upwards to grab at the headboard to keep some sense of his sanity when you glide your dripping wet cunt down his cock.

His mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when your gooey walls in turn just squeeze around his sweltering hot girth. Velvety walls sucking up every thrumming vein down his length.

“Please— ah-” Choso’s breath hitches upwards in both volume and pitch when your hips slam down in a particularly harsh squelch! Mouth lolling open at both the filthy way you were riding him and your teasing silence. “Baby- oh, baby please say- s-something-”

You can’t stop your syrupy giggle from escaping your lips, “Awww, m’sorry Cho, What did you say you wanted again?”

And Choso has always been the type to be so greedy when he has you in bed - but you’ve never seen him like this. His first ever rut - a late bloomer - and oh, did that make him extra sensitive. 

Mouth slacking open into a broken cry, frustrated droplets of sweat beading down his forehead, his slender hips just rut upwards in a pressurized thrust that has your sloppy pussy dragging down every one of his swollen inches. 

Spearheading so deliriously deep, his length swirls around to easily massage your tenderized sweet spots.

So needy.

“Want to- want to cum inside–” he whines, thick lashes fluttering at the heavenly feeling inside you. You feel two of his soft palms attach themselves to your hips, bleary gazing tilting downwards to watch himself grind up, up, up trying desperately to squeeze his achingly fat knot into your tight pussy. “Wanna make ya a momma. T-to breed my pretty omega, please- S’calling to me- it hurts ah-”

“My poor baby–” you’re humming, with that honeyed tone of yours that makes the very end of his furiously leaky cock twitch. Leaning down to kiss away his big, pearlescent tears, “You sure you want to-”

“Yes!” he’s cutting you off with a long, dragged-out groan. Head throwing back over and over into the plush pillows when he’s feeling your snug, swollen pussy lips spread over the bulging curve of his knot. Bit by bit. “Yes yes yes- please more- hngh- t-take it all– needa-” One of his thumbs caresses right over where he knew your womb to be, feeling for the nudge of his thick, bulbous head swipe a wet glide across your walls. “-need to make you mine here, too.”

Just as he’s pressing the thick curve of his thumb down hard, both of your ravenous bodies glide together in a harsh ram. 

And shit - you already knew by the way that Choso’s dilated eyes roll to the back of his head, the way his biceps flex with a wracking shudder, the sudden cracking moan of your name - that he’d plugged you full of his knot.

With a gasp your heady senses catch up around the staggeringly wide stretch. The way this was all it took for your elastic walls to constrict around him, being pushed to your very limits. Pulled taut.

Then and only then do the both of you realize that both of you are cumming. 

Your toes curling, moaning out a shrill, “Shit- shit shit shit- I’m–” Before the zaps of white-hot pleasure take over your mind, being fucked pathetically stupid on Choso’s raging cock. 

His feet plant flat on the silken sheets to buck up in meeting your sloppy staccato, his hipbones smack into yours in hard kisses to drag out your pleasure. 

“Yes- oh god.” It’s just about all that he can whimper out right now, and he’s boring his eyes up at you like you were one. Strong arms wrap around your still-shivering waist, until Choso was whispering in hot puffs against your ear, “Gonna fill this ah fuck- t-tight pussy.” Nodding you through every thick wad of seed knocking at your womb, drool dripping down each side of his lips. It overspills - from both lips. “Y-you’ll take it right? Every drop? Gonna hngh- make me a fuck- daddy, right, baby–?”

Fuck, right now all you can do is squeal. 

Let yourself be easily manhandled by all of Choso’s strength when he flips the two of you over, kneeing apart your thighs to fold you in half for him. A thorough mating press, “Yeah- yeah you are-” he breathes into your lips. “She’s gonna have my eyes- n’ your p-pretty smile ah- n’ she’ll call ya ‘momma’ and ohh-”

Just then, for how badly Choso wanted you all full of his knot, he finds himself bawling at the way his stuttering hips can no longer thrust into you back and forth. Locked in place.

“Still gotta-” he’s gasping out through wet licks up the tears streaming down your face. And there’s something so darkly primal in Choso’s tone - something there to send shivers down your spine, to remind you exactly what he is in a rut. “-gotta fill ya up more, ngh- m’still so hard- still cumming, baby.” Furiously, he’s grinding his hips in needy gyrations, weepy cock surging further and further to knock up against your g-spot. “Still need to- breed- you-”

One of Choso’s palms comes pressing down hard onto where his cum was sloshing around your inner walls, and with the dredges of creamy white that spill out - so does his slightly-softened knot.

Enough for him to grin such a dangerous grin. 

Drunken, humorless. Whispering, “Please, baby- c-can my second knot be inside, t-too?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - NO CONTROL!

“Fuck-” you’re hearing Sukuna’s ragged grunt against your ear, low and dark in a way that only his deep baritone could be. “Fuck.”

Oh how you wanted to ask him what was wrong - you wanted to raise your bleary eyes from the silken pillows spread across his royal bed. 

But Sukuna was plummeting his hefty cock into you so deeply, pound after pound that has you scrambling to catch your breath desperately. His thick head was branding circular bruises at the very end of your spongy cervix, girthy shaft stretching you from the inside out. 

And this was only his human form.

He curses at the clingy grip of your gooey walls, unable to tear his devilishly red eyes away from how well your sodden folds were puffed up around him. Milking his staggering size so well.

It has his kiss-bitten lips a little looser than he’d have liked, “Fuck, this filthy pussy of yours mighta jus’ th-thrown me into a rut, brat.”

“What?” you’re gasping, all the air tucked away in your lungs being fucked with another shuddering slam into you. Your limbs tremble where you’re bounced against his hard front on all fours, barely managing to choke out, “Y-you’re in a rut, Kuna?”

“Heh, yes.”

Sukuna can’t help but bark out a rumbling bout of laughter at the way your pretty mouth falls slack. Drool dripping down the side of your lips in a way that he really can’t help but crane over his hulking body to lick. A long, languid drag of his tastebuds.

“Yeahhh- really did kickstart my hah- rut. You naughty girl- now I hafta breed this cute cunt.” Five of his thick fingers kiss the very curve of your ass in a sudden swat, and the sting makes your cunt drool down his inches. Gliding down in a greedy trail to curl around the urgent swelling at his already-thick hilt, he swipes at the syrupy translucent beads of your slick pooling at the very top. “Yet, how come you’re more hngh- affected than me, huh, silly girl?”

