Star⭐️

Synopsis. Welcome to the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT! Where we take the information given on your profile, a few tests run by our team of experienced matchmakers, and our cutting-edge matchmaking system to scientifically pair you up with the perfect JJK man to ahem- make you Juno, you know?

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, bed chem, matchmaking, Dr. Shoko cameo, she’s had enough, NEEDY JJK men, chokíng, spítting, Iíngerie, DlLF!Toji, ex!Geto, arguing while doing it, ROUGH s, p talking, p sIapping, cIit pinching, doggy, fuII neIsons, toys (Sukuna), DP, BIIIIG stretches, pushing down, cervíx smooches, manhandIing, DÚMBlFICATION, Choso with píercings, Choso’s inspired by HoriMiya a little, matíng presses, fírst times (him), pùssydrunk JJK men, bíting, prem. ejac, nerd!Gojo, creampíes, cúmplay, Iove hotels, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. DADDY TONY’S BAAAAAACK!! And I might not have brought chiId support but I DID bring the Iittle announcement that I might…mayhaps…be working on my own Iittle story hehehe. It’s what I’ve been so busy with- and it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a looooong time now. I’ve currently been worldbuilding smmmm ah, but yeah! Hoping to share this one with you too one day babygirls <33

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 99.96% MATCH!

“So is this thing measuring, like…bed chemistry?”

Oh. Your words ring far too loudly inside your ears - let alone inside this clinic. And you’re not quite sure who to blame—Dr. Ieiri Shoko for keeping her office so barren, or yourself for asking that question.

Like the bleached inside of a tusk, the surface of a porcelain plate just a touch too smooth. Too polished. Intimacy has never been so undefiled as these cold white walls advancing upon either side of you, clung onto by a fugitive nervousness that was white-hot. Not just yours - but the tens of thousands of clients that the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT boasts to have helped on their site.

It’s not quite what one imagines when they say ‘famous matchmaking agency’.

Your smile tightens. “M-my apologies, I hope I didn’t offend-”

“Yes.” Her sudden answer makes you stop. “Yes, it is like bed chem.”

You gulp.

“And it seems you’re a 99.96% match with ah- Mr. Fushiguro Toji.”

an: There’s no way I wrote tooth rotting fluff…

When you married Satoru Gojo at nineteen, you were much too young to understand that a marriage could alter the entire architecture of a person’s life, much too young to know that the silk sleeves of a bridal kimono could feel heavier than armour when you were walking toward a man whose face you had never seen, and certainly too young to understand that the name you were about to take would follow you everywhere, whispered behind folding screens and spoken carefully in clan corridors, because Satoru Gojo was not merely a man you were being asked to marry, he was the head of the Gojo clan, the strongest sorcerer Japan had known in generations, a man whose reputation had arrived at your doorstep long before he ever did.

you move like an animal♡ ︎

┃nobody knows Nanami moves like an animal behind closed doors.

───────────────────────────────

"a-aah fuck, Nanami~"

you're tied up to the bedpost, flat on your stomach, taking your husbands dick greedily. It's dark outside, indicating he's been inside you for hours now. His big hands push your waist further into the mattress, keeping you in place.

"F-fuck, stay riiight there, honey." he groans into your ear, sending zaps to your clit.

You met Nanami at the office. You fell in love with how gentle he was. He was so patient with you, going at a pace you were comfortable with.

The first time you had sex with him, you told him how you have a very high sex drive, and that you understand if that's something he's uncomfortable with. But he simply said, "Okay."

You were confused at first, but he quickly proved keeping up with you in bed wouldn't be an issue.

Who would've thought the quiet coworker was an absolute animal in bed?

"w-wait Nanami, too much a-aah" you mewl.

"Use your safe word then, honey." he taunts.

his thumbs swipes on your clit, making your back arch off the bed, but he keeps you right in place, making sure you take all of him.

You knew your safe word. He made sure it was engraved in your mind, and you should use it right now, but he feels so good inside your cunt. Pumping in and out in a pace that made you roll your eyes back. He's stuffed you so full of cum, it's oozing out.

"You're wasting all of my cum, honey. Keep it inside for me, yeah?"

He falls on top of your back and grinds deeper inside. He's so heavy and big in every aspect.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't control i-it."

"It's okay, honey. Just gotta fill you up with more of me, right?"

His arm moves to your neck, putting you in a chokehold; your chin sits on his elbow. He squeezes slightly, making you squirt all over his cock.

The night was far from over. But you're right where you want to be.

───────────────────────────────

your man hates it when you squeeze yourself when he’s inside of you.

he hates being “rage-baited” by his brat of a girl who has his cock warmed inside of her sloppy folds. a callous smile adjacent with the faux innocent eyes of yours blinking at him as if taunting him with a what’s wrong.

and all he could do was fixate his lust replete orbs on the spread of your pussy around his engorged self, taking complete control of his entrance. he tries again, a cautious slow thrust too smooth from the wetness, but, no luck because you had clenched yourself (once again).

“quit it, baby” his pearly whites grinding, jaw fiercer.

oh he hated it. the sheer annoyance of having his cock struggle to go inside of you all because you decided to fucking play around. tightening the inner muscles of your cunt around his tip, shaft and all just to see that flustered struggling face of a proclaimed strong man—hm, not funny. at least, not for him.

“quit what?” a sweet cadence, just a facade, as your canines shone when you clenched again. and again. again. having him falter forward and slip out groans. “ah–damn–” his breath heavy on your spit smeared lips, his nipples brushing against yours and there came his odd request.

“can you keep doing that while i go in and out?”

you stared into the mirror of your bathroom, eyes glossy. your fingers kept tracing the moles decorating your skin. there were so many—right eyelid, corner of your left eye, your left cheek, the juncture of your neck and shoulder....

life hadn't been good to you in a long time. your mornings were spent attending classes and evenings serving tables.

money was tight. and you were struggling to make ends meet. and sometimes this lack of oxygen made your head spin and your lungs burn.

you rubbed your eyes aggressively, trying to wipe away the moisture. but the stubborn tears just kept coming. and as they dried, they formed a path along your moles like a map.

you couldn't help it. you shakily grabbed your phone and dialed the one number that never failed you.

he picked up on the third ring. you blabbered somewhat terrible, you didn't even know what to say—weren't very aware of what you were saying either.

but he understood anyway.

wasn't very long before he was knocking on your door. collecting the broken pieces of you in his arms. throughout it all he didn't say a word.

sukuna wasn't a man of many words. your friends had pestered you about his indifference. his stoic silence.

but they didn't ever see him when he carried you back to your bed, wiped your tears , and kissed the little moles on your body one at a time.

there weren't many words that could change your situation or make life any easier for you.

but him being present like a pillar to your side, someone you could lean on—those were things no grand gestures could ever replace.

no he didn't take you to fancy michelin star restaurants. instead he took on shifts at your part time workplaces when you were too tired to go, so that you didn't miss a paycheck.

no he didn't buy you roses and write you love letters. but he made sure you were fed and warm every day. walked you home when your shifts ran too late into the night .

no he didn't show much affection in public, didn't kiss you obnoxiously or picked you up and twirled you around before your friends. but he picked you up when no one else did. when you were too tired and beaten down by life.

and as he kissed your eyelids with so much gentleness in the silence of your room that all your worries melted away.

as he kissed the moles on your body as if tracing a constellation. a constellation that perhaps only he could see. and only he could ever show such love to without saying a word.

so as you lay in your bed in your quiet dark room with your arms wound around his neck, you realised he had been yours in every lifetime. had kissed your wounds the same way in every life time too.

it was stupid really, feeling insecure over something both of you had no control over. it wasn't like he could build a time machine and go back in time to stop himself from getting in his previous relationships. but oh, did you wish he could.

you couldn't keep track of the amount of times it has crossed your mind. were you good enough? by all means, your lack of experience didn't go unnoticed. he talked you through most of it, showering you with love and giving you the utmost patience. it didn't seem to bother him at all, so why did it loom over you? you could be sharing a good moment between you two, and your mind will immediately give into the the voice in the very back of your head, whispering insecurities until they manifested themselves into reality.

late at night, you'd scroll through his exes' social media pages. at first, it was out of pure curiosity. what did they look like? what did were they like? and so on. sukuna answered all your questions honestly, but he didn't think the way a girl did. some answers you needed to find on your own. one of them was the chapter president of her sorority. she was absolutely breathtaking, very popular and sociable... and sukuna's longest relationship. you found yourself staring at her profile the longest, comparing yourself to her in every which way. it made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't stop. you had to see it from his shoes, what made her so great, even though you couldn't give yourself the same grace. you still didn't know why he wouldn't pick someone pretty, outgoing, and experienced over someone who got excited when your hands brushed. it just didn't make sense.

you still hid your face when he brought you over the edge, still held your tongue instead of letting him hear how good he was making you feel. you'd bet none of them did that. you bet he never had to take time to pause and make sure you were okay since it was all still very new for you. all of these things hung heavy on your heart and led to slowly distancing yourself from him. you weren't trying to punish him—it was the exact opposite actually. you didn't feel worthy of his touch, his praise, his anything. the more you spiraled, the more you pulled away. and one thing about sukuna, is that he'll always say it to you straight.

you heard a knock at your door and you slowly rose from your bed. you already knew who it was. only one person would be bothering you at this hour. you took a deep breath before unlocking the door. 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? remind you of tutoring sessions that brought your 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 to 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 stood 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'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 but 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 everyday was absolute torture. you felt stupid in your own skin. it wasn't enough to stay with him in the dark. it wasn't 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. 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 to actually discuss things and have 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 hard work for you. you were speechless. had he been secretly want 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.

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

you wake up drenched in sweat. your chest heaving, your eyes bloodshot while you try to remember what got you in such a frenzy in the first place. you couldn’t feel your limbs, the walls closing in on you while your mind seemed to spiral over what seemed to be nothing.

you hated when this happened. always running away and hiding in your room curled up in on yourself until the feeling disappeared. rotting until you found the next best distraction to just. run away from it all.

you found yourself seated on your kitchen counter, gasping for air, praying to god sukuna, or worse—yuji didn’t find you.

but alas, your luck only lasted so long, sukuna making way from the room, his eyes still full of sleep before he found you in the dim lights.

“baby, what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, kuna, go to bed before yuji wakes u-up.”

you tried to hold back your sobs, forcing them back into your throat.

“too late the brat was awake the second you got out of bed.”

he didn’t ask questions, just silently wrapped his arms around you while you hiccuped into him, your body still shaking from whatever it was that seemed to have awoken you.

yuji made his way to the two of you, his tiny arms tugging at the hem of your pants.

“are you okay auntie.” he squeaked out, while you picked him up, cradling him against your chest.

“wass it a scary dream? i have those too!!” he yelped trying his hardest to make you feel better his tiny arms trying their best to wipe away your tears while sukuna had almost a death grip on your waist, slowly tracing circles on your skin until your breath evened out.

“it was, yuji.”

“i’ll protect you!!” is all he screamed before hugging you by the neck while you softly giggled against him.

“you see that? you aren’t really alone anymore, doll.”

“y-yeah. i guess so, huh?”

your heart started to beat a steady rhythm again, drowned with overwhelming amounts of affection by two of the strangest pink haired men. but gods you loved them to death.

if u saw me post this b4 no u didnt

"you seemed so friendly today," he whispered, "so open. i wonder if you were thinking about how much you wanted this while you were flirting with him."

“i wasn't flirting, suguru— please," you whined, your voice muffled by the pillow.

"i don't care what you call it. you still let him get too close." he pressed the head of his dick firmly against your entrance, but made no effort to slide in. "now, fuck yourself. move back onto it on your own. i want to see you take it."

you hesitated, glancing back at him just long enough to catch the slight furrow of his brows and the subtle narrowing of his eyes. he groaned a little at the sight. god, you looked like such a mess. "it huuurts! you're too big, just push it in—"

the sound of his palm connecting with your ass echoed through the room, making you gasp and arch your back instinctively.

"did i ask for your opinion?" suguru hissed, his voice devoid of its usual calm. "i told you to move. do it, or i'll give you something real to complain about."

tears pricked your eyes, but the sting of the slap had awakened a desperate need in you. shaking, you shifted your weight, sliding your hips backward. you felt him slide in slowly, the girth stretching you wide, filling you completely. you then let out a choked moan, your fingers clutching the pillowcase.

"thaaat’s it," he murmured, the anger in his voice giving way to quiet satisfaction. "that’s my girl."

as you continued to move, backing up onto him in slow, tentative rhythms, suguru began to meet you. every time you retreated, he gave a gentle, shallow thrust, teasing you, making you crave the depth he was withholding.

eventually, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, a rhythmic, wet thud that drowned out everything else. the long-haired man had you pinned face down, your tits crushed into the pillows and your hips hoisted high in the air, leaving you completely exposed to his wrath.

he was pounding into you with a relentless, punishing pace. each thrust was deep and hard, bottoming out against your cervix and sending waves of pleasure and pressure through your entire body. you were whimpering now, loud, uncontrolled moans escaping you as you shook under the force of his assault.

his fingers were dug deep into the soft flesh of your hips, bruising your skin as he anchored you in place, ensuring you felt every single inch of his girth bottoming out against your cervix.

"still thinking about him?" suguru groaned, his voice a low, dangerous rasp against the shell of your ear. he slammed into you again, the impact jarring your entire frame.

"tell me— while i’m fucking you like this, are you still thinking about how close he was to you?"

"no— god— suguru, please!" you cried into the pillow, your voice muffled and desperate. your body was shaking, your internal muscles clamping tight around him with every heavy thrust.

“i— it was never like that!”

“yeah?”

“uh huh!”

"just answer me," he commanded, his tone cold despite the heat of their bodies. he pulled back nearly all the way, teasing your entrance, before driving himself back in with a violent surge that made you squeal. "who do you belong to?"

