#Jjk fanfiction

[itsafairytalekay]

𝙈𝙔 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇!

Desc: They make sure you understand that you're the only girl for them!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji.

Warnings: insecurity, fluff, profanity.

Comments are appreciated! ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

[reisore]

IM IN TEARS THIS IS ABSOLUTE CINEMA

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

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@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

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[taglist is closed]

[logoleptic-since-06]

Everything Has Changed

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, Choso and Reader are 19-20, Angst, Profanity, Smut, Degradation/Humiliation, Handjob, Fingering, Oral (F!Receiveing), First Time, Dacryphilia (If You Squint), Not Proofread

<- Prev Part 5 Next ->

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

As Choso helps you put your shelf back up, he can’t help but notice how quiet you have gotten around him– something you never were. He misses your cheeky grin, your hearty laugh, your random rambles. His heart twists at the sight of your cold eyes that hold nothing but void as you look at him.

Breaking the silence, you speak, “Why did you do that?”

He knows what you mean, yet he asks, “Did what?”

“Not believe me when I told you Asami wasn’t a nice person?”

“I was dumb,” he confesses. “That was the first time I had been getting so much attention– or rather any attention at all.” You walk closer to him as he speaks, your eyes growing icier with every word he says and every step you take.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally as you stand merely inches away from him.

Your voice hums low as you speak. “You’re so fucking pathetic.” Your sultry voice seeps into his blood as he feels it flow down between his legs.

Talk about bad timing.

“I know,” is all he can manage with his shaky voice.

“What’s wrong, hm? You’re all flustered.”

“N-nothing,” he says, toppling over the bed, that is soon followed by you plopping yourself beside him. Much to his dismay, your glance lands between his legs and is greeted by the huge bulge in his pants. At the sight, you can’t help but let out a demeaning laugh.

“Look at that,” you say in between your chuckles as you move your face closer to his. “Is it turning you on, sweetie? Being called pathetic?”

He gazes into your eyes, inhaling deeply.

That’s all you needed to know.

You slide your hand along his inner thigh. Reaching between his legs, you ask, “You like this?”

He nods frantically, wordless. You rub his shaft through his pants, making his breath hitch. “Y/N…”

“Hmm? You want to get rid of these?” you coo as you hook a finger into his waistband. He lifts his hips up and you pull his trousers down, revealing his boxers soaked in precum. “Look at that… what got you so worked up?”

“Please…” he croaks out. Without missing a beat, you pull his boxers down as his hard cock springs out, red with sensitivity. You take it in your hand, the first time you’ve done it– not that he has to be aware of it. It is bigger than you expected. Your touch makes him quiver, almost as though–

“Is this the first time someone touched you?” you ask with genuine curiosity, your hand rubbing along his shaft. He is too breathless to answer, he babbles incoherent sounds instead.

You let out another laugh, stripping him away of any little dignity he had left. “Who sounds fucked out now, huh?” You fist his cock faster, making him arch his back. “Did she really never touch you? Aww you poor thing.”

He lets out a throaty grunt. “Ngh, faster…”

Obliging his words, you tell him, “You really have no shame at all, huh? Getting fucked by the hands of someone degrading you like that?”

He cries out, whether it is in pain or pleasure or both, you can’t tell. With that last cry, he cums all over your palm.

He lays on your bed, panting from the high, soaking in the humiliation, and ignoring your gaze on him. He is glad you are quiet for now, though he will be lying if he says your words didn’t turn him on to the greatest. Once the high dies down, he gets up and puts his pants back on.

You only break the silence after he’s done. “Was that really your first time?”

He decides to not answer. Instead, he says, “I should get going.”

“Right.”

As he steps out of your dorm, he can’t help the thoughts that race in his head. This was clearly a mistake, a moment of weakness. It was indeed the first time someone has touched him so intimately, as Asami had refused to do so, and he still doesn’t know why. Never has he felt so degraded yet satisfied. He wonders if it was your first time being in this position with someone, which makes him realise that–

He is the only one that finished.

Choso may not have been experienced in these, but if there’s one thing he knows, it’s to never leave a woman unsatisfied, and especially not when he had the best orgasm of his life.

He goes back into your dorm.

When you look at him, your eyes widen in surprise. “Choso, what are you–”

He interrupts you by crashing his lips against yours, and you reciprocate with full force. It is your time to stumble onto your bed now, and his to hover over you. He trails his kisses down to your jaw, neck, and then your chest.

“Choso…” you pant.

“Hmm?” is all he says as he brings his kisses down to your hips. Curling his fingers around your waistband, he looks up at you. “May I?”

“Yes.”

He pulls down your sweatpants, revealing your uncovered pussy. You never bother wearing underwear indoors anyways. His breath hitches at the sight. Spreading your legs further apart, he touches your glistening opening. You sigh in response. His fingers work on the outer folds before he spreads your lips, revealing your now engorged clit.

Choso brings his mouth closer and begins to suck on your clit, making you moan out loud. He laps at your cunt as though it is the one meal he has been waiting to try for ages, and perhaps he has.

You arch your back when you feel two fingers enter your pussy, hitting your g-spot while his tongue focuses on your clit. It is the most pleasure you have felt in your life. Your eyes roll back and you feel as though you are going to explode when your orgasm comes crashing in and you cum all over his face. 

He slows down with his tongue but keeps his fingers inside as you ride out your orgasm. You find yourself panting from the high when you realise this was probably the stupidest thing you could’ve done.

You sit up straight, adjusting your clothes. When you look at him, you look for any sign of smugness, but you fail to find any. Despite that, you simply say, “You can leave now.”

“Y/N–”

“It’s okay, we both know what we did is wrong. It’s better if we never speak of it again.”

There is a pause before he says, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

[osohchoso]

Blood and Chains

Chapter Nine- Healing Hands, Hungry Hearts

beautiful art by @aransmind !!!

Choso x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Chapter 10 coming soon!

Content: fluff and smut, comfort, girls' night, bath time, multiple POV, drinking, oral (f! receiving) MDNI!!

The first week of healing you spent trapped inside the walls of Choso’s apartment. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight the entire time, unable to stop thinking about your frail mortality. It was as if he thought you might keel over and die the second you were out of view. The only ounce of privacy you received was when you needed a bathroom break, which he would wait impatiently right outside the door until you were finished. 

You understood what Yuji meant about Choso being a helicopter parent now. 

Though it wasn’t always suffocating in his home. Over the past week you started forming a bond with Yuji. The two of you teaming up to torment Choso, poking fun at his age of 150 by calling him ‘old man’. He hates it, you know he does, but the love for his two favorite people becoming friends grounds him. 

Living with Choso came with its perks too. Three meals a day prepared by your new favorite chef. Options ranging from french toast to sushi. Whatever your heart desired he would make that day. He made sure you were comfortable during your recovery, fetching you anything you needed and providing as many cuddles as you could handle. Then at night, Yuji would join the two of you in a round of games or watching a movie. It felt like being part of a family with them, you felt like this was where you belonged.

After a week, Choso finally allowed you to return home. You appeared to be fully healed, the wounded flesh quickly evolving into a scar that looked like it had existed for years. It was inhuman how quickly it had healed, thanks to the help of Dr. Ieiri’s cursed technique as Choso had explained. Still, there were lingering pricks of pain that would radiate from the wound and shoot through your entire body. Sometimes brought on by a sudden movement and sometimes for no reason at all. 

It was more of an inconvenience than anything, the pain always seeming to announce its presence when either you or Choso tried to make a move on the other. Both of you were desperate to finish what was started that night, but each sting of discomfort caused him to blame himself. It was getting to the point where he was afraid to even touch you, acting as if some invisible wall separated you from him.

It was worse than torture. At this point, you were willing to risk the pain if it would also lead you to satisfy the aching need for him.

You were finally home and attempting to fall back into your usual schedule. As much as Choso loved taking care of you, you needed to regain some semblance of independence. However, with classes out until autumn and the time off from work you were given, there wasn’t much to do other than housework. Something Choso wouldn’t let you do when you stayed at his apartment. He wouldn’t even let you lift a finger, taking care of all the dishes and laundry while you sat on his couch and watched, it honestly made you feel useless. 