Laughably, the only things that your blabbing mouth could get out right now were a few cockdrunken whines and whimpers. 

Music to Sukuna’s ears. That is, until-

“Hah! Sukuna!”

That makes him snap his scrunched eyes open - shit, when did he even close them? Sculpted, broad chest heaving with shuddering inhales for air, and a sudden wave of fatigue mixed with the saccharine sweet high of being sunken into your drooling pussy hits him.

It has him handling two of his hands into a bruising grip on the small of your waist, and the other two-

Other two?

“Y-you–” you’re mewling, each one of your throaty moans spilling and slurring together at how utterly full you felt. Double the sinful stretch of just mere moments before. “-you shifted into your ngh- true form!”

Indeed, the notorious king of curses was so hypnotized by your pussy that he hadn’t even realized when he’d slid back into his true form. Beefy biceps flexing as his inhuman hold on your body roughens, twin cocks spearheading into you maddeningly. 

His pheromones are so overpowering right now, the slight tinge of spice and metal makes the omega in you already purr in satisfaction.

“Y-yeah?” He’s gritting out through clenched teeth, and those sharpened canines make you clench. Makes him use every shred of willpower to pretend that he wasn’t as fucking out of control as he was right now. “N-n’ what about it, brat? Don’t hear ya ah- complainin’.”

Yeah, he’s letting his head throw back, totally on purpose, right? 

Twice the stretch had your teeth sinking down into the pillows. Matchingly throbbing girths drawing matching glides down all your sweet spots, you feel him jostle and bump into each of his cocks. Kissing dripping wet kisses to your cervix and your g-spot your cervix and your g-spot- Gurgling out only little pleas-

“Wha’s this-” you’re hearing Sukuna seethe from above you, voice a few octaves higher than usual. One of his towering palms easily wraps around both your wrists. Hoisting you upwards, “-started my rut n’ now you’re not letting me hear it?”

You’re now fully supported in midair by him - his absolute favorite position.

Because of the perfect angle to spy the way your cunt was swallowing every one of his powerfully pressurized thrusts. 

To have his seeping hot cum trickle out of your surely overspilling cunt - down to his achingly tight balls. Where he’d scold you for wasting his precious seed, and then fuck it back into you all over again.

Because with this, Sukuna’s dancing up one hand about halfway up your stomach, pressing down brandingly where he can feel the bulge of his two thick cocks. “Guess tha’s hah- twice the amount m’gonna fill ya up-” Pressing down with all five digits splayed out. Hard. Your body erupts with tremors when his second hand toys deftly with little circles around your puffed-up clit. “-twice my chances of g-gettin’ an heir-” 

You’re bouncing uncontrollably back and forth into Sukuna’s riotous hips, making him gulp at the few strings of wispy white spurting out of his furiously weepy divots. 

Half-deliriously, he wonders whether you’d be able to take two knots.

Shit, his fattening knots leave wet thwacks at your pussy lips, those ringing squelches only growing louder and louder in your ear as soon as his third hand scissors open your messy entrance even further. Vision spinning when your honeyed scent has him shooting blanks already, stickily soaked balls clenching painfully. 

Again. And again and again-

You were putty in his hands, surely at his mercy. “So the o-only question now is–” Or, at least, that’s what Sukuna was making it seem. Grunting, when he knows he’s on the very tipping point of cumming in such thick, voluminous wads already. “-are ya gonna be a good queen n’ gimme all that?”

He was no match for you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Like an animal

“Sweetheart- oh, sweetheart—” Gojo’s leering after a hefty gulp of saliva, his breathing comes out in pants. Heaves. Fanning your face in an utterly feverish way, “Sweetheart, we’re not making it outta this alive.” 

And this was the fifth time he was echoing this mantra tonight - the fifth time since breaking down your apartment door into the tiniest of splinters. The floor rattling as the strongest strode his way to take you right then and there on your living room table, already in the throes of his rut.

Ready to ruin.

Looking like he was about to kill.

“Toru- Toru someone could walk by-” you’re gasping, barely able to catch your breath with the sheer, staggering amounts of punishing thrust he was planting on your cunt. Shoveling all thickened inches into you with no mercy or regret. “They’re g-gonna see, Toru–”

Not to mention, the sudden crack! of mahogany wood as the cool surface of the table sags down on one side. Already broken. 

And the first thing you’re being given in response is the powerful slap! of his swollen knot against your puffy pussy lips, leaving a stinging kiss that has you keening. 

The second is your back hitting the soft bounce of your plush mattress - all the way in your bedroom. Teleported in nothing but a split-second. 

“S-s’this ah okay, then?” Gojo tongue half-lolls out with his broken moans, and your glassy eyes peer through your lashes at those bolts of purple jujutsu at the very edges of his half-lidded eyes. “Can’t complain now- h-huh- can’t ah– jus’ let me fill ya up now.”

God, he’s fucking himself pathetically stupid on your gummy cunt, every slobbering drag down your velvety walls having his lids drooping closer together, minty scent puffing out mindlessly, words tinging with a primal sort of hoarseness. 

You’re squealing at the wet thwacks! when he’s pounding you into your fresh silken sheets. “Y-you’re so infuriating-”

And just as your mouth opens in a sloppy whine, Gojo’s taking the lewd opportunity to spit a wad of syrupy sweet saliva onto your tongue. Grinning at the breathless way you’re taking it all - on instinct. By nature. 

“And yet your o-omega loves me as ah- much as ever, huh?” he whispers down at your pretty self, words honeyed with the sort of smugness that only Gojo Satoru could have. 

As if to prove his little point, he’s crushing you even harder with his weight. Strong arms jostling your limply falling legs to lock around his neck so easily, and shit- he could feel the way the very end of his fat, rotund head poke into the bullseye of your g-spot. Sensitive slit swiping back and forth on your heavenly cunt-

But it still wasn’t enough.

CRACK!

Just as soon as the creaking protest of the bed rings across your dazed mind, Gojo’s hauling the two of you into a sitting position. Your cunt sat prettily down his long cock, being bounced up and down with the help of his jittery hands clenched roughly around your waist. 

