MEET THE PHARMACIST ⤷ RHEA ˎˊ˗ twenty1, sheher, jjk centered, mdni .ᐟ

⌞ 𝒮atoru’s favorite side effect 𑣲⋆ 𝒞hoso’s expensive addiction⌝

❛❛ . . . AT LEAST YOU W☆RKING, BUT GIRL, I CAN’T FEEL MY FACE ❞

prescriptions. protocol. latest dosage.

before treatment begins…

╰┈➤ patients must be eighteen years or older to receive medication. this pharmacy dispenses nsfw counter remedies.

you’ve never really understood why everyone fears sukuna so much. in theory, you can grasp the reasons, but it’s never felt real enough to actually inspire the same fear within you.

the man moves through life with fuming hostility, lacks both the patience and the inclination for human interaction, and has a habit of looking at people too fucking harshly if they so much as breathe the wrong way. so yeah, objectively speaking, he isn’t exactly approachable.

but the longer you spend around him, the more that image cracks. you start noticing the small things that begin to stand out and make him seem like an actual nice human being.

you catch the way he softens around animals (cats specifically), the patience and respect he shows elder people, or the very obvious concern that surfaces whenever someone he actually gives a shit about is unwell, even if he’d never admit to worrying.

none of those things fit the terrifying reputation he’d built for himself. which is exactly why you make the mistake of mentioning it.

"you know, i don’t think you’re scary."

gojo and nanami want their full marks. (un)fortunately, that involves you!

Comparative Female Reproductive Anatomy.

the bold, printed letters stared back at you from the top of your project sheet, and for a long moment, you stared right back - perhaps if you looked at it long enough, the words would rearrange themselves into something less mundane.

around you, the lecture hall grew noisy with conversation as students packed away their belongings, but the words at the top of the page drowned out everything else.

you let out a slow breath through your nose. out of every topic professor yaga could have assigned, it just had to be this one.

slowly, you lowered the rubric back down and looked toward the front of the room. he was already watching his class with crossed arms and a deep wrinkle between his brows.

"this project is worth fifty percent of your final grade. groups of three have already been assigned, and no changes." a collective groan rippled through the class. "i expect nothing short of excellence. so do your best."

your heart sank a little. fifty percent. half of your entire grade hinged on this project. you hugged your notebook tighter against your chest, trying to stay somewhat invisible in your usual spot near the back.

professor adjusted the papers in his hands and began reading the group assignments. you were only half-listening, way too caught up in how much of your dignity this project was likely to cost you.

"…group seven. gojo satoru. nanami kento. and—"

your name.

for a second, you were convinced you’d heard wrong. surely there was another student with your name. surely yaga wasn’t talking about you…right?

three rows ahead, gojo spun around and shot you a wink, white hair messy under his sunglasses. despite his frat-boy reputation and his tendency to lounge around in every class, he was a terrifyingly gifted genius. nanami, on the other hand, was the gold standard. a disciplined, brilliant, and stoic man. he gave you a simple, curt nod.

well, shit.

the first few study sessions were an exercise in tension, to say the least. you often met in the library, where nanami took charge with a scary level of precision. if anyone had a color-coded timeline and a list of required citations, it would be him. gojo, meanwhile, spent most of the time leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers, and watching you with an expression you could never quite put your finger on.

but as the deadline approached, the three of you seemed to hit a big, fat brick wall.

the textbook diagrams were completely flat, two-dimensional clinical cross-sections that lacked any of the real-world physiological nuances professor yaga explicitly demanded in his grading. if you submitted a project based purely on these charts, you were looking at a mediocre grade at best - and a devastating blow to your hard-earned gpa.

"the illustrations provided are utterly insufficient," nanami sighed, his voice tight as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding slightly. he readjusted them, his fountain pen tapping sharply against the leather-bound text. "yaga is looking for three-dimensional comprehension. tissue elasticity and exact vascular response patterns. we cannot hypothesize these details merely from a textbook."

gojo let out a groan, tilting his head back until his wildly uncombed white hair spilled over the edge of the chair. "in other words, we’re fuckin’ doomed." his piercing blue eyes suddenly locked onto you and nanami. "unless… we get a real, living, breathing model to chart out the topography."

you blinked, "a model? where are we going to find someone willing to just... let us analyze that?" gojo’s lopsided grin widened, his gaze dropping to the heavy knit sweater you were hugging tightly. "we don't need to look very far, sweetheart. the perfect reference is sitting right across from us."

your face instantly caught fire. your fingers dug into the cardboard edge of your notebook. "me?! are you completely insane? i am not- i can't just, what!"

"think about it empirically," nanami countered softly, his calm demeanor shifting into full focus. so he thought this was a good idea too? he didn't look amused, he looked dead serious. "you want the full mark as desperately as we do, yeah? from a purely scientific perspective, using a trusted classmate as a reference minimizes variable errors."

