“never cut this,” she murmured, her lips coming up to place a wet kiss on your clit, then another on your vulva, one hand coming down to cup your bush.

sitting up on your elbows, you watched as her tongue darted out, giving little kitten licks to the hood of your clit before broad strokes dragged upward to where the hair lay. those milky eyes stared somewhere in your direction, and a moan erupted out of you as your hand tangled itself in her dark hair.

“i would be so pissed if you did.”

you watched with your mouth agape as she devoured you whole.

she was so messy with it, occasionally spitting a fat glob of saliva onto your cunt just to lick it right back up. her chin and cheeks were coated in your essence and spit, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, and she looked just as wrecked as you felt. her tongue would find your clit, sucking it between her lips before spitting on it again, fingers playing with your soaked folds, and all you could do was mewl out how good it felt, how good she felt.

“why are you so good at this?” you asked breathlessly, mostly to yourself, but of course toph picked up on it.

she smiled into your pussy, laughing softly at how cute you were, so soft, so wet, so open as you shamelessly humped against her face. her nose nudged your clit as if she could burrow herself deeper. your nails raked against her scalp, and her eyelids fluttered shut, groaning deep into your core. the vibration made your grip tighten in her hair as you encouraged her, guiding her deeper, feeling her tongue fuck into you in messy strokes while you spilled into her mouth and she happily slurped it up.

you couldn’t help but fall back onto the futon, the floorboards creaking as you wriggled away from her ministrations. her grip tightened around your thighs, muscles rippling as she fought against the way you thrashed, and she clearly had no intention of letting go.

she felt the way you twitched against her tongue, your hips stuttering as your orgasm slowly crept closer. toph knew it all too well, her movements slowing down into broad licks from your hole to your clit, easing that growing climax that was begging to break free.

but not yet.

“stop holding your breath,” she rasped, white pupils meeting yours.

you let out a moan, half whine, realizing you hadn’t even noticed you were doing it.

she was so in tune with your body it almost creeped you out. the way she knew your breathing patterns when you were falling asleep, the sound of your footsteps when you were in a good mood or a bad one, the exact moment you were about to spill all over her mouth.

“oh, fuck,” you choked out as her rough fingers prodded at your hole, one finger slipping in with ease before pulling out and returning with a second.

her thick fingers fucked up into you, searching for that spot she always found with ease. broken strings of “uhuhuh” left your lips as her fingers curled and massaged your walls, her tongue flicking rhythmically over your clit, and all you could do was pray to whatever god existed not to take you out right there.

“give it to me, baby, i need it so bad,” she mumbled against your clit, her tongue lapping at it lovingly as she sped up her pace.

toph was all biceps and shoulders, muscles bulging as her fingers fucked you right where you needed her. the sudden pitch of your moans into near screams had her grinning, relishing in the way you melted in her arms, fingers scissoring your pussy, soaking her tongue as you coated her mouth with your orgasm.

small whimpers escaped as her fingers sank deep, spreading you open while her lips kissed and sucked at your throbbing clit, your release gushing onto her fingers and mouth and soaking the sheets beneath you.

her head bobbed with every sound you made, matching your moans like she was feeding off them.

her own hips ground down against the mattress, soaked, but that didn’t even cross her mind as you used her face to get off. your hand gripped in her hair, guiding her where you needed her, and she loved when you got handsy like that. she loved the trembling in your hands, the way your hips twitched up against her mouth while she kept sucking you through it.

a final gasp escaped before you tried to push her head away, but her hands locked tighter around your thighs. her tongue dragged up to your mound, lapping at hair, sweat, and skin.

you didn’t know why she loved the patch of hair between your legs so much, but she did, and you weren’t going to stop her.

“you smell so good,” toph murmured, pressing one final kiss to your pubic bone before nosing her way up your stomach, leaving soft kisses and little nibbles across your heated skin.

her hands smoothed slowly up your arms while your body still twitched from the intensity. her mouth moved to your chest, kissing your tits for good measure before she finally nuzzled up your neck and found your lips.

your hands slid up her back, wrapping around her neck.