“Wh-what-” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Nails digging red hot marks down the plane of his milky shoulders, “What even b-brought this on–”

“Some fucking curse-” he’s rolling his eyes, with a mindless swat of the slender, rounded tips of his fingers on your clit. Bringing them up, up, up to be popped into his mouth - making him moan. “Heh- can’t help but think about how much sweeter you’d be when I finally breed this pretty cunt.”

And you didn’t realize just how badly Gojo Satoru was ruined because that tiny smack has bands of electricity spiking through your entire body. Arching your spine into a delicious bow that makes his mouth water. 

“Y-your powers-”

“And?”

Electricity sparks at your lips when Gojo’s crashing his own against yours - literally. 

“Please-” he weeps out. And it’s enough to make you sob, your dripping walls being coated in another fresh wave of his precum. “Lemme make a m-momma outta ya- fuck this hngh- cunt till she c-can’t anymore-” His hefty balls shifting underneath your ass with each clench, each twitch. “Wanna ahh- breed you so bad- think I might just die, sweetheart.”

He was losing it. 

He was cumming - and so were you.

Spurting out wave after wave of sweltering hot cum that invades your insides, there’s so much of it. Sloshing around your snug channel sloppily, it’s coating your cervix in a sticky gloss. And you swear you could feel the thick dredges of his seed ooze down your gooey walls. 

Your teeth gnaw at Gojo’s flushed skin on the crook of his neck - and his on yours. Breaking skin, tasting the metallic tinge of red. 

The very taste is enough to have him dumping out another great load of his cum, overstuffing your poor cunt until you could feel yourself swell. It’s enough to drive you mad. 

And enough to have Gojo stuffing his bulging know past your swollen folds with a drawn-out moan of your name. Pretty lower lip quivering, dewy eyes firmly drooping shut as he’s bulling into the feeble ring of muscle. 

Tight. 

“Take it- sweetheart- take it all–” he’s whimpering into your ear, powerful legs jittering upwards to have his cum splurge into every nook and cranny of your cunt. Fingers thrumming jujutsu down your spine, “Sweetheart, sweetheart ah- fuck-” You can only bare your widened eyes at him as he looks over your shoulder, grinning. “The bed’s broken.”

Before you know it, you’re being splayed out on the floor - teleported. 

You’re wincing at the slow, swiveling grind of Gojo’s hips on your own. Too impatient to even let his knot go down before trying to fuck you through your high, teasing out slow pushes and pulls against your cum-coated sweet spots. “Y-you did that on p-purpose, Toru.”

“Y’know what e-else I did on purpose, sweetheart–” his slurring words are accompanied with another smack! to your cunt. And an even filthier press on your stomach to watch his cum dribble out, which Gojo gladly smears along his fingers - pressing into your mouth to let you taste the candied mess. 

“Wh-what?”

Whispering in your ear, “Hah- getting hit by the curse.”

A/N. Of COURSEEE I had to end it off with a guilty pleasure of mine mwahaha

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.

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).

itoshi rin

rin isn't used to physical affection initiated without hesitation. so the first time you're walking together and absentmindedly fix his collar before anyone can see it crooked – because it bothered you – he actually stops walking. 

"... what are you doing." 

"your collar." 

"... oh." 

"is that okay?" 

it’s totally okay to him, but his internal monologue is in complete shambles: she noticed. she touched me. she fixed it. she didn't even make a big deal about it. he spends the next four hours thinking about those three seconds. 

whenever he's concentrating, you unconsciously reach over and smooth his hair back out of his face – a tiny little motion so he can see better. it starts becoming muscle memory for both of you. he'll be reading something, pause for half a second because a strand falls into his eyes… and wait. because he knows you'll move it. 

when you do, he pretends absolutely nothing happened. inside? fireworks. outside? "thanks." inside? marry me right now. 

the thing that absolutely destroys him is when you defend him without making him feel like he's incapable. someone says, "rin's kind of an asshole." before he can even respond– 

"he's actually really considerate." 

"?" 

"he remembered i said i liked this drink three months ago and bought it without asking." 

rin stops. you noticed. nobody notices. nobody looks past the sharp edges. but you always do. 

and now he has to stare out the window for the next 20 minutes because if he looks at you, he's afraid the expression on his face might give him away. 

itoshi sae

sae isn't very verbally affectionate. neither are you. that’s why you’re the perfect match. 

the way you love him is by remembering microscopic details. one afternoon you're at a café, and before the waiter even asks, you order for yourself, then look at sae. 

"and no fries with his." 

sae blinks. "... i wasn't going to say anything." 

"i know." 

"you remembered." 

"you don't like them." 

it's such an insignificant thing, but somebody remembered something about him that everyone else forgets. he's cooked. 

every time you take pictures together, you never ask him to smile. you know he won't. rather instead, you quietly tell him – "look at me." and you take the photo while he's already looking at you. every picture ends up softer. the only time his expression naturally changes is when he's looking at someone he loves. 

when you show him afterward, he’ll say, "oh wow… this one's nice." 

"yeah." 

"i’m keeping it." 

at home, he's secretly changing it to his lock screen three hours later. 

after particularly exhausting matches, you never ask him how he played. you ask – "how's your body?" 

"’s fine." 

"don't lie." 

"... my legs hurt." 

"i figured." you already have pain patches in your bag. 

sae has spent years being valued for what he can produce on the pitch. you ask about him, not his performance. it ruins him every single time. 

nagi seishiro

nagi's favorite thing in the entire world becomes when you're doing absolutely nothing together. you're both lying on the bed. you're scrolling on your phone. he's playing a game. 

at some point, completely unconsciously, your thigh reaches over until it's touching his. that's all. he glances down. then at you. 

"did you mean to do that?" 

"huh?" you look down. "oh." you never even noticed. "sorry." 

"don't move." now his entire body feels warm. the fact that your body naturally searches for his without permission? he's finished. 

every time he falls asleep somewhere ridiculous – couch, airport chair, team bus, hotel lobby – you automatically cover him with your hoodie or coat or jacket if you have one. 

one day, he wakes up before you realize he's awake. he watches you gently pull your jacket over him before going back to whatever you were doing. 

"... thanks." 

"oh, you're awake." 

"... do you always do that?" 

"yeah?" 

"why?" 