"it's just the lower body," gojo added, his voice dropping into a smooth, persuasive tone as he leaned over the table. "we'll be professional. we'll set up the textbook, do a direct comparison, and document the physical layout. c’mon, don't you want to guarantee that sweet fifty?"

you looked from nanami’s unblinking, serious gaze to gojo’s intense blue eyes. every rational cell in your brain screamed that this was mad. but the crushing weight of the grade, combined with the absolute, unbothered seriousness radiating from both of them, slowly began to wear you down. they weren't joking at all.

"if... if we do this," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper, "it has to be completely private. no distractions."

the white-haired man smirked, snapping his laptop shut. "my place. tonight. room 204. no one will interrupt us."

walking down frat row at eight sharp was a nightmare in itself. the massive house was practically vibrating from the heavy bass of a sound system, the front lawn cluttered with red plastic cups and rowdy frat dudes.

you scurried up the stairs and ducked into his room. to your relief, it was clean, surprisingly so. a massive oak desk took up most of the space, lit by a bright lamp. nanami was already seated there, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms as he organized a stack of reference sheets.

"you made it," gojo said, closing the heavy wooden door, completely shutting out the noise from below. he dragged a cushioned chaise lounge into the direct path of the desk lamp.

your heart hammered violently against your ribs as you stood by the edge of the lounge. your hands shook so hard you could barely undo the button of your jeans.

"jesus, doll. relax." gojo’s hands replaced yours, helping you slide your pants down, your panties following right after. immediately, the cool air hit your bare skin, a stark fucking contrast to the intense heat radiating from your face. you quickly lay back, pulling your knees up and letting them fall wide open, fully exposing your most intimate area to the light of the lamp.

you were unable to look at them. but the two didn't hesitate. they pulled their chairs right to the foot of the lounge, propping the heavy textbook open on a small stool right next to your thighs.

for the first ten minutes, they were entirely focused on the studying.

"note the symmetry of the labia majora," nanami adjusted his glasses, voice steady as he leaned closer to inspect you. "the standard linear alignment shown in figure four is incorrect. the live subject exhibits a far more delicate curvature."

gojo’s breath was warm against your skin. "yeah, look at the pigmentation difference," he noted as he peered intently between your spread thighs. "the textbook model shows a dull tone. but this- the coloration here is so vibrant. it’s a completely uniform pink."

hearing them break down your anatomy in such raw, clinical terms made a soft gasp escape your lips. you kept a hand clamped tightly over your mouth, your chest beginning to heave up and down. they weren't even acknowledging the fact that you were wide open for them.

"let’s verify the structural elasticity," you tensed, your fingers digging into the cushions as you felt nanami’s long fingers gently press against the outer edge of your labia. you let out a muffled whimper against your hand, your back arching slightly. his touch was impossibly light as he parted your soft, pink folds to examine the inner anatomy.

"the vascular response is immediate," he observed, though his breath had hitched slightly, a little crack in his usual calm self. "the tissue is highly sensitive. gojo, look at the alignment of the clitoral hood relative to the diagram."

gojo leaned in, his face just inches away from your heat. his bright blue eyes were wide with awe by the sight before him.

for them, the textbook might as well have been blank. gojo’s chest tightened as he stared at you. he had seen plenty of girls on campus, but looking down at you right now, he felt almost paralyzed.

you looked so damn innocent. the way you were turning your face away, hiding your mouth with your hand, and blushing from your chest all the way to your thighs made something feral twist in his gut. and the sight of your perfect, puffy pussy shining under his desk lamp was almost too much to bear. he fucking loved it. he loved how fucking shy you looked, how you had trusted them with this raw vulnerability.

nanami’s fingers were trembling slightly against your skin. which was a rarity for a man who prided himself on absolute control. to him, you were absolute perfection.

the standard textbook illustration was an insult compared to the pastel color currently glistening under his fingers. every small little gasp you let out was driving him insane. you were so beautifully spread out, and your body was responding so perfectly to their presence. he wanted to document every inch of you, but more than that, he wanted to completely possess you.

"she's so different from the text," gojo whispered, his voice losing every ounce of control. his large thumb suddenly reached out, gently tracing the upper ridge of your inner folds. "i mean, it’s fuckin’ perfect. look how pretty it is."

a sharp breath tore from your nose. your head fell back against the pillow, tits heaving up and down as their fingers moved together - nanami holding you open while gojo brushed against your most sensitive spot.

they were watching your reaction now, their eyes locked onto your burning face, tracking every single twitch of your hips.

"oh, wow," gojo purred. "look at that reaction. the tissue is engorging almost instantly. i wonder if her sensitivity is higher than average?"

"it appears so," nanami’s reply came slightly breathless. "the responsiveness is... significant. sweetheart, try to stay still for us so we can get an accurate observation."

"i... i can't..." you whimpered, trying your very best to stifle a moan.

"it’s okay, baby," gojo’s thumb drew slow, deliberate circles over your clit. "just breathe for us. nanami, look at the way the skin flushes when i do this. you see that?"

