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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
he always insisted walking around the apartment shirtless, his bare body for the whole world to see, and it was fine, until he started bulking. his muscles were now bigger, beefier—but that wasn’t what caught you off guard. it was his freaking man titties.
they’d almost doubled in size the past month, the round pecs almost singing to you like a siren call. and it all seemed to get worse when he worked out, slowly bouncing with every little movement he made, and each bounce had you entranced. it was like sensory fruit videos, if you will, but better because it was sukuna’s boobs.
“i’m almost jealous y’know, you have such nice bewbs kuna.”
“they’re called pecs.” he grunted while trying to do pushups in your living room while you continued to stare at his chest while he moved up and down.
“you think i can ditch my needoh and use your tits instead?”
“stop. talking. please.”
“i’m not hearing a no.”
you found yourself seated in sukuna’s lap, palming at his chest like a cat making biscuits, squeezing the flesh and weighing it in your hands while sukuna tried his best not to let out a whimper.
“wouldn’t it be really funny if your nipples were sensitive?”
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Synopsis. The best way to beat your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival during finals? Fúck him!
Pairing. Gojo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, nerd!Gojo, academic-rivals-to-Iovers, first times (Gojo), unprotected, hándjobs, semi-public (library), exhíbitíonism, he goes FÉRAL, coming back for more, slight switch!Gojo, face-sítting (fem rec.), 69, PÚSSYDRÚNK Gojo, size kínk, he’s BIG, rough s, running from it, creampíes, making him cúm dry, cúmplay, toys, punk!Geto cameo, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 11.2k
A/N. Happy Vesak to anyone that celebrates!!
“That jerkwad got 0.4% higher than me again, Suguru.” You’re fighting the urge to wallow your face on top of the café’s cluttered table, instead shaking a weary Geto Suguru by his broad shoulders. “Again! I’ll never make the top of Yaga’s Dean’s List now.”
Geto wonders whether this would be a good time to slip away- no. He shudders, thinking about the way said ‘jerkwad’ was probably skulking around, looking to lament about the very same thing.
Honestly, if this was a romcom it would be almost cute. Almost.
“Gojo’s just too- too smart.” You’re rubbing your aching temples, as if the words pained you to utter. “And infuriating, of course. And cocky and a try-hard and-”
“Honestly, you two should just duke things out in the bedroom.” He takes a looong sip of his milkshake, letting the silence drag on as you gape.
“Suguru that’s…” Bracing himself for yet another monologue on your supposed rival. Damn valedictorians- finals season was getting to you. “-that’s genius.”
He frowns.
Okay, finals season was really getting to you.
Taking a confused second to check his drink - strawberry milkshake, low sugar, as usual - he concludes that he definitely wasn’t spiked in any way and was definitely hearing you wrong. Of course, an understandable mistake. And so he’s clearing his gruff throat, “…what the fuck?”
Your long-time friend watches from across the table as you nod your head, a satisfied sort of smile plastering across your face - the very same one you often bore whenever you beat Gojo on a test, or a quiz, or a group project.
Or anything, really.
“That’s exactly it- I should fuck him.”
Yeah, he sets down the cup he was holding, he was definitely spiked. Or, maybe he was dead and this was his own personal hell.
“Ooookay, that’s enough all-nighters.” Geto’s plastering one of his ringed hands across your forehead, searching for a high temperature. “How about we get you to Shoko for some examination-”
“No no, listen.”
“I’m scared.”
Swatting away his well-meaning palms, you’re leaning towards him, so close that your lips waft the silver piercings decorating his ear. “If I fuck him—” Geto shivers, one of his ripped arms settling on top of the table in conspiring unison. “-he won’t have time to study. And if he doesn’t have time to study…”
The snake bites lining his rosy lips glint as they formulate a smirk, sleazy. “Oh, you dirty girl.”
DING-DING–!
And it’s as if the universe was having a good laugh at your expense.
Because right at that very moment, the cute lil’ bell on top of the café doorway sings as it swings open - and with it, ducks inside Gojo Satoru.
In all his refined, cranky glory - wiry-framed glasses nestled high on his nosebridge, strong, sweater-covered arms straining with the weight of damn near half the library stacked in a column, snowy bangs doing very little to hide the withering glare he was immediately firing your way.
The spitting image of the other valedictorian you’d been fighting both tooth and nail against since the start of freshman year.
You remember how it all started like it was just yesterday; you’d been sitting eagerly at the very front row of Professor Gakuganji’s lecture hall. Your sheer buzzing energy only matched by the white-haired boy seated next to you - perhaps a kindred spirit, maybe you’d even become friends, you naively thought.
That is, until Gakuganji had asked for a volunteer to start off ice-breakers that the both of you had shot up in your seat. Racing to be first.
Faces snapping to each other in shock, mouths tightening. An invisible war - which had, very famously, turned into a palpable war over the last few semesters. One that you’re sure nearly every student on campus had heard about (and bet on, you remember Shoko tittering about some betting pool.)
It didn’t help that you two had practically the same classes each year - and it really didn’t help that Gojo put all he had into one-upping you any time since that fateful meeting.
Always clamoring out of his seat to answer questions first, always trailing after teachers if he caught you sucking up to them, too, always checking out the same books after you did.
Hell, at one point you’d been convinced that he genuinely lived in the library.
“You’re staring~” Geto sing-songs, resting his grinning face on one hand as he watches the bee-line of your eyesight.
“Ugh- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Flashing, cerulean eyes narrow as you rip your own gaze away, and Gojo’s sauntering over to a cosy seat near the back with an audible ‘hmpf!’
Bastard- that was your second-favorite seat. You should sit there next time…
“Look at him.” You’re spitting, feeling only slightly ridiculous at the raw vitriol in that sentence until Gojo physically turns around in his chair to flip you off. Haughtily, he swivels back to shift through his countless textbooks, surely studying for the upcoming final exam in a few days. “Bet he cuddles those books to sleep and that’s how he beat me today.”
Rays of sunlight dappling his pale hair, the straps of his backpack make his shoulder muscles ripple. For a nerd, he sure did take care to make everyone on campus secretly swoon.
…except for you, of course.
Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes - more to tear them away from the way that Gojo’s glasses made his eyes twinkle in the daytime.
“Not for long. Mark my words, Suguru, I’ll fuck him-” Murmuring, you pointedly ignore the gawking looks from the customers surrounding your table. “-I’ll fuck his brains out.”
Eyelids twitching slightly, Geto makes sure to graciously bow his head in an apology towards the older lady seated at the beside you two - clutching her chest as if she was about to have a cardiac arrest. “And you realize that by fucking him…he fucks you, too?”
“Oh.” Honestly, for someone so smart you could be so stupid sometimes. You ignore the heat that runs through your veins at the notion, and stuff your face into your long-cold coffee. Sputtering, “I-It’ll be fine.”
Famous last words.
.
.
.
“A-are you following me or just obsessed?”
“Nothing to be obsessed about here.”
“Then why are you following-”
“Maybe you’re following me, bast- I mean, Gojo.”
BANG!
And Gojo really should’ve been worried about ruining his squeaky-clean record with the campus librarian, slamming a few thickset books down on his usual studying spot was very unlike her model helper, of course.
But right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Not when you - campus princess, top pick for valedictorian, pain-in-his-ass - were face-to-face with him and standing the closest you ever had amidst that time you’d sat together on your first day.
And calling him by his name.
Jaw clenched, he steps towards his familiar chair by the shadowed corner - and you do, too.
Long legs maneuvering to claim his seat - and you do, too, right next to him.
Pushing his glasses-clad face into the first textbook he picks up, he doesn’t even notice that it’s upside down - not until you’re tapping your finger on the gilded corner of it and Gojo flinches. “You’re reading that the wrong way, y’know?”
“…it’s a form of studying.”
“I’m sure.”
“And- and what are you doing? Miss valedictorian has given up on being valedictorian so she’s here to bother me?” He seethes, finally taking a good look at you since you’d randomly ambushed him on his daily trip to the library. Tracking him around like a lost puppy and oh- oh, Gojo almost regrets it.
Because he might wear glasses, but he wasn’t blind.
Fuck, did you really have to wear a cutesy top so low-cut? And a skirt so tight, he hated how your thighs were so pretty - ones he’d only seen in his imagination- nightmares. His nightmares, for sure.
It’s no wonder that half the student body in your department would kill to be in this position, and the other half would kill him for daring to sit his gloomy, unpopular self next to you.
Gojo gulps as he inadvertently memorizes the lacy black shade of your bra strap, barely catching onto your humming response.
“Studying.” You casually raise your own book, something related to the content covered on the test tomorrow, surely.
“B-but- here-”
“And here I was under the impression that the library was public to all.” You’re cutting off his rambling by creeping an inch forwards. So close that you’re wafted with a cloud of his homey, ink n’ vanilla scent. Purring, “Is it not?”
“No! I know you- you just wanna steal my super secret Satoru studying tips.” He points at you, accusatorial.
Scoffing- why did you want to subject yourself to this nonsense again? Oh, right, that coveted spot at the forefront of Yaga’s Dean’s List, that’s why. “‘Studying tips’ my ass, you’re just scared I’ll beat you on the exam tomorrow.”
“You couldn’t beat me if Yaga stripped naked and danced with the answers in front of you.”
“Hmm–” You pretend to take down notes, “So is that what you think about before a final?”
“N-no- even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Raising a brow, “Right…” And by the way that Gojo trembled at your tone of voice, shifting his glasses higher into his unruly bangs, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. “Because you’re scared.”
“Am not.”
“Am too.”
“Am not-”
“Am too. It’s alright, scaredy-cat-” You’re making a big show of letting the library chair screeeech against the polished hardwood floors as you stand up, fingers itching for your bag. “-I’ll just take my leave then, since you’re so sca-”
“Sit.”
And it wasn’t a plea, it wasn’t even a request.
Gojo had his warm, engulfing palm surrounding your wrist and all but dragging you back to sit back down with an unceremonious plop!
Hard and rough.
Before you’d even registered it - before you’d finished blinking - in an instant, he was back to his normally grouchy self. Grimacing face darted back between his pages, hulking body hunched low as he washed himself of the memory of your (unfairly) pretty self seated right next to him.
This was all a bad dream, he repeated to himself, as if a mantra. But then why was he feeling so…hot? Maybe this was one of those annoying side quests in video games- if he doesn’t interact, he won’t react.
Yeah, that sounded about right. He just won’t interact.
He will not–
“Your pen’s too loud.”
“Your breathing’s too loud.”
“So you want me to die-”
“Yes, please.” You’re sniping back on autopilot, your exceptionally silent pen scribbling along one of your flashcards. This really wasn’t how you saw your masterplan going - but it was too late to back out now. If there was anything that was revealed during this lengthy rivalry, it was that you weren’t a quitter. Huffing, “Do you always talk so much when you study?”