You just finished dusting every corner of your home, the place looked spotless. Tonight, you planned to gather with your friends, Emi and Suki. You had told them you were in the hospital due to a stabbing on the street, a truth and a lie all at the same time. They freaked out, of course, if only they knew about the creature that caused said ‘stabbing’. 

You assured them you were ok, that it was a minor injury. Another lie. Yet they still wanted to come see you, and you agreed. It has been a while since you have made time to see them. Tonight would be a girls night just like how you used to do it. 

There were still a couple hours until the time they agreed to come over, you started mentally calculating when to throw the snacks in the oven. The front door swings wide open, startling you. They never arrive early, if anything they are always late. 

But it wasn't them.

In walks Choso, looking beyond exhausted. Ever since you went back to your own place, he has been coming to check on you every night. More for his own sanity if anything. He even started sharing small details about his day with you, what curses he encountered and bragging about how quick he was to dispatch them. Nothing was a secret anymore, opening a whole world of trust between both of you. 

But you have never seen him quite like this. He walked further into the room, eyelids droopy and focused on the floor ahead of him. Hair fallen out from his pigtails and plastered to his sweaty face. You take a step forward, worried he might collapse from fatigue any second now.

He wasn't supposed to be here tonight. You told him that your friends were coming over so he didn’t need to come by. He agreed even, thought it would be good for you to see them after so long.

“Cho? What are you doing here?” He lifts his head when you ask, eyes dull. He looks almost lifeless. Whatever he had just been through clearly left him drained. His lips turn down in a small frown. 

“Sorry, I forgot.” He turns his head slightly and you notice smears of crimson clinging to his cheek and trickling down his neck. The uniform on his body caked in dirt and more blood. 

“Are you hurt!” You rush forward until you stand directly in front of him. All he can manage is a shake of the head no. You reach for his chin, tilting his face in every angle to examine him. “What about all this blood?”

“It’s not mine,” he closes his eyes, dark purple circles a testament to his lack of energy. “I can heal myself, remember? It's going to take a lot more than that to take me down.” He lets out a low chuckle. 

“I had a long day, there were a lot of them. I’m just tired.” He explains with a drawn-out sigh. Choso mentioned that creatures like the one who attacked you, transfigured humans, were popping up in droves around the city. Each day there were more than the last. Keeping him and all the other sorcerers busy, day and night.

You couldn’t possibly send him away in his current state, not when he looks about to pass out. Plus, there is still time to kill before your friends arrive, maybe you should repay your boyfriend’s care with some of your own.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” You grab his hand and lead him toward the bathroom. Once inside, you walk over toward the bathtub and turn on the faucet. A hand under the stream until it reaches the perfect temperature, hot but not scalding. You allow the water to fill up until the tub is full.

“Clothes off.” You hold your hands out, waiting for him to shed his soiled uniform. 

“Okay bossy,” he chuckles as he removes each item and places it within your outstretched arms. This is the first time you have seen him fully naked, and you waste no time inspecting every muscle with an appreciative gaze. Every line on his chiseled stomach, every scar that marks his skin. Following the trail of dark hairs until it leads you to the thick length between his thighs. 

You knew he was big, you had seen the outline of it through his clothes many times. But you never would have believed he was that big. Now you understand why he has been so adamant on waiting until you were fully recovered, that thing would destroy you. Yet the thought only makes you want him more.

You have to force yourself to tear your eyes away from your shameless staring. Though it seems he hadn’t noticed, his eyes half shut as he walks over to the bath and lowers himself to the water. He immediately grabs a washcloth and begins wiping the blood from his face.

“Be right back,” you tell him before exiting the bathroom and walking to the closet that hid your washing machine. You try to focus all your energy on scrubbing out the stains in his clothing, needing something to get your mind off the heat pooling in your core. He was clearly drained of all his stamina, now wasn’t the time for these thoughts. 

You pad into the bathroom once again, steam filling the air and casting a fog over the mirror. You set his fresh change of clothes on the bathroom vanity, something comfortable to help hide away the stress of his day. Choso is leaning back, head lolled to the side and eyes closed. He looked so peaceful while he was relaxing…or maybe he's just asleep? 

You were about to exit, giving him his privacy while you continued getting ready for your friends to arrive, but his voice stopped you. You were surprised he even knew you were there.

“Mmm…come to join?” He hums in question.

“Do you want me to join?” 

“Mhm.” He slowly nods his head, hair wet and smelling of your expensive conditioner you keep begging him not to use. 

“Sure, but only because I don’t want you to fall asleep and drown,” you tease as you strip from your own clothes, he’s so out of it he doesn't even sneak a glance at your naked body. You lower yourself into the tub between his opened legs, leaning your back against his hard chest. The water ripples as his arms move to wrap around your waist, holding you against him in a strong hug. He rests his chin on your shoulder, wet strands of his hair sticking to your own skin. 

“I don’t need a lifeguard,” his throat rumbles in low laughter “But having you close always makes me feel better.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

He held you tight the whole time. Soft snores brushing past your ear as the weight of his head continued to rest against yours. He was completely oblivious to the fact that the once soothing bath water was now cold as an iceberg. You hated to disturb his much-needed rest, but you were not so immune to the temperature change. The chill seeping into your bones. 

“I’m going to go lay down, have fun with your friends.” He kisses the top of your head, walking away toward your bedroom now wearing the sweatpants and white cotton shirt you fetched for him. 

“Goodnight,” you call after him. You can guarantee he was out again the second he hit the pillow. The poor guy has been overworking himself lately, not once stopping to recharge. Yuji explained that he has always acted this way, that sometimes Choso forgets to take care of his human body and acts invincible. Taking every mission thrown his way until he inevitably hits his limit.

It has been worse lately. With the influx of transfigured humans after your own encounter, he has been working nonstop. He never understands when to quit, when it’s time to stop and recuperate. It’s beginning to take a toll on his body, and it worries you. All it takes is one simple mistake, one minor miscalculation, to bring his downfall. He may act bulletproof, but in reality, he’s not.

“Hey! We are here!” Your friends call in unison from the other side of the door. 

You rush forward and yank the door open, the two girls immediately pull you into a group hug.

“I missed you both so much! It’s been too long!” You hug them back even tighter, then drag them inside your space. “Come on, we need to catch up.” 

The first two hours breeze by. Catching up on all the failed dates Emi has been out on and how the wine shop Suki opened has been successful. You fill them in on your recent art projects and celebrate the grades you received on your finals. Briefly mentioning the ‘stabbing’, fabricating a fake story about the whole encounter that they luckily bought.

You leave the details out about Choso too. Even though you two are starting to nurture a more open and trusting relationship, you haven’t had a chance to ask if he would care if you shared the details with them yet. With you now knowing the true nature of his world, you didn’t want to bring unnecessary danger to your friends. If meeting Choso would risk putting them in harm’s way, you would happily hide him away for as long as needed. 

“Another glass?” Suki picks up the half finished riesling bottle. You stare down at your cup, taking the last sip of the sweet liquid and pushing it forward.

“Sure, why not,” you let out a loud laugh. “But just one more.” She pours the three of you a second serving, finishing off the second bottle of the night. You say that now, but you know they will talk you into opening at least one more before the night ends. 

“We should play a game next!” Emi suggests.

“That's a great idea, Em. I bought a new one I have been dying to play.” You ordered a game online a while back with girls' night in mind, it was a drinking game where the focus was on how well you knew your friends or partner. If you guess wrong, you drink. You take another sip before standing from your seat at the dining room table. 

Their eyes widen, looking past you toward the direction of your room. Slowly turning around, you see what has caught their attention. Choso stumbles down the hall, his now dried hair sticking in every direction. One of his hands pinches the inner corner of his eyes in an attempt to draw the sleep away.

“Can you guys keep it down?” He yawns when he stands in front of the group. Your friends appear just as shocked as you are right now. What possessed him to come out? 

It was a standoff. No one dared to make a move. Their eyes flickering between you and Choso while he stands there unperturbed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Choso blinks a few times, adjusting to the bright overhead lights in your kitchen. His eyes finally meet yours, an unreadable expression in his amber gaze that doesn’t reach the features on his face. Panic maybe?