"mhm, i see it," he replied, "it's fascinating. the book mentions arousal-induced vasocongestion, but seeing it happen in real-time... it's far more impressive."

"y’know," gojo began, "compared to the diagram, our little princess is absolutely perfect."

"agreed," nanami’s hand slid closer to your glistening wetness. "the textbook truly is a poor substitute for the real thing."

you were a mess of sensation. flushed a deep pink, your head thrown back against the sheet. "look at her," gojo groaned, his eyes wide and hungry. "she’s fuckin’ glowing. so innocent, yet she's practically begging for us to keep going, isn't she?"

"she certainly is," nanami looked at you with awestruck eyes, his professionalism now entirely shattered. "i believe we need to examine the internal canal to complete the report on vaginal depth and elasticity."

"i’ll help you with that," gojo chuckled, his voice damn near vibrating with raw lust.

slowly, with agonizing patience, nanami slid one finger inside you. you let out a loud, broken cry, your hips bucking upward as you felt him fill you.

"god, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice dripping with heat. "i’ve never felt anything like this."

"shiiit, can't take jus’ watching anymore," gojo’s hand moved to your clit, circling it while nanami began to pump his finger inside you faster. "you're so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart. jus’ a perfect little thing."

"look at how she arches, jesus," nanami gasped, his breath hot against your thigh. "her body is reacting exactly as the theory suggests... but it feels so much better than the theory."

"mm, we’re definitely getting that full mark," gojo increased the pace of his thumb until you were sobbing his name. "but i think we need a few more practical applications... before we turn this in, don'tcha’ think?"

"couldn't agree more," nanami replied, pushing deeper into you, both men now rock hard and completely undone by you.

⋆ MESSY, NEEDY AND COMPLETELY ADDICTED .ᐟ

the very first thing you learned about choso was that he was, in fact, not nearly as intimidating as people thought he was. everyone who met him for the first time seemed to have the same reaction. they noticed his height, the insanely tired-looking eyes, the scars across his face and immediately assumed he was dangerous.

maybe he was dangerous, technically. (you had seen what he could do when someone threatened the people he cared about) you had seen the terrifying side of him, but that wasn’t the version of choso you knew.

the version you knew was… shy, painfully shy, actually. which was strange because nobody else seemed to think so. according to yuji, choso was one of the most straightforward people he'd ever met. if choso wanted something, he said it. if he disliked something, he said that too. there was very little hesitation involved.

noritoshi once described him as intimidatingly direct. even gojo, after spending an afternoon annoying him on purpose, had eventually complained that getting a reaction out of choso was nearly impossible.

so why in the world was he so shy around you?

he never seemed to have trouble maintaining eye contact with other people. he'd hold entire conversations without looking away once. but when you looked at him, his gaze would suddenly drift somewhere over your shoulder. or toward the floor. or literally anywhere else.

he was always strangely aware of your presence at all times, but that awareness instantly turned into nervousness whenever the two of you found yourselves alone. it was a reaction you had seen often enough to recognize by now, which was why it immediately caught your attention as the two of you sit watching some unbearably cheesy romance film together.

the movie is already nearing its end when you notice the strange look on his face. the main characters on-screen are kissing, dramatically in the rain at that. orchestral music swells in the background and you’re halfway through making fun of it when you notice choso has gone completely quiet beside you.

he isn’t laughing. his eyes are fixed on the screen, face blank of any emotion. it’s when you catch the faint flush creeping up his neck that you realize he looks… tense?

you pause mid-sentence. "cho, you okay?"

he doesn’t answer right away. the couple on screen continues to kiss, all slow and passionate, and choso’s gaze stays glued there. you watch as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

"i…i don’t…" his voice is barely audible, cheeks reddening even more. you wait a beat, then tilt your head slightly.

"i’ve never…" he stops again, jaw clenching and unclenching. for a second you think he might drop it entirely, but he forces the rest out, "i’ve never done that before."

your heart does something stupid in your chest. "you’ve never kissed someone?"

he gives the smallest nod, "never really wanted to before."

the movie proceeds to play, but neither of you are paying attention anymore. choso’s breathing grows a little uneven. he keeps glancing at your lips, so pretty and pouty, then away again, almost fighting with himself.

after a tense pause, he swallows hard, "can you… teach me?" his voice cracks slightly on the last word. he looks mortified by his own request, but he doesn’t take it back. his dark eyes flick up to yours for just a second before dropping again.

"please," he adds, so softly it makes your chest ache. "want to know what it feels like… with you."

god, he was so shy it hurt. his ears are bright red, and he still can’t look you in the eye for more than a second.

you shift closer on the couch until your knee brushes his thigh. "come here,"

choso obeys instantly, turning toward you. he’s breathing faster already. when you cup his face with both hands, he lets out a soft, shaky exhale, eyes fluttering half-shut. his skin is so warm under your palms.