“Oh- I’m sorry, princess, want me to kiss your feet while I’m at it?”
“Didn’t think you were one for a foot fetish.”
“H-huh? No! What are you-”
And that slight waver in his voice makes you pause- it makes you snap your head up, just in time to catch the scorching red blush breezing down the back of Gojo’s neck. Visibly peeking through the edge of his creamy vest even as he buries his face into his upside-down book.
“Awww- what’s that?” Snickering, you take your chance to nudge your chair closer to his. Teasing. Until thighs met shaky thighs, shoulders bumped sculptured shoulders, and your syrupy breath made the tips of his ears flush. Voice low, “Can’t handle a lil’ sex talk, Satoru?”
Saying his first name- fuck!
He’s slamming his left arm where the heat of your sighs had burned his sensitive earlobe, grumpy baritone cracking– “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Are you a virgin?” You blink, your scheme giving way to genuine curiosity.
The way that Gojo’s mouth gapes is more than enough of an answer to you. Glasses slipping down his clammy skin, meaty legs shivering as you experimentally brush your palm to feel the flex of his outer thigh. He was…chiseled.
Blinking, “Really? Not even a handjob?”
And fuck- were you glad that he’d chosen a slightly distant corner of the library.
Because your hands might be rovering sensually underneath the table, but the tightness in Gojo’s slacks was obvious.
And it’s not that you spent a lot of time thinking about how big your mortal enemy might be underneath all his formal, upright outfits - but you just didn’t think he’d be this staggering. Perhaps average, at best.
But one slight glimpse through your peripheral vision left your greedy mouth parting - he was long. So, so long from the end of his body to way past halfway down his thick thigh.
And so massively girthy that you’re half-counting each jolting throb from the edges of your eyesight.
Your mouth waters something slick at the primal heat radiating from between his legs. Trying your very hardest not to let your jaw drop as your pupils dare to snake down, down, down—
“Wanna change that?” The words spill out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them- and Gojo looks ruined at the very idea.
Eyes glittering, cherry-pink lips falling into a soft oh! “Wh-what are you…”
You hesitate, this was Gojo after all. And you might feel your panties getting damper by the minute but he… Finger balling into a fist as you start to pull away, “Want me to stop-”
“Backing out, miss valedictorian?”
Fuck- it happens like a flash of lightining.
In a nanosecond you’re thinking you should pull away, and the next Gojo has his slender fingers gripping your wrist. Tugging your palm to creep right down the bulging cylindrical length twitching between his legs as if you were weightless.
He was desperate. He was shifting, lurching his hips up off the rickety chair completely so that your soft fingers brush further down his fat, weeping clothed cock.
An uncharacteristically dark drawl seeping into his voice, “Couldn’t score on the exam and now you can’t score- ngh.”
But, of course, this Gojo Satoru was all talk - his spit-glossed lips wobbling with a whimper the very moment you slip your hands to skim the hem of his pants.
Pop.
There goes one of his polished buttons, all sensible. Anything but the way that Gojo’s sexily slouching his toned body into the library desk, a heady gasp departing his lips. “Finish what you- hah! started.”
Pop.
And you knew that those dexterous digits of his could easily wander down his complicated buttons- but right now Gojo was fumbling.
He was gnawing on the bubblegum insides of his cheek and keening as he struggled to remove his trousers.
Pop.
Pop!
One of the silvery buttons end up clattering down on the wooden floors. Finally - finally - freeing his aching, bloated cock.
And you’re not just seeing it first - you’re hearing it. The very crown of his reddened tip hitting halfway up his cotton vest with a wettened splat! Eyeing the darkening patch of cloth with a gulp.
Gojo’s long lashes flap— hissing at the strike of cold air where he was most sensitive. “Wh-who’s the scaredy-cat now?”
But how could you not be spellbound?
Mentally, you’re counting nine - maybe even near ten - entire inches of his thick, vein-covered shaft.
The mushroomed edge of his cockhead blushing the prettiest shade of strawberry pink, and he was just as needily swollen. Spraying out a few glistening trails of pre that puddle up cutely near the curly tufts of white lining his v-line. He was just aching for your touch.
Ruining.
Jolting like he was zapped with a thousand bolts of electricity the moment your thumb smears the pearly bubble of precum that’d started to leak out of him. Breathless, “Who’s a scaredy-cat?”
“You-hngh!” He’s gritting down on his lower lip as a groan erupts from his throat, teary eyelids wrenching shut at the blissful sensation.
Your hand was so soft- so heavenly.
Just the slightest trace of your fingerpads gliding down Gojo’s puffy pink veins sends him heaving, the heated figure of his body leaning into your touch. “W-wait-” He spits out through snarling pearly whites as the length of your fingers squeezes the fattened base of his cock sensually. “Fuh-fuck! What the fuck- s-sexual pleasure. Shared sexual pleasure feels like this?”
Just lightly pumping up to press the mountains of your palm into his tender underside. Gojo was so rock-hard that your skin’s memorizing every zig-zagging line of his pulsing veins. “Hmm–?”
“This- how-” Azure eyes pleading up at you, “Hck! How-”
And you’re unsure whether he was babbling at the simplest drag of your hand or yearning for actual responses - but you never did leave a question unanswered. “Mmm– yeah? Like it, Satoru?”
“L-lov-” That little confession almost dribbles from his lips just from the way you’re cooing his first name. Ethereal ivory strands plastering to his forehead as he hastily shakes the thought free, voice breaking. In disbelief.
He’s tugging his slightly-fogged glasses up his nosebridge, “How does it feel like this- why- fuuuuck– should be…illegal.”
You’re fighting back a moan yourself, the dainty ends of your fingernails fluttering all the way from his drenched happy trail up, up, up, up to kiss his coral-pink slit.
Glittering a webbed wad of pre that drips down to your wrist as you’re caressing his sensitive outline. Just loooong, lazy traces that feel so good he’s sweating bullets from the sides of his temples.
“The arteries on the dorsal- Don’t stop–”
“So bossy.”
Gojo finds himself jerking impatiently. He finds himself flinching when you choose that very moment to lean your puckered lips over and plant a wet smack! of spit right down his bulbous, bulging tip. Starting up a sultry pace, “Think I like you better when you’re hah- like this, Satoru.”
“Shut up- fuck- mmm, right there-”
With two palms white-knuckled on the chair’s armrests, he’s stooping his muddled head over and rutting- animalistically. Milking himself on every drag of your plush hands, “Please- please.”
Oh, you really liked it when he begged.
And you’re pacing your hand even slower, squeezing the pointed globe of his ruby-red tip with a resounding squeeelch! “H-haaaah! There? There? I-if you touch me there…”
“Say that for me again- that ‘pretty please.’” When he can only lower his head deeper and wetly mumble- “Again- oh.”
You shouldn’t have underestimated him - you really shouldn’t have underestimated him.
Because the moment your wrist strains with the warning signs of slowing your tempo even more- Gojo’s snaps his right hand to hold your hand still and thrusts.
The weeping thickness of his cocktip mazes between your fingers like a searchlight, he’s fountaining out a warm ribbon of pre that froths down your hand once his long length emerges.
“F-for the distal end of the glans, the primary source of sexual pleasure- your hand’s fucking h-heaven…oh.” He’s letting rip a guttural grunt, the muscles on his neck ticking. Half-lidded, drunken eyes circling around dizzily until they finally fall upon your shocked oh! face. “Too bad I c-can’t say the same for your mouth-”
“Hey!”
And you would’ve said something further - you should’ve. You were trying to, yet that very moment Gojo fucks his slenderly toned hips up in such a hard thrust that it makes your pinky nearly bruise at the thwack! of his heavy balls hitting yours.
He was so fucking hard that the spank of his sagged balls make your skin sting, oh-so-tight that it leaves him standing uprightly erect even when you’re cupping his hilt.
“Nghhhh f-fuck. Yeah- yeahhh take it- take it just like that, princess.” Gojo’s voice drops into a carnal growl as he’s hooding his eyes over and staring right at where he was using your hand. The thickened digits of his fingers squeezing your own righter ‘round the gummy tip, looser to pound his base. “No one’s ever touched me like this.”
Your hands were so much smaller than his own - than his cock, too.
Damn near dwarfing your touch, he’s throbbing his girth so much fucking fatter that every jolt makes your own wrist shiver with intensity. Faster.
A few speckles of syrupy drool dribbling down the side of his curling lips, “Should’ve told me if- haaah-” And just then, you’re fingering your thumb to tease the flared ridge of his mushroom crownhead. Making Gojo shudder his pecs and droop his face to mouth down your neck.
Red hot. Your poor nerdy rival was blushing so hard that wherever he made contact with your throat made your flesh sizzle. “-if this was what you wanted s-so badly—”
“Fuck, Satoru-”
“You guys?!”
The sudden interruption of an upbeat voice is so abrupt that Gojo can’t do anything less incriminating than pushin’ his moaning, twisting face further into the crook of your neck. Hips subtly shifting on the chair to hide your sinfulness from view, it makes the pads of your fingers snag on one of Gojo’s prominent lightning bolted veins- and leaves him biting down on your throat to muddle a whimper.
“H-Haibara?” Your voice breaks once you’re lifting your head to stare up at the beaming smile of your fellow classmate. “What umm– brings you here?”
Innocently oblivious to the mess Gojo was drooling from the orifice at his cock as your pace gets sloppier. Faster. You’re coughing lightly to mask the repeated fwop! emanating when the back of your fisted hand hits the front of his toned pelvis.
“Same as you, of course.” Your audience replies, enunciating his point with a nod towards the papers and textbooks scattered about you two. Clapping his hands, “How wonderful it is to see the two of you studying together- I always did tell Kento you two would end up friends.”
And of course it wasn’t abnormal for Gojo Satoru to ignore anyone and everyone except his books.
Of course it wasn’t strange- but Haibara sweetly asks, anyway. Tone dripping in concern, “Is he alright, though?”
Gojo’s bucking up to your touch when he’s addressed, one that he’s masking as a flinch. Using that as lewd leverage to squeeze and squeeze the delicate line of his tip, up n’ down.
Forcing out a slight chuckle, “O-oh, he’s alright. Just resting.” Pointedly pumping your wrist until it was aching, all the way from the bloated bottom of his cock to thumb up his dripping crownhead that Gojo has to mask with shivers. Sneakily, you chance a grope of your free hand to tenderly squeeze his achy balls. “He can’t keep up with my…flashcards, y’know how it is.”
Haibara nods, “Right of course, of course- it’s so sweet how supportive the two of you are with each other’s studies.”
And underneath his panting, cloudy breath, you’re making out Gojo scoffing. The frigid rim of his glasses cratering against the pulse on the side of your neck as he throb-throb-throbs in your hand.