“Um…who the hell is this man in your house?” Suki shouts at you, pointing a finger in the direction of Choso as he stretches his arms above his head. She always has been the overprotective friend, never believing anyone was good enough for you. You can only imagine the interrogation she is about to give both of you.

It’s time for you to come clean.

“Um…guys…I want you to meet Choso,” you swallow hard, seeing the confusion lining their faces. “He’s my boyfriend. Choso, meet my best friends, Suki and Emi.”

“Boyfriend!?” They shout in unison, tone dripping in disbelief. “How long has this been a thing?” Emi squeals as she waves a hand between the two of you.

“A little over a month now,” Choso is the first to respond, speaking matter-of-factly. They stare at him as if he was an alien speaking in some unknown tongue, trying to decode his words like a secret message. 

“He’s telling the truth,” you confirm.

“And you didn’t tell us!?” Emi’s shrill wail assaults your ears, a pout on her face. You have always been honest with them, and you just dropped a big bomb. Of course they would feel a bit hurt at your secrecy. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She probes further.

“I wanted to wait until I knew we were serious before introducing you to him,” you lie again. Choso turns and scowls at you like he too believes your deceit, a look that says ‘were we not always serious?’ You blink twice, trying to send him a message to play along.

“And how did you meet?” Suki presses for more information. 

Oh shit. You can't come out and say that you were being chased by a cursed spirit the day you first met him, at the time you didn't even know that bit of information. You were completely unprepared for this whole conversation. If you had thought ahead of time then you would have had a believable story all planned out, but Choso decided to make things hard for you tonight. Your brain working overtime trying to work quickly to fabricate another lie.

“He’s a security guard,” you say the first thing that comes to your head. “He helped me escape the attack in Shibuya when I was supposed to meet you two for dinner. We have kinda been seeing each other ever since.” You turn and give Choso a soft smile, it wasn’t a complete lie at least, just some of the details changed to something their minds will understand. Suki says your name, turning your attention back to her.

“Why don’t we get that game, then we can test how much Choso here actually knows his girlfriend.”

“Great idea!” you agree, giving Choso a kiss on the cheek before walking off to your bedroom.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Choso's POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

Choso watches as you disappear into your room, leaving him alone with the two girls who he can't even remember the names of. He stares at the doorway you vanished into, shifting back and forth on his feet awkwardly, praying for your speedy return.

He hadn’t exactly meant to present himself to your friends like this, it was a complete accident. Your joyous laughter ripped him away from the most peaceful dream he has had in days. His mind still foggy as he rose from the bed, unable to comprehend where he was and what could possibly be making you laugh so hard. He assumed Yuji told you another one of his stupid jokes that only you and him understand. 

But when the world came back into focus, after he revealed his presence, he realized where he actually was. Two unfamiliar girls staring at him like he's a ghost sitting at your kitchen table. Your table in your apartment, not his own where he thought he was napping. 

He can’t believe his mistake, mentally scolding himself for the situation he just put you both in, with no way for him to escape. Now, he is basically forcing this sudden information onto your two friends. He was thankful for your quick thinking, smoothing the situation over effortlessly. But that was short lived as you were sent scurrying off to retrieve some game. Leaving him in a den full of lionesses.

“Sit,” one of them commands, waving an arm toward a chair in front of her. Choso says nothing, moving forward and quickly taking a seat. She narrows her eyes at him, studying him up and down.

“We don’t have much time until she gets back,” the girl with narrowed eyes speaks in a low tone, Suki he believes was her name. “We need to make sure you are worthy of our favorite girl.” The other friend nods in agreement. Choso can already feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow. 

“What are your intentions with her?” Her question surprises him. “Why should we let you continue dating her?” 

“Let me? I don't really think that’s your decision, it’s hers.” He responds a bit defensive.

“Sure, but that’s our best friend. She doesn't need to end up hurt by another guy again, I just want to make sure you are what’s best for her.” Choso sits there in silence as he tries to put his emotions into coherent words.

“I care about her, more than I have ever cared about anyone before. She is special to me. I’ve never met anyone like her and I only want what's best. To keep her safe and shower her in affection.” He pauses for a moment. “When I am with her, I feel like I'm home. She makes me feel wanted. She makes me glad to be alive. I lo–” he cuts himself off, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he was about to say. 

The look on your friend’s face softens when she hears him slip up, already able to fill in the blanks to finish that sentence.

It’s not that it isn’t true, but he hasn’t spoken those words out loud yet. It just came tumbling out before he could stop himself.

“Good. Then make sure she knows. Make her feel loved everyday of her life, never let her second guess it.” Distant footsteps can be heard as you make your way back toward the group, game in hand. “And if you ever hurt her, I will hunt you down and double the pain back onto you.” Suki hisses quietly, and she means it. 

“Yes ma'am,” he whispers, swallowing hard. She happens to strike more fear in his heart than most curses do.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Your POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

Choso crashing girls' night ended up more fun than you would have expected, you didn’t think he would click with your friends so well. The normally reserved man transformed to match their energy. Indulging in all the drama of their lives and listening to them tell story after story while enjoying a glass of wine.

The two of you won that game of course. Both of your competitive spirits come out to play with the mission of destroying Suki and Emi. They never stood a chance. When the whole premise of the game was ‘how well do you know your partner’, of course you and Choso would be the obvious winners. He knows everything there is to know about you, and vice versa.

But the whole time, you couldn’t help but notice the way he was looking at you. It was almost like his eyes were sparkling each time he viewed your face. A sweet expression with his skin flushed, making your heart skip a beat. You wonder if something was on his mind, or if the alcohol was getting to his head.  

After the game was finished, you and Choso the undefeated champions, the night started to wind down into something more relaxing. He was such a good sport too. Letting you and your friends paint his nails black and apply facemasks to his skin, his bangs pinned back with purple barrettes. Giving him the full experience of what a night with your friends is like.

He even let you sneak a quick picture, his hair still in clips and his skin glowing. He just looked so cute; how could you resist? A tiny pout on his face like he thinks you will tease him after, or worse, send it to his brother. But all you really want is to make it his new contact picture, that way you can remember this memory each time he calls.

His eyes started to droop, and only one-word responses came from his mouth. He seems to be hitting the limit of both his energy and social battery. 

“Why don’t you go lay down? We won't be up much longer anyways.” You lean over and whisper in his ear. He nods in response.

“Thanks,” he breathes out, placing a light kiss on your forehead before standing up from the table. He turns back to your friends. “It was nice to meet you both, I hope to see you again soon, goodnight.” He yawns and makes his way toward your bedroom. 

“Goodnight,” they call after him. “He’s got the right idea, it’s getting late so we should probably head out too.” Emi responds. They were right, you didn’t even realize the time with how much fun you were having. The two girls float around your apartment, quickly gathering their things.

“It was so great to see you guys, let's do this again soon.” You bring both of your friends in for a hug, but you can't stop yourself from asking one last question. It's been nagging you this whole night, and you don't think you can sleep without an answer. “So…what did you think of Choso?”

“Hot,” it was only a half second after you asked, Emi saying the first thing on her mind. You smack her arm playfully. “What? You know I am right, you're so lucky!”

“Besides that…do you guys like him, ya know, as my boyfriend?” There is silence after you speak. You never even thought about the possibility of what would happen if your friends didn’t like him. You can’t imagine life without him after everything you've been through, would this ruin your friendship with them? Emi will always be supportive, but your other overprotective friend is a whole other story.

She doesn’t speak, leaning against the door with her arms crossed as she analyzes her thoughts. Each dragged out second of silence feeling like a lifetime.

“We like him,” she finally responds, letting you release the air from your lungs in a long sigh. “I can see how much he cares for you, and how much you like him in return. There seems to be good chemistry between both of you. So as long as he is treating you right, that’s all that matters. And I’m happy you found someone like him.” She punctuates her sentence with a small smile.

“Thank you!” You immediately pull her in for another hug, her approval meaning the world to you.

They say another round of goodbyes before finally leaving your home. You lock the door behind them and head to the bedroom to join Choso. You spot the rise and fall of his chest as he lays beneath the covers, already fast asleep. You move quietly around the room and go through your nightly routine, taking care not to make too much noise and disturb his slumber. Once changed, you slip under the covers next to his sleeping body.