"relax," you whisper. "we’ll go slow." you lean in and press your lips to his gently at first. just a soft press, but even that makes him melt almost immediately, a tiny helpless sound escaping his lips, which are surprisingly tentative and soft, but he doesn’t know what to do with them.

you move slowly, tilting your head a little to kiss him again, coaxing his mouth open with your own. when your tongue brushes his bottom lip, he gasps quietly, and the moment you slip inside, he whimpers.

his hands suddenly grab at your waist, pulling you closer with surprising strength. the kiss turns messy almost instantly. his tongue is eager, sliding against yours clumsily, hungrily, like he’d been starving for this. he licks into your mouth with zero finesse, spit already slicking both your lips. a thin string of saliva connects you when you pull back for air, and he chases your mouth immediately, whining low in his throat.

"don’t stop—" he breathes against your lips, voice wrecked. "please don’t stop."

that makes you kiss him deeper, slower this time, showing him how to move his tongue, how to suck lightly on yours. he learns absurdly fast, soon he’s the one sucking on your tongue desperately, drooling a little as he tilts his head the other way to kiss you harder. his heavy breathing and the occasional needy groan from deep in his chest fill the space between you.

he was so fucking sloppy and needy it was driving you crazy.

his hands roam up your back, then down to your hips again, gripping you so hard you’d think he was scared you’d disappear. he pulls you closer until you’re practically in his lap, your plush thighs straddling him. the longer you kissed, the more he lost control. he’s panting into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, then your top, then pushing back inside.

you pull back just enough to breathe, again. his lips are shiny and swollen now, spit glistening on his chin. his eyes are glassy, half-lidded and completely dazed.

"again," he begs, "please… i want more."

you kiss him again, completely hazed yourself.

hours could have passed by now. the movie has long since ended, the screen dark, but neither of you care. choso keeps kissing you, long and sloppy makeout sessions that leave both of you breathless. he pulls back for a few seconds, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, only to lean back in again with a desperate little sound, tongue sliding back into your mouth immediately.

he gets bolder as the night goes on. his hands occasionally slip under your shirt, thumbs beneath your tits, but he never pushes further than that, he just wants to keep tasting you. to suck on your lips and mouth for minutes at a time, so slow and so filthy because you just look so goddamn perfect for him not to.

from that moment on, choso kamo became addicted.

the next day he shows up at your door again, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, cheeks already pink before he even steps inside. this time, your session was longer. hungrier. he traps you into the couch, tall frame hovering over yours as he kisses you. for never having kissing anyone before, he was devouring your lips. even when both of you are gasping for air, he doesn’t stop.

sometimes he’ll get so worked up he’d grind up against you without meaning to, face buried in your neck, panting.

"i can’t stop, baby… fuck, don’t want to stop," he pants, then pulls you into another long, drooling kiss.

day after day, choso sought you out. some days he’d barely say hello before pulling you into his lap, then kissing you so deeply it nearly leaves you dizzy.

he loves when you tug at his hair. he loves when you bite down on his bottom lip. loves the sounds that fill the room when your kisses turn brutal.

he never gets tired of it. if anything, choso only grows more addicted. he was still shy in public, barely able to look at you without turning red, but when you were alone, he became a greedy man.

he was utterly and completely obsessed with you. your mouth, your taste, and the way you kissed him back like you knew exactly what he needed.

and you let him have it. every single time.

because how on earth could you not?

your so-called friendship with sukuna began in the depths of hell itself. the man does not care to introduce you as his friend. if anyone else dared to call you that in front of him, he’d laugh in their face and threaten to rip their tongue out.

yet he always manages to show up in your life whenever the fuck he feels like it. always making sure to invade your space and knock your pulse completely outta rhythm when he does.

he never admitted it outright, but beneath all the insults and cruelty, sukuna was territorial in the most fucked up way imaginable.

especially when your pretty ass smartmouths him.

you and choso were leaned over a spread of textbooks across his desk, annotations and sticky notes crowding the edge of the pages after trying to squeeze meaning out of every diagram to hell and back.

choso was clearly in his element, working through the material with ease whereas your little slow self struggled to keep up. three hours into anatomy biology and your brain was officially fried.

you stretch your arms high above your head, a long, languid motion which makes your tits slightly bounce and the hem of your top ride up to expose your midriff.

suguru notices it the first time you apologize for someone else bumping into you. a stranger knocks their shoulder into yours hard enough to make everything slip from your arms, and before they can even glance back, you’re the one ushering quick sorrys and 'no worries.'

he watches the interaction closely from afar, standing with his arms crossed and feeling annoyance settle deep in his chest. jus’ why did you have to be so damn nice?

always too soft and too willing to let people take and take and take from you like that’s all you were made for. you say yes when people ask for favors they don’t deserve, or smile when people interrupt you. you let people talk over you, dismiss you- use you, even, and somehow you still look at the world with that pretty lil’ smile you got.

it irritates him, to say the least.

it irritates him so much that one day he finally snaps.