"because you get cold." 

he has never wanted to marry someone more over a sentence that simple. 

whenever he gets excited talking about games, you don't pretend to understand. you actually ask questions. like "wait, so that's the final boss?" 

"yeah." 

"that's sick." 

"right?" 

now he's talking with his hands, sitting up straighter, rambling for 15 straight minutes. halfway through, he pauses. "sorry." 

"for what?" 

"i've been talking forever." 

"i know." 

"you don't mind?" 

"i like hearing you happy." 

game over. you have defeated nagi seishiro without even picking up the controller. 

mikage reo

reo gives people things all the time – gifts, favors, opportunities, expensive dinners, the list goes on. what nobody gives him is the chance to be taken care of first. 

one rainy day, before he can even open the umbrella he's carrying, you've already opened yours above both of your heads. 

"mine's literally in my hand." 

"yeah, but this one's already open." 

"you..." he laughs. but for the next 10 minutes he cannot stop smiling because nobody has ever beaten him to taking care of someone else. 

you hype him up when nobody's watching. after practice, while he's complaining about a mistake, you gently cut him off. "you know..." 

"hm?" 

"i think you're cooler than you realize." 

"... where did that come from?" 

"just thought you should know." 

there’s no audience, teammates, cameras, or reason to flatter him. just pure honesty. and that's exactly why it sticks. he remembers that sentence for months, especially during the harder moments. 

every once in a while, you reach for his hand first. sometimes you're asking for reassurance. other times, you just wanted to hold it. reo has initiated hand-holding thousands of times. but the first time you absentmindedly intertwine your fingers with his while walking through the city, he completely loses his train of thought mid-sentence. 

"reo?" 

"... yeah?" 

"weren't you saying something?" 

"... i was." 

"?" 

"... i forgot." because all he can think is that you chose him first. he didn’t offer, nor did he ask. loving him has become your first instinct. 

for someone who's spent his entire life wondering whether people loved him or simply loved what he could give, that quiet certainty makes him fall for you all over again. 

bachira meguru

bachira absolutely lives for physical affection, but the thing that gets him the worst isn't when he clings to you. it's when you start unconsciously copying him. 

one afternoon, he's sprawled across the couch, doodling in a notebook while you read beside him. without even realizing it, you lean over until your head is resting against his shoulder. you don't even look up from your book. you just, like, migrate. like your body decided, yeah, this is a comfortable place to be. 

bachira stops drawing. "... you're cuddling me." 

"am i?" 

"yeah." 

"... should i–" 

“no. don't move." 

he sits there grinning so hard his cheeks hurt because the affection wasn't asked for, wasn't planned, wasn't even conscious. your body sought him out before your brain did. the monster is literally kicking his feet. 

you never laugh at his weirdness. you laugh with it. he says something completely absurd like, "what if pigeons have secret governments?" 

and instead of staring at him like he's insane, you nod seriously. "that explains why they're always in groups." 

"RIGHT???" 

now the two of you are spending 25 minutes building an elaborate conspiracy theory about pigeons running the economy. 

afterward, he just looks at you with stars in his eyes. "you're my favorite person." 

"because i support your delusions?" 

"because you make them fun." 

bachira has spent his life being called strange. you make him feel like strange is simply another word for home. 

sometimes he'll wake up before you. he'll find you half-asleep, instinctively reaching around the bed until your hand finds him. the second your fingers brush against his arm, your hand relaxes, like your brain went, found him. okay. continue sleeping. 

bachira nearly combusts. he has to physically bite his lip to stop himself from squealing (and waking you up). 

shidou ryusei

everyone expects shidou's relationship to be loud, chaotic, explosive. what absolutely destroys him is how unbelievably gentle you are with him. after a rough match, he's bouncing off the walls, adrenaline still pumping. but surprisingly, you don’t tell him to calm down... you simply walk over, cup his face with both hands, and quietly ask, "you done breaking people's ankles today?" 

"... yeah." 

"good." 

“... you gonna kiss me or keep holding my face?" 

"i'm checking for bruises." 

shidou thinks this feeling is better than scoring the winning goal. 

he has spent his entire life being treated like something people had to manage. you're standing here making sure his cheek doesn't hurt. you're one of the only people who can make him genuinely blush. how? complimenting him when he's not doing something cool. 

you catch him tying his hair up. "you're pretty." 

"what?" 

"nothing. that slipped out.." 

"HEY!" 

"hm?" 

"... don't say stuff like that so casually." 

"why?" 

"because… my heart's doing weird things." 

he loves kisses. you know what he loves even more? when you randomly hold the back of his neck. not even romantically. maybe you're guiding him around someone in a crowded hallway or fixing the collar of his shirt or absentmindedly rubbing the nape of his neck while talking. every single time, his brain completely blue-screens. 

"you know that's unfair." 

"what is?" 

"that." 

"what is that?" 

"... you touching my neck." 

"oh?" 

"... i forget my own name for a second." 

karasu tabito

karasu is sarcastic by nature. he teases everyone, especially you. so the first time you effortlessly beat him at his own game... he's intrigued. he says, "damn, look at ya. finally usin’ that brain." 

without looking up from your phone, you answer, "thanks. i learned from watching you struggle." 

"... excuse me?" 

"you heard me." 

his teammates are laughing. you're smiling innocently. and karasu... karasu is trying very hard not to smile like an idiot. that's my person. 

you always notice when he's mentally tired before he says anything. he's still talking, joking, and acting like himself. but you quietly slide a drink toward him. "you've been talking for like... three hours." 

"... have i?" 

"yeah." 

"damn." 

"rest your voice." 

he stares at the bottle for a second. everyone notices when karasu is loud. you notice when he's exhausted. 

every once in a while, while he's ranting about literally anything, you'll reach over and absentmindedly play with his fingers. you're still listening and responding. you're just tracing one because your hands wanted something to do. karasu completely loses his train of thought. 

"you okay, tabi? you can keep talking." 

"... can't." 

"why?" 

"... yer holdin’ my hand without holdin’ my hand. that's kinda– really dangerous." 

kaiser michael

kaiser expects admiration. he's used to people staring, praising, chasing, adoring. what absolutely dismantles him is when you quietly do something thoughtful that nobody else would ever think about. 

you've noticed he always finishes the drink closest to room temperature first before touching the cold one. so one afternoon, you casually swap the cups around before handing them to him. 