Twitching. Slobbering. Rutting- everything he could possibly do to milk his fat, swollen cock on your hands without anyone else here noticing. Punishingly, he sinks his honed canines into your skin— “C-cum- gonna–”
Urgently, your cadence turns nearly frantic. Furious, tugging pulls that leave the mahogany chair creaking with slight rickets.
“Y-yeah– Satoru- deserves it. He’s been working so hard.” You breathe, unsure who it was for.
But it makes the man melting at your touch hiss— the candy-pink divot homed right on the top of his barreling length so hot with slippery cobwebs of pre. Drooling out more. Jolting even more. Glasses sliding down.
Your classmate only grins, “Awww–” Taking the slightest step closer and your warm hand tightens in panic. “You two would make the cutest couple!”
And that’s just about when Gojo cums–
Hot, hard.
So, so heavy with the sheer volume of buttery, sappy white cum he was spilling into your lap. You fight to keep your smile from widening at the way his heated pink shaft drizzles with streaming streaks of seed that stains the skin of your outer thighs.
Gojo lets out a soft gasp of breath once he’s twitching his lusty cock to slap down on your flesh and chase the heat of your cunt.
Right where he feels himself slip n’ slide across the slick outer sheen dampening from your core— right where he needed to fuck you. Just the darkened edge of his dilated pupil peeks out from the crook of your neck to stare at your audience dead-on. In front of him, if he had to.
And you could sense it, too.
Which is why you’re hastily waving off Haibara’s comment– “Ahh– well, it’s too soon for that.”
“You never know~” Casually scratching the back of his neck, not a thing was amiss in the way that Haibara’s perking up. “I should leave you two to it, then. And I have to tell Kento about this new development and I haven’t studied and-”
You don’t dare let your sigh of relief escape until after he’d walked away with an eager wave.
Gojo himself was letting go of the area he’d been gnawing on your neck with a soppy pwah! Unsteadily lifting his head just to inch forwards and teeter-
Oh, he looked absolutely fucked-out.
All heavily-lidded eyes that blinked slowly, and a mouth now shiny with a fresh coating of transparent spittle. Spectacles askew, hair rumpled, collar hauled to the side as if he was undressing himself.
Greedy slobber bubbles up by the side of his flushed lips and trickles when he catches sight of your hands still wrapped around his softening cock.
Not looking ‘round you two - not even caring if anyone sees, he’s gently lifting your dominant wrist over to hover near his gulping maw. “Made me make s-such a mess, princess.”
Your fingers trembly at the sheer scorching gusts of his humid breath, Gojo bores right into your eyes as he unfastens his jaw and lets his pinkish tongue liiiiick right up your cream-coated fingers. And the only thing hotter than his ropes of seed were the slimy edges of his tongue.
Weaving between your pinky, takin’ extra care on your ring finger.
Each and every one. One by one, he’s sapping down wet slurps with his mouth as he sucks on each glob of white decorating your digits like his favorite lollies.
“W-we’re–” Gojo starts, his glittering lips still speckled with a bead of frosting. Of cum as he cleans you off. Dry Adam’s apple bobbing, “We’re never– hah.” Before strangling his words with a pained grunt and salivating the ridges of his tastebuds down your fingers in a final French kiss.
Then another. And another. And another- like he couldn’t fucking get enough.
And it viscerally ached him somewhere deeply primal inside to curl his rugged palm around your wrist and wrench himself away with a moistened pop! that resonates like music in the empty library air.
Mouth curling as he pushes up his glasses for the nth time, “We’re never studying together again.”
Speechless, it’s just then that you’re noticing that- oh. Gojo Satoru has dimples.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoru failed that test.
He totally, totally failed that test.
Which wouldn’t have been as completely soul-crushing to watch his streak of constant A++ grades be torn down before his very eyes had that final actually been difficult. But Yaga had, mercifully, decided to go easy on them this time - and Gojo should have been able to ace this exam in his sleep.
Which was quite difficult for him to pull off such a feat when he found himself unable to think about anything but you.
Well, given, that wasn’t exactly an outlandish state-of-mind for him.
Though, usually it’s more along the lines of how ridiculous it was that you thought you’d top Yaga’s Dean’s List instead of him, how your essay wasn’t even that great (okay, maybe it was- but his was better!), or wondering whether it was part of your strategy to look so gorgeous that you distract the entire department into failing.
But today - even right now - all he could wonder about was how ah, question number five- you’d wrapped all five of your pretty lil’ fingers around his cock.
How soft they were, how perfect they looked pumping his painfully hard girth and fuck- soon enough he was blessed with a half-chubbed dick tightening his pants, and a muddled brain that’d already started writing his answer about you, your damn hands, and you.
Fuck, he could feel his skin flaring at the mere memory again.
“Goddammit-” He’s grinding the backs of his molars until he’s tasting metal, staring at the empty lined paper that would usually have been filled and stapled to the backs of his final. “Goddammit.”
And then Gojo stands- so abruptly that several blissfully ignorant students recoil at the sudden movement from their stoic classmate. Papers flying, usual backpack left behind.
It’s as if a storm, the steps leading him the row or two further up the lecture hall groan and protest at Gojo’s stomping. Closer to where you were - with your face in your hands, and your expression harrowed as if you’d just seen a ghost.
“You.” He’s starting, rumbling voice low.
You wince at the sound, as if only just noticing the man towering up to you. Settling your widened eyes off of your…curiously blank sheets of extra paper, only to stare up at Gojo and grimace again. “You.”
And any and all irritation regarding the little predicament you’d put him in vanishes as he realizes.
You failed that test, too.
SLAM!
Two roughened hands of his strike down on your table to lean in so close, the rows surrounding you two hushing so quiet that you could hear every single one of Gojo’s ragged breaths. Close.
So, so close.
You’re counting every single white lash of his, every spike of pale blue in his sapphire irises, every glint in his snarl. So close that your nose tingles with the perfume of that familiar sultry vanilla.
He watches, expressionless, as your thighs squeeze together beneath you. Shit.
“Y-you.” Gojo’s voice was rough, as hoarse as if he was trying to keep something deep and dark out of it. “Tonight. My dorm.” Risking a glance around the nosy rest of the hall, his face burns at the unsuccessful way they were pretending not to be listening. “For…studying.”
A wolf whistle rings through the tense air— “Get a room!”
“They’re about to~”
“I knew this would happen.”
“Please keep talking to a minimum, some students are taking extra time on the test.” Yaga’s bored drone shatters the mirth - only to heighten it by twofold just as soon as Gojo feels the slightest hint of relief. “Please keep flirting to a minimum, too.”
And then he turns back to you and you wink.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
.
.
.
“Oh-ohhh mm, Gojo–” Your head throws back against the carpet of Gojo’s stifling bedroom, your lips gluing together with strands of spit as soon as he kisses your inner thigh and salivates. Mouth churning with wads of spit ready to devour you-
“Satoru.”
“Wh-what?” It takes you every ounce of strength in your sprawled-out body to question in response.
Head lurching just the slightest few degrees to gaze upon the way he was stuffed nose-deep between your legs - glasses, cocky grin and all.
Gojo takes the lecherous time to perk his flared nostrils over and sniiiiff–! the aroma of your wetness, his overeager maw spilling a thin trail of spittle at the saccharine-sweet scent of your dripping pussy. “Call me- hah! Satoru.”
Shit- how did you even get here?
Skirt and blouse off, needy.
It’s as if one second you’re explaining (quite ashamedly, mind you) how your plan had backfired and you’d bombed that test, sputtering as Gojo rolls his eyes knowingly. And the next…
Spank! You don’t have to look down to already feel the twisted curl of Gojo’s smirk against your thighs, one of his hands soothing across where he’d oh-so-rudely spanked the right of your ass cheek.
“Zoning out already? Your Bartholin gland is working overtime to lubricate.” He hums, the frigid metal frames leaving your hips squirming. Tilting his head, “You’re wet.”
“Y-you wish-” You’re huffing and puffing despite the way you’re smearing your legs even more widely agape with primal need. Just begging him for something, anything, with each squelching wave of slick pouring from between your pussylips.
Gojo leaves one kiss near your cute belly button, another on the hemline of your clingy panties.
Mwah, mwah– soft, puckered lips trace allll over except where you were aching for him the most. He’s snickering at through a hot gasp once the sharp edges of his teeth snag on the forefront of your underwear and let it snap! back.
“Think you’re soooo fuckin’ smart, huh?” Gojo spits, furiously. “Always so intelligent- so smug.” Dragging the crescent nubs of his fingernails down the sides of your body–
Tearing down your panties, flopping through the crevice of your folds to give you just a singular push of his miry tongue. Just a singular kiss, a singular snog of his flattened muscle slapping down on your entrance. “Let’s see how s-smart you really are, then, miss valedictorian.”
And despite the way he’s running his mouth, his tongue sings a different tune. Just like jelly- shyly wobbling on the puffy outside of your pussylips and lapping up gulp after gulp of your sap.
He was parched- and couldn’t help but tickle your cunt like a man thirsting for years. Thirsting for years, and yet, he couldn’t help the way he’s slouching back slightly on his knees with a burning blush–
“Y-you’re only saying that because-” He jolts at the sudden rut of your hips, sending a slobbering stroooke straightly down your slit. “-because you can’t handle anything else.”
Gojo quirks a cloudy brow, “Anything…oh.”
And though it pained a carnal part of you to - though your pussy was quivering in protest - you find your arm reaching out to grab the prim collar of Gojo’s white sweater and traaawl him all the way up. “Wan’ you in my hah- mouth, Satoru.”
“Ngh–” He’s nibbling his plush bottom lip to bite back a fucking whine– and the moment that slight smirk starts twitching your lips, Gojo scoops your legs up in a surprisingly strong hold.
Big, beefy arms lifting you in midair and throwing you down on the bed. You yelp as you bounce- he’s careless, desperate, the only thing he needs right now is to have you on his bed. On his mouth-
“Th-think I can’t handle a b-blow- fellatio, huh?”
He’s grumbling as he lays himself flatly on the cushy mattress, letting those navy sheets be rumpled once he’s sitting back sexily. And you’re almost wishing you could turn yourself around and ogle that handsome vision settling right between your legs.
“Oh- oh.” Gojo mouths gapes as he really - really takes in the sight of you. All sopping wet and needy for him. Shuddering steadily in and out to regain his breath in some way, “Oh my god- fuck, what a prettyyy pussy.”
“H-hnghh, fuck–” Your mouth drops once large palms spread-spread-spreeead your cheeks apart and let your dewdropped slick drip! down into his throat.
Shivering, every time his claggy breath stroked your pried-open entrance. Leaving a wide, hot open-mouthed kiss right where Gojo could spy your glistening hole winking.