PATIENT INTAKE FORM

established by pharmacist Rhea

Date: ___________ Patient Name: ________________

TERMS OF ADMISSION

By entering this facility, the patient acknowledges that:

☐ They are eighteen (18) years of age or older.

☐ They understand this establishment dispenses both nsfw and sfw prescriptions.

☐ They have reviewed all dosage labels, warnings, and content tags prior to treatment.

☐ They agree to treat fellow patients, visitors, and staff with kindness and respect.

☐ They understand the pharmacist cannot be held responsible during treatment.

☐ They agree not to reproduce, repost, translate, steal, archive, or feed prescriptions into artificial intelligence systems.

PATIENT SIGNATURE: ___________________

nsfw ! your roommate toji fushiguro hates you (or does he?)

Roommate!Toji who never wanted a roommate. who only agreed because he may or may not have been too high and shiu practically forced him into it. he expected someone annoying, loud, and waaay too cheerful. and you, unfortunately, were all of those things. in his words, you were quote-unquote irritating as fuck. but then why the fuck did the apartment feel so wrong to him whenever you were gone?

Roommate!Toji who picks up your hair ties from random places without saying anything and just leaves them in a small, growing pile beside your things. his reason: he got tired of stepping on them. the truth: he refuses to admit he’s being considerate because you complained once about always loosing them.

Roommate!Toji who doesn’t bother with doors at all. they exist more as decoration than boundaries. you’ve walked past his room enough times to stop reacting, but it’s never actually normal. moving around like your presence is irrelevant to his lack of clothes. when you do catch him half-dressed, pectorals bulging and happy trail visible, he doesn’t rush or cover up. just glances over like you’re the one interrupting something, not the other way around.

Roommate!Toji who acts like taking care of you is just another annoying chore. you step out of the bathroom still wet, towel barely doing its job, hair dripping onto the floor behind you without you noticing. you’re mid-step toward your room when something hits you lightly in the face.

a towel.

you catch it on instinct, blinking up just in time to see toji leaning in the hallway. "dry off proper, woman," he says flatly. you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off before you can.

"tch. walkin’ around like that," he mutters, already turning away like the conversation is over. "gonna get sick, stupid girl."

Roommate!Toji who watches you talk and never looks away first. as if he’s deciding whether or not you’re worth responding to. you’ll catch him staring mid-sentence and lose your train of thought. he doesn’t ask what happened. just tilts his head slightly and waits till you start speaking again.

Roommate!Toji who, when folding laundry after you’ve convinced and taught him how to, suddenly pulls a pair of your panties from the pile- lacy and delicate, and dangles them right in front of your face between two fingers.

"these yours?" his voice is dripping with amusement. the smirk on his face downright wicked. "cute. didn’t know my stupid lil’ roommate was walking around with such slutty shit under her clothes."

your face burns instantly. you look away flustered, pretending to be very suddenly interested in organizing the clothes on the other side of the bed. just for a moment you turn your head, but that’s all the time he needs to smoothly tuck the panties into the front pocket of his sweatpants, the movement ever so casual n’ quick your sweet, oblivious self would never notice.

Roommate!Toji with whom you have late nights with when neither of you can sleep. you’re on the couch, he’s on the floor leaning against it, the only light source being some old movie not either of you are really watching. his head always ends up resting against your thigh, fingers occasionally tracing lazy circles on your calf. the touch is so light it could be accidental. but you know it never is.

Roommate!Toji who, more often than not, comes back from jobs bruised and bloody and lets you patch him up because he says you’re so much gentler than he could ever be. you’re standing between his spread knees in the bathroom, dabbing at the cut on his lip. his hands rest low on your waist, thumbs stroking more slow circles. he doesn’t flinch when it stings. he just stares up at you with dark eyes and whispers "you’re shaking, baby. scared i’ll bite ‘cha?"

Roommate!Toji who has a habit of standing way too close when you’re both in the kitchen, reaching above you to grab something. his chest would brush your back when doing so, a big hand always coming to rest on your hip. "you always this jumpy, doll?" his voice was right behind your ear. you could feel the heat of his body, the solid wall of muscle, and the way he just doesn’t seem to move away even after he’s got what he needed.

💊 seeking relief? go right ahead!

here you can browse the available prescriptions below. just select your preferred remedy and take as directed!

GOJO SATORU

Ex!Satoru fucked up bad

Ex!Satoru fucked up bad (pt2)

gojo and nanami need you to get their full marks

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Roommate!Toji hates you (or does he?)