"... how'd you know?" 

"you always do it." 

"you noticed that?" 

"i notice a lot." 

for someone who has spent his whole career being looked at... being observed is infinitely more intimate. after all, observation requires attention. 

sometimes you'll adjust his collar while talking to him. you don't interrupt yourself or announce it. you simply straighten the fabric because it flipped backwards. "there." 

"ah, thanks.” kaiser is internally screaming because your fingers brushed his chest for half a second and you treated it like the most natural thing in the world, like touching him is simply part of your routine. it makes him feel normal and cherished – something he never thought he'd crave. 

after interviews, everyone talks about his goals or his aura or his ego. you look at him and ask, "did you eat yet?" 

"... no." 

"figured.” 

"... that's all you're gonna ask?" 

"unless you secretly scored six goals instead of two." 

"i only scored two." 

"cool. now let's get dinner." 

he laughs so softly it's almost inaudible. 

for an hour, the entire world treated him like michael kaiser. then he came back to you and you treated him like someone worth feeding before celebrating. 

ness alexis

ness loves talking. okay wait, correction: ness loves talking to you. because unlike everyone else, you never make him feel annoying. he'll spend 15 straight minutes explaining some ridiculously niche topic. halfway through, he pauses. "am i talking too much?" 

"probably. but keep going." 

"... really?" 

"you're making cute little hand gestures." 

"... you noticed my hand gestures?" 

you have accidentally rendered alexis ness speechless. 

whenever you're walking together, you unconsciously fix tiny things about him – lint on his sleeve, his crooked tie, hair sticking up. you never even mention it. just… boop. fixed. every single time. 

eventually, he starts standing still whenever you get close. "nessie baby, what are you doing?" 

"... waiting." 

"for?" 

"... you usually fix something." 

"oh." you smooth one stubborn strand of hair back into place. he smiles so brightly you'd think you handed him the moon. he’s just so addicted to your touch. 

the thing that absolutely gets him bad is when you brag about him to other people while he's close enough to overhear. someone asks, "is ness always this talkative?" 

you grin. "yeah. but i like it." 

"really?" 

"he gets excited over the smallest things. i think it's adorable." 

ness was fully prepared for you to apologize on his behalf. but rather, you defended the very thing he worries makes him "too much." he has to turn away for a second because his eyes suddenly sting. then five minutes later, he's right back beside you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. 

"... hey." 

"yeah?" 

"... can i hold your hand?" 

"you were already doing that." 

"... oh. haha. good." 

chigiri hyoma

chigiri is used to people complimenting him. his speed, his face, his hair – sometimes all three in the same sentence. but the thing that completely catches him off guard is when you're the one who quietly takes care of his hair after practice. 

the two of you are sitting in the locker room after everyone else has started leaving, and he's absentmindedly trying to tie his still-damp hair into a ponytail with one hand while looking at his phone. 

you sigh. "give me." 

"hm?" 

"the hair tie.” 

"oh." he hands it over without thinking. 

you stand behind him, gently combing your fingers through his hair before tying it up properly, smoothing out the little bumps like you've done it a hundred times. "too tight?" 

"no." 

he catches his reflection in the mirror afterward. his hair is neat and comfortable, exactly how he likes it. "wow. thanks." 

"you're welcome." 

he doesn't tell you this, but nobody has ever touched his hair so carefully without making it feel like they were admiring it. you handled it like it was simply another part of him. that's infinitely more intimate. he feels like he’s going crazy because of that. 

whenever you're shopping together, you'll instinctively reach toward the clothing racks before he does. "this would look good on you." 

"you think so?" 

"yeah. and this color would make your eyes stand out." 

he's trying on sweaters he would've walked right past, scarves he'd never have picked, jackets he didn't know he'd like. he realizes halfway through that you don't dress him because he's pretty. you dress him because you've spent enough time looking at him to know exactly what makes him feel like himself. 

the changing room curtain closes. he leans against the wall. she pays way too much attention to me... and he hopes you never stop. 

you never rush him after difficult matches. everyone else asks, "are you okay?" you simply hold your hand out. "ready?" 

he looks at it. then at you. "... yeah." he takes it, your fingers wrapped around his as you walk beside him in comfortable silence. 

he thinks that's probably what healing feels like. 

barou shoei

barou would rather pass away than admit he likes being taken care of. so naturally... you don't make a big deal out of doing it. you come over to his apartment. he's cooking. you notice the cabinet above him is open. without interrupting your conversation, you reach up and close it before he inevitably walks into it. 

"thanks." 

"mhm." 

10 minutes later, you wipe a tiny streak of flour off his cheek while continuing your story like nothing happened. "and then she actually said–" 

"you just touched my face." 

"yeah?" 

"... why?" 

"because you had flour on it." 

"... oh." he's genuinely offended by how quickly his heart folded. 

barou pretends he doesn't need reassurance. but after losses... he gets quieter. one night, he's sitting on the balcony staring into the distance. you don't tell him he played well. you don't tell him to cheer up. you simply sit beside him until your shoulders touch. after a while, you quietly say, "i'm still proud of you." 

he exhales so slowly you almost miss it. "don't say stuff like that." 

"why?" 

"... because i'll start believing you." 

you smile. "good." 

he has to look away because if he doesn't, you'll see exactly how close he is to folding. 

the quickest way to make barou malfunction is by trusting him before he even asks. it’s a crowded street. you're distracted. without looking, you reach for his hand. you already know he'll be there. your fingers slip between his naturally. 

barou forgets what he was about to say. all his brain can manage is – she reached for me first. 

don't expect him to let go for the next hour. 

yukimiya kenyu

yukimiya knows people look at him. he's a handsome model that’s used to being perceived. but you? you make him feel seen. one evening, you're helping him pack for an away match. you quietly tuck an extra pair of sunglasses into the side pocket of his bag. 

"i already packed one, love." 

"i know." 

"then…?" 

"because last month you couldn't find yours and spent almost half an hour pretending the sun wasn't bothering you." 

"... you remembered that?" 

"of course i did." 

yukimiya just stares at you. he barely remembers saying anything about it. yet you remembered it well. 

he'll be talking passionately about fashion or photography, expecting you to politely nod. instead, you go – "wait, show me." 

"hm?" 

"the picture you're talking about." 

"really?" 