Or so you thought.

The instant you lay down, he rolled onto his side to face you, one large forearm wrapped around your waist and pulling your back flush against his bare chest. His lips leave lazy wet kisses on the back of your neck. Hips grinding against your ass, alerting you to his hardened cock underneath his boxers. He works his way up to your ear, nipping at it gently before he speaks.

“You took too long,” he whispers, his hot breath sparking goosebumps along your skin. 

“It was maybe 10 minutes, Cho.” You let out a low laugh, pushing yourself further into his touch.

“Exactly, 10 minutes without you is far too long,” he presses another kiss to your neck, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. He slowly drags his strong hand over the fabric of your shirt, feeling how the cloth clings to your body. Once at the edge, he slips under and trails his fingertips up to your breast. Pinching and rolling your nipple between two fingers while leaving sloppy kisses along your neck.  Each little touch ignites the fire of need, heat coursing through and pooling straight to your core.

“Please don’t get me worked up for nothing,” you groan, clenching your thighs together, but he doesn't relent. In fact, he pushes his conquest further. His fingers lightly trailing down in a slow and tortuous path until they slip under the band of your shorts, pausing before he fully reaches your core, causing your whole body to stiffen against him. 

“Choso…you know we can't yet,” you sigh, sounding more like a whine. Even though you aren’t in any pain right now, giving you a false hope that you are healed, you have a feeling the second things heat up it will ruin the mood once again. It’s like your personal curse. His index finger traces along the edge of your underwear while his teeth gently nip your shoulder.

In the next second, he has you rolled onto your back, his body hovering above yours with two muscled arms caging you beneath him. He takes a moment to admire you sprawled out underneath him, looking like you belong there, belong to him. Hungry eyes roam over your form, appreciating your beauty in silence before speaking again.

“You trust me, right?” He asks, gaze locked on your own eyes.

“With my life.” 

“Then…can I try something? Can I try to make you feel good?” He pauses as he brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking across the skin. “Just for you.” 

“You don’t have to, we can wait,” you try to assure him. It doesn’t feel fair for you to be the only one on the receiving end. All he has been doing lately is taking care of you, all without ever expecting anything in return. Yet he shakes his head no.

“Let me do this for you, please.” His eyes blaze with determination. “I know what I want, it’s you. I want to do this.” 

Your small nod is the only confirmation he needs to continue.

His hands grip the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, tossing it to the floor below. He lowers himself, his chest pressing against you as his lips make contact with yours Tongue slipping its way into your mouth, tasting you in a ravenous kiss. Soft moans escape him and into your throat, which you swallow like the sweetest nectar. 

He pulls away from your lips and begins to make a descent of kisses down your body. Lips brushing over your cheek and down your neck until he reaches the valley between your breasts. Thumb rubbing rough circles across one nipple while his mouth finds and attacks the other, tongue swirling around. His eyes meet yours as he switches sides, making sure to give them both equal attention. 

“F-fuck,” you gasp out as his teeth lightly scraped over the hardened bud, your head falling back against the pillow. He sucks hard then releases with a wet plop. 

“You're so perfect,” he whispers, quiet enough that you barely catch it, before he makes his way back down your body. Continuing his path lower and lower, kissing and nipping at the skin of your stomach until he stops at the scar. He freezes for a moment, looking up at you with his eyebrows pinched and guilt in his eyes. He will never stop blaming himself for what happened. 

His thumb brushes softly over the skin, unreadable thoughts rampaging through his mind. A storm of emotions brewing inside. 

“I’m so sorry, you never should have gotten hurt because of me.” He presses his lips to the warm flesh, pouring out an apology in the form of kisses. “Never again, no one will touch you ever again. I will never let anyone hurt you so long as I live.” His lips dance across the healed injury, sending tiny shivers along your skin. 

You were about to respond, attempt to extinguish his worry, but he's already moved on. Sliding off the foot of the bed and kneeling before you, hands at your hips as he pulls you toward the edge, close to his face.

“Can I take these off?” he grunts as his hands frantically reach for the waistband of your shorts.

"Please," you quickly reply, not caring if you sounded a little too egar.

“Just let me know if anything hurts, and I’ll stop right away.” He adds before his fingertips hook the waistband of the shorts, along with the panties you had on underneath, pulling them off your legs in one fluid motion. Staring face to face with your cunt for the first time, you almost feel embarrassed. Like he's examining you under a microscope. 

“My pretty girl,” he breathes out, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads your legs apart for him. Lips leaving behind a wet trail as he nips and sucks up your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where you need him. “All mine,” his breath tickles your core. 

He swings both of your legs over his shoulders, sliding his hands along the skin of your legs until he meets your hips, gripping you firmly to keep you in place. He lowers his face, licking a slow stripe along your entrance.

“Oh fuck, Choso...” you moan out, eyes snapping shut. You can’t see his face but you just know he has that cocky smirk plastered across it due to the fact he’s the reason you're reacting this way. 

He plunges his tongue inside, confident strokes as he tastes you fully. The tip of his nose nudging at your clit with each lick. Mouth latched to your pussy as he worships you like he’s been wanting to. You can’t believe this is happening right now, after wanting this for so long, it feels like a dream, and you never want to wake up. Your hips move on their own, attempting to grind against his face but he digs his fingers into your hips, keeping you from moving.

“Do you need more, baby?” He lifts his head up to ask, his lips wet and glistening in the low light of your bedroom. “All you have to do is ask.” 

“More,” you let out a strangled gasp, your head dizzy from the pleasure being ripped away abruptly. 

“You can ask nicer than that,” he sinks his teeth into your soft inner thigh, then immediately soothing his tongue over the bite. 

“Please Choso, please give me more. I need more.” 

“That’s my good girl,” he immediately goes back down, this time focusing his attention to your clit. His tongue draws hearts on it while he slips two fingers inside, pumping at a rapid pace. It was all so much, your body tensing as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Your fists balling the sheets in your hands and your loud moans echoing off the walls, only fueling his desire. 

He can’t stop the way his own hips grind against the bed, imagining it was his cock thrusting inside you right now instead of his fingers. He wraps his lips against the swollen bud of your clit and sucks, a low moan reverberating through your body from his mouth. 

“You close, baby?” He hums when he pulls back to catch his breath, immediately diving back in after spitting his question out.

“Mhm, so close,” your thighs squeeze around his head, and you snap. Entire body trembling as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. The whole time Choso doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck you with his fingers and lick up every ounce of your release until your moans die out, leaving you exhausted and panting on the bed.

He places a few messy kisses on your cunt before looking up from between your legs, a thick string of his saliva mixed with your slick connecting him to your core. Hearts practically shining in his eyes as he gazes at you. 

He can’t stop himself from saying it right now, the high from your taste still clouding his mind. The words falling from his mouth without a second thought.

“I love you.”

Taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @angel04-01 @seizecherry @raedollsstuff @brutuswolfo @deathrye -if I forgot anyone or if you want to be added please let me know!! :)

A/N: sorry, this took me longer than I wanted, ADHD brain kept finding other things to do oopsie. Also, I'm employed again (BOOO! everyone booo!) so updates may take longer but that won't stop me completely!! I love writing my fics and am so excited for all the things I have planned. love you all MWAH!!

[sukuna-ryo]

Just something random that came to my mind

MDNI

»»———-　....................　———-««

Gojo was at the foot of the bed, knees on the floor, his upper body sprawled flat across the mattress in a pose that could only be described as a cross between a dramatic prayer and a lazy cat stretch. His elbows were propped up on the bed, palms pressed together in mock reverence. His eyes were shut tight, his head tilted slightly upward, and his face wore the kind of exaggerated seriousness that only he could pull off. It was like he was channeling every saint and monk he’d ever seen on TV, but with just enough drama to make it borderline ridiculous. Then, with a deep, performative sigh, he began.