"shit!— you— i'm yours, sugu— only yours!" you yelped out, your fingers clawing at the bedsheets.

"uh huh, that's right baby."

he shifted his grip, moving one hand from your hip to the small of your back. suguru pressed his palm firmly against your spine, forcing you to arch your back even further, tilting your pelvis up to create an even steeper, more vulnerable angle. the change in position allowed him to hit that sweet spot with pinpoint accuracy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"oh god— r— right there!— suguru!" you gasped, your hips instinctively bucking back against him, trying to swallow him whole.

the sound of you pleading only seemed to fuel him. suguru let out a grunt, pounding into you now, his movements much more primal and possessive. the wet, slapping sound of his balls hitting your ass echoed through the room, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he was dominating you.

as he leaned closer, his long hair slipped over his shoulders, feathering gently against your spine.

"you love it when i’m like this, don't you?" he panted, his breath hot and ragged. "you loooove knowing that i can do whatever i want to you."

"yes— yes, i do! pleeease— you’re so big!" you whimpered out, your face sinking into the pillow as he reached down, his fingers briefly threading through your hair, gently urging you to stay where you were.

“you can take it, baby.”

“f— faster! mmmh— i’m sososo close! don’t stop!”

he didn't need to be told twice. suguru gripped your waist with bruising force, pulling you flush against him as he delivered a series of rapid, shallow thrusts that built the tension to a breaking point, before slamming deep one last time.

he held you there, pinned and trembling, as he felt your walls begin to spasm in a violent orgasm.

"thereee we go" he hissed, pressing a sloppy kiss to the back of your neck, "lemme feel your pretty cunt squeeze me while you remember exactly who you belong to."

as you came, suguru let out a loud, guttural groan. he drove himself in as deep as possible, his dick pulsing as he filled you deep inside with hot, thick cum.

"is this what you wanted?" he asked moments later, letting out a quiet scoff as his palms moved slowly along your sides in an attempt to soothe you, his eyes glued to your figure that stayed motionless on the bed, "to be used like this? to have me remind you who you actually belong to?"

“i missed your dick,” you murmured, squirming around a bit.

“you are so stupid.”

okay now omw to respond to the megumi stuff in my inbox because ik some of u don’t play abt this man 😭😭😭😭

can you survive the weekend?

synopsis: when you sprain your ankle on a solo hike in the frigid wilderness of a snowy mountainside, you weren't totally sure you'd even make it through the night. well, until a group of strangers stumble onto you on their way to their own cabin getaway and offer to let you stay in a spare room. but when one of them turns up missing the next morning, you'll have to decide where the danger really lies - in the woods outside? Or with them?

pairing: various jjk!men x f!reader (multiple endings!)

content: mdni, smut and angst, horror (think until dawn/dark pictures anthology esque au)!!!, mystery, some men will be yanderes but my lips are sealed on which ones, hurt/comfort, tension, inappropriate flirting lmfao, character injury and death(s), forced proximity, anxiety, some cryptids/monster men too, kidnapping, making out, piv sex, fingering, oral sex, creampie, monster fucking technically but make it jjk men, more tags in each part

CHARACTER MENU

SAVE FILE #01

day one 5:08 PM

night one 8:42 PM

day two 9:16 AM

BAD ENDING UNLOCKED!

SAVE FILE #02

currently reloading…

ending ???

MORE ENDINGS TO BE UNLOCKED!

COMMENT TO BE TAGGED <3

warning :- mdni, smut, pet names, humping

"so good baby keep going" he praises, taking a drag out of his cigar as you whimper and roll your bare cunt on his thigh, clutching his biceps for dear life as one of his large hands guide your hips

your moans grow louder as you find the perfect angle clit trobbing against the steady pressure. your head tips back, hair falling across your face as price's hand comes up to cover your mouth

"shhh we don't want the others to hear, huh love?" you muffle between his fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as he flexes his muscles beneath you, making your cunt leak more slick onto his trousers

"such a fuckin little mess" he mutters, circling his thumb over your clit adding more stimulation. your cheeks burn from humiliation as you bit your lower lip trying not to make a sound. he presses harder on your clit whilst you rut faster and deeper on his thigh, making your stomach tighten

"john no mor-" you cry out, a low whine tearing its way out of your throat as you release yourself on him. he drags you over his thigh, forcing you to ride the aftershocks as you shudder and shake in his grip, over sensitivity burning through your core. your forehead drops to his shoulder, breath stuttering as the last waves of pleasure leave your body. he slaps your swollen pussy in satisfaction, your body jolting from the contact as you curl into him like a kitten

"that's my girl" he whispers forcing your chin up, meeting your dazed eyes with his. his lips curl into a smug filthy grin seeing your teary eyes and the prominent wet stain imprinted on his trousers

"lunch times over doll. back out you go" he murmurs after a while, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck as you gather your senses and come back to reality. he leans back on his chair, puffing his cigar as you wince and scramble around trying to make it seem you didn't ride your boyfriends thigh in the middle of work

this might have been your favourite lunch break yet

this is a repost from my sideblog ! (@/luvrdollz)

contents. policeman!nanami kento x sunshine!reader | first date first kiss | smitten nanami | part 1

the coffee shop was quiet for a tuesday afternoon, a pocket of stillness in an otherwise noisy city. nanami had arrived twelve minutes early, because he was constitutionally incapable of being late, and had spent the intervening time second-guessing his choice of a beige sweater instead of a button-down.

he was still thinking about it when the little bell above the door chimed and you walked in.

you spotted him immediately— well, difficult not to, given how his posture straightened the moment your eyes met— and something bright and nervous flickered across your face. you were wearing a soft sundress that made you look like a ray of sunshine and spring itself had decided to become a person, and your nails were painted a new color. lavender this time. he noticed.

“hi,” you said, a little breathless, stopping in front of his table. “i’m not drunk this time.”

“i can see that.” he stood, because his mother had raised him properly, and gestured to the chair across from him. “it’s good to see you. sober or otherwise.”

you laughed, that same hiccupy sound he remembered from the sidewalk, and it immediately eased the tension and nerves he has been acquiring ever since this morning. you sat. he sat. for a moment, neither of you spoke. his eyes traveled back down to your hands, noting the way you clasped one over the other to stop it from trembling. you were nervous too.

“you’re staring at my nails?” you said.

“i was wondering if you’d changed the color.”

your face lit up immediately and you held them out obligingly, fingers spread. “lavender. for lavender. get it? because i’m… feeling calm. ot trying to be calm? very calm.” you paused. “i’m rambling. this is the sober version of the rambling, i’m so sorry.”

“don’t apologize.” he meant it. he’d spent the past week replaying your rambling in his head like a song he couldn’t get out. “i liked the rambling.”

your cheeks went pink. it was, nanami thought distantly, a very good color on you.

the barista came by, saving you both momentarily. you ordered something with too much syrup and whipped cream; he ordered black coffee, no sugar. you made a face at him. “that’s so sad.”

“i’m used to it.”

“it’s still sad,” you repeated, but you were smiling, and he found he didn’t mind being teased if it meant you kept looking at him like that.

when the drinks arrived— his austere black coffee, your architectural wonder of dairy and sugar— you took a sip and got whipped cream on your nose. he watched you go cross-eyed trying to see it and felt something dangerously close to fondness short-circuit his brain.

“you have—” he started.

“i know, i felt it, where is it—” you swiped at your cheek, missing entirely.

without thinking, he reached across the table. his thumb brushed the tip of your nose, gentle, wiping the cream away. you went very still. he also went very still. what was he doing? his hand hovered there for a beat too long before he withdrew it.

“there,” he said, voice slightly rougher than intended, before clearing his throat.

“thanks,” you whispered.

the conversation with you flowed very easily. it was mostly because you had a fascinating ability of talking about pretty much every topic in great detail. you were also a very good listener, which made him feel okay about saying whatever he had on his mind, because it seemed you were genuinely interested.

sometimes you’d mention things he wasn’t aware of, getting that excited little gleam in your eyes as you eagerly explained the whole thing to him. and the sight of your cute face cradled in your palm as you leaned forward on your elbow on the table to listen to him was incredibly genuine, that he absentmindedly thought about wanting to look at it more and more.

eventually, he cleared his throat, twirling the empty cup of coffee in his hand. “i think you mentioned you like bookstores. there’s one two blocks over. if you’d like to walk.”

you blinked. “are you asking me to extend this date? in the middle of the date?”

“is that alright with you?”

“yes,” you said quickly, already reaching for your bag. “yes, that’s—i’d like that very much.”

the walk to the bookstore was leisurely, the afternoon sun warm on your shoulders. nanami walked on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street, a habit so ingrained he didn’t even notice he’d done. you were very expressive as you talked, moving in and out of the pavement, pointing here and there as you spoke.

but more than that, you were so focused on looking at him that at some point he had to tug you in so a car wouldn’t drive too close to you.

you gazed up at him in confusion, brows knitting together before relaxing.

“ah my bad,” you said, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “i get carried away sometimes. you did the sidewalk thing.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” your eyes shone so pretty under the sunlight that nanami forgot what he wanted to say for a moment.

“you absolutely do.”

he didn’t dignify that with a response, but the tips of his ears turned pink, and you looked entirely too pleased about it.

the bookstore was one of those old, creaking places with sagging wooden floors and the particular hush that only existed between shelves of well-loved paperbacks. you wandered toward the fiction section; he gravitated toward nonfiction, then circled back to find you cross-legged on the floor with a worn copy of something in your lap.

“you’re sitting on the floor again,” he observed.

“better than a curb.” you patted the spot beside you. “come on, nanami. you’ve done it before.”

he hesitated for approximately one second before lowering himself down beside you, long legs folding awkwardly in the narrow aisle. his knee pressed against yours. neither of you moved away.

“what did you find?” he asked.

you turned the book so he could see the cover. it was a collection of love poems. old ones, the kind with sonnets and rhyming couplets and words like thee and thou. you flipped to a page and cleared your throat dramatically.

“shall i compare thee to a summer’s day?” you read, voice pitching into something mock-serious. “thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

“you’re reciting shakespeare at me.”

“i’m setting a mood. be impressed.”

he was impressed. he was also completely and utterly charmed, and he suspected you knew it. you read a few more lines, your voice softening as you went, and somewhere around eternal summer shall not fade, you looked up and found him watching you with an expression he couldn’t quite hide.

“what?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“nothing.” he reached out and carefully closed the book over your thumb, marking your page. “you’re very good at setting moods.”

your lips parted, a retort dying somewhere in your throat. “oh,” you said faintly.

“i’d like to buy that for you,” he said. “if you’ll let me.”

“you don’t have to—”

“i want to.”

he said it simply, the way he said everything, because it almost seemed like everything with you was simpler. you pressed the book against your chest and nodded, and he pretended not to notice the way your eyes had gone suspiciously bright.

he bought the book. you held it the entire walk back to your apartment, hugged against your chest like something precious.

at your door, you turned to face him, rocking slightly on your heels. “this was… really nice. like, alarmingly nice. didn’t think it would go so well.”

“i’m a policeman,” he said dryly. “we’re very trustworthy.”

you laughed, and then your laughter faded into something softer, something expectant. he was standing close enough to count your eyelashes, shadowing over your cheeks, and close enough to smell your perfume— different from that first night, lighter and floral, a scent that made him think of spring, like your dress had.

“nanami,” you said.

“kento,” he corrected, before he could stop himself. “you can call me kento. if you want.”

“kento,” you repeated, testing it, and his name in your mouth sounded like something he’d been waiting to hear his whole life. “kento, i’d really like to see you again. if that’s not too forward. if you’re not secretly tired of me.”

as if that were possible. as if he hadn’t spent the entire afternoon cataloging every smile, every laugh and every time your hand had brushed his.

“i’m not tired of you,” he said. “i don’t think i could be.”

you exhaled, a shaky little breath. “okay. good. me neither. the opposite of tired.”

“that’s good to know.” he murmured as he stepped even closer.

he leaned in. slowly, giving you every opportunity to step back. you didn’t. your eyes fluttered closed, and when his lips met yours, it was an achingly gentle kiss, that asked a question instead of demanding an answer. will you be mine?

yes. you answered anyway, rising on your toes, one hand coming up to rest against his chest. he felt your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater, anchoring yourself to him, and his own hand found the curve of your waist like it had always belonged there.

when you pulled back, you were both a little breathless.

“so,” you said, voice slightly unsteady, “next weekend?”

“next weekend,” he agreed.

you beamed, utterly devastating, and slipped inside your apartment, clutching your book of love poems. the door clicked shut. nanami stood there for a long moment, hand pressed flat against the wood, feeling the lingering warmth of you through the grain.

he walked home with his hands in his pockets and what might have been, on a less stoic man, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. he didn’t bother suppressing it.

that night, before bed, he received a text. a photo of the book on your nightstand, opened to the page you’d read aloud, with a caption underneath:

found my favorite passage. want to hear it on our third date? (assuming we get there. i’m being optimistic. is that okay?)

he typed back immediately.

i’m counting on it.

Synopsis: Well, it wasn’t your fault that those organizers of these kinds of programs have the habit of wrapping up c*ndoms so prettily and giving them out on streets oh so casually you thought they were candies! It also wasn’t your fault that you want to share these pretty candies with your friends. Right???

Content: Slightly suggestive, Gojo x fem!reader, reader is oblivious to whatever was happening

A/N: Inspired by my friend who recently came back from Japan on a trip, told me how they really just give out prevent-baby-making rubbers on streets but probably felt a little awkward so they wrap them up prettily😭🥀🙈🙈

I know I said I would write the very long fic but apparently I have overestimated myself in my writing abilities and underestimated how quickly I loose motivation ;-;

***

It’s midsummer in Tokyo. So hot that stepping on the streets outdoor felt like being baked in a huge oven, shimmering waves of heat right across your face.