"yeah. i wanna see what you see." 

that sentence alone nearly knocks the wind out of him. 

people always admire his perspective. very few people actually want to step inside it. you do. 

whenever the sunlight gets too harsh, you'll instinctively move so you're casting a little bit of shade over him. you don't even notice you're doing it. you're just standing slightly in front of him while talking. 

"why're you standing there?" 

"huh?" 

"you're blocking the sun." 

"oh. it's getting in your eyes, right?" 

his chest aches. you notice before he even says a word. 

iglesias bunny

bunny is constantly moving as a member of the new gen 11. there’s always cameras, interviews, training, flights, etc. you're the only person who never makes him feel like he has to perform. 

the thing that gets him every single time is when you greet him exactly the same whether he's just won the champions league... or lost in the quarterfinals. 

"hi." 

"hi." 

"i missed you." 

"i missed you, too." 

no "congratulations!" no "i'm sorry." those can wait. your first instinct is always him. not the footballer. your boyfriend. and every single time, he melts. 

bunny loves making you laugh, but what absolutely folds him is when he catches you smiling at him before he notices. he'll be joking around with his teammates across the room. then he glances over. you're already looking, smiling to yourself, like watching him exist makes you happy. 

"what is it, cariño?" 

"nothing." 

"you're smiling." 

"am i not allowed to?" 

he has to physically look away. if he keeps eye contact any longer, he's going to walk over and kiss you in front of everybody. 

one day, he complains that his hands are freezing after training. without thinking, you take one of his hands and tuck it into the pocket of your coat while keeping yours in there, too. "there." 

"that's your solution?" 

"it's working." 

"..." 

"are you okay…?" 

"don't move." 

"why?" 

"because i'm imagining doing this when we're 80 and wrinkly.” 

hugo vivian

hugo has a naturally intimidating presence. he has broad shoulders and quiet confidence, the kind of guy strangers instinctively move out of the way for. you, however, have absolutely zero fear of invading his personal space. 

if there's a loose thread on his sleeve? you're already pulling it off. his tie's crooked? fixed. lint on his coat? gone. all while continuing your conversation as though adjusting a six-foot-something professional footballer is the most normal thing in the world. 

"you know..." 

"yes?” 

"you've never once asked before touching me." 

you blink. "i’m sorry. do you want me to?" 

“no. please keep doing it." the volume of his voice is like a whisper. 

hugo isn't particularly expressive. so you've learned to celebrate the little victories. one tiny smile after training? "there it is." 

"what is?" 

"your smile." 

"... i smiled?" 

"for like... half a second." 

he is absolutely doomed. you notice everything. 

one rainy afternoon in paris, the two of you are sharing an umbrella. a passing car splashes water toward the sidewalk. before hugo can react... you've already stepped in front of him. the water hits your shoes instead. 

"hey, why did you do that?" 

"instinct?" 

"i'm supposed to protect you." 

you shrug. "guess we're protecting each other." 

he looks at you for a long moment. then quietly carries you on his back for the rest of the walk home because he refuses to let your shoes get soaked any further. 

there isn't a single teasing remark or joke. just a grip that's a little tighter than usual because, for perhaps the first time in his life, someone else's first instinct was to shield him, too. 

He's been your cute stay-at-home-hybrid for a while now, finally comfortable enough to not be as shy around you.

Choso was on the more timid side, but he'd make sure he's always around you when you're home.

Sitting next to you at the breakfast table, thigh against thigh, his tail wagging and smacking against the leg of the chair. You liked his presence, letting him steal food from your plate, wiping his cheek with your thumb when he got a bit messy.

He wanted to watch everything with you, getting startled by horror movies- you had to hold the sweet boy and scratch behind his ears. You loved it though, getting to coo and laugh at him when he trembled from a jumpscare.

He slowly had moved to your bedroom instead of his designated room, sleeping besides you, sometimes at the foot of the bed if you weren't in the mood to get snuggled up with a man that could engulf your whole form in his arms.

But that was rare.

You let him lay his head on your chest, place soft kisses on his hair and listen to his breath.

If there was a thunderstorm outside, then you'd huddle up under blankets with him and read to him as a distraction from the loud thundering sound and howling winds.

He did get a bit… touchy though, nosing and trying to scent you in the middle of the night when he thought you were fully passed out.

…You liked it.

He could smell how turned on you'd get, the lovely way your panties became damp and your cunts hole would flutter.

He wanted to have a lick… get your flavor in his mouth.

But he was good, just shifting to try and go to sleep, even if he had the most delicious smelling treat right under his nose.

When you went for walks at the park, he behaved well and stayed near. Choso was actually fairly frightened by the other demihumans.

Especially that mean looking pink tiger guy… or the gray wolf.

Choso wasn't some meek weakling but he preferred to stay hip to hip with you… in case he had to protect you, not the other way around… definitely.

Back to him being the bestest boy ever.

He wasn't.

Choso was a little pervert.

Like any dog would be.

He gave you sad puppy eyes when you left for work, whining about missing you- all to get a kiss on his droopy expression before you left and closed the door.

He did miss you, he didn't lie about that.

But that pouty act turned into one of pure neediness.

He had started off tame… going into your bedroom, rummaging trough your underwear drawer to get his paws on the fresh laundry, bringing it up to his face to sniff.

Then put them back.

You never knew.

Then he got bolder, sitting on the bathroom floor and pouring the dirty laundry basket out on the tiles, picking your most recently worn clothes up to roll in, laying on his back while smushing a pair of filthy panties to his face. As if you would be on his face.

And then he would shove all of it back into the basket and go laze about on your bed.

You NEVER knew.

One morning you had given him a bye bye peck on the lips, something you had never done before but he had been on the brink of tears, kneeling while tugging at your jeans, ears all flat and tail between his thighs. He was being extra clingy.

So a little kiss was sure to cheer him up.

A bit too much.

Late afternoon- and you return back home, exhausted from work and in need of a shower and a good meal. And some love and attention from your house dog.

"Choso! Puppy, I'm home…" You yawn out, toeing your shoes off and dropping your bag on the little table in your hallway.

Choso, the precious boy he was, rushed over and hugged you, his frame folding over you.

You couldn't help but giggle when he nosed at your neck, acting all cute. Not trying to taste you, no not at all.