"Alright, God, it’s me, Gojo Satoru. You probably already know that, but I like to make an entrance. Anyway, I’m here to thank you for this meal and to ask for a couple of things while I’ve got your attention. First off, bless this food. Not just in the regular way, but, like, supercharge it. Make it taste so good that I forget all my problems, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Second, bless me. Not that I’m not already blessed, obviously—I mean, look at me—but you know, just a little extra wouldn’t hurt. Like, make sure my day goes smoothly, nobody annoys me, and if someone does try, let me have the patience of a saint—or at least a semi-patient person. Third, give me some peace and quiet. I’m not saying silence forever, just a little time where I don’t have to deal with anyone’s nonsense. Lastly, if you’ve got some cosmic free time, maybe consider making the world a tiny bit less chaotic, or at least make my job easier. I know that’s a big ask, but hey, you’re God, right? Amen."

You roll your eyes. "You done yet?"

Gojo slowly opened his eyes, looking at you lying on the bed. With a cheeky grin, he said, "Yes," beaming, before diving for his meal between your legs.

---

Do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my content.

Likes, reblogs, and feedback is appreciated <3

»»———-　....................　———-««

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[thehighpriestess1]

Taglist status: Open 💖

Make A Wish Chapter 1 : The Bet

Warning: Self harm tendencies mentioned. Dark themes. 

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Gojo x y/n

a/n: Hi! I hope you all missed me as much as I missed you. This is my first work in a long long long time so forgive me, I am a bit out of practice. I hope you like this. Leave a comment if you want to join the taglist.

30th July 2024, 12:30 AM

The neon blue lights of the club gave a grim hue to the streets. You heels barely on your feet anymore tried their best to carry you from one club to the other. You frazzled hair welcomed the gush of the wind. You took a deep breath, filling up your lungs with the cold night air. Was it even night anymore? You looked up at the sky and chuckled. What a beautiful night this was. After weeks of downpour you could finally see the clear sky. A group of boys ran past you and you almost fell but regained your balance at the last second. 

If anyone were to make a judgement on you they would probably think you are high society women drinking her sorrows away. Some would even try to get close to you to gain a few favours. But little did they know, you had nothing to offer. 

With shaking legs you made your way from one bar to the other. Some didn’t let you enter and those that were allowed were filled with men trying to get into your pants. Maybe if you were a different person you would have found a handsome man and gone home with it. You were not judgemental that way. But you had no heart or soul left to care for anything. You had things to do tonight..or tomorrow morning. Does time even matter now? You reeked of not yours but perfumes of men you had been dancing with for the past 3 hours. 

What brought you here? Heartbreak? Or did you just want the courage to do one last thing right. Having a nice quiet night at home was a suitable option but a part of you feared that you might enjoy your time at home and change your mind. You were on a mission. So you bought a new dress, wore all of your best jewelry, carried your most expensive purse and walked out. 

Now as you stood outside of your 7th bar of the night you could barely see anything. You sniffled and wiped your mascara stained tears. Every place was the same. Crowded, sweaty, and filled with men making empty promises.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. You groaned and took it out, the screed displayed Shoko’s name and a selfie you took with her many moons ago and it made you want to throw up. You cut the call and saw a storm of texts coming from Shoko and Geto. Swiping right on one the texts you opened the chat but could barely read any message. 

Gojo…help…call.. What? Were they still worried more about him?! Him?! They were worried about the one with everything in the world?! You didn’t expect this from Shoko. Even if she had to pick a side, why couldn’t it be yours? Why can’t anyone ever look at you?! You had feelings too! Your lips quivered as you tried to stop yourself from breaking down in the middle of the road. You scrolled through the text..Gojo..find..please

Please….call…

The letter moved in and out of focus and you tried your best to string the words together to just see the three words you had been begging to hear from your friends. How are you? 

Your phone buzzed in your hand but it was Geto calling. You scoffed and cut the call. There was no way you were going to pick up his call. 

You needed to forget everyone. Especially the three of them. You were a fool to think they would ever be on your side. They were thick as thieves. Friends since they were one and you..you were just a cog in the system. Put in place to help them…no.. To serve them..a toy to entertain them. You took a deep breath and walked to your next stop. 

Loud music filled the alley as you looked for the next bar that would let you drink your sorrows away preferably quietly.You didn’t have it in you to stand in queues or flirt with the bouncer .A loud neon pink light snapped you out of your pity party for one. As you looked up, you saw a large neon pink sign, Fate. You had never seen this bar before and there was no queue or bounce so you stepped inside anyway. 

Contrary to the modern sign outside, the bar had an old parlour aesthetic. Leather couches were sprawled in the sets of two and a heavy oak round table sat in between them.Two men sat in a corner silently as they sipped their beer. A woman sat alone on a velvet chair to  your right drinking a shimmery cocktail and talking to herself. The circular bar counter in the center had a halo like effect, beckoning you to have another sip. The bartender was already looking at you with a welcoming smile like one offers to an expected guest. 

“Welcome!”. He called from a distance. 

You walked to the bar counter and sat on one of the velvet bar stools. “Hi, can I see your menu?”. You tried your best to appear sober. You can’t afford to get kicked out of yet another bar now.

“How about I suggest you a drink you really need…y/n?”

“Huh?” Did he just say your name or was it your mind playing tricks again? Must be the alcohol from hours of drinking. “Ummm..yeah sure”.

The man placed a glass of clear liquid in front of you.

“What’s this?” 

The bartender chuckled. “Water”. It’s bar policy to make sure that customers are hydrated, You see our drinks are quite strong”

You looked up from your glass of water to the bartender. He was handsome with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His doe-like eyes had a spark to them, like it held all the stars of the galaxy. His dark brown hair stood perfectly. His clean vest and crisp white shirt fitted his toned body quite well. His kind smile made you relax in your barstool. 

As you sipped the water you felt your body getting lighter. “Wow..thank you..I needed that”.

The man chuckled. 

“Not that I am drunk…but hydration is good”.

“It is, isn’t it. It’s sad how we forget to take care of ourselves. We don’t need to have a perfect life to take care of ourselves, do we?” He smiled again. 

“This place is quite..” You looked around at the largely empty bar. “...vacant”.

“Oh it’s an exclusive bar you see”. He said nonchalantly as he shook the tumblr in his hand.”Only those you need it can visit”. 

You frowned at him,”I..what?”.

The man chuckled again. “I said our aesthetic doesn't resonate with everyone”.

“oh…I see”. 

“Maybe you can help us. You work in marketing right?”. 

“Yeah..I used to..wait how do you..?”. 

“You told me a few seconds ago”. He said as he poured the drink into a goblet like glass.

“Did I?” You smiled nervously. “But yeah…I used to..I..”

“Got fired?”. He placed the drink on a metal coaster in front of you. 

You stared blankly at him. Maybe you had too much for today. “Yeah…Thank you”. You stared at the drink, it was pink like the sign outside with a hint of golden glitter. “This looks quite pretty”. You smiled widely and took your phone out and quickly took a photo. “What is it called?”

The bartender placed both of his palms flatly on the glass counter and leaned closer and looked at you, “it’s called a second chance”.

Another flirt, you thought to yourself. “Why is it called so?”

“You will find out soon”. He winked and turned away to work on the other side of the bar. 

You sipped your drink and realized that a faint song was playing in the bar that you didn’t hear when you walked in. The song grew louder but just enough so you can hear the lyrics. You were not sure you had heard it before. Change the prophecy…redo the prophecy…cards on the table

You sipped the drink and suddenly had a deep urge to redo everything. God if you could redo everything you would not make the same mistakes again. This wasn’t anger or vengeance. It was a desperate cry for help. Your head spun as the liquor trickled down your throat. The urge grew stronger with each sip.

1st June 2024 1:00 AM

“Hello”.

Hearing your mom's voice on the other end of the line made you choke up. “He..Hello..mom?”

“Y/n?”

You pressed your lips as you knew where the conversation would go but your heart wanted to try one more time. Hoping that she would remember that you were her daughter after all.

“I..I left him”. Your words came out in broken sobs. 

The silence made your heart tighten. 

“Why?”. Your mom asked sternly.

“I..I can’t do it anymore. I tried mom. I real-”

“Well you didn’t try hard enough. Relationships are hard. It needs work. You can’t just give up every time you have a fight”.