In the middle of all this heat, a long line had still formed at the corner of one of the smaller streets in Shibuya.

Ohhhh what’s this all about? You wondered, peering at the line under your umbrella, which you had opened to shade yourself from the sun.

Some kind of show?

Must be very interesting for so much people to be queuing up in the middle of this kind of weather.

Curiosity got the better of you as you walked over to get a better look at what’s going on.

At the very end of the line, trying to get a view of what’s on display by peering over the crowd’s shoulders on your tiptoes, you were greeted with the sight of a small table, with colorful little packages scattered all over it, all with different chibi anime characters on them with big sparkling eyes.

Awww these are adorable!

“Free welfare items! First come, first served!” One of the staff members called out through a megaphone.

The packaging was about the size for a candy.

A little thin to be those hard, round ones, you thought.

Probably some new kind of vitamin gummies or something like that.

Eh. Waiting in the line wouldn’t hurt.

With so many people trying to get them, these had to be super good.

You walked to the end of the line and queued up.

The line moved slowly. You scrolled your phone for a bit, and when you look up again, most of the people ahead had already cleared out.

“Hi there!” one of the staff members greeted you with a smile, “what size would you like? Small? Middle? Big?”

You blinked for a second. Candies come in different sizes?

“U-Um big I guess?”

The staff smiled and handed you with a few of those little packets you have seen before.

“We only have strawberry-flavored ones left, sorry for the inconvenience,” he said.

You assured him that it’s fine, and even offered him a bottle of water to thank him for all the trouble.

In return, he offered you another handful of those strawberry gummies.

Looking at the handfuls of gummies in your hands as you walked away from the line, the scene of a certain person with white hair and blue eyes trying to snatch all of them from your hands came into your mind.

Satoru would love these sweets, you thought, smiling to yourself as you poured them all into your bag.

***

Finally back at Jujutsu High, you saw Gojo sitting on the couch in the common room of your dorms, long legs crossed in front of him and those stupid little sunglasses of his pushed up so that they rest on his hair. He had a manga book in his hands as he flipped through it, clearly not paying it even half the attention it deserved.

You went over to him, and dumped the content of your bag onto his lap, then turned away to the window to take a look at your newly grown plants.

“Here. People were giving it out in Shibuya. It’s strawberry flavored,” you said, examining the leaves.

Gojo blinked at those colorfully wrapped little packages for a second, and tore open the plastic cover without much hesitation or thought.

“Hah? What is this? Candies? Awww,” he cooed, “you’re finally learning how to respect the Strongest! Should I give you a ro—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence.

Sensing the sudden silence, you turned around from your plants by the window.

And there was Gojo, on the couch, blue eyes wide and staring down with a blank expression you couldn’t really tell why he was making it.

“Gojo…?”

The next second, he suddenly bounced up, squeezing the box of candies in his hand tightly and his ears so red that you expect blood to run down it the next second.

“N-Nothing!”

Looking at him, you panicked a little.

Did you offend him or something?

“U-Um…I thought you liked strawberry. If you don’t I can give it to Suguru—”

“What? No!!”

Gojo yelled loudly, hugging the pink packages to his chest tightly like he was afraid that you would come and take them away.

Geto, who was just passing through, poked his head inside.

“What no?”

“None of your damn business!” Gojo hissed without much of a threat, jumping slightly at his voice and scooting away from him while stuffing the pink packages in his pockets, “go away!!!”

Shoko poked her head in under Geto’s, chewing on her lollipop.

“Stop yelling, will ya? You’re acting like an eight years old. You’re eighteen already.”

Suguru prodded a finger at you.

“She probably gave him something nice from her mission,” he said with a small tug of his lips, clicking his tongue. He gave a dramatic sigh, leaning against the doorframe now. “And I’m always left out!”

Smiling at him, you answered, “I’ll bring you them too next time.”

“NO!!!” Gojo glared at Geto behind you.

Shoko tutted. “Soooo aggressive,” she said with a giggle as she rolled her eyes half-heartedly, “c’mon Suguru let’s just leave this weird guy alone.”

***

They both left, and you were alone with Gojo again.

You were just about to ask if he would like to eat something with you when he was gone faster than a swirl of wind.

With a loud bang and a mutter of how he was going to ‘clean his room for a bit’, his dorm room door was closed and locked shut.

***

Inside, he emptied his pockets and let the pink little packages tumble all out onto his bed.

He picked one of them up.

It was pink, with a cute strawberry on it and a chibi anime character from some anime he couldn’t recognize.

Satoru flipped it over.

At the bottom left corner of the package were a line of small text.

Sweet Strawberry lube. Smooth glide. Extra Thin. Date of expire…

Gojo’s hand froze.

His room was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat.

After a few moments, he raised the package to his Six Eye again, examining it carefully for the third time since he had gotten it not even five minutes ago.

These are really condoms.

Real condoms.

So you went to get him c—

WHATTTTTTTTTTTT—

“W-Wait calm down Satoru,” he murmured to himself as he sat on his bed with his legs tucked underneath him, staring at the scatter of pink packages, “d-does she want to—”

He gulped, blushing so hard he could feel steam coming out of his head.

Picking one of them up again, he examined it as he cupped his other hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t accidentally make any noise.

The size is a bit small for him…but it doesn’t matter much. It was just your way of telling him…um…whatever you were trying to tell him.

Right???

B-But he wasn’t even in a proper relationship with you! D-Did you like him that much…?

He slumped onto his bed with a groan, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he pulled his sheets over his head and buried his face in his pillows.

After a moment, came his muffled mutters again.

“B-But I can’t just ask her! I’m the great Gojo Satoru!! She should ask me to be her boyfriend first! I-I’ll wait for her to ask me first. Yes. I’ll do that.”

He flipped up, carefully placed all the little packages into his bedside drawer, and locked it up.

Lying back down, he started rolling himself into a burrito in bed and squealing excitedly again into his pillow.

***

The next day after the ‘Strawberry Incident’.

The Great Gojo Satoru had not slept an ounce the night before.

He was too busy thinking about you and your boxes of strawberries.

Finally at dawn, he gathered that you were probably just too shy to confess to him, and therefore, used this as a way to get his attention, and to declare your undying love for him.

Yes, that had to be it.

You were trying so hard it almost made him feel bad for doing nothing.

Almost.

Hence, the next day, when Yaga was supposed to train with you to boost up your jujutsu, Gojo had very abnormally strutted up to him with his hands in his pockets and told the principal that he could practice with you instead.

Quote-and-quote from him, he wanted his classmates to ‘feel the love and care from the Strongest’.

***

You took a deep breath, staring straight ahead at the special grade cursed spirit on the field, the one you were supposed to fight for training.

Yaga had found this cursed spirit for you as you were very weak, jujutsu-wise. You had a large amount of cursed energy, even more than regular jujutsu sorcerers, but you just couldn’t control it yet.

Your cursed energy flow were either too little it did next to nothing, or it was too much you were drained before the cursed spirit could fully be exorcised.

Looking back at the slimy creature in front of you, you sighed.

Just as you were in the middle of focusing to get your cursed energy to flow to your fist—

“Awwww there you are! You don’t seem to be doing very well. Do you need any help from me?”

You froze, and turned to see Gojo practically in your face, bending down so that you two were at the same height. Those stupid sunglasses slid down his nose so his majestic blue eyes were staring right into yours.

If you were a regular student in the school, you would have been dazzled by those pretty eyes.

But then again, you weren’t one of them.

From your perspective, you could only see how a guy came out of nowhere like a ghost and interrupted your very important focus on your cursed energy output.

The corner of your eye twitched.

“Gojo! I was trying to focus on my cursed energy! And can you not stand so close to me like this? It’s like 40 degrees Celsius outside and you are practically radiating heat into my face.”

“…?”

He stood back up, face flushed and blushing furiously now.

“Yes, my mistake. I shouldn’t have interrupted your thoughts,” he said through gritted teeth, “b-but! You will regret rejecting me!”

With that, he left with a hmph, all sulking and brooding.

…….??????

What is wrong with him, you thought.

***

Gojo waited for your confession impatiently.

Yet, nothing of the sort happened.

Nor the day after that.

Or the day after the day after that.

Later that night, he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

He flipped over, and opened the locked drawer again.

He took out the pink packages and lay them across on his pillow, one after another.

He counted them once, from left to right.

There were six of them.

He counted them again, from right to left, and then from left to right for the second time.

Then he sighed.

Why were you not doing anything yet? Weren’t you supposed to tell him how you had a crush on him since the first time you met, and how much you love him?

Was it because of his size?

No, no. He was pretty sure his size would be enough for you.

Did you want him to make a move?

He stacked the packages up, and lay them out again.

Then he put them three in a row.

He hmphed again.

***

For a whole two days, Gojo had not slept because of all those delusional fantasies he had been imagining inside his head all night.

The third day arrived with Gojo and dark circles under his eyes.

After morning training, he had to practically crawl back to the common room because of how tired he was.

Slumping onto the couch like a boneless pile of mush beside Geto, he looked like he was about to die.

Shoko took a deep breath, chewing on her lollipop happily.

“Suguru, don’t you enjoy the rare, peaceful silence when no one’s running their mouths like they haven’t talked to anyone in days?”

Geto nodded, though he was still running a hand through Gojo’s white hair.

“The last time I had the honor to enjoy that was before I came to Jujutsu High,” he answered, glancing down at Gojo with a smirk.

Gojo sprung up and grabbed a pillow to throw at him.

“Hi guys—wow fighting already?”

Your voice sounded at the doorway as you stepped in, just in time to see Gojo holding a pillow high up and Geto putting his hands in front of him to shield himself from what’s about to happen.

Hearing you, Gojo stopped in mid-air, and reluctantly retracted the pillow, slumping back onto the couch and facing away from you, ears tingling pink again.

You didn’t really acknowledge that, and instead turned to Geto, throwing him a green package.

“They were giving out them again. They’re mint this time.”

Geto caught the green package and flipped it over without exactly looking it, then stuffed it into his pockets.

“Oh, these again. Thanks,” he said with a smile.

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” Gojo asked, barely able to raise his eyelids.

“She gave you a handful of these, remember?”

It took a moment before Gojo finally realized what Geto was talking about.

He sprung up, and stared at Geto’s pockets, and turned back to look at you.

You took a drink from your water bottle, then continued.

“I’m not sure if you like them, but if you don’t, I could get a chocolate one next time,” you said before paused slightly, and a small crease formed in your brows, “but then again, I think the chocolate-flavored ones would taste weird.”

You barely finished your sentence when Gojo lunged for Geto’s pants, who yelped loudly and tried to kick him off.

“Satoru why are you trying to pull my pants off??? As much as you’re my best friend and I love you, you are not going to suck me off in front of two girls because that’s embarrassing and I’m straighter than the pole your father danced on—"

Gojo yanked the green package out of Geto’s pockets and stared at it for a second, then flipped it over to read the bottom left corner.

Enjoy a minty mouthful. No smell, natural feel, premium condoms.

The Great Satoru Gojo whimpered like a kicked puppy after the finished reading the line.

Bonus:

“You already had your fair share last time, Satoru! Give it back!”

Geto yanked the package out of Gojo’s grip, who was looking as if he was about to cry.

“What’s so good about these that you like so much?” he sighed.

Geto stuffed it inside his pocket again, and walked away into his room.

***

Taking out the green package, he ripped open the plastic film.

Gojo had always been a little aggressive when someone touches his sweets, but never like this before.

He would very, very much like to see what kind of candies these are that makes Gojo so crazy about them.

Tearing open the box and then the inner package, a piece of rubber fell out onto his bed with a wet plop.

He blinked at it.

Is this candy…edible?

 Wait a fucking minute.

Is this—

????????????????????????

***

Side notes from Vivi: THIS WAS SO FUNNY TO WRITE CUZ I HAVE NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO ANY PACKAGING STUFF OR USED THEM BEFORE AND HAD TO SEARCH THEM UP WHEN I WAS WRITING IT. AND I WAS TYPING ON MY MAC SITTING OPPOSITE OF MY MOM.

Taking a break after this writing because I don’t exactly feel like writing anything for a while. My mental stats ain’t the greatest at the moment 😭😭🥀🥀🥀 I promise I’ll update asap…… I’m sorry

For my schedules, I have the next part of Poison Candies working already (it’s no where near finish, just like the long fic), and I don’t exactly feel like writing both pieces because they sound and look kinda shitty and when I see myself writing like that I just don’t wanna write it anymore ;-

Don’t worry I’m not giving it up, it’s just that I’ll need some time to adjust myself to patiently read it through and proofread it and all that so it’ll probably take a longgggg while before they come out…

OH and I just remembered, I’m going to write an epilogue to this long fic here. It’s quite an old one, but it’s (still) my favourite piece and I don’t get why no one likes it lol. But since someone had asked me to write the epilogue I will! <3

prev chapter. / next chapter.

synopsis: breaking news: top students AND academic rivals, megumi fushiguro and [name] [l/n] are allegedly in an ongoing relationship.. that even he wasn’t aware of..

tags/warnings: fluff/crack, academic rival!megumi, stoner!reader, academic rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, [name] is SO aggressive in this one I’m sorry, nobamaki, inukkotsu, drug/substance abuse, cussing, slide 17 is an actual pic of pills, suggestive jokes, kys jokes, other general tags/warnings here

divider by @designlikenonsense

©lvrs4nxna - all rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to Al.

two heads is better than one — especially when one of them is trying to show the other what a little masochist you are.

MDNI content warning —> older bfs, polyamory, bad cop toji, good cop nanami, they’re not rlly cops that’s the dynamic. switched roles, ice cube play, squirting, punish - fuck, fingering, p in v, smut, mention of sir / daddy. clit spanking.