SUGURU GETO

suguru fucks the good girl outta you

CHOSO KAMO

nerd!choso gets hard studying with you

shy!choso asks you for kissing lessons

RYOMEN SUKUNA

talking back to sukuna

telling sukuna he isn’t scary

KENTO NANAMI

nsfw ! your ex satoru gojo fucked up bad (pt2)

Ex!Satoru who, pathetically so, doesn’t know how to let you go.

breaking up with you was supposed to make things easier. that’s what he told himself, anyway. that believing the fucking rumors- those stupid, pathetic lies told by people who had no business speaking on your name was the right thing. that walking away before you could 'hurt' him would somehow protect him.

so the second the anger faded and he saw the truth for what it really was, all that was left was guilt. a heavy and ugly, suffocating guilt that sat in his chest and refused to leave.

he should’ve trusted you. defended you, at the very least. and now you were gone. and satoru- the same prideful, stubborn, too-pretty-for-his-own-good satoru, was now reduced to something almost embarrassing.

something pathetic and needy. an absolutely miserable mess who needed you back in his life before he lost his shit.

Ex!Satoru who, in a desperate attempt to win you back and prove that he’s still hopelessly, painfully in love with you, starts with flowers.

you found them everywhere. on your desk before first period. tucked under your windshield wiper. left on your porch in the middle of the night. delivered to your workplace mid-shift. waiting outside your apartment door every. single. day.

always with the same small, stupid note in that messy handwriting, 'I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.'

Ex!Satoru who never used to apologize for anything. the same man who would rather choke on his own feelings than let them leave his mouth, was sending you flowers everywhere you went as an apology.

you throw the first dozen in the trash. the second too. by the third week, your roommate is giving you that look. and you snap at her because she just doesn't understand. she didn't have to watch her whole world implode, and she certainly didn't have to pass gojo satoru in the halls with some girl hanging off his disgustingly-perfect arms majority of the time.

because that was the part that really ate at you. not just that he left, (of course that too) but how easy he seemed to move on. to simply believe some stupid rumor over you and replace you like everything the two of you were could be folded up and shoved into the back of his closet.

and maybe that should’ve been the end of it. you probably should’ve stopped caring. but Ex!Satoru doesn’t give up.

the flowers don’t stop at your door anymore. he starts showing up too, and somehow he looks worse every time. not physically- never that, but he looks mentally and emotionally destroyed. satoru was becoming less a womanizer and more a pathetic mess of a loser who needed nothing but his pretty girl back. the confidence that used to fill every room before him is leaking out, bit by bit.

one second you spot him leaning against the wall outside your lecture hall, flowers clutched in one hand, the other trembling slightly. "please," he says, voice cracking before you can even brush past. "please talk to me. jus’ one minute. please."

the next he's at your coffee shop job during rush hour, customers gawking as he stands at the pickup counter, bouquet bigger than the last. when you approach, you catch his bloodshot eyes and hair which is messier than usual. "i know you hate me. i fucked this up bad, but i can’t live like this knowing the only girl i’ve ever wanted hates me. please give me a chance to fix this- us."

you pour his usual coffee, a stupid habit, and slide it over with a glare. "fixed it already, satoru. with someone else, no?"

his face crumples. "no. god, no. it was all bullshit. i haven't loved anyone else other than you. please, baby—"

"don’t call me that." you turn away, heart twisting despite yourself.

by the end of the week, he was like a clingy ghost haunting your every routine. one rainy evening, you open the door to find him soaked on your welcome mat, more flowers wilted in his lap, sitting with his back to the wall.

"go home, satoru," you sigh, but your voice wavers. he looks up, rain dripping from his white hair and clinging to his sharp jaw. no sunglasses hiding those eyes now.

"this is home. with you. i was wrong. so fucking wrong. i told myself lies to forget how bad I hurt you. but i- shit. i can't. I need you."

you shut the door. but the man doesn’t falter. the morning after he starts sending you messages on every platform imaginable. you block them all, but he gets new ones each time. not to mention, voice memos of his voice breaking, "i’ll beg on my fucking knees, please, just talk to me."

then, literally.

it’s night and you’re alone, curled on the couch when the doorbell rings. you hear footsteps shuffle outside, and then, a loud thud!

you peer through the peephole, and there he is.

Ex!Satoru who was on his fucking knees in the hallway, looking like he hasn't slept in days, cheeks streaked and eyes puffy.

"baby," he chokes out, voice muffled through the wood. "please. i'm begging you. i can't do this without you. i am stupid, blind and fucking ridiculous to believe some idiot rumor about you when it was all bullshit from jealous assholes. i pushed you away to protect myself, but it destroyed me too. you’re my everything. my pretty girl. i’ll do anything. jus’- please don't leave me like this."

your chest aches. the gojo satoru who never bent for anyone, now completely shattered at your feet.

you slowly crack the door open. he doesn't move at first, just lifts his head, yearning blue eyes locking on yours. "my girl," he whispers, scrambling forward on his knees, grabbing your hand to press many many kisses to your knuckles. "fuck, i missed you so much."

tears prick your eyes. "i know, baby, i know" he mutters at the sight of your eyes welling up. he crawls closer, still on his knees, arms wrapping your waist as he buries his face in your stomach. "i’ll spend forever making it right. shit, i fucking hate that i’m the reason making you cry."

you thread fingers through his damp hair, pulling him up slowly. he rises like a man reborn, cupping your face, thumbs brushing the tears that fall. his lips crash onto yours without warning, pure desperation lacing his trembling movements.

the man was trying to pour every apology, every regret, and every ounce of love he still carries into a single kiss.