All the bottled up emotions came out as loud sobs escaped your lips. Snot and tears mixed and rolled down your chin. Your eyes burnt from hours of crying. “But mo-”.

“You know how much he has done for our family don’t you? If it wasn’t for him your brother would still be unemployed! God y/n….”

“Please..just..I will take care of you and Ren..I ca-”

“No! I..you need to grow up y/n. I..I have always supported you. But please..for the sake of our family..you need to work on it”.

You were speechless. This wasn’t the first sob filled cry for help. It wasn’t 10th either. You didn’t know whether your mother was just sick of your sob story or she loved his acts of kindness more than she loved her own daughter. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny how much he has done for your family. But you could not ignore what he was doing to you either. You knew you could never match up to you everything he had done but that didn’t merit your sad obedience to him. 

“Hello? y/n?”. Your mother called out.

“I..”. You wiped your tears away and took a deep breath. “..you know what he has done”.

You mom stayed silent for a few seconds and you hoped that just for a second she would pity you.

“So what? Men are stupid. They make mistakes. Even your dad-”.

“Do not compare him to dad! He is nothing like him! Dad cared enough to change! He doesn’t! Oh god! I..I can’t..mom I am sorry…I can’t..I can’t take this anymore. Please…just..help m-”

“Do what you want y/n. Just remember that if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have any of this. He is your-”.

“Don’t say it”. You cut her off staring at the ring on your hand. What a joke. “If I stay with him for another day it would kill me..I might ki-”

“Do whatever you want then!”. She yelled from the other end. “I would rather have no daughter than have an ungrateful daughter like you!”. 

Those were the last words she said to you.

You held the phone in your hand and sat staring blankly at the wall. When a fierce thunder lit up the dark room you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You looked no different from a zombie with hair frizzy and falling over your shoulder in knots, eyes red and swollen, skin red and lifeless. You had been wearing the same t-shirt for over a week now. Is this life even worth living? 

Your phone buzzed and Shoko’s text flashed on the screen,

Shoko: You are taking things out of context. You should hear him out.

Shoko: I will support you in whatever decision you take. But you need to talk to him once.

Shoko: It was all planned by Mishki. 

All the texts were about him. Everyone wanted him. Everyone was charmed by him. No one cared about what you wanted or how you were doing. You had no one. No one would miss you if you were gone. 

You looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. 2 months until your birthday. What a nice way to go..on your birthday…

“Excuse me?”You called out to the bartender. “Can I get another drink?”.

The man walked over to you and took your glass away. “Sorry, only one drink per person”. He smiled.

“Wh-”

“It’s time for you to step out y/n”.

You gulped harshly. Maybe you made a fool of yourself again, it wasn’t the first or the third time. Same story every night. “How much do I owe you?”. You asked as you shot an apologetic smile.

“You can give whatever you want”. 

So it was one of those places where customers decided the price. You took the Amex card out and stared at it for a second,hoping that the payment goes through, before sliding it across the table. 

“We don’t take cards, sorry”. 

You rummaged through your purse to look for cash but had none. “I am sorry I don’t have cash”. 

“We take payments in every form”.

You were taken aback with this comment. Swate beads formed on your forehead as you realized what the situation was.

The man laughed heartily. “I mean the bracelet on your wrist looks pretty good as a payment”.

You looked down at  your wrist. You had worn all three cartier love bracelets that he had gifted you. Even the just un clou and love rings. You didn’t know why you were wearing them all at once. Should you even have it with you? Each piece of jewelry brought back bittersweet memories. One by one you took out all your jewellery and the watch and placed it on the counter. The counter was now littered with earrings, necklace, bracelets, rings, and a watch. All gifted by him. “There you go”. 

“Are you sure you will not miss these? They seem sentimental”

You stared at the bundle and shook your head. 1st bracelet for when you caught him in the parking lot, rings for when he stood you up on numerous dates, necklace for when you caught him at his grandfather’s funeral, and the watch for when he didn’t show up for your grandfather's funeral. It was time to let go of these. “Please keep all of this”.

“By the way y/n..”. 

You looked up, sweeping your hair to one side, “Yes?”

“Happy BIrthday”.

“Thank You”. You smiled sadly and hopped off the barstool. 

“I will see you again”. 

“I doubt so. Thank you once again”

You grabbed your purse and made your way to the door. Right above the door was a sign etched in golden on dark wood. Fata Viam Invenient. 

A cold gust of wind blew your hair and welcomed you when you stepped outside. You didn’t want to go home just yet and all the bars where you were not banned were shutting down now. You wanted a few more hours out of life.  Your phone buzzed once more but you didn’t bother checking it this time. You looked down at the black mini kelly and held it in your hand like a mother nursing a child, another gift from him for forgetting your birthday. Last of the painful gifts. You wanted to throw it away but a part of you wanted to hold onto it. To remind yourself that he was real. That all of it happened. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a glorious war that you lost. But god you fought it bravely and gave it your all. 

Someone coughed loudly, snapping you out of your fantasies.On your right you saw a homeless man shivering in the cold, black soot marks littered over his face, salt and pepper hair matted to his head.He was slouching against the concrete wall of the bar .Was it winter already? Alcohol coursed through your veins and a smile grazed your lips as you found your companion for the night. You stumbled and made your way to the man and sat next to him and lit the last cigarette in your 20 pack box. He gave you a sympathetic look. 

“You alright, miss?”. He asked kindly.

You chuckled, “Are you in a position to ask me how I am doing?”. Taking a long drag you rested your head against the concrete wall. 

The man looked down and saw the red scars on your knees. “All I can offer is kindness”. He said softly.

Kindness. A concept foreign to you. “Kindness..” You rolled the word on your tongue. “....thank you..for your kindness”, you said wiping another tear.

“Heartbreak?” The man asked.

You smiled. “I….maybe..yes”.

“Who is the man…”. The man pulled his coat closer as another gust of wind swept the alley. An empty beer clanked and rolled to your feet. 

“He is..a myth….he is not real..not anymore..”. You took out your Burberry scarf and wrapped it around the man’s neck. “Take this..”.

The man rubbed the material between his fingers and gave you a questioning look. “This is real. This must be quite expensive”.

You smiled, “Keep it, I don’t want it”.

“That man must be stupid to let go of a woman like you”.

“Trust me I am not that kind..”. Your cigarette was on its last few drags and it bummed you. “Do you want to eat something?”

The man nodded. 

“Gottit! Let’s order some food!” You took your phone out and began scrolling through restaurants on Ubereats. “Aha!”. With a childish smile you placed your order.

“What’s your name?”. The man asked. 

You looked at him but he looked slightly different now. His face seemed clearer. You shrugged it to the effects of alcohol wearing out. “Y/n..what’s yours?”.

“Yojutsusha” The man smiled.

“Interesting name”

You sat in silence for a while watching drunk salary men puking in the corner, Men carrying drunk women out, some waiting for a cab, friends laughing loudly, everyone had a reason to be here..except you.

You tried to recall how this night started. But it didn’t matter. This was your night time routine. While most people preferred serums, moisturiser, calming music, or tea..you preferred the bitter taste of alcohol and stumbling from one bar to another. Drinking with strangers every night. But in every strange face you saw glimpses on him. Some had the same nose, some had the same lips, but no one was wholly him. The thought of him made your heart ache. You ruined everything. You could have had a good life, a job, a loving partner, a friend..but here you were, drunk, lost, sitting in a dingy alley waiting for your food. 

A delivery man on his scooter stopped in front of you and looked around with a Ubereats bag in his hand. You snapped out of your thoughts and raised your hand, “Oi! Here! Delivery for y/n?”.

The delivery man looked apprehensive but shyly walked over to you, “Y/n?”

“That’s me!”. You smiled and extended your hand towards him.

The man seemed unsure as he looked over to the homeless man next to you. He wanted to question you more but also wanted to get out of here as soon as possible so he handed you the paper bag.

“Dinner’s ready!”. You slurred and took out two bags of french fries, fried chicken, and two diet coke. “Here, have this”. You passed a portion to the homeless man. 

The silence between the two of you was comfortable. Neither of you said a word but occasionally you felt the man looking at you. Maybe he pitied you.

“I don’t pity you”. The man chuckled. 