"you're too soft on her, she likes being in a bit of pleasurable pain." toji looked at nanami who was sat across from you two. 

whenever they drank their whiskey their favourite toy to play with was you obviously. the little sounds you made and how nervous you got like this. your feet on tojis knees. legs spread, your back disappearing in tojis muscular front. 

Your panties in nanamis hands. youre were focused on your panties being inspected by nanami that you didn't even notice tojis hand moving from your waist down to your cunt. you squealed when he slapped your clit but it's quickly got interrupted by a choked out moan that followed when his index finger lazily drawed circles around your clit. 

nanami nods softly, eyes moving from your panties-which they never really were on- to your soaking wet cunt, slowly soaking tojis black pants. "See, she enjoys it." toji smirks at your squirming state, because you don't actually try to move away — you knew better then to try grab his wrist, that would get only end with you getting tied up, Toji would call it revoking your hand privileges; you were his to play with he'd remind you over and over when your hands were bound until you were a sobbing mess. 

so instead of moving you kept them by your side, bawled up into little fists. nails digging into your palms. your pleading eyes looked into nanamis eyes — slightly glassed over from the alcohol they had been drinking. Even now, his face comforted you, his curiousity in what tojis was showing him however, didn't. "it seems like she does.. " nanami shook his head in disbelief when he sat back in his chair, one leg folded over the other. "is this why you beg us to take turns instead of fucking you at the same time?" you pouted shaking your head softly emberassed from how straight forward nanami was asking his questions. He normally didn't speak to you this way.. your hips betrayed you instantly shifting forward towards nanami which only gained you another harsh slap to cunt from Toji. Nanami watched the skin around your poor cunt redden from how big tojis hands were compared to you. 

you tried to focus on anything else, the dim lights. the dark wood that lined tojis home office. Tried not to think of each time Toji had tried to push into your hole while nanami was already balls deep inside, you would beg them to just take turns, though you knew that wasn't what nanami meant. Sometimes you liked your sessions alone with your boyfriends, nanami in the shower or Toji just after he got home from work. You got secretive about it at times, you were too shy to admit you liked how rough Toji was and how gentle nanami could be. You didn't want either of them to encourage the other to change. They were perfect in their own way and with Toji it was easier not having to admit you loved it. 

Thinking about that only got you thinking about how fiflthy you must look now: half naked, wetness dripping down your thighs onto tojis pants while nanamis stared between your legs like it's was language he could to learn. As if he'd been missing something..

His gaze remained on your glistening cunt, angling himself forward so he could place his elbows on his knees to balance himself while he got a closer look. your skin shivered at his intense eyes, you were used to them but not like this.. 

nanami loved to make love to you, properly and thoroughly at that. he could be busy with it anywhere from 10 minutes to hours. just busy pleasuring you. it got him more drunk then the whiskey did right now. 

but this? it was intriguing to him like a part of your body he didn't know. 

toji made love to you but.. different. rougher. he liked to manhandle you into whatever position he needed to get you and himself off as quick as possible so he could do it ten times more before you passed out. 

each had their ways of making you cum and they didn't shy away from doing it together when they got the chance because that's actually how you ended up in your current situation.. 

in tojis home office in his lap, he sat in his his huge black chair. The one he usually sat at doing his paper work while nanami sat across from you two. 

you didn't exactly know how it had happened anymore.. yesterday when they fucked you they were somewhat arguing about something, toji was. nanami held you while he kissed your shoulder softly a complete contrast to toji saying how you like it rough when nanami told him to calm down. 

you were excited but shocked when toji grabbed you in the evening and perked you up on his lap but now? you were starting to slowly get what this was about... 

he was ruining your sweet nanami! 

"don't lie to him doll," tojis lips hovered over the shell of your ear when he whispered. "tell him how spoiled you are. how you were crying for him a couple nights ago when i kept denying you an orgasm- tell him how much you loved getting your little brain fucked out and i may actually give you an orgasm." It was like the idea had just hit him. 

your heart was pounding in your chest when you looked at nanami, his gaze went from your cunt up to your eyes not moving his head at all to do so. only his eyes. 

your lips trembled when you parted them. this was beyond humiliating.. you enjoyed how gentle nanami was and you didn't want to ruin that.. 

you whined, "please sir, i can't. its different! i- i.. i like how gentle nanami is and i like how..." you gulped. toji hummed encouraging you to finish speaking. 

when you didn't, he smacked you again. your legs closed head thrown back from the pain. "don't you see you spoil her too much nanami? Can't even answer a simple question." 

nanami just nodded sitting back in his chair, hand under his chin like he was thinking. "Maybe she doesn't want to come.." your eyes shot open, nodding again like it would get you anywhere. "yes I do!" It was cute, seeing how desperate you got. with him you had the tendencies to be spoiled indeed, demanding an orgasm rather then begging for one like you were doing right now. 

surely there was a way for him to work you the way toji did in his own way... 

his eyes moved from the glass of whiskey back to your cunt. even with your legs closed the angle you were sitting at showed him your puffy lips pressed together perfectly. 

normally he had all the time in the world for this, to tease you. prep you.

Now he found himself growing impatient?.. 

tojis hands moved quick grabbing both your knees and forcing them apart again. "remember what happened last time you did this? do you want me to get it out?" 

you shook your head frantically. "no,no no I'll be good." you looked at nanami pleadingly, he almost smiled at you, his face softened. This was absolutely adorable.."just listen to us darling, wanna make us proud don't you?" Nanami spoke, your stomach twisted, you really did. even if toji could be mean you did always want to make him proud as-well. 

toji was talking about the metal rod he used last time you refused to keep your legs open for him. he didn't need tools at all, they just made it easier for him. easier to look into your panicked eyes when you went completely immobile in his grasp. 

but you knew too he didn't need tools for that, the idea alone that toji could pick you up right now and fuck you against the wall like he did when you didn't properly listen or obeyed him made you even wetter then you already were. He knew exactly how to use his size against you. 

a lot of what toji did was physically intimidating while nanami got in your head and right now? you were starting to get dizzy from them mixing the two so well. 

"i think i get what you mean, she clenches around nothing every-time your hand moves. " nanami looked at toji before shaking his head a small smirk settling on his lips. you were really enjoying this. "It's like she's expecting it, she's waiting?" Nanami concluded-ish. 

"told you, but it's not me who has to tell you." 

toji moved so his voice was right by your ear once again "is it?"

you closed your eyes tight. "i..i like it nanami-kun.." 

nanami shuddered softly, not that you could tell because your eyes were closed but you were hoping this was it. They got what they wanted.

but toji wasn't that nice- 

or nanami??? 

when you opened your eyes again, it wasn't to see nanamis face it was from the sound of clinging. your eyes followed nanamis hand that dug into his whiskey, he took one ice cube out of his glass to put into his mouth. 

he twirled it around before grabbing it out of his mouth again and leaning forward to your leaking cunt. without a word nanami pressed the ice cube to your clit. you shuddered. "i-it's cold!" 

"it's an ice cube doll, no shit." toji snickered beside you enjoying this a bit too much already. oh he was loving it. seeing that switch flip in his best friend was something he had been trying to make happen for months now since getting with you was amazing. 

it was somewhere a couple months ago toji realised how differently they fucked you even when you were all together. 

and yesterday was what actually caused this. nanami saying he had to be gentler with you when you, little brat you were kept whispering in tojis ear to go harder. 

"wai-" tojis hand covered your mouth, "shut up, don't act like you're not enjoying this you keep grinding your little ass into my cock."

"because it's co-" you mumbled against his hand while still moving because his large hand nearly covered half your face. toji understood and moved his hand slightly lower. nanami was already gone, gone in your hard clit that was throbbing anytime he moved the ice cube over it. your hole that was opening for him, showing your cute little hole, without a second thought he pushed the ice cube into your already sopping wet cunt. 

you relaxed against toji when nanamis warm fingers followed behind the ice cup. your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. feeling the ice cube press against your walls but more so at the warmth that nanami brought after made you a moaning mess. 

in an ironic way it felt like having sexy with them. toji being the cold pleasure while nanami was your warm satisfaction afterwards. 

"look at her." toji rasped in half a chuckle at how you were already melting faster than that ice cube. 

"mhm, feels good darling?" nanami whispered, his breath fanning over your clit. you moaned into tojis hand which only made nanamis head snap up. "you going to let me hear her?" 

toji removed his hand, amused with how nanami was finally understanding he was right. instead his hand went down to your breasts. His big fingers flicking them almost painfully, he was really trying to hold back. 

you much preferred nanamis way of teasing your nipples his warm tongue gliding along it- 

"ah- wait!" you nearly screamed when toji grabbed an ice cube from his own glass of alcohol then pressed it to your nipple and keeping it there. 

not moving it. 

"you're not giving her enough pain, how can she even feel the pleasure that way nanami. you don't make her appreciate it nearly enough." 

"you think so? i think she clearly appreciates me when she'll be screaming thank you nanami in a minute, maybe we have different versions of appreciation." 

toji only laughed, hand moving to your other nipple to push the ice cube into that one. "maybe but i thought this was about proving she does enjoy it. gotta give her something for her to enjoy it." toji coached on. 

nanami out of annoyance to the fact he heard toji more then you obliged, hand coming down on your clit harshly. you gasped, tears brimming at your eyes a pout forming on your lips. 

"please.." 

nanami didn't ask what, he just gave you that stern stare that told you you had to ask him for what you wanted to receive. "please, again." you moved your hips forward. toji let out a proper laugh, from his stomach you felt it in your back only embarrassing you more but you needed nanamis hands on you no matter what way, even if it meant tojis way. 

"again? hm, is that what you want love? for me to hurt you.." he almost sounded disappointed when his finger rubbed your clit in soft circles. you gasped at the pleasure you finally received and now it felt all tingly from how needy you were and how often they had already spanked your needy cunt. 

you nodded frantically. "Yes, please nanami- please touch me sir. i need you." you whined moving your hips forward further. "whoa there, gonna slip off my lap, little masochist." 

you blushed a deep shade of red, that's when nanami broke. it wasn't tojis teasing it wasn't even yours it was the fact your body was telling him you were enjoying this more then you could tell him out of embarrassment and part of that particular reasoning angered him. 

you feeling embarrassed around him, not toji. him. toji and him didn't compete. it wasn't like that. they were best-friends since children and they had both stepped into a relationship with you at the same time but the fact that toji had noticed this before him just set him off. He had always been the one to take his time pleasuring you how had this gone past him? 

he had spend time being careful not to go too far, spend a good amount of time to make sure he pleasured you in the bestway possible. to send you over edge in a way he hoped only him and toji could but now he found out only toji really did? 

his hand again smacked down on your poor clit, switching from slapping to rubbing it every two seconds until tears properly ran down your cheeks. "she's clenching." he tsked looking at toji behind you, completely avoiding your eyes as if you weren't even really there. 

"wanna know a secret about our pretty girl here?" toji sounded too excited. nanami just hummed pushing a finger inside of you again. "if you spank her little cunt while you fuck her, she starts squirting." 

you watched nanamis face go from interested to a look that almost said challenge accepted..

between spanks and him shoving his fingers inside of you, you were getting lost in the pleasure provided. toji had moved to your neck littering kisses along it while his fingers now softly rubbed your nipples. 

he was being ... gentle??

your mind broke. "such a good girl for us, being so patient, taking everything we give you." toji cooed into your ear. his big hands roaming over your body then back to your nipples just reminding you of the sheer size difference between you two. 

nanami got off his chair onto his knees between yours and tojis legs. his tongue licked little kitten licks onto your clit. 

it was adorable, watching your little clit turn more and more dark in colour from the way it was getting overstimulated by his teasing. 

you pouted. "please nanam-" slap. 

you thrashed in tojis hold but there was no point, you didn't move at all with his strong arms wrapped around you. toji softly chuckled into your ear once more, his voice conniving as it had been this entire evening. "is that what you call him when he's between yours legs baby?" 

you shook your head, you knew better but the roles being switched made you forget it all. "im sorry, please. please sir." you begged hips almost riding into nanamis face which only granted you another slap. 

"you think he's been holding back baby? look at him. he's enjoying this. have i ruined your sweet nanami?" he teased before softly biting onto your ear lobe. 

your eyes were closed from the sensation and tojis deep almost purring voice that you didn't even realise nanami had grabbed another ice cube. dragging it up and down your slit until it fully melted and you were a shivering mess in tojis hold. 

you were already crying, nanami shoved in two fingers curling them up and rocking them in and out of you at a pace that would make you cum in seconds. you were already a sensitive thing from yourself but now? they had already teased you. overstimulated you. smacked you. somehow turned their roles around and made your brain malfunction before they even had the satisfaction of fucking every thought out of you. 

you cried when your orgasm finally hit you, a rope of thank yous falling from your lips then a gasp at how suddenly you were moved. you didn't even have time to process. toji was stood on the other side of the desk now. nanami between your legs. 

their belts buckled and you felt relief flood you finally. you grinding in tojis lap didn't really help and the way you tasted.. it drove nanami insane. 

nanami smacked your cunt again, this time with his cock. he looked up at his best-friend that was rubbing his cock over your face. "don't fuck her face yet," 

you tried to look up to Toji but all you could see was tojis cock. his balls against the top of your head while he mindlessly rubbed his cock over your face. "She has to be punished for not telling me how to properly care for her when asked." Nanami didn't sound as soft as he usually did, his voice sounded like it did when he scolded you, dripping with sternness even when he spoke to Toji. Toji hummed his hand on his hard shaft running it over your face,"hurry it up, my balls hurt." nanami sighed, "you're just as spoiled as her." 

nanami slowly fed your cunt his cock. watching it disappear and slick with your wetness. your legs were over his shoulder already lifted slightly off the desk to ensure he had you at the right angle before he started pounding. 

harder then you had ever experienced from nanami. harder then toji did last night when he told him to slow down. you gasped in shock — hands shooting out to grab nanami only to be harshly pinned down to the desk by toji. "ah ah, you love it baby. don't you love him pounding your cunt like this? wasn't this what you were begging me for last night?" 

you whined, shut up! 