You were just a three-course meal sitting above him. And he was ready to crane his neck and diiive–
ZIIIIIIP–!
“Shit- princess, what are you- fuck!”
Your grin grows when you stagger off Gojo’s plaid pants and let his reddened, swollen cock hit your chin with a plap! “Whaaat–?”
He was standing tall, proud.
Soooo many swollen, throbbing inches standing up rock-hard n’ straight just from the mere idea of having your saccharine pussy on his mouth.
Thighs trembling where you were straddling his head, fuck, if Gojo was in any better state of mind he’d have registered the way your syrupy pussy grows wetter. “Scared?”
He blushes- he keens, mindlessly bucking his hips to chase the heat of your mouth. “N-no. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to sexual stimulation-”
“You talk too much.”
“Then…”
You’re whimpering, your spine bowing into the perfect curvature once Gojo claws a firm handful of your ass and pulls you to him to kiss your pretty pussy. “Get up here.” Letting the thickened air ring with the smack of his glossy lips gluing to your outer folds, “Get up- get up here so that I can fucking show you, miss valedictorian.”
And he might have absolutely zero experience - but that didn’t mean that Gojo wasn’t hungry.
He’s not waiting around for you to tease him to death with your sweet, puckered lips. No- he’s tugging you down his lengthy body and latching ‘round the nub of your clit first.
“She- she’s the clit, huh?”
“Sh-shit…oh my ngh- Satoru!”
Tittering, “Course she is- located at the top of the vulva and responsible f-for connecting the network of erectile tissue. And she has you alll stupid.”
Your treacly cunt was giving him the cutest lil’ welcome by pouring a wave of sticky slick right down his chin, he’s sliding the wetness against the innards of your squeezing thighs and pushing himself nose-deep.
Glasses cluttering, vein-decorated forearms flexing. “How’s that–?” Endlessly listing off the three-hundred different ways to toy with your sensitive clit, he’s swervin’ the glazed point of his tongue in cute hearts. Groaning into your pussy, “Mmmm– your turn- o-oh fuck!”
And you weren’t just teasing him, you were simply waiting for the perfect moment to plop your saturated mouth in a clammy smooch over Gojo’s round, smooth cockhead.
Lapping the narrowed margin of your tongue to rim that split-end on his tip, your tastebuds scorch with the warm cream of his pre. Buttering up your flat muscles as you jerk your head and draaaag a long, languid lick. “What’s that?”
Letting out the cutest pitched ‘fuck!’, Gojo bucks his hips to plunge between your hot maw with a wet fwop!
Hissing, “I was mistaken, your mouth is heaven.”
Gulping him deeper-
“Haaaah- wait.” It’s like he’s easing and then back- too much for his sensitive, inexperienced cock. “Stimulating my c-cock with a tongue so good. Now that’s- that’s just fucking- unfair-”
Spanking your cunt with a splatter of wadded saliva before teething his canines along your clit and pinching. Groaning right into that mess, “Unfair- th-that’s unfair- fuck! Shit, how do you make everything feel so good- You always do hafta ch-cheat, huh?”
He has to battle with himself not to cum right then and there.
But he wasn’t going down without a fight.
You’re just starting to lavish your silky tongue over the sensitive veins snaking along his meaty base, chin tickling with curly white hairs- when Gojo wraps an arm around your waist and pulls—
“Wh-who’s cheating now?”
“And who do ya think you are?” Gojo pleads- he strains. Your body being slightly bumped up n’ down like a rollercoaster after each heave of his broad pectorals.
And just playing with your clit wasn’t enough, he needed to use his inhuman strength to make you rest your entire weight. “Just- sit–” Throat hatching with lilting groans once your mouth is sliiiding sensually down his pink shaft. Gojo’s speaking between French kisses to your cunt, grunting like it hurt him to break off.
And even though he’s practically still closed, you swear you could count every one of his eight, ladder-like abs.
“But I could ngh- suffocate-”
Rutting- deep back into your mouth till his bawling mushroom tip swabs the very back of your throat. “So? Then it’ll be my ngh- first and last time. Respiration is overrated, just- fucking- sit.”
Yelping, it’s all you can do to claw your nails down each of Gojo’s thick, milky thighs once he grabs onto your body and slams you down on his readily awaiting mouth.
“Fuck- fuck!” Eyes widened, tone crazed. He doesn’t know where to look when he’s slobbering his heated mouth in dragging licks up and down between your puffed-up folds, occasionally peeking inside your fluttering hole and giving your ring of muscle a sloooow stretched-out circle.
Gojo slaps the velvety underside of his tongue down on your sensitive entrance and watches as your syrupy slick pooours. “Don’t know how long I-I’ve dreamt of this, princess-”
“Y-you have?”
Though, it comes out gurgled and half-moaned around the fattened circumference of Gojo’s pulsating, long cock. He was just so big that you’d barely even slid his heavy shaft down halfway until he’s probing your throat thoroughly.
Fattened balls tightened once he speaks, “You- have- nooooo fucking idea-” Punctuated with heavy, slashing strokes of his tongue.
You’re damn near sobbing at the sheer surprisingly strength of his - the pleasure. Gojo was technical in his approach, a snagging lil’ circle to make your hole stretch cutely- before gifting himself a looong lick from the base of your pussy right up to your clit.
“Every time before a test- e-every time after. Ngh- every time someone would l-look at you in those pretty skirts and- fuuuuck! wanted to fuck that damn mouth shut every time you’d insult me. Every time- made you wanna scream.”
Swiping his simmering tastebuds down with circles. Hearts. Something that felt like an S–
“Tha’s right- goood girl, you got that one right.” He’s piping up from between your dampened inner thighs. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his weighty cock was bawling and begging to fuck you.
And it takes you one more sweltering kiss, two more until you’re lifting your mouth back off of Gojo’s fat cock in realization- did you just say that out loud?
“Mhmm—” Gojo answers, voice breaking with a slight whine at the loss of heat. Promptly, you’re pushing your hips back to ride his mouth shut and gawking at the way it makes his shaft twitch wildly. Like a madman, he’s rutting up to capture your sweet, sweet lips once more-
“Th-think I like it better when you- ngh-” You somehow manage to get out through sappy wet bobs of your mouth, every squelch! drawn out by the suction of your hollowed lips deafening in his cozy bedroom. You start to feverishly pump the solid inches of his you couldn’t fit inside, holding onto one side of his muscular glutes for balance. “-when you shut up.”
“N’ you’re better when you have- my-” It was even worse with every buzzzzing vibration of his voice tingling your clit. The bed rickets in unison with your whines as he drills up into your slickened mouth maddeningly, plummy tip scouring your inner cheeks. “-biiig fucking cock in y-your mouth.”
And then Gojo wasn’t just making out with your cunt till he’s pussydrunk- he’s slithering one of his slender, pale fingers until it’s all glazed with a satiny layer of sap and caressing your entrance.
Tenderly, he slips just the thick first pad of it past the tight muscle before you’re clenching- being dragged even further up his face.
“C’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon please-” Pushing and pushing, he couldn’t handle the singlest bit of resistance unless he wanted to tear up.
The size of his digit is just so looong and nimble enough that Gojo finds himself in awe at the way your snug hole opens up to swallow him eagerly. Crying out bulbous tears of sap, you’re just arching your back and taking every one thrust. Two. Three. Four–
Swatting your clit with the pointed fringe of his chin, he’s flopping his tongue over in a textured pattern on top of your perky clit. One that makes you gasp— “A? A?”
“Mhmm—” Teething your swollen folds at the grooving tickle of his prominent middle veins on the roof of your mouth, the way you’re announcing everything he spells is just so hot that Gojo bucks until you choke. “Next-”
Struggling, flowing so much damper at the muscles of his front. God- he was sooo fucking fit. Using every ounce to push– “Mmpf- ngh-” Mouth so full that your cheeks bulge, “J?”
“What’s that? Wha’s that?” Gojo almost throws his head back into the bedsprings and chuckles. “Miss vale-hah! valedictorian can’t even spell-” Toying the mushy tip of his tongue over your clit again, “What’s that?”
“T- please. Not gonna last-”
“Mmmm–” He’s so close now that you could feel the cold press of his glasses, all drenched at this point. Even more so when Gojo adds in a third finger and lets it just graze the splotchy area of your g-spot.
“Sa-toru, your glasses-”
He didn’t even care. He didn’t even need them at this point.
“Use the momentum of your hips. Move. Ride.”
In three different ways. Riding him exactly how he wanted you to in languid, slobbering drags and he’s never been more in heaven. The nubs of your hardened nipples rubbin’ all sensitive through your bra where Gojo manhandles you to glissade down his tensed core.
His throbbing shaft twitching and striking the roof of your mouth, he’s getting fervent. Burning hot. “Aww- pretty princess is all dumb. What’s- that?”
His tongue’s so dexterous that even your hazed mind can make out each syllable, each letter. Faster. Harder. “O- ngh! S’an O-” Trembling palms cupping his balls, “R- M’so fucking close.”
And you could already guess the next looping drag of his tongue. The precise syllable on your tongue once you’re throwing your head back and shattering– “U- You- fuck! Satoru–!” You didn’t even have to try to open your mouth and let the wadded ribbon of saliva dangle off from it.
Striking Gojo’s veiny shaft and making him buck-
“That’s it- nghhh- c’mon, princess, scream my name.”
“Saaa–toru. C-cummin- ngh.” You don’t even have the privilege of finishing your damn sentence before he’s plopping in four of his prolonged fingers and making your wave of euphoria burst.
So hard that your vision dots with pure white. You’re leaking from both your maw and your fluttering eyelids now, “P-please.” Mouth flooded with so many whimpers and torrents of slobber. You’re so far thrust into your blissful high that you don’t even realize you’ve stuck the first few inches of Gojo’s spit-glazed cock inside your watered mouth.
“Yeah- yeahhh what do ya want?”
“C-cum.”
“Hmm–?”
Shoveling right inside like your favorite pinkish ice cream once you’re peeking over your shoulder and mumbling– “C-cum, Toru–”
And there it was - that did it.
You, saying his first name. Like that.
The only thing more it takes before creeps his sweaty palm over the crown of your skull and pushes- straight down. Straight full of his lengthy, rummaging fat cock, until your nose nuzzles the slight fuzz of silky white at the base.
Eyes sprinting to the back of your head, your throat gets all clogged-up with his throbbing inches before he fills it up even further.
Oh, oh- you never thought you could ever be so damn full.
It’s as if he’s torn apart your throat and was probin’ the curve of his bulging mushroom tip right into the base of your lungs. Flooding it up with sploshing wires of stringy cum, pumping and pumping each ribbon until it’d formulated a buttery frosting everywhere he could reach.