"fuckin’ missed your lips. your pretty face and beautiful body. god, m’gonna make you feel how sorry I am,"

and that’s how you ended up folded in half beneath satoru on your cramped apartment bed, knees jammed to your ears in a meaaan mating press, his massive body pinning you down, terrified you’ll vanish if he lets up for even a second.

his hips piston, thick cock spearing into your sopping pussy with thrusts that jolt your whole frame. his balls smack wetly against your front, headboard banging against the wall, but he doesn’t care. his blue eyes are wild, pupils blown obnoxiously wide and face twisted in pathetic need as sweat drips from his brow onto your heaving tits.

"f-fuck baby, missed this perfect cunt so much," he whimpers, voice cracking like the broken man he’s become, one hand gripping your thigh to spread you even wider while the other braces beside your head. "haven’t slept a goddamn day without dreamin’ of stretching you open like this. hah- stroking my cock to memories of your tight walls. shiitttt."

"t-toru! fuck!" you cry out, back arching as much as his iron grip allows. your pussy flutters wildly around his invading shaft, the angle making stars burst behind your eyelids.

he grinds deeper, cockhead bullying your cervix so deliciously good, the angle letting him bottom out impossibly far. your pussy clenches around his girth, juices squirting out with each withdraw. satoru sobs out a moan, leaning down to sloppily mouth at your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. "these thighs… god, i’d kill to have ‘em wrapped around me everyday again. missed licking every inch baby- been starving for it. flowers weren’t enough, needa’ worship you like this, prove I’m yours."

you gasp when his pace turns almost brutal, hips snapping with so much force your ass lifts off the mattress. your moans are pornographic as he grabs your ankles, yanking them further back, exposing your clit fully so his pelvis grinds against it on every thrust.

"shit look at you, creaming all over my dick already." you whimper as the pressure builds, his veiny shaft dragging your walls raw, the stretch burning so so sweetly. "guess this greedy lil hole remembers who owns it. say it- say you’re mine again. i’ll fuck you every day, fill you up till your pretty stomach is bloated with my cum."

"oh g-god, satoru- i’m yours!" your voice breaks into a whine. he dives down, latching onto a nipple, sucking hard enough to hollow his cheeks. his teeth nip the bud, "hah- missed your pretty lips moaning my name. missed these perfect tits. burying my face in ‘em, sucking ‘em swollen."

The dirty pleas shove you over, orgasm crashing over you hard. pussy spasming, gushing around his pounding cock. satoru whines pitifully, thrusts faltering as your walls flutter. "fuuck, squeezin’ me so fucking tight. cmon’ milk me, pretty. gonna pump y’full of me." ropes of thick cum erupt in your womb, overflowing to dribble down your pussy. he keeps rutting through it, his hips grinding to push every drop in.

but he’s faaaar from done. cock still twitching inside you, he pulls out just enough to flip you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up high. "not enough. needa see you from behind."

he lines himself up before slamming back into your pussy with his slick length. thrusting in and out with a wet squelch! of skin meeting skin, broken only by your breathless moans and the shaky, desperate noises falling from his lips. your face is stuffed in pillows as his spanks start to rain down on your pretty ass, reddening your cheeks while he fucks like a man possessed, babbling worship between grunts.

"look at me- fuckk never leavin’ you again. ever. my- hahh pretty girl." his words were all over the place, fingers tugging gently on your hair to make you look back at him. and when you do, his expression changes- something raw flicks through the gorgeous sapphire irises and it only makes him pound into you faster.

you couldn’t think straight at this point. fingers blindly grabbing at literally anything to steady yourself. his hand lands on your lower back, grounding you in place as continues to babble incoherent praise about you.

you had never seen satoru this verbal during sex before, it was almost overwhelming in the best way possible. and god, desperation looked so fucking good on him. seeing him stripped of all that usual arrogance, made something delicious curl in your chest. it made you wonder how much further you could push him- just to see more of this side of him.

his hands move to knead the fat of your ass, cock practically rearranging your guts. you scream as another orgasm rips through you, tears swimming in your eyes as he feeds you more of his load. he grunts, slowly pulling out, more cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the sheets.

you were completely and utterly spent. and gojo, on the other hand, couldn’t help but enjoy the view before him. your gorgeous hair a mess, body trembling beneath him, flushed ass marked red with the evidence of just how thoroughly he had fucked you. faint bruises and hickeys marked across your skin.

god, you were so pretty. and his. he loved you so fucking much.

the thought that he was the only one who got to see you like this, made something possessive settle inside him. with you breathless and clinging to him, satoru swore up and down he was the happiest man alive.

he collapses right beside you, pulling you gently against his side, fingers trace your bites, cum-smeared skin. "knew y’couldn’t stay mad at me."