"last night?" nanami questioned. toji only nodded. "begging me to go, harder, harder- harder toji! pleasee!" he mocked you. 

nanami chuckled for the first time, or at least the first time tonight you could recognise. blond hair falling in front of his eyes when he positioned himself deeper inside of you. a guttural groan came from him, his hips snapping into yours with a punishing rhythm. "this what you want?" 

"tell me." you nodded. "yes- yes i do!" 

toji moved his cock from your face only so nanami could see your dazed expression, your lips parted waiting to be fucked as-well but mostly your eyes. 

toji knew exactly how you looked right now. glossy eyes, drool dripping down your chin. he had seen it many times when he fucked you until you were limp, exactly how you wanted him to. 

exactly how you wanted nanami to right now. every thought of your sweet nanami being ruined had long left your head. 

nanami held one hand on your thigh, attempting not to caress you he moved it down to your clit where he smacked it once, twice. in the same rhythm his hips went. 

"let's see how much spoiled brat," spoke through his teeth, the entire desk shook beneath you. your shirt had been long discarded somewhere you couldnt even remember when. your eyes rolled back when you felt pleasure build up and you fully closed your eyes when it was released. 

nanami sped up, hand coming down to spank your little clit repeatedly. With a grin on his face you had never seen before when you opened your eyes half fucked out, "there we go, squirt all over daddy, come on." you closed your eyes again. 

this was toji, not nanami. but nanami was doing it and toji was cooing soft praises into your ear while nanami did so. "there,there. i bet you made him real proud princess. doesn't he look good covered by you. ride it out, move those hips." toji helped you. hands on your hips helping you ride out your high on nanami who was filling you up right after you came. plugging you full, nice and wet for when toji took his turn after fucking your throat. 

your chest rose and fell rapidly from your orgasm, "so this is what you're trying to hide," nanami only came forwards to press a sloppy kiss onto your lips. "I can treat you like a little masochist if that's what you want.. think you can hold on for us tonight? it's gonna be a long one." Nanami kissed you again, hungrily. 

with a weak nod you laid your head down trying to hide your excitement once tojis cock pressed at your lips. "open up, doll." 

Maybe you should've let Toji ruin nanami earlier.. 

synopsis— nerdjo is your tutor who’s secretly obsessed with you. what happens when he finally breaks?

warning: smut so, MDNI!!! gojo is OBSESSED!! pinv sex. rough sex? finger-sucking. fingering. nose bleeds. unprotected sex. cream pie. edging. dom!gojo. PUSSYDRUNK gojo. tummy bulge. oral (f.receiving). slight dry humping. mentions of masturbation (m). confessions. getting together in the end.

note: hellooo!! i’m actually shocked that a few people saw, and enjoyed my last upload. thank you so muuuuch!! i figure i might as well get this brain working and give you another. please bare with me, im not the greatest at writing smut. when the idea popped into my head, i just HAD to write it out. i hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave your honest feedback<3

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never in a million years did satoru gojo expect that he’d become your arranged tutor for the end of semester exam. the man has quite literally been obsessed with you since the start of the school year.

how could he not be obsessed? you were gorgeous, not just on the outside. he loved the way that you were so kind to everyone around. he loved how you shared your materials with others when they ran out. he loved how you’d smile and wave at him when you’d catch him staring.

so yeah, he was pretty freaked out the first time you guys met up in his dorm to study. though, satoru gojo was the type to seem unbothered on the outside no matter how he truly felt. he’d stay calm when explaining formulas to you, he’d have a kind but neutral expression on his face through the few hours you were over.

once you’d leave, he’d face palm and groan to himself as if feeling guilty for feeling so strongly for you. as days passed and you’d come over everyday after class to study, his infatuation only grew deeper. he’d catch himself seeking you out in class and studying your every move rather than focusing on the lecture.

it didn’t stop there, he started having thoughts. dirty, nasty thoughts that made him feel sick with guilt. he thought he’d suppressed them, until you’d come back over to his dorm to study.

he noticed that you’d always wear such short skirts. his eyes would drop to your thighs, they look so soft and he just wants to squeeze them. his eyes focused on your face would drop down as you’d lean forward to take a look at his notebook.

your breast nearly busting out the seams of your low cut shirt. he’d grit his jaw, fist clenching under his desk. even down to the way you’d smile when he told you that you were doing a good job with the equations. the way you’d twirl a strand of your hair in concentration.

it’s almost like you’re taunting him on purpose. he tried, really tried to push those feelings aside. that is until one day in class, you’d dropped your pencil. you’d bent down right in front of his desk to pick it up. he didn’t mean to look, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

he saw it, that baby pink thong you’d had on that day beneath your skirt. he’d saw way more of your soft ass then what he should’ve. he tears his eyes away before anyone catches him.

heat travels straight down to his groin, his jeans suddenly feel suffocating. he crosses his legs to hide his raging boner. his focus is gone, eyes staring down at his notebook as the clock ticks almost mockingly.

as soon as he’s back to his dorm, he shoving his pants down. his cock flushed, leaking, and so painfully erect. every time he closes his eyes, the scene flashes before his eyes. gripping himself and stroking in fast, tight motions.

he’s too hot and out of it to feel guilty for thinking of you this way. all he’s focused on now is the way his hand grips his aching cock, pretending it was yours.

he thought that finishing to the thought of you would make the thoughts somehow magically disappear. oh was he incredibly wrong. they didn’t just go away, they got worse. the vision of you under him would haunt him even in deep sleep.

he’d wake up before his alarm, groaning as his hips rut against his mattress to try and surpress the ache between his legs. no matter what he did, the thoughts never went away. even though he kept things professional whenever he’d actually be around you.

then the day came. you knocked on his door, test results in hand and a big, proud smile on your face. he’d invite you in, smile, and congratulate you.

then the realization would hit, the tutor arrangement has ended now. no, no he couldn’t let you go. not after being this close to confessing.

hearing you say that your leaving, that the arrangement period has ended, and sounding so okay with it is what sent him to his breaking point. it’s the way that you think he’d be okay with just letting you go after tempting him for weeks. his resolve crumbles.

you’re in the middle of thanking him for all of his help, for helping you become successful. he’s sitting back in his desk chair, facing you. his eyes deadpanned on your face.

when you finish speaking, he erupts into a deep laughter. his shoulders shake as he places his hands over his face. you give him a confused look. “satoru? did i say something funny? i don’t understand.” his laughter simmers to a low chuckle.

he slide his glasses off with careful hands, folding them up and setting them on his desk. he’s leaned back in his desk chair. “of course, you don’t understand. gosh y/n…you really have no clue, huh?” his eyes lift to your face.

your body goes still on the other side of his room, brows still furrowed. his hands find the arm rest of his chair, pushing himself to his feet. he takes slow steps after slow steps towards you.

“you think that’s it? that you get to run off after i’ve spent so long helping you get to this point?” his voice is low, and rough with something you can’t quite put a finger on. “wasn’t that the point of the arrangement?” you murmur, lashes blinking up at him as his steps bring him closer and closer to you.

you find yourself taking steps backward. “that’s true, but that all went away the moment you first showed up in that slutty little skirt.” he scoffs a reply. “satoru..” you breath out and he finally steps right in front of you, leaving nowhere for you to turn. your back is against the wall.

“i’ve been driving myself mad with just the thought of you. you can’t just walk out when i feel this strongly for you. tell me…you feel the same, don’t you?” his voice comes out in a whisper. his piercing blue eyes staring right through you. you blink up at him.

the tension between you two is so thick you could cut it with a knife. a flush creeps up your neck and cheeks, you turn your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

his hand cups your cheek, turning you to look at him again. “you like me don’t you, pretty girl?” his eyes flick between yours. you let out a shaky exhale. “yes…i like you, a lot.” your words come out airy and soft.

his thumb traces over your bottom lip. “i knew you did baby. all this time and you were just begging to get my attention. you’ve got it baby, you’ve got it all.” he leans closer, hand slipping into your hair to tilt your head back as he crowds you against the wall.

his body presses to yours and he towers over you. you feel heat coiling low in your gut. a feeling you haven’t felt in quite sometime. you’ve never seen this side of satoru before, it’s exciting. “well now that you know, what’re you going to do with that information?” your voice rolls out in a whisper.

his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. a smirk curls on his face, almost evil. his hand in your hair tightens just a bit more. his head leans down beside your ear. “oh baby, there’s so much i plan to do with that.” his voice low and deep in your ear.

his warm breath fanning against your neck. his lips brushing right against your pulse point. “like what..?” you breath out quietly. your chest rising and falling as the anticipation and excitement builds.

a silence falls between you both for a moment. next thing you know, his mouth is on yours. it’s not sweet or slow in the slightest. it’s deep, and rough. your tongues tangle and teeth clash. his hand has a firm grip on your jaw as he devours your mouth.

he yanks your body up against the wall, your legs instantly wrap around his hips. he carries you over to the bed, tossing you down with a force that knocks a soft breath from your chest. he’s back on you in an instant.

his hips slot between your legs, lips taking yours in another deep kiss. he groans into your mouth when you nip his bottom lip. his hips roll against you, giving you the first feel of his erect cock beneath his sweatpants.

you gasp, the kiss breaking. his hips continue to roll against you in nasty circles. “you feel that? you feel what you fuckin do to me baby?” he grits out as a moan rolls off his tongue.

his lips trail down your neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses. he sucks on that sweet spot right below your ear. you open your mouth to speak but satoru beats you to it.

“don’t worry, i’ll make sure you feel it, all of it. you just be good f’me and take it baby, okay?” his voice comes out low and rough. his tongue flicks out and drags along the fresh mark on your neck, you let out a shaky sigh.

he breaks away from you, almost tearing your clothes apart by how eager he is to get them off of you. your shirt is first to go, bra following right after. he stops a moment to look at your bare breasts, nipples peaked.

he can’t resist, each of his hands grab handfuls of your tits. he squeezes, mushing them around. his thumbs graze over your hardened nipples, then pinching and rolling them between his fingers. the motion draws a shaky sigh from your lips.

“oh baby, you’re perfect.” he comes down to press a sweet kiss right between your breasts. his hands drag down your sides, curling into the waistband of your skirt and tugging it off.

his eyes almost light up at the sight beneath it. that same, baby pink thong he’d caught a glimpse of that day you’d bent over in front of him. “this fuckin thong…haunting me..” his voice rumbles out in a gravelly tone. his finger curls into the elastic band, pulling it back then releasing it to crack against your skin.

you yelp at the sting, the sound making satoru chuckle deeply. he leans down to press a opened mouthed kiss right to where the stinging skin starts to welt.

he lifts up, arms crossing on either side of his body and curling into the hem of his shirt. he lifts it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. he’s quite chiseled for someone who mostly studies.

his hands push your thighs apart, exposing the damp patch on those infamous baby pink panties. he grins to himself, eyes traveling up your body to meet your eyes.

the way you look right now, mostly naked, hair splayed over his pillows and with that needy look on your face. it’s something straight out of satoru’s dreams.

“d’you know how long i’ve wanted this? this exact moment has played in my head so many times, but of course this tops any fantasy i could ever have.” he hums out, his hand tugging the strings of his sweatpants undone.

once the sweatpants drop, you catch a glimpse of the raging hard on beneath his boxers. your eyes widen. for a nerdy guy, you definitely weren’t expecting him to be packing a fucking monster in his pants.

a low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “i know, crazy right? don’t worry, i wont hurt you baby, i’ll be sooo good to you.” he leans down presses kisses to your face. his hand travels between you both, finding its way to your clothed pussy.

his fingers press against your clit through the damp fabric, rubbing slow circles. you let out a soft sound. “satoru..” you gasp in a breathy voice.

“hmm? what is it, pretty girl?” he hums out in a sly tone. your hips buck up against his fingers. “i want to feel more..” you whine out, his hand pulling away from you. instead, tugging your panties off smoothly.

“yeah? then let me get you all nice and ready for me.” he grins, lowering his head between your parted thighs. a moan tears from your lips as his tongue drags through your puffy pussy lips. he chuckles against you.

his arm hooks one of your legs over his shoulder as his face nuzzles deeper into your slobbering cunt. his tongue flicks out and circles your clit. his eyes flutter as he tastes your sweet slick on his tongue. he doubles down, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth.

the action pulls a moan from your lips, your head falling back. his fingers nudge against your drooling entrance before sinking in deep and curling. your back arches slightly off the bed as you chant out his name. “fuck— satoru..”

the sound of his name rolling off your lips like that makes him moan into you, the sound vibrating through your body. his fingers pull out, then pump back into you deep in steady thrusts.

he hums in satisfaction while he fucks you with his mouth and tongue. his fingers scissor you open to stretch your tight walls to better accommodate what’s to come shortly. moans roll off your tongue, your fingers tugging at his hair.

heat pools in your gut, that familiar band coiling tight as you near your orgasm. “s-satoru…i’m gonna cum..” you breath out through moans. he hums against you, suddenly retracting his fingers and mouth from your aching pussy.

you whine at the loss of contact. satoru’s lips glisten with your slick. “toruuu, why’d you stop?” you drawl out in a whiney tone. your gummy walls now clenching around nothing. “ah ah ah. i want you to save it baby, that way you can cum all over my cock.” he hums.

“but—“ you protest, opening your mouth to complain. suddenly, something fills your mouth. it’s satoru’s fingers, the ones that had just been inside of you. “i don’t want any back talk baby. just take what i give you okay?” he retorts in a low voice.

you nod, his fingers coated in your slick press against your tongue. he flashes a smile. “gooood girl, now suck.” he drawls out. his fingers pump in and out of your mouth. you drag your tongue against his fingers and suck obediently. his smile grows wider.