You laughed with your mouth half filled with food. “Sorry..I was just thinking out loud I guess”. The warm food and his company brought you comfort. For the first time in the last 6 months you felt okay. You had a strange feeling in your heart, you were ready to give it all up. Nothing mattered anymore. You have lived your life. You touched the sun and now your wax wings were burning. The pain was your price to pay for dreaming of the glowing sun. If you fall, so be it. It was worth it. Years of pain, guilt, heart break, loss…all worth it. You had touched the sun. 

“Would you like to play a game?”. The man asked, wiping his mouth. 

“What kind of game?”. You asked.

“A bet”. He smiled with his mischievous eyes.

30th July, 2024 12:00 AM

Gojo paced frantically around your living room. He kept on checking his phone every few steps. Hoping to get some updates from you. “Did she answer your call?” He asked Shoko for the 100th time.

“No. But she read the messages just now”. She said, wiping her tears. She looked at her phone in one hand and your letter in another. What if it was too late? What if they were too late?

“That’s a relief. I am getting my men to track her phone down!”. He sat down next to her and hysterically typed instructions to his men who were in a van outside the building praying that they track you down. Their life depended on it. 

How did it all come to this? Gojo questioned everything. Few hours ago he was on his way to your home with a bouquet of flowers and a cake and now the flowers are dead and the cake box is on the floor. He remembered looking all over the apartment for you but all he found was the letter on the kitchen counter. Gojo didn’t believe it at first. But once he looked at the empty fridge, wiped out the closet, and an almost empty house, he knew…He fucked up. He realized everything too late..and now he might lose you forever. All because of his selfish pride and ego. If he could, he would kill himself over and over again before letting anything happen to you. He would take his heart out and stab it thousand times over to feel the pain he has caused you. Did he even deserve you? How could he be so blind?

“Please…god please..”. He begged no one in particular. 

Shoko sat frozen next to him and clenched the letter in her hand. She was the person Gojo called, hoping that she would know something. If she was being honest and had any will to talk she would admit that she was surprised when Gojo called her. She was surprised that Gojo cared at all. “Why did you come here?”. She asked.

“I..I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to-”.

“You turned everyone against her didn’t you?”

Gojo remained silent. He was guilty. But he wanted to make things right now. 

Shoko took a deep breath and continued, “You turned me against her. You told me that she tried to sleep with Geto. Was any of it true?”. Her heart beat loudly against her chest. She didn’t know whether she wanted it to be true or not. Either way she would not be able to live with herself.

“No”. 

Shoko broke down. She howled like a mad woman as she hit Gojo with her fists. “Why?! Why?! Why?! You are a monster! A fucking monster! You were my friend!”.

Gojo tried to hold her down to calm her and one of her fists landed on his nose. 

An eerie silence filled the house as a trickle of blood dripped down his nose. “I deserve it”. He said. “I ..I can’t explain right now…”.

“Try!”.

“I didn’t want to lose her. I did horrible things! I know! But I didn’t want to lose her! She..”, Gojo gulped harshly.”..she would have left me if she had you..or anyone…I couldn’t let that happen..I know I got selfish and made some bad decisions but I..I love her. I love her. I..love her.”.

Shoko stayed silent for a while. She had known Gojo and Geto since she was one. She trusted them. But you were her best friend. You were the friend she needed but never had.  

“If we find her, I will talk to her and I don’t want you to be near her ever again”.

“I..can’t let that happen”. Gojo said coldly. 

“Why Satoru? Why do you want to make her life a living hell again? There is nothing in the letter that mentions you. So you..and your empire are safe! Just do me the favour of finding her and leave!”. 

“Stay here until I get back”, Gojo couldn’t sit here and do nothing. He needed to find you before it got too late so he picked up his car keys and left.

30th July 2022 10:00 PM

Gojo groaned as his phone rang once again. He didn’t need to look who was calling him. He knew it was you. 

“Shouldn’t you pick it up?”. Mishki said as she sipped her red wine and looked a thim through her lashes. 

“It’s nothing important”.

“What if it’s your..fiance?”. 

Gojo let out a tired sigh and chuckled defeatedly. “You got me. It is her”.

Mishki raised a brow prompting him to go on. 

“She is probably calling to check where I am, what am I doing, When will I see her, ugh…it’s never ending…and she is not my fiance".

"Oh but that's not what I have heard"

Gojo smiled charmingly, "Do you know how many women in the city claim to me by girlfriends?"

“I see. Interesting relations you have..Satoru. I hope I can call you that”.

“You can call me anything you want. Shall we discuss our deal now?”. 

.

.

.

Back at home you sat on the couch with your face in your hands. Tear drops rolled down your chin onto the cake that had been sitting out for 3 hours. You knew Gojo was a busy man so you didn't expect him to do much but picking up your call on your birthday was the bare minimum you expected.

On clue, 5 minutes before the clock struck 12 Gojo walked through your living room door and rolled his eyes when he sae your puffy eyes and tired face. "oh come on now!".

"Where were you?", you got up and made your way towards him. "I have been calling you for-"

"For the past 3 hours? I know! Can't you get a hint?"

"Satoru..it's..".

"It's what y/n?! How many times have I told you to not disturb me when I am in a meeting? Don't you get it by now that I am a busy man! I don't have time to play house with you!"

"It's my birthday for fuck's sake!". You screamed.

Gojo was taken aback by your outburst. "So? I work on my Birthday! What is so special about birthdays anyway?!"

You stared at him blankly. "I..I just wanted to have dinner with you on my birthday. It is special to me".

"Why didn't you call Shoko then huh?".

"I did but..but she said she was busy".

Gojo scoffed, drawing the dagger deeper in your heart. "See, not everyone has the free time to sit and celebrate like kids. You need to grow up". He walked over to you and took you in his arms, "Look y/n, you know that everything I do, I do it for us right? So please be on my side here. I am really trying".

His embrace brought you comfort and you relaxed in his arms and nodded. Maybe you blew things out of proportion. "I know, you're right. It's just a birthday. It comes every year anyway".

"Exactly!". Gojo pulled back and smiled at you. "Now go wash your face and let's go to bed. I am tired".

As you lay in bed wide awake you thought about the uncut cake in the fridge. You turned around hoping to wake up Gojo but realised that he would probably call you childish for caring about a cake.

The fridge light illuminated the kitchen as you crouched down and slowly tried to pull out the cake. It was Gojo's favourite strawberry and cream cake.

You lit a small candle on a triangle piece and made a silent wish,"I want to be happy".

As you ate the cake in silence you looked around at the luxurious apartment he generously gifted you. When you first moved in it was your happy place, your sanctuary. But, lately it has been getting cold. You had everything that someone of your standing could ask for. A house, a car, a partner who supported you..financially. It all felt like a gold cage now.

You would happily trade all this comfort for a partner who wanted your company more than he wanted the next big offer on the table. You laughed to yourself. Were these really your problems now? Few years ago you would have taken this happily but now you are bitching about it as you eat an expensive slice of cake.You had touched the your amex card more than you had touched him in the past few months.Being with Gojo made you realise that how wrong you were in running after the money. Guess this was a small price to pay. People in castles are often lonely.

30th July, 2024 2:00 AM

Gojo drove at an ungodly speed across the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He visited every restaurant and cafe you had mentioned. His best guess was that you would visit your favourite cafe on your birthday or maybe the place where you had your first date with him. But if he was being honest, he had no clue where to look for you. In the last two months he barely looked at you or spoke to you and it was all his fault. He was so busy fixing everything that he forgot to fix one thing that mattered the most, your heart. 

All your pleas and fights rang in his ear serving a cruel reminder of his actions. His heart raced faster than the time as he thought about everything he could have done differently. God if only he had one last chance he would do things differently. All the money in the world could not undo his actions. He groaned and hit the steering wheel thinking how misplaced his priorities were. By the time he realised what mattered the most, it was already too late. He hoped that it wasn’t too late. He prayed that you were safe and sound somewhere and that when he found you, you would find it in your heart to forgive him. But he knew deep in his heart, the best thing he can do for you is to let you go. But how could he? How could he let go of you? You brought sunshine into his life. Everything he was today was because of you. You were his motivation, his totem keeping his world stable.