He had acted normal throughout dinner, maybe a bit more… nosy than usual.

Nothing was amiss.

Until you were picking out some clothes to change into after you took a shower.

T shirt.. check… sweatpants… check… chewed up panties… check.

…

chewed up panties?

You lifted the cotton pair up by the sides.

There was a hole… a big one… bit right out from where your pussy would go if you wore them-

You don't remember moths having such a big appetite.

Your stupid mutt of a hybrid had gotten into your underwear.

He had gotten a little bit too excited and had decided he NEEDED a taste.

So what else was he supposed to do? Not take a chunk out of your favorite pair?

You tossed the ripped up thing to the bed and groaned, rubbing a hand over your forehead.

"CHOSO."

He was in the room before you could even finish the full word, on his knees and a trembling bottom lip sticking out, tail neatly tucked under his thighs and black furred ears down on his skull.

"Yes, mistress..?"

You glanced over to the bed.

He did too-

Oh no.

I mean, what did he expect would happen.

Leaving evidence right where you'd find it.

Silly boy.

The kneeling hybrids face started to heat up, looking to the floor where his hands were.

"…Wasn't me.."

"Who then? The undie ripping fairy? The pervert gnome of panty land?"

"…Both of them…"

You went silent, eyes staring down at his.

He whimpered, shifting uncomfortably under your glare.

"Choso, be good. Tell me what happened, seriously."

"I.. i didn't mean to… swear it."

"Choso Kamo."

He bit the inside of his cheek, head tipping forwards and hanging. His dark locks falling over his face to cover the guilty look.

His tail was starting to slooowwly slide back and forth across the floor.

Was he enjoying this?

You ran the hand from your forehead down your face.

"I did it…ma'am.."

"Why?"

"Wanted to smell you… but.. but also taste so i…"

"Taste and smell… what else, touch and lick?" You scoffed, making a sarcastic remark.

But he nodded, finally lifting his chin back up to have his chocolate irises meet your annoyed ones.

"May i, mistress?"

"May you? You tore up my favourite pair and now you want to get some? Fine. But you won't like it. "

You tried to threaten him, but he didn't look all that scared.

Not until you grabbed him by the hair and made him scoot forward, clumsy hands clinging to the backsides of your thighs. That pitiful little face he was making made you want to forgive him, but he deserved to be punished.

You stepped a bit wider, shoving his face between your legs.

This earned you a whine from him, unsure what to do now… the scent of you filling his nose and making his fluffy tail thump around on the flooring.

"Don't look so excited, damn mutt."

Choso shuddered from the mean name, peering up at you, tongue already darting out to try and lick at the fabric of your pants.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting the not so guilty looking hybrid watch you unzip and tug the waistband down.

Before you could even get them past your thighs he was trying to lap at the front of your filly panties- canines lightly pulling on the material.

Someone was hungry.

"Look at you… now hold on, you can't taste unless i allow it." You chuckle, pulling him away by his hair.

Poor Choso was already sniffling, unable to tear his eyes away from the damp fabric clinging to invitingly to your puffy folds, hands gripping into his own sweats.

"Please….mistress… please."

You tutted.

How impatient.

You pulled him up from his knees, pushing him onto the soft bed- ripped up panties forgotten underneath him.

You didn't want to let him get what he wanted the most. To get to touch and bite at your skin.

So the best course of action?

Forcing him to lay down, tugging his sweatpants down just enough so you could sit on his weepy cock. It looked like it was crying by how much precum was oozing out.

Your clothed pussy formed around it, thighs trapping his legs underneath yours.

"No touching."

"Yes ma'am."

It was a pitiful sight, his ears floppy and his eyes glossy, unable to look away where your bodies were rubbing together- and his hands, oh his desperate hands, trying to lay flat on the bedsheets beside his sides.

You didn't slide your soaked panties to the side until he started to buck his hips.

Obviously his cock was obscenely large, with a plump knotting bump at the end. Not to mention how pretty his happy trail was, your hands pressing down on his lower stomach to hold him still while shifting and helping the leaky cockhead find your sopping hole.

Thwap slap thwap slap slap!

Your hips bounced up and down, ass meeting his trembling thighs, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the usual wholesome bedroom air.

All he could do was… well.. cry. And let out whimpers of your name- too overwhelmed.

He was sobbing, nose scrunched up and his eyes blinking out pearly tears before shutting completely, fingers gripping into the bedsheets so hard they might tear.

"Misuhh…mistthhrurress…" He hiccuped out your title over and over again.

You leaned over, grabbing his face with one hand, the other bracing your weight on his abs.

"Cmon, look at me, you crybaby. You did this to yourself."

He refused to open his eyes, trying to squirm out of your hold.

Smack!

You have his cheek a light slap before leaning back, making sure to clench around him for a torturous squeeze.

"Bad puppy."

You didn't even let him cum inside, getting off right at the last moment.

And the thick load splurted out all over his own chest and face. Nowhere near where he would have liked to get it on… or in.

Lesson learned?

For now, maybe.

You weren't that cruel… you scooped up the whiteish liquid in your fingers and fed it to him.

That counted as cleanup.

Fine, he got a proper cuddle session and a short lecture about eating your clothes.

Didn't mean you knew about all the other stuff he had done before getting caught this one time.

Yoon's notes: sumn abt writing subby pup choso always hits the spot

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pervy!choso who awkwardly positions himself on parts of the apartment you share just to properly satisfy himself. What exactly does this entail? Oh, y’know, him sitting the wrong way on a chair you sat in for twenty minutes, grinding his bare cock against the smooth wood and soon letting his cum paint out across your seat!

pervy!choso who accidentally came mid-conversation with you.

You were yapping about some show he agreed to watch with you and you thought you were going crazy when you noticed how much his hips were moving under the not-so-thick blanket he buried himself beneath, but… then he was grunting. And then his face was made up. And his ears had got red. And he could barely make eye contact with you.

Moments later and he excused himself off to the bathroom, tugging his pants down and scoffing at the way his seed has plastered itself all throughout his boxers just from listening to you talk.

pervy!choso who knew he had a real problem after that. It was one thing to jerk off to you rather often, but to not even be able to have a conversation-, no, to not even be able to listen to you was insane!

pervy!choso who comes to vent to you about it one night—confessing and apologizing about all his habits with the biggest pout on his face. Telling you how he, “can’t control it” sometimes, and that he might be “a bit” infatuated with you.

pervy!choso who’s heart skips a beat when you reveal you’re no better than he is! You pulled out a dildo of yours that… weirdly resembled his cock?

pervy!choso was left to bat his lashes in disbelief. There’s no way you, his sweet sweet roommate was just as much of a perv as he was—if not worse?!