“that’s it baby, you listen so well. now just for that, i’m gonna give you what you want.” he withdraws his fingers from your mouth. he bends down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

he pulls back, finally tugging his boxers off. his cock springs free. hard, flushed, and leaking a tremendous amount of precum. he grips himself at the base, squeezing and giving himself a long, slow stroke. he grunts.

he drags his fat tip through your slick folds. you let out a shaky sigh. “you’re so wet pretty girl. i don’t know how i’m going to survive this.” he coos at you. your chest rises and falls. he guides your legs to lock around his hips. he nudges his tip against your needy hole.

your breath stutters. “i’m gonna take care of you baby. promise.” he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth before finally pressing in. he slips inside inch by agonizing inch. his head falls forward against your shoulder.

the stretch tears a moan from the both of you. it’s a delicious feeling. his hips stutter, he was originally trying to take his time but he just can’t hold back. hips hips press forward in a hard thrust, his cock bottoming out inside of you. he fills you completely, stretching you wide. you yelp.

“fuuuuck..” he whimpers out. “i can’t…can’t hold back, im so…sorry” he voices out raggedly through heavy breaths. you open your mouth to speak, but that’s shortly interrupted by satoru’s deep, hard thrusts.

he lets out a guttural moan as he pulls out almost fully, just to plunge in deep over and over. his thrusts harsh from the start, pulling broken moans from your lips. your eyes fall on his face.

his eyes are squeezed shut tight. his thrusts punishing. you watch through bleary eyes as a small red droplet rolls out his nose. “t-toru….your nose is bleeding..” you manage to choke out. his thrusts falter, halting. his eyes flutter open.

he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, seeing the definite blood there. he chuckles breathily. “y-you just feel so good…i can’t take it..” his hips grind deep into you. you shudder, a breathy sound leaving your lips.

he pulls out suddenly, only to flip you onto your stomach. he raises your hips up, ass on display to him. one hand runs down your spine to arch you just right for him. his other hand squeezes the fat of your hip.

he realigns and plunges in deep and fast. the quick motion dragging a moan from both of you. his thrusts start off just as punishing as before, but now at a deeper angle.

his tip kisses your cervix with each time he pushes his cock deep into your gummy walls. the feeling is enough to make your toes curl and your fingers fist into the sheets. you turn your head to the side to look back at him.

your eyes are heavy lidded and your lips are parted with moans rolling off your tongue. he pounds into you at an almost frantic pace. “toruuu..s’good!” you gasp into the pillows.

“yeah? you’re takin it so fuckin well baby.” he punctuates his words with a smack to your ass. the sting making you yelp. your pussy gushes around him at the contact. he groans in pleasure, his pace increasing.

your hips buck back against him, fucking yourself back onto his thick cock. a creamy ring of arousal forming at the base of his cock each time he plunges back in deep. “fuck, yes baby squeeze me juuust like that.” he lands another crack to your ass. you squeal, walls tightening around him.

you moan into the pillows, drool pooling out of your mouth and into the fabric. the room fills with the sticky “plap! plap! plap!” sounds of skin meeting. he leans over you to kiss your cheek, chest pressed to your back. “you getting close baby? i know, i can feel it…” he hums into your ear.

he pulls out, rolling you onto your back again. he lifts your legs over his shoulder and sinks back into your sloppy cunt. his pace frantic and desperate.

you let out a cry of pleasure. your head falls back into the pillows. his cock drags against your sweet spot with every thrust, making your brain turn into mush, leaving you babbling nonsense. “wanna see your face when i make you cum….” he grits out, hands holding your hips tight enough to bruise.

your walls clench around his throbbing cock each time he hits your sweet spot. you’re so close, so so close. your vision is starting to white out and your body is starting to tremble and that spring coils tighter in your gut.

his hand presses against the imprint of his cock in your stomach. “gonna cum…right here baby. gonna fill you up.” he whines out. your walls have his cock in a chokehold. “t-toru…m’cumming!” you moan out in a whiney tone.

“do it, cmon pretty girl, give it to me.” his fingers find your clit, rubbing fast circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. his cock splitting you open and hitting every sweet spot inside of you. your eyes roll into the back of your head as your orgasm takes over your whole body.

your body locks up and that spring snaps. your walls clamp around his cock, squeezing the life out of him. you let out a cry as your face twists in ecstasy. you cum all over his cock, coating him as your body shakes.

“fuuuck! m’cumming!” satoru whimpers. he thrusts once, twice, then burries his cock deep and spills into you. thick, creamy ropes of his cum fill you up to the brim. his body shudders through his orgasm.

satoru collapses over you. you both pant heavily as you come down from the intense highs, bodies covered in a thick sheen of sweat. he’s still stuffed inside of you, cock twitching as he empties everything inside of you.

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once the high fades, satoru lifts off of you. he gently pulls out, his cum leaking out of you. he takes a look at your fucked out face. he comes up, brushes your hair from your sweaty forehead. “are you okay, pretty girl?” he murmurs softly now as the heat passes. he nuzzles his nose against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

you blink at him with a lazy smile. “m’okay..just sleepy..” you hum softly. he chuckles softly, his thumb brushes a drop a sweat from your eyebrow. “let me clean you up, then you can rest okay baby?” he coos softly. you give a lazy nod. he gets up and heads to the bathroom after pulling on his sweats from the floor.

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once he returns, he offers you a drink of water which you take. he gently cleans up the mess between your thighs. he makes sure to handle your body with care after what he just put it through. once he’s finished, he tosses the rag into the laundry bin.

he comes back over, he slides a fresh pair of his boxers up your legs, then one of his shirts over your head. his hand rubs softly over the slight bloat of your belly, admiring how much he had filled you.

he crawls up the bed, shifting under the covers beside you. he wraps an arm around your body, pulling you into his chest. you hum in content as he rubs your lower back.

“i’m so glad that you like me back.” he hums softly. you lift your head to look at him, you blink sleepily up at him and smile softly. “does this mean im your girlfriend now?” you mumble, too sleepy to speak anything above a whisper.

“is that something you want? i mean, i really hope you’d say yes.” he replies, brushing hair from your face. “of course i want that.” you chuckle softly with a smile.

“so, you’ll be my girlfriend?” he smiles, eyes flicking between yours. “of course, silly.” you hum, a sleepy smile on your face. his expression brightens. “score!” he mutters in a giddy tone.

you giggle softly. there’s the dorky satoru you’re used to. you lean up and press your lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss. he reciprocates it with a happy hum. his arms wrap tighter around you.

your legs tangle beneath the blankets. silence falls except for the hum of the a/c and soft breaths between you two. he presses a kiss to your hair as your head lays on his chest again.

sleep soon takes you both under, warm in each others embrace. happy, content, and so excited for what the future holds for you both.

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𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 baby megumi’s clingy phase.

megumi has always been a rather quiet and calm baby, mostly content observing everything from his playmat or high chair.

he only fussed when he was hungry or needed a change or hurting. he never cared much for attention, although he didn’t hate it either.

but lately, megumi’s been a little… persistent in being close to you.

it started off small, when morning came & megumi woke up before toji and you. naturally, he started fussing in his crib trying to get someone’s attention.

you and your husband both woke up, but toji pressed you back to bed.

“i got him,” he mumbled against your hair and then you felt your husband leave the bed. you had closed your eyes and fell asleep immediately after.

but then toji was shaking you awake, which, he’s never done unless something was really wrong.

you sprung up immediately, bleary eyed but in fight or flight mode - spending most of your time with your newborn as a new mom had done that to you - eyes darting around looking for the emergency. “what’s wrong?!”

megumi’s cries registered to you a second before you saw a tiny body squirming away from your husband and towards you.

you dutifully took him from toji and megumi stopped crying instantly, opting to tug at your shirt instead.

“‘m sorry,” toji’s voice was still laden with sleep but apologetic. “he wouldn’t stop fussing, ive been at it for 20 minutes.”

megumi was now tugging at your shirt with more determination, however he was calm as ever.

“i know,” toji responded as if reading the question on your face, “tried giving him the bottle, doll. little shit punched me in the lips.”

“did you now?” you looked down and tried to give megumi a reprimanding look, but ended up smiling instead. “and don’t call your son that.”

he rolled his eyes as he slid in bed beside you, “didn’t wanna wake you up but i was getting concerned.”

you gave him a reassuring smile, “thank you baby, maybe he’s just having a preference this morning.”

and as you nursed him you’d thought it was endearing how he wanted you first thing in the morning. little did you anticipate just how much he’d cry for you in the time to come.

megumi’s mannerisms started changing little by little. he started refusing his dad more and more and remained inconsolable until his mom stepped in.

you’d be folding laundry on the floor after putting megumi on the floor with his favourite toys and he would simply turn his head away and start crawling towards you.

putting him down to sleep was done with literal bated breath. rocking him in your arms for at the very least 25 minutes before you’d hold your breath and lower him down onto the crib. if he ended up waking up, repeat the process except now your baby is mad at you.

during car rides, while before you both could entertain megumi from the front, or he would stare out the window transfixed by the sights, now, he needs to be in contact with you at all times. your hand across his car seat and on his tiny shoulder so he can lean his head on you and fall asleep or you have to hold his hand to prevent him from getting restless.

“mama,” he babbled as he tugged on your hair, completely engrossed in you.

“tch,” toji kissed his teeth, “i know he’s our child and all but don’t you think he’s monopolising my wife?”

“your wife,” you pat the place beside you on the couch where you were sitting with megumi standing on your lap. “is his mother. i think the baby is allowed to be a little inconsiderate about sharing.”

“this brat,” toji dropped on the couch, man spreading immediately. seeing him, megumi hung onto your shoulders, burrowing his head in your neck.

“yeah yeah, i dont want to hold you either anyways,” toji stuck out his tongue at megumi.

“you absolute child!” laughing, you swatted toji’s arm, “dont be mean to your son!”

toji cracked a smile as you both chatted while megumi chimed in between with his babbling opinions about what you had to say.

“alright megatron,” you lifted megumi away from your lap as you stood up. “mama needs to pee.”

you plopped megumi beside toji and hurried towards the bathroom.

megumi looked around the room, bewildered by the sudden disappearance of his mom as he wasn’t big enough to look past the couch.

megumi’s eyes met his dad’s.

“fuck,” toji cursed lowly as he saw his son’s face scrunching up and displaying his premonitional signs of bawling.

“give her a second brat,” toji swiftly sat up on the couch and scooped megumi in his arms before he could start crying, “so damn impatient, aren’t you?”

“been stuck to your mama’s hip alllll day long,” despite himself, toji was now walking around the living room, swaying megumi in his arms managing to keep him from crying.

“hoarding your mama like that, you’re just like dada aren’t you?” toji leaned down to kiss megumi’s chubby, edible looking cheek as megumi let out a little giggle. “juuuust like dada.”

toji tilted his head and bit megumi’s cheek lightly while rocking him in his arms.

appalled by the man biting his face off and simultaneously spotting you heading back towards their direction, megumi, ever the opportunist that he was started bawling.

you had been watching them for a second now and you didn’t know whether you should be impressed or concerned by the way your son just switched up on his dad, giggling one second and all teary-eyed and snot nosed in another.

“look at this performative ass brat,” toji’s jaw went slack witnessing his son’s betrayal as his eyes darted between you and his son.

you burst out laughing as you walked towards your boys. megumi looked at you confused but still raised his arms towards you, migrating away from his papa.

“awww, did daddy bite you baby?” you soothingly rubbed your cheek against his as megumi revelled in the attention he was getting. then you turned your head and bit his cheek as well.

you laughed again as his small face pouted up as you.

“sorry,” you pressed a kiss onto his face not sounding sorry at all.

toji wrapped his arms around your waist, trapping megumi in between, “he’s so damn bite sized.”

and smiling, as if in sync, both of you dipped down to take another chomp out of your son’s cheek.

sleeping in with baby gumi | baby gumi masterlist | clingy baby gumi continued

a/n: pls vote here!!!

The first time Ryomen Sukuna told you he spent eight hours a day at the gym, you thought he was joking.

You were lying in bed, tangled in his sheets, watching the morning light filter through the blinds and catch on the ridiculous topography of his abdomen. The man had a twelve-pack. You'd counted. Twice.

"Eight hours?" you'd repeated, tracing a finger down the valley between his pecs. "Sukuna, that's a full workday. You don't even work."

"I do work," he'd rumbled, rolling toward you with the predatory grace of a man who deadlifted small cars for fun. "I work out. It's different. It's sacred."

"You're paying rent to a building full of metal."

"I'm investing in the temple of my body," he'd said, dead serious, catching your wandering hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. "And baby, you should see the equipment they just got in. There's this cable machine—"

You'd shut him up with a kiss, mostly because hearing him talk about cable machines with the same reverence most men reserved for their firstborn child was making your brain short-circuit.

That was three months ago.

Now, you were standing in the doorway of your apartment, watching your boyfriend—your ridiculously jacked, terrifyingly strong, absolutely obsessed-with-protein boyfriend—do his pre-gym ritual in the living room. He was currently shaking his third shaker bottle of the morning, wearing a stringer tank that looked like it was struggling to survive against the sheer mass of his shoulders.

"Babe," he said, not looking up from his phone where he was undoubtedly tracking macros or watching some fitness influencer scream about mind-muscle connection. "You sure you don't wanna come? I could show you the new squat rack. It's black. Matte black. Looks like it was forged in hell."

You adjusted your oversized hoodie, clutching your coffee like a lifeline. "I walked three miles yesterday. To the grocery store and back. Twice. Because you ate all the chicken and I had to go again."