“O-ohhh fuck- nghhhh fuck-” Bottomed-out, yet pushing down even further. “Y-you…”
With a splattering bubble of drool that trickles from the rosy corner of his lips- Gojo couldn’t even clearly see from his tear-shattered vision, and yet, he was staring dead-on at your relaxed throat.
Mindlessly, the sensory tip of his index traces that bulging cylindrical outline being fucked against the underside of your neck. Dooown all nine inches. Gojo jostles your weakened knees apart and lets his overspilling cock dab the corners and crevices of your hot mouth.
The bloated, flaring ridge of his slit moving it all over. Breathlessly giggling, “You really- really t-took it ngh- all…you- oh.” Heavy, pink balls tightening as if he could cum again- “How’s that, little miss valedictorian?”
You swallowed.
“S’that…all you got?”
And he couldn’t get enough.
It was just too adorable how your snarky mouth was hoarse n’ all spellbound by the time Gojo slides his veined cock a few more vulgar times down your tongue and pulls out with a plop!
“Ngh- T-Toru-”
“Shiiit- don’t call me that- fuuuck don’t call me- oh.” He couldn’t even speak. The polished frames of his glasses nearly dangling off, Gojo manhandles your boneless body around to sit prettily on his manspread lap.
To admire you properly.
And all it takes is that singular glimpse of you.
That clouded vision of you above him - your eyes glassy with a film of lust, mouth sopping wet with milky wads of seed that drip! drip! drip! down between his toned pecs.
Your fucked-out hips glissading back down the uprightly laid length of his girth - over every vein, every ridge - with a whine-
And the man damn near loses it.
He’s whining, bucking- his feet planting up to gyrate his hot cock against your skin like he was aching for more. “Need it.” You’re almost startled as two of Gojo’s palms latch onto your hips and make you push, “Please- I mean- fuck.” Shit, he couldn’t stop himself from babbling pussdrunkenly.
That carnal urge pulsing from his bulging tip to push deeply inside you.
You’re feeling Gojo swell up even fatter - even harder - behind the cheeks of your ass and find yourself pushing back with a greedy pap! of skin-on-skin. “Don’t tell me…”
“Shut up.” Kissing you, he tastes salted caramel and nearly cums again.
Lecherous grin growing even wider, you break off. “Awww—” Your previous dazed state slowly fading with the last few tingles of your orgasm, “Wittle Toru’s first time?”
“Shut up.”
He’s straining his neck and snapping his jaw with a click! Honed canines threatening the fragile skin of your nipples, you’re pushing back on his feverish flesh.
Gojo looked so pretty like this that you just couldn’t help it - all stinging, red cheeks, and your pussy slicking a gooey lustre that plasters from his dripping chin all the way to damn near the tips of his ears.
Puddling.
“No need to worry.” You shove on his blushing collarbones with a whimper, his cock was so hard that it hurt. “I’ll be ngh- gentle, Satoru, so oh- fuck!”
But Gojo Satoru didn’t wait this long to be fucking gentle.
No- just like the way he’s longed to whenever you always got so close, so fiery shutting him up during arguments - Gojo thrusts the big, bulging tip of his cock between your swollen folds and pushes.
His first.
Finding his muscular thighs trembling, mouth parting, pupils rolling until all you could see was the pure white of his eyes. Something dark and primal breaks at the back of his ravaged throat, “O-oh.” And he’s gasping with the effort to compose himself- to say something snarky.
But all Gojo can do is hold onto the girthy base of his shaft and let it drip with a glaze of syrupy pre. Mouth opening n’ closing, breath catching.
“Wait- you’re so-” Bucking his hips just the slightest inch off the dampened sheets and letting it slide pointedly along your walls. “-y-you’re so soft- and warm. And ngh- nghhh fuck! Th-this is what the adventitia- what your pretty pussy feels like?”
Watery eyes widening once you nod, “Th-then m’neeever pulling out. Your lamina propria’s gonna mold to my cock, miss valedictorian.”
Cooing, he hastily tugs off his cottony sweater, fumbling once the syrupy pool of slick you’d leaked all over his neckline makes it stick to his skin like an adhesive. And oh- fuck.
You’d felt every line and shapely curve of Gojo’s chiseled abs down your front. Hell, you could still feel the way your tummy was aching with the stinging ridges of him pressed up against you- and yet, it still doesn’t prepare you for just how sexily toned your smug rival was.
All naturally muscular edges of his broad shoulders, and his ivory happy trail was wobbling with the bumps of his abs. All flexing. All tense.
All heated against your naked thighs as he grips your ass cheeks and pushes you down, down, down–
“Ngh…oh– Toru!”
“S-soooo sweet.” Voice hitching, he’s squinting his eyes cutely in pleasure at that silken, soft hug of your walls. You’re shaping around his thickly barreling length so tight that he’s roughly handling you to lift up and down- up and down. Deeper. “So ngh- so much better than that…PocketPussy3000 I named after ya, princess.”
And you would be snarking back- teasing him, had it not been for the way that Gojo was so fucking big that he made your mind stupidly dizzy.
“B-big?” Gojo croaks out from underneath you- oh, shit, you’d said that out loud. Again. “Am I…” Drifting his glassy eyes downwards to watch where your puffy pussylips were bulging whilst struggling to take him. “-really that big?”
Biting down on the insides of your cheek as you lie, “N-no.”
Experimentally, Gojo gives another feral rut. Watching as your pretty eyes nearly bulge out of your head, your maw falling ajar into a perfect ‘o’.
He’s fucking up into you with his massive cock and barely even trying to dig the smooth, left-leaning curve of his achy girth into your every nook and cranny. Veins bloated up so wide that they carve a zig-zagged pattern against your tight channel after every ba-dump–!
Gojo really was that big.
“H-heh.” Octaves higher, wild. He’s chuckling as if he still couldn’t even believe it when Gojo’s right hand creeps up the side of your hips to press down on your tummy.
“Mmm– hck! If you’re gonna press there, Satoru-”
“Why? S’a biiig stretch for the poor stratified squamous epithelium isn’t it?” Feeling himself with the edges of his ravenous, long digits as he sliiiides in- rocking n’ rocking upwards against your snug resistance. Speaking over the creaky bedcoils, “Say it- tell me.”
Arms rested upon his flexing deltoids, you throw your head back after each solid inch he was blowing your cunt up with. Until it felt like your walls were being snagged on to the maximum, “B-big-”
“Nuh uh, princess- biiiig stretch. Say it w’me now-”
“Big- ngh!” You’re fighting against Gojo’s sloppy cadence from behind you to roll your hips back onto his trembling thighs. Deeper. Deeper. “Biiig stretch–”
“That’s right—” Oh, you’ve never been more irresistible to him. And Gojo’s palm massages the bumpin’ bulge being pounded against your tummy, until you can feel every crease of his palm lines. It makes his filthy mouth salivate to feel the stretch inside as you keep swallowing his cock deeper. “Again now- nghhh- biiig stretch.”
“Biiiig stretch- oh, fuck!”
Just about the only thing you can do is spit out a string of swears when Gojo bottoms out and hits the base of your pussy with a sharp spank!
Tendrils of white rubbin’ your outer pussy raw, the circumference of his length bullying inside to stretch your hole into such a cute oh! The exact same shape that your mouth was turning into right now, “Please- fuck mmm–”
Squelches! ring out after every springy bounce you plant on Gojo’s length, your calves burning with the sheer effort it takes to smooch your puckered ring over his tip and slide, slide, slide all the way down to his hilt.
Breathing out in a pant, “Oh, you’ve taken all of me- all of me? Seriously- fuck!” Gojo lets his inexperienced hips drive all the way upwards in carnal, uncontrolled ruts. “Tha’s just right- fuh-fuck back t’me like that mmm-”
“Getting hck! really cocky–” You’re biting, your overworked pussy quivering as you clench. “-Toru.”
And oh, that makes him shatter.
Hips mindless, head flopping backwards, mouth opening with the prettiest, more pornographic whine. You’d just made the Gojo Satoru whine with your pussy.
His drunken gaze only half-opening to stare at you through dilated eyes, glasses completely fogged-up and useless now that you’re roughly riding him. Smart mouth babbling, “D-don’t think you’re- winning–”
It was a competition even now.
Like a race to who could get the other to break first, he’s matching your papping cadence and even more. And through the tears clung to your lashes, you’re spying the way that Gojo’s v-line was swollen n’ red with slamming contact.
Your hand glissading down his sweat-glistening skin to trace his sensitive abs, “Oh yeah? And you think- hck-” Another sluuurping clench, another topple of his head. His sanity. “-y-you’re winning?”
“Still haven’t found the mmm– Gräfenberg spot yet, princess.” He’s smirking, one hand rested upon your right ass cheek to keep on stirrin’ his rummaging length in swivels inside of you. The other thumbing over your neglected clit in the meantime, muttering. “Anterior wall under the urethra…roughly hnghhh– this many inches deep and part of the sensitive clitoral network…”
His split-ending, bawling cocktip probes your glossy walls like a spotlight. Your g-spot being the bullseye that he’s targeting dead on. Grinning.
“-here.”
Precisely, you feel the heat of his prominent spherical cockhead drive up n’ down the entire length of that sensitive bundle of nerves. Digging the curve of his shaft generously into where you saw stars-
“Who’s winning hck! what now?”
Sloppily kissing him, just to quieten the man down. “Oh- sh-shut up.”
“Hm…” Gojo’s accurate whack! of his girth against your g-spot lets off the loudest, most lecherous squeeeelch. And he’s proddin’ his sensitive slit against your cervix just to feel it, “Can you shut up when I fuck you like- this-”
You can’t.
Mewling, your knees hit halt and wedge the swollen n’ aching nub of your clit against his supple palm. Letting his skin streak a good rub over where your core was painfully needy, “Y-you grew bigger.”
“Hmmm–?”
You’re riding him craaaazy with your hips, pussy walls clinging onto his slick cock so tightly that you’re rendered weak with every vein. Every throb. Every growth of his shaft pounding even fatter until you could barely even clench-
Bigger. Harder. Tongue slathering with a glaze of syrupy spit, “B-big– got ngh! bigger.”
“What’s that? What’s thaaaat?” His pummeling dick scouring down your walls, erupting in a proud splosh of rich precum at that cute lil’ compliment. “Bigger? Heh- my princess ngh likes, big- don’tcha?”
At this point you’re driven wild, your dewy pupils circlin’ around the insides of your eye comically. Mouth hanging open with stupid little ‘oh’s’ and ‘yesses.’
Gojo narrows his eyes once you start blubbering, bashing his tip extra hard into your g-spot so that he could have you fully dumb on his cock. “Mmm– c’mon, miss valedictorian.” Lips twitching, “Use your big girl words.”
“Hngh- hard-”
“Yeahhh– m’pretty fucking- hard- huh?”
“Harder.”