The dildo you’d shown to him not only resembled his cock, but captured the very essence of it down to the slimmest vein trickling down near his balls.

What the fuck.

pervy!choso who starts drooling uncontrollably when you go on to explain to him that you’ve been using the pillows he sleeps on to get off for months now. You told him that you’d made sure the pillows and their cases were washed before his head ever hit them again but, fairly enough, he didn’t give a shit about that.

Hell, he wishes you’d left the evidence of your acts all over his stuff—just to he could rub his face into it later and get a proper smell of you while he humped his cock against his sheets.

pervy!choso who realizes he’s drooling from more than one place halfway through your perverted confessions, his body unconsciously inching closer and closer to you until you’re both practically sharing breaths and every word of sin that’s exiting your lips is being caressed right into his greedy ones.

pervy!choso who, rightfully, cums a good minute ‘n a half into the first kiss you two share. His hands could barely explore your body without shaking and the sounds that left his throat were just nasty. Someone would’ve thought the two of you were fucking already!

pervy!choso who gets shy when you push him down and tell him to show you his cock—what if you don’t like it? What if this is the part where you regain your moral senses and admit that you’re both horrible people who’ve done disgusting things in thought of the other?

pervy!choso who is pleasantly surprised when you get impatient and tug his dick out for yourself, his lashes fluttering whilst his lips quiver open to say something to you. He wanted to warn you about how much he cums, but your hand was already curling around his cream-smothered cock.

pervy!choso who thinks he dies when he first feels your mouth on him, your tongue darting out to taste the mess he’s made of himself, and your eyes almost appreciatively set up on his.

pervy!choso who can’t even move because of how good your lips feel wrapped around his cock. He wants to burry his fingers in your hair, push your pretty head down, fuck himself up into your throat, and more but… he can’t move for some reason.

pervy!choso who chokes when his wide tip knocks into the deepest nook of your mouth, hearing a loud sluuuurp! before he’s gasping and suddenly—you’re not in between his legs anymore..?

Oh.

That’s right. It was just another one of his daydreams.

None of that actually happened, he never confessed his acts of filth to you and you never said anything about you being just as much of a perv.

No, in reality, he’s been staring at you like a true weirdo for the past few minutes—unintentionally making weird ass noises here ‘n there because of how wrapped up in his fantasy he was.

Then you make eye contact with him all of a sudden, popping your lips off of a bright red popsicle and tilting your head, “Did you want some?”

“Huh?” He gapes.

You gesture the popsicle his way and smile all innocently, “You’re drooling and you’ve been watching me eat this for like five minutes now.”

“Y-Yeah.”

You scoff, “Yeah, what? Yeah, you want a taste? Or, yeah, you’re admitting to staring at me?”

“Both,” Then he leans forward and lightly takes your wrist into his hand, holding eye contact with you as his mouth parts. Tongue rolling out all wet with drool, “Feed it t’me, please?”

He hardly has a moment to react before you’re gliding the popsicle in between his lips, watching how his tongue eagerly laps at every inch of it before he sucks on it firmly.

…Then he accidentally moans.

Your brows shoot up and he pulls his mouth off the popsicle. Chuckling at him, “Did you just-“

“Sorry, mommy.”

“What?” You choke.

“What?”

Choso wishes this was a dream too but, based on the way you’re staring at him right now…

Yeahhhh, he might be fucked!

the full oneshot inspired by this drabble is here || perm choso tags (1/2):

@yulissacastillo11 @xxvendettaxx @blcknebula @imyourightnow @cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator

@hopelissromantiq @2kool4skoolll @bbfawns @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @avatar4eva @broimherebcsimboredok @indiaas-priv @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer

@prettysexcgorgeous @themicthatyeosangwith @autistmicfool @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks

you were the living embodiment of an angel, always so patient with him, so gentle, yuji for the first time in decades felt like he was at peace.

he opened the door to your apartment, always finding solace there, softly announcing his presence before you skipped and wrapped your arms around him.

"you look tired."

"i am." is all he mumbled before pressing his lips to your forehead, his arms around yours while he tried to ground himself.

"i know just the thing to help."

you dragged him through your place, eventually making it to your bathroom, your shelves lined with scented soaps and washes, your bathtub already full with candles lining the sink close by.

"what's all this?"

"i figured you'd need something to relax, go on." you beckoned him to the tub, helping him rid himself of his jacket, his shirt—running your hands over his abs, looping your fingers through his belt loops before pulling him in for a soft kiss, with yuji melting into it, letting out soft sighs while he cupped your face.

"i missed you."

"you saw me yesterday, yuji."

"i still missed you."

he stepped into the water, his muscles relaxing entire in the warm bath, practically letting out a soft moan the second you ran your fingers through his hair.

"fuck, that feels good."

he was melting into you, his skin turning the softest shade of pink while you lathered the shampoo on his head, washing it out gently while he sighed—his body was starting to smell like yours, the scent of your soap, your shampoo clouding his brain while you took such good care of him, it made him want to weep like kid and stay stuck in this loop as long as his miserable luck would let him.

"well, aren't you going to join me?"

you planted a kiss to his lips, trying your best to keep the soap out of your mouth, before making it to the doorway.

"you can join me in bed, baby."

and he was dragging himself out of the tub almost immediately, drying himself as fast as he humanly could, before throwing on a pair of grey sweats and diving straight on top of you while you waited in your bed.

his full weight pressed against you while he nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your scent while he arms crushed you as close as physics would allow him to, holding you down like the last good thing he had left would disappear if he didn't.

"do i ever tell you how much i love you?" he mumbled, kissing your neck while you let out a soft laugh, brushing strands of his wet hair away from his face before pulling his head a little back to look at him.

"you always do, yuu."

"i love you, i love you, i love you so much." he said between kisses, practically smothering you in affection, relishing in your fit of giggles.

"i love you too, yuji."

fluff lilith returns! everyone pretend to be surprised

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