"Walking isn't the same as training," Sukuna said, finally looking up. His eyes did that thing they always did—dropping from your face to your legs, then slowly dragging back up with the kind of appreciation that made your toes curl. Even buried in layers of cotton and fleece, he looked at you like you were the only meal he'd ever need. "Besides, I just… I wanna spend more time with you. And I'm at the gym all the time. It could be like… a gym date."

"A gym date," you repeated flatly.

"Yeah! Couples who train together stay together. I saw it on a t-shirt at the supplement store."

"Sukuna, I don't want to pay money to be miserable in public. I get enough of that at the DMV."

He set down his shaker bottle and crossed the room in three strides, all coiled power and bare arms that looked like they were carved from mahogany. Before you could protest, he'd lifted you onto the kitchen counter—effortlessly, like you weighed nothing—and caged you in with his hands on either side of your hips.

"Listen," he said, voice dropping to that register that always did dangerous things to your blood pressure. "I'm not saying you need to change anything. Fuck, if I could spend every waking hour with my hands on you, I would. You're perfect. You're obscenely perfect. I just…" He paused, actually looking bashful for once, which on a man with his jawline and his reputation was almost comical. "I see these other couples there. Spotting each other. Taking videos. Matching outfits. And I get… I don't know. Jealous?"

You stared at him. "Ryomen Sukuna. King of Curses. The strongest. The undisputed. You're jealous of couples doing leg presses together?"

"They look happy," he muttered, ducking his head to nuzzle your neck. His stubble scraped deliciously against your skin. "And I like being happy with you. Plus, think about the possibilities. You, bent over a bench. Me, standing behind you, 'adjusting your form…'"

"Oh my god."

"—or you, on the hip thrust machine—"

"You're shameless."

"—or the stretching area. Very private. Very… flexible."

You pushed at his chest, which was like trying to move a wall. "You're going to injure me."

"I would never," he said, offended. "I'd warm you up first. Dynamic stretches. Foam rolling. Very professional. Very hands-on."

He was ridiculous. He was six-foot-four of pure muscle and pure ridiculousness, and he was looking at you with those dark eyes like you'd personally hung the moon for him.

"Fine," you sighed. "But I'm not wearing one of those tiny sports bra things. I have dignity."

Sukuna's grin could have powered a small city. "Wear whatever you want. I'll still be the luckiest bastard in the building."

You'd made a mistake.

Not in agreeing to go—though as you stood in front of your closet, staring at the limited options for "athletic wear that doesn't make me feel like a sausage," you were questioning your life choices. No, the mistake was letting Sukuna see you in the outfit you'd eventually settled on.

It was just a pair of high-waisted leggings and a fitted longline sports bra. Nothing special. You'd worn it to clean the apartment before. But when you walked out of the bedroom, grabbing your water bottle, Sukuna dropped his phone.

It hit the floor with a crack that you hoped was just the case.

"Nope," he said, immediately. "Absolutely not. We're staying home."

You looked down at yourself. "What? You said wear whatever—"

"That is criminal," he said, striding toward you with a look in his eyes that made you take a step back. "That is a felony. You're going to get us arrested. I'm going to have to fight someone. Multiple someones. I'm going to have to bury bodies under the squat rack."

"Sukuna—"

He was already on you, big hands spanning your waist, thumbs brushing the strip of skin between your leggings and your top. His jaw was actually slack, his eyes dark and blown wide as they roamed over you with embarrassing thoroughness.

"Turn around," he commanded, voice rough.

"Excuse me?"

"Turn. Around."

You rolled your eyes but complied, spinning slowly. When you faced him again, he looked genuinely dizzy.

"The back," he said, almost reverently. "The back of those leggings. Do you know what you've done? Do you understand the physics of what I'm seeing right now?"

"Are you having a medical emergency?"

"I'm having a spiritual emergency," he corrected, stepping close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands slid down to grip your hips, then lower, palming the curve of your ass with a familiarity that made you flush. "You look… fuck, you look like every fantasy I've ever had. Like you were designed in a lab to ruin me."

"You see me naked every day," you reminded him, though your voice was breathier than you'd like.

"Naked is different. This is… this is suggestion. This is potential energy. This is 'look but don't touch unless you want to get destroyed by my boyfriend who benches four plates.'" He was already leaning in, his mouth finding the curve of your neck, your jaw, the shell of your ear. "We should skip the gym."

"Sukuna, you literally booked—"

"I'll pay them to stay closed. I'll buy the building. We can turn it into a sex dungeon."

"We are GOING to the GYM," you said firmly, pushing him back with both hands. He allowed it, but his eyes remained fixed on you with unsettling intensity. "You wanted a gym date. We're having a gym date. Now move."

He moved, but he moved like a man in a trance, following you to the door, to the elevator, to the car—staring at your ass the entire time with the focus of a sniper acquiring a target.

The gym was empty.

Not quiet. Not sparse. Empty.

You stood in the lobby, looking around at the deserted check-in desk, the silent weight room visible through the glass doors, the complete and total absence of any other human life. Even the music was off.

"Sukuna," you said slowly. "Did you…?"

"I booked it," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Swiped his keycard with a flourish. "Whole place. Four hours. Just us."

"You booked an entire gym."

"For our first gym date," he confirmed, beaming. "No distractions. No waiting for equipment. No random dudes asking how many sets I have left when I'm clearly mid-set and would have to commit murder to answer them."

"You booked," you repeated, walking through the doors into the vast, echoing space, "an entire commercial fitness facility. For a date."

"I wanted it to be special." He was behind you again, because of course he was, his hands finding your waist as he guided you deeper into the temple of his obsession. "And I wanted to be able to do this."

He spun you around and kissed you, deep and filthy and completely inappropriate for a public space—which, you reminded yourself, wasn't public right now because he'd rented the entire building. His hands roamed freely, sliding up under your sports bra, down into your leggings, mapping territory he already knew by heart but was apparently desperate to re-survey.

"Sukuna," you gasped against his mouth, "we're supposed to be working out."

"This is my warm-up," he rumbled, lifting you effortlessly onto the check-in counter—again—and stepping between your legs. "Gotta get the blood flowing."

"The blood is definitely flowing," you agreed, feeling the evidence against your thigh. "But you paid for this. We should… use the equipment. Or something."

He pulled back, looking genuinely torn. "But you're wearing that. And I have access to the locker rooms. And the showers. And the—"

"Gym date," you reminded him, pushing at his chest. "You promised me a gym date. Spotting. Form checks. Couples fitness. Get it together, Ryomen."

He groaned, a sound of pure suffering, but he stepped back. Ran a hand through his hair, which was already falling out of its bun. Took a deep breath that made his chest expand to truly ridiculous proportions.

"Fine," he said. "Gym date. But I'm warning you now, I'm going to be insufferable."

"You were already insufferable. This is just… concentrated."

He started with the tour, which was mostly an excuse to keep touching you.

"And this," he said, standing behind you at the cable machine, his front plastered to your back, his arms reaching around you to adjust pins you didn't need adjusted, "is the cable crossover. Great for… everything. Chest. Delts. Core stability."

"Are you explaining the machine or just enjoying the view?" you asked, feeling his chin rest on your shoulder.

"Both. Definitely both." His hands slid down your arms, guiding them to the handles. "Now, when you do a fly, you wanna keep a slight bend in the elbow… like this…"

He was demonstrating proper form, supposedly. What he was actually doing was pressing his entire body against yours, his breath hot against your ear, his hands lingering on your wrists, your forearms, your waist—anywhere he could justify touching in the name of "coaching."

"You're not even looking at my form," you accused.

"I'm looking at your everything," he countered, not denying it. "Your form is perfect. Your form is angelic. Your form is making me reconsider my stance on public indecency."

You laughed, turning your head to catch his mouth in a quick kiss. "Show me something else, coach."

He showed you everything.

The free weights, where he loaded up a barbell with more plates than you'd ever seen and deadlifted it with a grunt that should have been illegal—his back muscles rippling under his tank top, his jaw clenched, his entire body a study in controlled power. You found yourself staring, mouth slightly open, as he set the weight down with a controlled crash and winked at you.

"Like what you see?" he asked, smug and sweating and absolutely divine.

"That was…" You searched for words. "That was a lot of weight. That was like… a small car."

"Four hundred fifty pounds," he said, casually, like he hadn't just moved half a ton of iron. "Warm-up weight."

"Show-off."

"Only for you, baby." He grabbed his water bottle, throat working as he drank, and you watched a bead of sweat trace down his neck, over his collarbone, disappearing into the valley of his chest. "You gonna just stare, or you gonna spot me?"

"I don't think I could spot you. I think if that fell on you, I'd just have to accept my new life as a widow."

"Come here," he laughed, catching your hand and dragging you toward the bench press. "You don't have to lift it. Just stand there and look pretty. Motivate me."

"How do I motivate you?"

He laid back on the bench, gripping the bar, and looked up at you with dark, heated eyes. "Tell me I'm strong. Tell me I'm big. Tell me you can't wait to feel these arms later."

"Sukuna—"

"Do it," he teased, lifting off the rack. "Or I'll drop this on my own chest out of despair."

You leaned over him, your hair falling like a curtain around your faces, and whispered, "You're the strongest man I've ever seen. You're enormous. You're ridiculous. And if you drop that, I'm calling an ambulance and telling them you were doing CrossFit."

He laughed, the bar wobbling dangerously, and then proceeded to pump out twelve reps like they were nothing—his pecs flexing, his triceps bulging, his entire body a symphony of strain and strength. And he never broke eye contact with you, not once, his gaze burning with something that had nothing to do with the weight in his hands.

By the time he racked it, you were both breathless for entirely different reasons.

"Your turn," he said, sitting up and grabbing you around the waist, pulling you into his lap.

"I thought we were working out."

"We are. You're doing squats." He patted his thighs. "Bodyweight. Very advanced technique."

"Sukuna, that's not—"

"Sit on me," he commanded, low and rough. "And then stand up. Repeat. Great for the glutes."

You should have argued. You should have insisted on actual exercise. Instead, you found yourself settling onto his lap, facing him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands on his shoulders—which were, admittedly, spectacular.

"Now," he said, his hands settling on your waist, then sliding down to grip your thighs, "up."

You stood, shakily, feeling his eyes on every inch of movement.

"Down," he ordered.

You lowered yourself back onto him, feeling the hard press of his body against yours, the heat of him through your clothes.

"Again."

You did it again. And again. Until you were breathless, until his hands were gripping your ass, until his mouth was on your neck and he was muttering filthy encouragement about your depth, your control, your perfect fucking form.

"This is not," you panted, "what I signed up for."

"You love it," he countered, nipping at your jaw. "Admit it. Admit you love watching me lift. Admit you love feeling small."

"I don't love feeling small—"

"Liar." He stood up in one smooth motion, lifting you with him, and deposited you on the bench he'd just vacated. "Stay there."

He walked—stalked, really—to the dumbbell rack and selected a pair that looked comically large. Then he returned, standing over you, and handed you one.

"Time for chest presses," he said, all business now, though his eyes were anything but professional. "Lay back."

You did, holding the weight above you, and he knelt beside the bench—ostensibly to spot you, but really so he could lean over you, his face inches from yours, his hands hovering near your wrists.

"Down slow," he instructed, his voice soft. "Control the eccentric. Feel the stretch."

You lowered the weight, feeling the pull in your chest, and his eyes tracked the movement with frightening intensity.

"Good," he murmured. "Now up. Explode."

You pressed it up, and his hands finally made contact—not with the weight, but with your sides, sliding up under your sports bra, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts.

"Sukuna—"

"Just checking your bracing," he said, utterly unconvincing. "Core tightness is essential."

"You're essential," you shot back, "ly going to get us banned from this gym you rented."

"They can't ban me. I own the next four hours." He was leaning closer, his weight on his hands now, caging you in. "And you're not even sweating yet. We need to fix that."

He took the weight from you—one-handed, casually—and set it aside. Then he hooked his arms under you and lifted you off the bench, carrying you toward the back of the gym like you weighed nothing.

"Where are we going?"

"Functional training area," he said, his voice vibrating against your chest. "Foam mats. Very comfortable. Very… versatile."

"Sukuna—"

"Gym date," he reminded you, his grin wicked. "You said gym date. I'm just following through."

He set you down on a stack of mats and followed you down, his body covering yours, his mouth finding yours with a hunger that made your head spin. Around you, the empty gym echoed with the sounds of your breathing, his occasional low growl, the rustle of fabric as his hands explored every inch of you with the same dedication he gave to his training.

"Best gym date ever," he muttered against your skin, and you laughed, arching into his touch, already knowing you'd be coming back tomorrow.

After all, you had to get your money's worth.

The second gym date started with promise.

You'd actually been excited—surprisingly so—pulling on your leggings with a little shimmy in the mirror, packing your water bottle, even looking forward to the post-workout protein shake Sukuna swore by (which tasted like chocolate chalk but he'd make the most obscene noises while drinking it, so it was worth the price of admission).

"Public gym today," Sukuna said, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror for the fifteenth time, adjusting the strap of his tank. "Real atmosphere. Real energy. You'll love it."

"I thought you hated people asking how many sets you have left."

"I hate that," he agreed, grabbing his gym bag—an enormous duffel that looked like it could hold a body. "But I love the vibe. The grind. The collective suffering. Plus, I wanna show you off."

He said it casually, but there was something underneath—pride, possessiveness, the same tone he used when he talked about his PRs. You were his PR now. His personal record in girlfriend form.

The gym was buzzing when you arrived. House music thumped through the speakers, weights clanged, treadmills whirred, and everywhere you looked, people were sweating with intention. Sukuna walked in like a king returning to his castle—chin up, shoulders back, nodding at regulars who called out greetings.

"Ryomen! Where you been, man?"

"Booked the place for a private session yesterday," Sukuna said, not slowing down. "Had business to attend to."

"Business," you muttered, remembering exactly what kind of "business" had happened on the functional training mats.