Oh- it’s a wonder he didn’t cum right then- shit, Gojo thinks he almost is.
A thin, ropey string of hot seed that hits your womb the moment he’s flattening his feet on the cushion of the bed to thrash a mean thwack! onto your spongy cervix.
Digging his geysering divot so deep against the bottom of your glutinous cunt that he grits his teeth and plugs his weepy crown shut.
Trying not to cum- praying not to cum, “Harder? Harder?” Repeated in such a high, unsteady pitch. His dazed eyes peeking over his glasses and widening, “My girl wants it harder?”
Nodding, “Please, Toru– m’soooo close.”
“Then- greedy fucking- girl- better- take it.” And he wasn’t just pummeling your poor pussy, he was pummeling it like a madman. You could practically see the rippling of his muscular body, sheer power that was being channeled into each thrust.
Each strike. Each damp smooch with your g-spot.
You didn’t even realize you were clawing at his shoulders in an attempt to crawl away until his left hand pushes down on your sweat-matted scalp.
Holding your face still, Gojo watches every cute minute reaction of yours as he goes hard. Then slow. Then sloppy. Alternating his pace until you’re sure you’ve memorized the patterns of his hammering veins on each side. “N’ that means nghh- nooo running away.”
“No runnin’-” Babbling through tears, every strike makes your brain spin. “Not gonna last- nghh fuck…not gonna last, Toru.”
“Swallowing my cock so much- S’this what you wanted after every hah- argument? Every time you yelled? Filthy giiirl, shoulda just asked.”
And Gojo was murmuring such filth into your ear that you can’t help but shrill– “Let me cum- ngh- let me cum-”
“Tch- demanding.”
“Please-”
“Better…how about ‘pretty pl–’ oh fuck.”
Before he can revel in his victory, before he can tease you any further - you’re reaching one of your jittery hands behind your back and palming at Gojo’s tight, aching ballsack. Tracing your sultry touch just where he was red n’ raw with the slamming impact of your ass.
Hips speeding up, creaking getting louder.
“Oh hah- haaaa–” Gojo tosses his head back and bucks- bucks and bucks and bucks as if he was trying to milk your orgasm sooner. Rovering thumb pressing down on your clit like his favorite button, “Cheater, cheater~”
You didn’t know who was off worse - you who was drooling out a sappy puddle after every repeated three slams of his cock each passing second. Letting your droopy body be manhandled into bouncing in a S-A-T-O-R-U that you’re not even sure Gojo realizes he’s making you spell out.
Didn’t even register. Didn’t even know.
Or Gojo who was trembling with every squeeze of your gushing walls, frantically letting his glasses slide off even further so that he wasn’t hypnotized and on the verge of losing just by watching you ride him dry.
You’re too hot to handle.
A perk that you’re immediately abusing as you push his glasses cleanly back onto his nosebridge n’ smudge away the misted fog.
“Ngh f-fuck–” Chin hitting your sweaty chest once he’s manoeuvering you into a wiiiide O to muddle together the letters of his name. Claiming your pretty pussy. Claiming him. “-fuck you, Satoru.”
Gojo leans in closer with puckered lips, close enough to kiss. “I’m fucking you, princess.” To shut you up while sucking on your tongue while it hits.
And Gojo’s so caught up in every movement of your body that he doesn’t even realize he’s finishing off in such a wet, voluminous way until it’s dripping out of you. Mouth parting, “O-oh…”
Your own orgasm takes over your body like a wave, being suddenly hit with strikes of white-hot pleasure that send goosebumps trailing down your spine. Every push of Gojo’s slick shaft feels so good that it makes your vision flash white, whimpering each time his slimy mushroom tip was kissin’ your sweetest spots.
“Cumming–” You’re calling out belatedly, hips creaming yourself on his. “I’m– oh.”
“H-heh.” And Gojo was actually giggling- giggling. Faintly noting the hot-headed mess that was his brain right now, he could only flutter his long lashes at each spike of pleasure and stare.
Ogling the way your puffy pussylips were gulping after every streak of his cum, the creamy white mess pouring out into you until your womb felt heavy.
Over and over he’s thrusting inside, making- almost forcing his cock to pour out every drop. Every ounce until it was dry.
Showered, sloppy wads of seed plastered across your hole, you could feel the pearly mess dangling out of you each time your cunt hit his pelvis. Formulating a ring of syrupy cum that made Gojo just swallow past his parched throat, “I win.”
“No.” You’re huffing. Stubborn, even as you’re sagging down until your face was cushioned by his pecs, perking your hips to milk out his last few dredges until Gojo was cumming dry. “I win-”
Dry- you’d made him cum dry.
Humping upwards so that oodles of sap would slip down your cervix and make you shudder. Both your popped ears buzzing with the splat! of cobwebbed cum that glues down your thighs. “Nuh uh, princess. I totally won that.”
“Hngh- yuh uh.”
“Nuh-”
And maybe you were the least drunken of the two, because you’re the only one with enough murky sense right now to put an end to the endless argument.
Shutting Gojo Satoru up for once in his life by reaching your hand over to dig underneath his navy pillow - searching for that glint of something you’re sure you’d caught in your lustful haze moments prior.
He can only lay beneath you and blush and blush once you pull out…that.
The PocketPussy3000 he’d named after you– the very same one he’d fuck up into night after long, lonely night thinking about his damn “rival.”
Fuck…he should’ve known the valedictorian wouldn’t forget.
“Named after me, huh? Cute.”
Indignantly pushing up his frames, “Wh-what is the meaning of this-”
“Let’s consider it a tie.” You croon, in that exact tone he knew was dangerous. And his brainy suspicions are proven correct when, the very next moment, you’re pulling yourself off of him with a dampened pop!
Letting a stream of ivory creamy swoosh down below to sheen his pale thighs - Gojo has never looked prettier, you think.
“Oh- oh my god…ngh- oh my god, princess.”
The apples of his cheeks scorching, mouth gaping, tired n’ thoroughly overstimulated pink cock flinching when you hover that rubbery toy over. Letting off a sopping slurp as you start to bully his reddened tip between the folds and jerk him off– “Round two?”
.
.
.
“It can’t be-”
“So that last time seriously wasn’t about studying?”
“You owe me five thousand yen.”
And you swear you’re catching about half the class and Yaga himself exchanges betting pools of money the very moment you and Gojo enter the lecture hall. Together. Hand-in-hand.
Fuck- was your rivalry really that infamous?
Because Gojo’s fingers weave even tighter with yours as you pass by countless stares, numerous cellphones out to take paparazzi shots of the markings on your neck that you’re sure will end up on some sort of campus bulletin board by the end of the hour.
Ah, maybe you should’ve done one of those ‘soft-launches’ first…
Too late for that, you think, seated at your usual spot on one of the first few rows and wearily watches as Yaga happily counts the spoils of his bet.
Sneaking a glance at your gloomy boyfriend, you try not to snicker- not only did he receive a stupendous second placement on the last exam, tied with you, it’s as if every single person here blatantly couldn’t tear their eyes off of his hunched, blushing figure.
Nervously pushing his glasses up to his bangs– “Maybe we should ah…‘cut class’ as they call it, princess-”
“So-” There’s a slamming weight of a strong forearm on your shoulder, ringed fingers possessive - and another one on Gojo’s - that could only mean one person. “Unless my milkshake was spiked again, I take it that the scheme- I mean, study session went well? Even though I did get first place on our last final.”
Before you can answer, Geto’s husky voice heats up your ear, low. Dangerous. “Y’know, I hear this next assignment’s a…group project.”
when the trope is ‘two characters who experience the same traumatic event but one is made better by it and capable of turning their pain into good and the other one got destroyed’ and i immediately think of gojo and geto.
summary: soulmates are a common occurrence, however no individual knows who their soulmate is until they’ve reached eighteen years old. the person you expected to be your soulmate actually was but… at what cost?
OR
once upon a time, ryomen sukuna was the closest thing you had to a best friend. how cruel is it that he turned out to be your soulmate, too?
tags & content warning: soulmate!sukuna x fem reader, childhood friends turned enemies?, angst!!!!, major character death??, feat. Toji
credits: dividers by @/honeyluvsw
a/n: as always, this is not proofread. Also, I wanna make this into a little miniseries or something, so….
part one
Eleven years ago…
“..where is he, anyway?”
the question took you by surprise. you wiped the sweat off your brow with a gloved hand and fell silent for a long while, eyes trained on the ground beneath your feet. “Sick again,” you finally gritted out.
Since birth, your twin brother had been nearly perpetually sick. His body was frail, unable to withstand the varying weather conditions your kingdom shifted through. You, on the other hand, had been born a perfect picture of health. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d fallen ill, and still have fingers left.
In a way, you felt guilty. The physician had once said that it was possible you’d hoarded all the nutrients inside the womb, rendering your twin vulnerable and susceptible to illness from birth. Since that day you’d overheard that conversation, an unwavering and miserably heavy guilt had weighed itself on your chest. A weight that no eight year old child should've been forced to carry.
You were torn from your thoughts as a heavy boot swiped your footing out from under you, body collapsing to the ground unceremoniously. Pain shot up your spine at the impact and the glare you shot at the perpetrator was deadly. “Ryomen Sukuna, I’m going to kill you,” you hissed as you deftly reached out to yank his foot, sending him tumbling to the dirt with you.
The two of you laid there in silence for a beat, angry tension brewing for no longer than a mere second before the older boy huffed out indignantly. “You were gettin all emotional,” he said, as if that was an excuse. You rolled your eyes and retorted, “even so, you’ve breached our ruleset by initiating a surprise attack.”
That made Sukuna snort, half in amusement and half in disbelief. “Thought we got rid of those rules anyway.” He shifted, moving closer to you, eyes staring up into the cloudy sky above. “He’ll be okay,” Sukuna mumbled after a moment, voice much more gentle than you’d ever heard it. Sukuna was a lot of things— a jerk, a bully, possibly a future thug— but the gentleness of his tone in that moment reminded you of the most important thing he was: your best friend.
"Let's try that one next!" You exclaimed, pointing out a yummy looking snack plate stacked atop a festival vendor stall. One look at the snack had Sukuna groaning— it even looked too sweet. "Haven't you had enough snacks, birdie?"
"I told you not to call me that anymore! You're barely even bigger than me." The glare you leveled him with had the older boy pausing in place, eyes flickering between you and the stall. After a second, he snorted at you and replied, "for now maybe. Give it another few months and I'll be so much bigger you'll have to look up to talk to me"
Before you could get in another word, Sukuna stalked forward to the stall and joined the short line of people there waiting. From where you stood, your eyes raked over him. He'd gotten much taller in such a short amount of time, standing just a bit above you now— you'd never admit that to his face, though. When he returned with your snack, your eyes lit up. "Thanks, Kuna," you grinned, immediately digging in to the sweet snack. "Yeah, yeah."