"oh fuck you." a chuckle slips from you.

"gladly." he smirks, kissing your forehead.

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nsfw ! your ex satoru gojo fucked up bad.

Ex!Satoru who used to be yours in every filthy, possessive way that mattered.

Ex!Satoru who could never keep his hands off you. dragging you into empty classrooms to shove his tongue down your throat, fingers hurrying to touch every inch of your pretty skin. who would pin you against the wall and grind his hard cock between your plush thighs until you were soaked and a whimpering mess for him.

Ex!Satoru who fucked you like he hated how much he needed you. bending you over his desk, yanking your hair into makeshift ponytails, slapping your ass red while he pounded into your tight little cunt and called you his good slut. who would fill you up with thick, hot loads of cum and then push it back inside with his fingers.

Ex!Satoru who ruins everything over one stupid, baseless rumor. who doesn’t even let you explain, just looks at you with those cold cerulean eyes and says, "didn’t think you’d be the type to whore around behind my back."

the words made your entire world flip in seconds, your heart crushing and shattering at once. he turns his back to you before you walk away with your own heart in bits and pieces.

Ex!Satoru who rebounds so fast it feels like a fucking knife to the gut. new girl on his arm in less than two weeks. bubbly, sweet, smiling up at him like he hung the moon. he kisses her lovingly, hands locked with hers, hanging in the exact same hallways where he used to have you up against the wall, fucking you so raw and senseless as he kissed you stupid.

she got the version of him people assume was new, but you used to have the real satoru- the one who dropped his walls and collapsed right into your arms, your fingers in his hair while your name slipped out of his mouth like it was the only thing he truly knew how to say right.

somewhere along the way, losing that version of him began to hit you too. you went quiet without even noticing, stopped doing the things that used to bring you joy, started avoiding the places where he used to light you up so so much. your eyes were always on your phone as a barrier between you and the world. even your friends would try to pull you out, but you just smiled weakly and said you’re tired.

you see them everywhere. his arm never leaving her shoulders, titling her head for quick kisses. you can’t lie and say you don’t miss the way he would kiss you. your jaw, your neck, your tits…

people around them smile and whisper how perfect they look together. at group hangouts or parties you still force yourself to attend so no one worries.

Ex!Satoru who notices you in those exact parties, sees you leaned against the kitchen counter in the corner of his eye when he knows he isn’t fucking supposed to, with his girlfriend right there, tucked against his chest on the couch.

but how the hell could he not when your pretty face is still burned into every corner of his brain?

how could he not stare when you’re standing there in those tight clothes that hug your perfect tits exactly the way his hands used to?

he bites the inside of his cheek, trying to play it cool. the memories of you slam into him. that same mouth that used to stretch so fucking perfectly around his cock, gloss smeared all over his shaft while you drooled so prettily for him. he remembers the way you’d look up at him through teary lashes, eyes glassy, taking every inch of him. "that’s it, baby," he’d groan, fingers tangled in your hair, hips snapping forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis. you always swallowed every drop like it was your favorite fucking dessert.

his gaze drops to your neck. the same neck he used to bite and suck until you were marked up for days- weeks, even. he shouldn’t look, he has seen how you’ve become a ghost in the same halls where you used to be the brightest thing in his day.

his girlfriend squeezes his thigh again, oblivious as fuck, and satoru forces a lazy smile.

he remembers the last time he had you bent over the kitchen counter, cute sundress shoved up around your waist, panties ripped to the side while he pounded into you from behind. his hand fisted in your hair, cock dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you. "this pussy is fucking mine."

you’d come so hard you nearly blacked out, legs shaking as he filled you up until it leaked out around him. you were always the only one who could take everything he gave you, and still beg for more. and god, how badly he missed that shit.

Ex!Satoru who laughs right in his face when he hears it- actually fucking laughs, head tipping back and all like it’s the dumbest joke he’s ever heard.

"say that again."

the guy shifts, suddenly not so confident, scratching the back of his neck. "i mean- it was stupid, man. just some rumor. people were talking and you had, like, the hottest girl in school, so—"

so.

so.

"so i made some shit up," he shrugs, like it’s nothing. "people believed it. guess it worked, yeah? you two broke up and—"

gojo doesn’t even let him finish. his fist connects with his jaw so fucking fast it barely registers.

"satoru!" his girlfriend’s right there at his side, grabbing at his arm, voice high and startled.

someone else tries to pull him back but he yanks free, breathing hard, pupils blown so wide.

it wasn’t real.

the rumor wasn’t fucking real.

none of it. not a single fucking word.

and the worst part? his chest doesn’t feel lighter in the slightest.

it doesn’t fix anything- and worse, it doesn’t bring you back.

what it does do, is make him stand there, knuckles stinging, realizing he would’ve loved you anyway.

even if it had been true.

so what the fuck was the point of ever leaving?

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