He squeezed your hand, leading you toward the stretching area. "Alright, warm up solo first. Gotta get the blood flowing before we hit the heavy stuff. I'll be over there"—he pointed to a rack of dumbbells that looked like they belonged in a strongman competition—"doing activation work. You good with dynamic stretches?"

"Youtube certified," you assured him.

"Show-off." He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then apparently decided that wasn't enough and kissed your mouth, slow and thorough, right there in front of the ellipticals. "Thirty minutes. Then we lift together."

He strutted off, and you found a corner near the mirrors to begin your warm-up.

That's when you noticed the stares.

At first, you thought it was because you were doing something wrong—your form was definitely questionable, your high-knees more enthusiastic than coordinated. But then you caught the reflection in the mirror: guys on the bench press, guys by the water fountain, guys everywhere, looking over with expressions that ranged from appreciative to calculating.

You were used to attention when you were with Sukuna. He was impossible to miss—six-four, built like a heavyweight champion, with a resting face that looked like he was contemplating which wall to punch through. But without him beside you, claiming territory with his presence, you apparently looked like something else entirely.

A target.

The first approach came during leg swings.

"Hey, you new here?"

You nearly kicked yourself in the face. A guy in a cutoff tee—decent arms, overconfident smile—was standing way too close, holding a water bottle like a prop.

"Uh, sort of," you said, switching to arm circles. "Second time."

"Second time? You look like you could use a spotter." His eyes dropped to your chest, then lower, then back up with a smile that made your skin crawl. "I'm Jake. I could show you the ropes. Maybe some… private instruction?"

"I'm good, actually. My boyf—"

"Beginners really shouldn't lift alone," Jake continued, stepping closer. "Easy to get hurt. I could take you through a full-body routine. My place has a pretty nice setup too, if you—"

"She's taken," a voice rumbled from behind you, low and dangerous and vibrating with barely controlled violence.

Sukuna materialized like he'd teleported, one massive arm sliding around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. He wasn't even looking at you—he was looking at Jake with an expression that suggested he was calculating how many pieces he could break the man into.

"Oh, uh, hey Ryomen," Jake stammered, holding up his hands. "Didn't know she was with you."

"Now you do."

"Right. Right. Cool. I'll just… bench press."

"Do that."

Jake fled. Sukuna's grip on your waist tightened, his thumb stroking possessively over your hip bone.

"Okay," he said, his voice artificially light. "New plan. Less crowded area. Follow me."

He led you to the back corner, near the treadmills, where the lighting was worse and the foot traffic was lighter. He pointed to a machine. "Treadmill. Walk. Incline. Nice and safe."

"Sukuna, I can handle—"

"I know you can," he said, but his jaw was tight. "I just… I need to focus. And I can't focus when every dude with a gym membership is trying to sell you on his 'home setup.'" He made air quotes with one hand, the other still not leaving your waist. "Thirty minutes. Then I'll be done with my trainer and we can do circuits together. Okay?"

You nodded. He kissed you again—harder this time, claiming, obvious—and stalked off toward a man in a polo shirt who was waiting by the free weights with a clipboard.

The treadmill was boring. You set it to a brisk walk, incline moderate, and tried to look occupied. But you could feel eyes on you still—not as many, but enough. A guy on the rower kept glancing over. Someone doing cable flies had his mirror angle suspiciously adjusted.

You focused on your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The way Sukuna had taught you.

Apparently, Sukuna could hear your breathing from across the gym.

You saw it happen in the mirror's reflection—Sukuna, mid-conversation with his trainer, suddenly going still. His head turned, slowly, like a predator scenting prey. His eyes found you on the treadmill, tracked the rise and fall of your chest, the slight part of your lips as you exhaled.

He wasn't holding anything heavy at that moment, which was the only reason he didn't drop it. Instead, he just… stopped talking. Mid-sentence. His trainer waved a hand in front of his face. Sukuna didn't blink.

You increased the incline. Your breathing got heavier.

Sukuna swayed on his feet.

The squats were a mistake.

You'd moved to the squat rack after your cardio warm-up, deciding to try the thing Sukuna had been raving about—"ass to grass," he'd called it, with a wink that should have been illegal. You loaded the bar with just the bar, no weights, figuring you'd practice the movement.

It felt awkward. Your stance was too narrow, then too wide. You couldn't get the depth. You were frowning at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your footing, when you heard the crash.

It sounded like a gunshot. Like a car accident. Like someone had dropped a refrigerator from a second-story window.

You spun around. Sukuna was hopping on one foot, his face a mask of agony, clutching his other foot with both hands. A dumbbell—the size of a small planet—was on the floor beside him, having apparently met his toes at velocity.

"Ryomen!" His trainer—a compact man named Mike who looked like he could deadlift a truck—rushed over. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Sukuna hissed through his teeth, his eyes finding yours across the gym, dark and desperate. "Fine. Totally fine. Just… lost focus."

"That was a ninety-pound dumbbell," Mike said, incredulous. "You were doing lateral raises. How did you—"

"Slipped."

"Sukuna," you called out, concerned, stepping away from the rack.

"STAY THERE," he commanded, holding up a hand. "Keep doing what you're doing. I'm good. Just… keep squatting."

"Keep squating?"

"For form!" he added, his voice cracking slightly. "Practice your form!"

Mike looked between you two, suspicion dawning on his face. But Sukuna was already shaking out his foot, picking up the dumbbell with his other hand like it weighed nothing, nodding for Mike to continue the session.

You returned to your squats, confused. You went down for your first rep, trying to remember Sukuna's instructions—chest up, core tight, drive through the heels.

From across the gym, you heard a strangled noise.

You looked up. Sukuna had apparently attempted another lateral raise and had frozen halfway through, his arm extended, his face locked in an expression of pure concentration that was failing spectacularly. His eyes were fixed on your reflection in the mirror.

"Sukuna," Mike said slowly, "you're shaking."

"Pre-exhaustion," Sukuna lied, his voice strained. "Advanced technique."

"You're holding a twenty-pound weight."

"Time under tension."

"Sukuna, you're staring at—" Mike followed his gaze. His eyes landed on you, mid-squat, breathing hard, leggings doing that thing that leggings do. He looked back at Sukuna, who was now sweating profusely and not from exertion. "Oh."

"Don't," Sukuna warned.

"She's the girlfriend," Mike realized. "The one you never bring around. The one you've been talking about for months."

"Mike."

"She's doing squats, man. You gotta focus."

"I am focused," Sukuna growled, finally lowering the weight with exaggerated care. "I'm extremely focused. I'm the most focused I've ever been."

"You're a liability right now," Mike said, with the resigned tone of a man who had seen too much. "You almost crushed your own foot. You're going to tear a rotator cuff staring at her. The other members are going to notice."

"Let them notice," Sukuna said, but even as he spoke, another guy was approaching you—you could see him in your peripheral vision, a tall dude with a man-bun and a tank top that said "SQUAT BECAUSE NO ONE RAPS ABOUT LITTLE BUTTS."

"Oh no," Sukuna whispered.

"Hey there," Man-Bun said, leaning on the rack next to you. "Form check?"

"I'm good, thanks," you said, racking the bar.

"You're actually breaking at the knees first," he continued, undeterred. "You wanna break at the hips. Here, let me show you—"

His hand reached for your waist. From across the gym, Sukuna made a sound like a kettle boiling over.

"MIKE," he said, his voice carrying across the entire facility. "I need to go over there."

"Ryomen—"

"I NEED TO GO OVER THERE."

"Take a breath, man."

"I AM BREATHING. I AM BREATHING AND I AM WALKING AND I AM—"

He was already moving, abandoning his weights, his training plan, his dignity—stalking across the gym floor with single-minded purpose. Other gym-goers turned to watch. This was Ryomen Sukuna, after all, the guy whose deadlift videos had thousands of views, the guy who trained like a demon, the guy who never broke focus.

Until today.

He reached you in seven strides. Man-Bun's hand was still hovering near your hip. Sukuna inserted himself between you with the precision of a missile defense system, his back to the interloper, his hands framing your face.

"Hi," he said, his voice too high.

"Hi," you said back.

"I missed you."

"It's been eight minutes."

"Eight minutes too long." He kissed you. Hard. In front of everyone. When he pulled back, he didn't turn around—just spoke over his shoulder, his voice dropping an octave into something that made Man-Bun take two steps back. "She's taken. She's mine. And if you touch her, I'll use you as a warm-up set."

"Ryomen," Mike called out, approaching with the weary tread of a man whose paycheck depended on this lunatic. "Can we talk? Privately?"

Sukuna didn't move. "No."

"Ryomen."

"NO."

"You're causing a scene. You're causing hazards. You dropped a dumbbell on your foot and then almost took out the mirror wall because you were distracted."

"I was focused!"

"You were drooling!"

Sukuna's ears went red. You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Mike sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look. You've been coming here for three years. You're our best member. People literally join because they see you training and they want to be like you. But right now? You're a menace. You're a walking OSHA violation. And it's because of"—he gestured at you—"the distraction."

"Don't call her that," Sukuna said, his voice dangerously soft.

"I don't mean it as an insult! She's lovely! But you can't focus when she's here, and if you can't focus, you get hurt. And if you get hurt, you can't train. And if you can't train…" Mike trailed off, the economics of the situation hanging in the air.

Sukuna was quiet for a long moment. His hands were still on your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. You could feel the tension in him, the war between his possessive instincts and his rational brain.

"So what do you suggest?" he asked finally.

"Exercise separately," Mike said, relieved. "She comes mornings, you come evenings. Or vice versa. Or…" He hesitated. "You train her somewhere else. Privately. Away from… all this."

Sukuna's hands stilled. You saw the moment the idea took hold—the shift in his eyes, the slight curve of his mouth.

"Privately," he repeated.

"Yeah. I mean, you've got that home setup, right? The garage gym? State of the art?"

"State of the art," Sukuna agreed, his voice taking on a tone you recognized. The tone he used when he was planning something. When he was hungry.

"Sukuna," you said, suspicious.

He looked down at you, and his smile was pure sin. "Home gym, baby. Just you and me. No distractions. No interruptions. No random dudes trying to correct your form."

"That sounds—"

"I'll teach you everything," he continued, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. "Personal attention. Hands-on instruction. Very… intensive."

"Intensive," you repeated, dryly.

"Hours of one-on-one training," he said, his mouth near your ear now, for your hearing only. "Just the sound of your breathing. Just the sight of you, sweating, working hard, pushing your limits. And me, right there, spotting you. Touching you. Guiding you through every rep."

Your knees felt weak. You weren't sure if it was from the squats or the promise in his voice.

"Mike," Sukuna said, not looking away from you. "Cancel my membership."

"Ryomen, you don't have to—"

"Upgrade it," Sukuna corrected. "Lifetime platinum. I'll pay for the year upfront. But I'm training her at home from now on. Can't have distractions."

"That's… that's not what I meant—"

"Thanks for the advice, Mike. Really appreciate it. Changed my life."

He was already steering you toward the exit, his hand on the small of your back, his body radiating heat and intention. You looked back once to see Mike standing in the middle of the gym floor, holding his clipboard, looking like he'd accidentally unleashed something he couldn't control.

You had a feeling he was right.

Sukuna's home gym was in the basement—a space he'd described as "modest" but which turned out to be larger than most commercial facilities. Rubber flooring, mirrors on every wall, a full rack of weights, machines you'd never seen before, and a stereo system that looked like it belonged in a nightclub.

"Welcome," Sukuna said, spreading his arms wide, "to the real Iron Temple."

You walked down the stairs, taking it in. It was impressive, no doubt. Everything was top-of-the-line, pristine, organized with the kind of obsessive attention to detail that only a true gym rat could manage. There were posters on the walls—motivational quotes, anatomy charts, progress photos of Sukuna from years ago that made you realize he'd always been ridiculous.

"So," you said, setting down your bag. "When do we start?"

"Start?" Sukuna repeated, locking the basement door behind him. The click echoed. "Oh, baby. We're not starting with a workout."

He turned around, and the look on his face made your breath catch. In the fluorescent lights of the gym, with the mirrors reflecting him from every angle, he looked enormous—broad shoulders filling the frame, muscles rippling under his tank, his jaw set with predatory focus.

"Sukuna—"

"You know what the problem was today?" he asked, stalking toward you. "It wasn't just that they were looking at you. It wasn't just that they wanted you." He reached you, his hands finding your hips, pulling you flush against him. "It was that I couldn't touch you. I couldn't claim you. I had to stand there, ten feet away, watching you breathe, watching you move, and I couldn't do anything about it."

His hands slid down, gripping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto a weight bench. You gasped, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

"But here?" he continued, his voice dropping to a growl. "Here, there's no Mike. No Jake. No Man-Bun with opinions about your squat depth. Just you. Just me. And all the time in the world."

He kissed you, and it was different than before—unguarded, unrestrained, his hands roaming with complete freedom. He pulled your top up over your head, tossed it aside, his mouth tracing down your neck, your collarbone, the valley between your breasts.

"Sukuna, we should warm up," you managed, though your hands were already in his hair.

"Oh, we're warming up," he promised, his breath hot against your skin. "Dynamic stretching. Increased heart rate. Getting the blood flowing." He looked up at you, his eyes dark and wild. "I'm going to train you so hard, baby. So thorough. By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight."

"That's not—"

"Shh." He pressed a finger to your lips, then replaced it with his mouth, his tongue, his entire devastating focus. "First lesson? Proper breathing technique. In through the nose…"

His hand slid lower, his touch deliberate, expert, making you arch against him.

"Out through the mouth."

You moaned, and he smiled against your skin—a predator's smile, a conqueror's smile, the smile of a man who had finally gotten exactly what he wanted.

"Good form," he praised. "Very good form. Now, let's work on your endurance."

It wasn't what you expected.