The walk back to your home was quiet, save for the distant sounds of the still ongoing festival and the chirping of crickets and other wildlife around you. The quiet wasn't unusual for you and Sukuna— a lot of your time together was spent either in that comfortable silence or bickering back and forth. The comfortability you felt with him was nice. You found yourself wondering if he would be the one- if a red string would link you to him when you turned eighteen. You shook your head and brushed the thoughts away, a light blush dusting across your cheeks that you hoped Sukuna didn't notice.
As soon as you reached the front door of your home, it swung open to your puffy eyed mother. Tear tracks were carved into the plush of her cheeks. "Mama, what's wrong?" you immediately latched onto her dress, worry digging into the delicate features of your small face. "It's.. Your brother, ma petite. He's very ill. You may want to go see him." Your eyes flicked back to Sukuna, awkwardly standing behind with his own worried expression poorly hidden. "Can Kuna come too, mama?"
Before you knew it, both you and Sukuna were sitting on the floor next to your brother's bed. His face could only have been described as hollow. Cheekbones sharp and protruding, eyes sunken into the sockets. Even as he looked at you, there was barely any light in the eyes that matched yours. Tears steadily streamed out of yours, dripping onto the rug beneath you.
"I need you, mon frangin," you choked out, voice trembling. A weak hand placed itself atop yours, squeezing very, very gently. Scarily gently. "I'm here," your twin replied in a voice so small you honestly could've just imagined it.
You had no idea how long you all stayed there like that, just holding hands and crying. You and Sukuna told your brother about the festival, all the pretty lights and delicious snacks that he'd surely one day go get to see and try for himself. Eventually, your twin's eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep, leaving you and Sukuna to soak in the moment alone. "You probably should go home," you told him. "I'm gonna stay with Valentin."
"This is not my sword," Sukuna grumbled, flipping the wooden weapon in his hand. "How would you even know? They're all the same," you retorted, inspecting your own sword with interest.
The older boy grabbed your empty hand and placed the sword he'd been holding into it, closing your fist around it. "Hold them both and tell me what feels different." Adjusting your grip on the weapons, you guessed you could kind of tell what he meant— one hilt was more worn than the other, having been handled more often overtime. The difference was subtle though, subtle enough that you didn't think it was anything to make such a fuss over.
"See what I'm talkin about? My sword molded to the shape of my grip, I can't use anythin else." You rolled your eyes even as you dropped the sword he was so sure was yours and not his. Using your now free hand, you tugged the red ribbon you'd tied your up with, letting your long locks cascade down your back. "Then we'll make sure we know which one is yours," you vowed, tying the red ribbon around the sword's hilt before extending it to Sukuna. "But a good swordsman adapts to whatever weapon is available to him at the time."
"That's why I still beat you when I was usin yours, birdie," Sukuna teased with a smirk. You scoffed and shoved his shoulder roughly, "by one point!"
"It was three."
"One."
"Three," he said, voice taking on a familiar teasing lilt. You sputtered for a moment, fuming as you whined, "you counted wrong!" Sukuna barked out a laugh that did something funny to your insides and said, "you're sayin the future greatest swordsman in the kingdom can't count?"
"I'm saying the future greatest swordsman in the kingdom is an idiot," you grumbled back. That stupid grin sharpened just as he lunged at you. You yelped out in surprise as he hooked his arm around your waist and hauled you over his shoulder. "Kuna!" you cried out, slamming your palm into his back.
"That's no way to talk to royalty," he teased lightly. "You're the blacksmith's son," you rebutted, hanging limp over his shoulder as you knew an escape attempt would be futile. He laughed again, "details."
Kicking your legs around, you chided, "Kuna, put me down!" Your flailing amused him even more. "Nah," he chuckled, prickling your nerves. "Sukuna," you growled at him, and finally he dropped you unceremoniously onto the grass. As soon as your feet hit the grass, you launched yourself at him, and the two of you fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You rolled through the grass and dirt, arguing the whole time over the amount of points you lost by.
The swords lay forgotten somewhere in the grassy area, not that either of you had noticed or cared at the moment. Eventually, you both collapsed and looked up at the sky, chests heaving after all the fighting. The afternoon sun warmed your skin as you both started chuckling, then full out laughing into the open air. The sound echoed around the backyard you'd designated as your training field, and for a moment it felt like nothing could ever break the happiness you felt. Like nothing would ever change.
Years passed, and to your surprise, your brother got better— even if only a little. He could get out of bed, but not for long. He'd often sit by the window, watching the world turn like it was his favorite pastime. When you weren't sparring or going on your self-proclaimed adventures with Sukuna, you were by Valentin's side, reading books and playing silly card games that you always lost.
By the time you were thirteen, you'd developed a sort of implied schedule that you adhered to without ever speaking it aloud. You woke up and got ready for the day, had breakfast with your family, played a quick game with your twin, then headed out back for a sparring session with Sukuna. Each day passed that way without much straying from the schedule until the day Sukuna didn't show up.
He was over an hour and a half late for sparring, and you felt a vein tick in your temple as your irritation grew. Another thirty minutes passed before you'd decided you'd had enough and began storming your way down the path to Sukuna's home. It was oddly quiet along the way, no one milling about or tending to gardens as they usually were— that was the first red flag you catalogued in the back of your head.
The second was the silence that responded when you knocked heavily on the Ryomen family's door. No shuffling of feet, no sound of Sukuna and his brother fighting to get to the door first, nothing. You knocked a few more times before plopping onto the steps leading up to their home and letting your face rest in the palm of your hand.
"Oh dear," an older voice called out from next door. The elderly Mr. Gojo hobbled his way over to you, blue eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't recognize. "They won't be back, dear," he told you, voice tinged with sadness. You shot to your feet instantly, his words rattled you. "What? What do you mean?"
Hardly believing what the old man had told you, you'd still bolted straight to the square the very second he finished speaking. The Ryomens were traitors. You could've laughed in the face of the king if he'd truly thought they were traitors. A chorus of one word played over and over in your head as your feet pounded against the ground.
no no no no no no.
It wasn't possible— Sukuna was rough around the edges, maybe. He didn't exactly communicate well, and sure, he might've beat up other kids sometimes but it was always for a good reason. His parents were always kind and thoughtful, always packed you a lunch that they sent out with Sukuna when he came every day. His brother teased a lot, but he was always friendly.
The entire Ryomen family had always welcomed you with warmth and love, even though to most of the townsfolk, you were considered an anomaly— the young girl who liked to fight. The Ryomens were like your own family in that they didn’t care about the societal norms or maintaining a certain reputation, they only cared about you. So you know without a doubt that there was no way they could've ever been traitors, the thought was silly at best.
But unfortunately, Mr. Gojo had been right.
After pushing through the throngs of townsfolk surrounding the square, it felt like your heart had just stopped beating entirely inside your chest. The Ryomens were all chained up and kneeling in a line while guards lashed at them all with whips. "Stop!" you cried out, trying to rush to them.
Blood soaked through their clothes, pants and dress spilled onto the stone square beneath them as it dripped from their wounds. Strong hands gripped at your arms, holding you back. Yet still, you screamed and struggled as you watched the guards slice through your best friend's skin with a whip that you knew would leave ugly scars.
For just a brief second in between strikes, Sukuna looked up at you. Those sharp red eyes you'd always admired were slick with unshed tears, narrowed with the effort of not screaming out in agony. But still, he looked at you. "It's okay," he mouthed to you, and you wanted to believe him— but then another strike had him folding in on himself.
"Frangine, try again."
You huffed and began stacking the cards one by one again while your brother continued droning on with the history lesson. Your tutor was out for the week on personal business, so the two of you had been left to practice your studies on your own. You'd just placed the last card when Valentin suddenly stopped speaking. The cards tumbled to the table as you glanced up at him, noting the faraway look in his eyes as he stared out the window.
"Frangin? Everything okay?" He slowly looked back at you, letting a weak smile mold onto his face. "I'll never get to see these places we learn about," he replied, "I want to see the mountains." That same overwhelming feeling you'd dealt with all your life gripped at your heart again, sixteen years worth of guilt built up within you. "You'll see the mountains, frangin," you told him, but it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than you were him. Your brother just shook his head and looked back out the window.
"Someone's moving into the Ryomen house."
"do ya even know what you're doin?"
your movements paused, wooden sword stilling in your hand. One look at the beat up wooden training dummy that you and Sukuna had made together years ago was sign enough that you'd been at it for a long time. The tight ponytail you'd gathered your hair up into swished over your shoulder as you looked back at the intruder.
He was tall— far taller than you— and muscular in a way not many other guys your age in town were. Deep green eyes that sparkled with amusement at the annoyance clear on your face. "I'm not quite sure why you're in my backyard," you stabbed your sword into the dirt beneath you as you turned to face him fully.
"Well," he stepped closer, "my folks sent me over to bring some kinda sweets they made, and then your mom told me to come talk to you out here." You almost wanted to roll your eyes at your mother's meddling— she probably thought you'd finally make a new friend. Your mother was very wrong if she thought you were going to replace Sukuna with this random meathead.
"Okay well.. You've talked to me. You can be on your way now," you needled him as you plucked your sword from the ground. The guy didn't move or say anything, even as you resumed your assault on the dummy without paying him so much as a glance back. Instead, he leaned against the fence and watched you in silence for a while.
"If you're going to stay there gawking, you may as well join me," you gritted out begrudgingly, refusing to look back at him. His footsteps crunched the dirt and pebbles beneath his feet as he made his way over to the weapon rack, and you glanced at him only long enough to say, "not the sword with the red ribbon."
"Why not that one?" He asked as he picked up a different sword and started toward you. In an instant, you turned on him, sword pointing at his chest. "It belongs to someone else."
"The name's Toji, by the way," he grinned, raising his own sword in response. You nodded and immediately engaged him, the wooden blade slicing through the air. Toji barely had time to react before your swords clashed. "Straight for the throat, huh?" He laughed, stumbling back a step. "You looked ready," you retorted.
"I wasn't."
"Sounds like a personal problem." You pressed him again before he could recover, driving him backwards across the yard. The familiar rhythm settled somewhere deep inside you— high, low, left, right. Strike after strike, Toji matched you and blocked all your advances.
A furrow took root in your brows the longer you two went on. Most people in town would've already been flat on their backs by now yet somehow he was still standing, still keeping up with you even without going on the offense. Toji's grin only widened as your frustration grew. "You're not bad," he complimented, but it rubbed you entirely the wrong way. "Not bad?" you snapped, throwing a swing aimed at his shoulder that Toji easily dodged.
"A little reckless, though," he continued, catching your next swing. So you struck harder, pushing yourself to hit faster. The impact of the next swing rattled your arm, and for the first time, Toji stopped retreating.