“you taste so good too.”

you slapped the back of her head, and she hissed.

her eyes squinted as she fought back a laugh, her lips finding yours in a grin-filled kiss while you hid your face beneath her in embarrassment.

“don’t be so mean now, you were doing so good,” she teased, pecking at the corner of your mouth.

He makes his way to the bedroom, stumbling and trying not to trip over his own feet. Exhaustion hangs heavy under his eyes, weighing down his limbs. You’re probably asleep seeing as it’s the middle of the night, but a part of him hopes you’re awake. Even if you yell at him, or hit him.

Pushing your bedroom door open, he sees your form under the sheets, facing away from him. Your breaths are slow, rhythmic.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t have the battery power to even undress himself, slipping into the sheets beside you. He smells like curse, and he has a feeling you’ll cuss him out in the morning for sleeping without getting cleaned up.

His head hits the pillow, milky hair creating a halo of white around his head. The need for sleep hits him quickly, before you stir.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Satoru.”

Despite how soft and careful your words are, they hit Gojo like a truck. Air is stripped from his lungs as he stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, despair leaving him to spiral. “Okay. Okay,” he turns over to stare at your back, even though it feels like his ribs are being split. “Uhm, I’m sorry, baby. I know how much this date meant to you and—.”

You push air from your nostrils and Gojo stops talking, his gut churning violently. He can taste bile on the back of his tongue. You then turn to face him, and it’s alarming how composed you look. This decision has probably been weighing on you for quite some time, seeing as this wasn’t the first date where he’d had to stand you up. Letting you down, time and time again.

“Just— stop. I was well aware of your role in the Jujutsu world when we started dating, even if you introduced me to it all. I still am now. I just thought… I’d be able to handle it. I guess I was wrong.”

You aren’t even looking at him, slowly appraising the charred holes in his black compression shirt revealing slips of skin. At some point, Gojo couldn’t hold up Infinity and exorcise the curse simultaneously. So, he lowered it, taking a great number of hits trying to kill the fucker. He’s never looked this disheveled before—his hair a mess and perspiration clinging to his skin. It makes your throat close up.

There’s an awkward moment where you pick at your nails and Gojo can’t peel his eyes from you.

Fuck, he hates this. Hates that he has to contest with both his personal and work life. Again. And again.

If only the fate of the world didn’t hang between his fingers.

You’d never make him choose, either. Abandoning his position to make time to grow the life you both want. Which is why you took the choice from him.

Desperation starts to claw at the edges of his mind, his pulse roaring in his ears. He’s not thinking clearly, lips curling downwards. “Baby, please. I-I know I fucked up, but I’ll make it up to you. I love you. Please, just. Don’t leave me?” his voice, barely a whisper now, wavers with each syllable.

Finally, you look up. You’re both crying. Tears run down his pale cheeks, his eyes a deep crimson red. You’re sniffling, your heart wound too tight.

This hurts. It’s hurt for a while now, and you’re certain it won’t stop hurting. You can’t keeping living like this.

“I don’t think I’ll stop loving you, ‘Toru,” you hiccup. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands. Your palms are warm against his icy skin. Then, you press tender kisses against his cheeks to erase the tears. “And that’s why I have to leave. I have to. You’re hurting me,” you mumble, chewing against the inside of your cheek.

A sob punches itself from his chest. You’ve never seen him cry before—your pretty boy that teases you incessantly, tugging at your hair and kissing you until you’re flustered. Spoils you like he’s got an endless chest of funds, which he probably does. Finds immense comfort in coming home to you. He’s been adverse to vulnerability since the day you met him, and you can sympathize why. When it gets dark for him, it’s really dark.

His arms, bulky and heavy, ensnare around your waist as he buries his face into your chest. He doesn’t stop crying for a while, your name on the tip of his tongue, the fabric of your chemise damp.

“Stay with me tonight,” he mutters after a while, fingers curling against you. “Please.”

You nod quickly, wiping your tear-streaked cheeks with the back of your hand. “Okay.”

You already feel selfish enough, staring at your packed bags tucked in the dark corner, ready to head out in the morning.

If he needs you for one last night, you’ll give him that. Even if it’s the last thing you’ll give him.