"Oh." The realization hit you a second too late as his sword twisted, knocking yours off course. With alarming speed, Toji stepped into your space lightly tapped the tip of his wooden blade against your ribs— a killing blow. You stared at him, he stared right back with an insufferable grin that made your blood boil.
"Did ya know ya drop your left side whenever you get frustrated?" You swung at his head in response, drawing a bark of a laugh out of Toji as he jumped back before your sword could make contact. "You got lucky," you hissed. Toji hummed in amusement as a reply, only serving to piss you off even more.
The two of you continued, swords clashing back to back. Neither of you said anything, no bickering or talking. Just the sound of wood cracking against wood as you two tore across the yard in a blur. You found yourself actually having to try for the first time in years— for the first time since Sukuna. And much to your dismay, you were actually having fun... Until Toji knocked your sword aside once again, breath coming out a little more ragged now.
"Who taught you?" Toji queried. The question sent a sharp sting straight through you, and your grip subconsciously tightened around the worn handle of your sword. His name, "Sukuna," came out much quieter than you'd meant for it to. Toji's grin softened, turned into something more curious than smug. "He the guy that sword belongs to?"
Your eyes flickered over to the weapon rack, to the wooden sword with the red ribbon wrapped around the hilt. Toji's gaze followed yours and slowly, you nodded your confirmation. "Must've been pretty strong," he professed, and the words made your chest feel tight- heavy in a way you didn't like in the slightest. "He was."
When you turned eighteen, you'd all but forgotten about soulmates. After all, the boy you'd always expected and maybe even hoped to be yours was gone. Right on time, you filed outside to the backyard. It was no surprise to you when you found Toji leaning against the fence waiting for you to come outside.
"So you're eighteen now," he grunted. Some part of you thought that if Sukuna couldn't be your soulmate then surely it'd be Toji, right? But that would've been too easy, too convenient. You struggled to bite back the disappointment you felt when nothing happened.
There was no red string tying you to Toji. No sudden rush of emotion. Nothing to announce that he was your soulmate. "Yep, today's the day," you replied. A grin broke out on Toji's face and he proposed, "instead of sparrin, how about we go out to celebrate?"
When you found yourself in a crowded tavern, sipping on some god awful liquor, you almost regretted taking Toji up on his offer. "It's the middle of the day," you complained to him, taking note of the way his throat bobbed as he downed his own drink. That stupid little scar on his lip twitched as he fought back a smirk. "Yeah, and it's your birthday. You deserve a lil day drinking, don't ya think?"
Once your first drink was gone, you were actually having fun. Toji had challenged you to a game of darts, and not that it surprised you, but he won. "C'mooon, birthday girl, you can do better than that," he teased. A vein twitched in your temple. "You won by one point!" you called out, drawing a laugh from him. "Three points, actually, princess."
The world seemed to stop moving around you. It felt like all the air had been sucked straight out of your lungs. "You counted wrong!" you'd told Sukuna in the past. The memory of him laughing, lunging at you, throwing you over his shoulder, all of it sent your head reeling even more than the alcohol had. "Hey!" Toji's hand gripped your shoulder. "You good?" he asked, a look of concern on his face that you'd never seen before. "You counted wrong," you mumbled quietly.
Toji wasn't always the most emotionally intelligent, nor was he always the most empathetic, but he knew something was wrong. Knew you well enough by then to know that maybe you needed a break from all the excitement. So he wordlessly grabbed your hand and led you outside. The light breeze and the low hanging sun felt nice, but somehow it wasn't quite enough to break you out of the haze that the sense of deja vu you'd experienced had put you in.
"I know this isn't normally your thing," Toji admitted with a little shrug. "I just wanted you to have fun on your day, yanno, get out and let loose." You smiled at him, and though it was a bit weak, it was a real smile. You told him, "I appreciate the gesture." And you did appreciate it, even if it wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, you did still enjoy yourself. Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and held something out to you. A small, pink-dyed leather bracelet with your name etched into it. "I know I'm not him, but.." Toji trailed off, eyes lingering on your face.
"I, uh... I like—" he cut himself off and tried again, "I think you're a really strong woman. An' I know you've got a lot goin on in your head, but just, uh. Don't get too lost in there, yanno? there are still people here with you now."
Knock, knock, knock.
Heavy hands pounded against the door, tearing your family away from your breakfast. "I'll get that." Your mother stood and straightened out her dress before heading to the door. When she returned, a grim look had settled on her face, and a piece of paper was crumpled in her grip. "Mama?" you called out, worry coloring your voice. Your eyes met and she simply nodded her head toward the den. "Let's talk, ma petite."
Once the two of you were alone, your mother held out the paper to you wordlessly. A draft notice for Valentin. Valentin, who struggled to walk on his own, whose skin bruised and bled at the slightest of touches, who couldn't even handle a wooden sword much less a real one. "No," you said firmly, eyes flicking back up to your mom. "He can't go, he'll die."
"I know," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "But we'll all die, or at the very least be severely punished, if he doesn't go." Anger lanced through you at the unfairness of it. "He's only nineteen, he can't— he can't die when he's barely gotten to live." Your mom covered her mouth to muffle the sobs that threatened to echo out into the empty den. "The guard will be here to pick him up come dawn. I have to.. Go talk to him now," she croaked out.
Your hand shot out to stop her immediately. "Don't," you said. "I'll go."
And so, that night you cut your long locks off until they matched your brothers. The first cut was the hardest to make, to deal with. You stared at the severed locks and thought back to all the times your mother had fussed over your hair as she braided it. To how Sukuna would tug your ponytail when he wanted your attention. To how Valentin had always said your hair looked like sunlight.
The second cut was easier. Then the third, and the fourth, until there was nothing left to distinguish you from Valentin at a glance, save for your feminine figure. A problem you quickly remedied to the best of your abilities by wrapping your chest with the bandages you'd kept around for injuries. After that, you packed a satchel with the few things you couldn't bear to part with: a book Valentin had given you, spare salves and bandages, the bracelet Toji had made for you, and a handful of other keepsakes that suddenly felt far more important than they had yesterday.
The house was silent when you slipped into the backyard. Moonlight spilled across your self-proclaimed training field, across the dummy, the weapon rack. Your gaze rested on the wooden sword with the faded red string wrapped around the hilt, and for a moment, you just stood there. Then, carefully, you untied it from the sword and wrapped it around your wrist.
The battlefield was loud around you. Ear-splitting screams, the sound of flesh and bone giving way to sharp blades. Steel clashing against steel. Sounds that served to pound against your skull the same way your brain was. No matter how long you'd been doing this, you'd still yet to learn how to drown it all out. Your head throbbed, your side ached from the impact of being slammed into. Sweat dripped down your forehead underneath the helmet.
A soldier lunged at you, and you stepped aside, driving your sword through the gap beneath his arm. Another immediately took his place, charging at you with everything he had. Your muscles burned, and blood painted your armor in ugly streaks— some yours, but most not. Unlike the sounds you couldn't digest, you barely noticed the blood anymore. Years at war had a way of stripping every softness one might've possessed.
A shout rang out somewhere to your left, and the line broke. Panic rippled through your ranks and you shouted out, "what happened?" No one answered as they watched the enemy soldiers retreat— no, not retreat. They were moving, making way for something, or someone. Your stomach dropped as fear crept up your throat, threatening to strangle you. Someone important had arrived, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake as he stalked forward through the battlefield.
Some of your comrades tried to attack, but each one was slain without the man even faltering in his path. Other comrades froze in place, some turned tail and fled. You simply stared, not just at the helmeted villain, but at the terrifying red string connecting your wrist to his. He marched toward you with terrifying calm, blade dragging through rhe mud and gore. Your soulmate. You didn't even know him, you'd never seen him before— and yet, your heart squeezed inside your chest so violently it nearly stole the breath from your lungs.
The string stretched taut between the two of you, bright crimson against the dreary backdrop of the battlefield. For years, you'd imagined this moment as a way to steel yourself through the war. You'd laid in military camps during long nights and wondered if your soulmate would be kind, if he'd like books, if he’d laugh loudly or quietly. You’d wondered if he’d be anything like Sukuna, or even Toji. If he’d be able to match you in swordsmanship, or if he’d mellow you out. You thought you’d find him waiting for you somewhere beyond the war.
The man slowed as he approached, as if he finally also noticed the string that only the two of you could see. His helmet turned ever so slightly toward his wrist, then to yours. The battlefield seemed to disappear, for once drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbeat. For a single, impossible moment, both of you stood still. Until a soldier charged him from behind.
Your warning died in your throat as you watched the man’s blade flash. He didn’t even turn around and yet the soldier’s head hit the ground before his body did. A horrified chill raced down your spine and all you could do was stare dumbly at him. At the way he stood, how he walked. Something about it felt familiar— not his face, you couldn’t even see his face. But something about the way he moved, the way he held his sword. A strange unease settled into the hollow spaces in your chest.
He took another step forward, you took one back. Twirled your sword in your hand a few times to get a better grip on it the way you’d learned to so many years ago, and the stranger watched as you did it. An enemy soldier launched himself at you suddenly, aiming for your exposed side. Instinct took over and you parried, pushed him back to create some space and shoved your blade into his weak spot. As you yanked your sword free of his flesh, the stranger— your soulmate— was right on you. Far too close.
You threw your sword up just in time to meet his. Steel crashed against steel and the impact rattled your teeth. He was quick, moving before you really had any time to react. The two of you danced around the battlefield, swords smashing into one another until you felt it— the sharp blade piercing your skin, sliding into you flesh. For a brief second, your eyes met through the narrow openings in your helmets, and the world stopped. Red eyes the color of the ribbon you’d once wrapped around Sukuna’s sword. Then, a flash of a sunny day, of laughter echoing across the training field, a voice calling you birdie. You staggered backwards as the stranger froze in place, as if he saw it too.
“Who are you?” You whispered, and the words were swallowed by the chaos around you. Still, he heard you and his grip tightened around the sword still plunged into your side. For one terrible second, neither of you moved. He pulled the sword out, watching as blood gushed from the wound, and slowly pulled his helmet off. Pink hair damp with sweat, scars— some familiar, some not— and those eyes. Older, harder, but familiar.
Your lungs forgot how to work, the pain in your side felt like nothing. Eleven years you’d spent wondering, never knowing what had happened to him, if he was okay or even alive. Missing him, hating him, loving him. And yet, there he was staring at you like he’d seen a ghost, sword slick with your blood. “Birdie?” His voice was the same, just deeper. Richer. Rougher, maybe.
Blood dribbled out of your mouth, still concealed by your helmet. You watched as the realization of it all settled on his face. You hated the way you couldn’t keep your eyes open and on him any longer. “Kuna,” you whimpered.
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