He thought about your last Birthday and his actions brought bile to his mouth. He felt disgusted at himself. He imagined himself running out of the meeting to see you and how you would jump in his arms happily and he would kiss your pain away. But he didn't run out of any meetings. He didn't let you go when he should have. Instead he brought more pain to your life. He cursed you. He hurt you.

As the streetlights flashed past him, he wondered what he would say if he found you. Was it too late for a genuine apology? People gave him questioning looks as he ran the streets looking around in every direction. In this big and cold city he felt lost. He stopped and called out to women who looked like you and gave them a disappointing look when he realized he was wrong. 

He ran through alleys with questionable people waiting to take advantage of a vulnerable man. He spent thousands of dollars on strangers hoping to get some direction. He pulled his hair and screamed in empty alleys leading to a dead end. 

He never gave you the time you deserved and now time was slipping through his fingers. With each passing second, with each dead end lead, with each negative response, Gojo was slipping into insanity. 

Gojo stopped his car at a pier where the two of you would often meet. He sat on the bench where you had your first kiss. Defeated, devastated, tired, and hopelessly in love. Broken sobs filled the silence around him. “Please..God please!!”. He hung his head like a soldier who lost the war he was sure to win. His tears stained the light wood near his feet in dark brown. “Please..please..please..!!!”. He screamed. 

His phone buzzed. The message on the screen broke his cracked heart. “Found y/n’s phone by the river”. 

He was too late. It was too late. The world spun around him and then it all went dark.

30th July 2024, 4:00 AM

“How am I losing every time?”. You groaned and looked at the man hopelessly. 

The man shrugged looking at the spread of cards in front of him. “You are not playing with your heart”.

You scoffed looking at the cards in your hand,”My heart has been played enough. I should be using my brain now”.”

“In this game and in life people make the fatal mistake of not balancing between their feelings and logic. Do not force yourself to use logic where you should be listening to your heart”.

You laughed, “You are quite cryptic”.

“What do you want to bet next?”. He asked. Maybe it was the fading effects of liquor, but the man seemed wise and not as ragged as you had found him. 

“Hmm..let me see”. You pondered over his words for a moment.” So far I have lost my heels, my jacket..all I have left is my bag”

“Are you willing to part with it?”.

You held your bag in your hand and took a deep breath, “Yeah, why not”. You took your phone and placed the bag in between the two of you.

“Are you forgetting something?”

You chuckled, “what rule am I forgetting now?”

“Your keys. I am sure a girl like you has a house to return to”.

Your mind went numb. Did you even want to go back? What was the point? “No. I have everything I need”. After all, all you needed was your phone for identification. “Okay, so what do I do now?”.

“Now you pick a card from the deck?”

The deck of cards that the man had pulled out hours before was not the regular cards you had at home. Sure it was the basic 52 card deck, but they felt premium to hold. You felt the card between your fingers, turning it around to see the golden rune calligraphy on the navy blue background. “Oh…this card is blank..”.

The man smiled and began arranging his cards neatly in a pile on top of remaining cards. One can not interfere with fate. Humans think that fate is largely in our hands but little do we know that there are powers beyond our comprehension that work in cohesion to chart our life. Long ago you had cursed the fates, a curse so powerful that it compelled the fate to hear your plea. Now, you were given a chance to redo your life. An apology from the fates. 

“Is it?”

“Mmhmm”. You extended the card for the man to see. 

“What are the other cards in your hand?”.

“Queen of hearts, King of spades, and a-’

“Ace of hearts?”

You looked at the man in disbelief. Was he a con man, did you just get conned? You laughed at yourself. “Yes. An Ace of hearts”

The man smiled to himself and looked at you. A much younger version of him stared back at you.

“You!”. Your eyes widened as you realized why the man seemed familiar. “I just saw you inside!”. The same man who served you the drink was sitting in front of you. 

“What does your heart desire y/n?”

“Who are you?! And..and why..”. You felt dizzy and disoriented. “Did he..did he send you?” You stuttered. 

“Who? The god?”. The man laughed from his stomach. “You called me y/n. Did you forget?”

“Wh..what..no..I don-”.

“Yes you did. You screamed to the thundering skies above and asked for one more chance! So there you go!”. The man stared at you excitedly like a magician about to do the grand reveal.

Your hands trembled as you slowly turned the card to see three golden words appear on it out of thin air, Make a wish. You felt as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

The man looked at you with folded hands and dropped shoulders. “Well, since you were going to end your life anyway, I thought today would be the best time to-”.

Before the man could finish you grabbed your phone and bolted in the other direction. Tears ran down your face and the world spun around you. You looked back once to see if he was following you but the alley was empty now.

“Careful now”. The man appeared in front of you causing you to lose your balance. “Oops! Can’t let you get hurt”. He smiled as he caught you with one arm. 

“Please let me go..I will ..I swear I will never tell anyone about this”

“Darling even if you do, no one would believe you”. He shrugged and handed you the single card. “Take it. What’s the worst that can happen?”.

You took a few steps back and gulped hershey.

“Your time is running out y/n. You would be dead in..”. He took out a pocket watch and stared at it amusingly. “..in about 10 minutes”.

“What..why? Please don’t kill me!”.

“Aha!”. The man took one step towards you as you took one step away from him. “I can’t kill you. Since you decided to do the honours yourself tonight, I was just biding time with you. You can either accept this card and start over or…well..”, A shot of smoke appeared from his right palm, “,,poof..you can choose to cease to exist”.

You stared at the card in his left hand and his pocket watch in the right. Was this really happening? 

“Come one y/n, there must be someone you would live for..what about baby ren?”

Your eyes widened. “What..what is the catch?”.

“Oh there is no catch. It is merely an apology from me..I mean us. The only condition..you will be sent to a specific decisive moment in your life and from there…it all you..”. 

“What if..what if I…”.

“This is your last chance. You will never see me again..ever”.

Everything that had happened in the last few years flashed before your eyes. All the lies, betrayal, hurt, why did you have to suffer? You thought about the countless days where you cried in your bed curled up like a baby. Did you deserve that? You thought about all the fights you had in your mind where he gave you a chance to explain. But did he? All the dreams he showed you were all smoke and mirrors in the end. All the promises were just words spewed out in a blissful moment. He used you in the cruelest way and god oh god you missed who you used to be before you.He was a forbidden fruit that you dared to taste and you wished he had left you wondering instead. You would have died for his sins but you were dead inside. You thought about all the times you wished to redo things, to never cross paths with him again. This was your chance. 

You took the card from his hand and looked at him, “What do I do now”.

“Now you close your eyes y/n..”

You nodded your head.

“All the best y/n”. The man smiled. 

With a deep breath you closed your eyes and then it all went dark.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring at your laptop screen. Your heart pounded in your ear and sweat beads rolled down your forehead like a string of pearls. HArsh sunlight blinded your eyes and you squinted to make sense of your surroundings. It wasn’t your room and yet it seemed familiar. Was it all a cruel dream? You gulped down the half empty glass of water kept on your table and leaned back in your chair gasping for air.

You stared blankly at the fan above and then it dawned on you. Slowly you got up and checked the date on your phone.

1st January 2021, 10:00 AM…

So it was all a dream then. But it felt too real. You ran your hands through your hair and took another deep breath. Just as you were about to get up from your desk a faint familiar blue peeking between pages of your diary caught your eye. With a quivering breath you dared to flip the page and the room got drained of oxygen when you saw the same card with the three words written. So it was all real. 

Right above the card scribbled in haphazard writing were cursed words that changed your life, Domain Dynamics Inc Interview : 01/01/21 10:15 AM. 

A team's notification snapped you out of your thoughts and saw a meeting reminder. You smiled to yourself and joined the meeting.

“Hello, y/n! Congratulations on getting through previous rounds! We are ha-”.

“I can not accept this offer”. You said as excitement coursed through your veins.

“Excuse me?”

“I..I am sorry for wasting your time but I can not accept this offer”.

“Y/n..if this is about your salary then we ca-”.

“It’s not. It’s not about the salary. 120k is a lot and I am sure you will find a better suited and more…deserving candidate for this role. I can’t accept this offer. Thank you for your time”. You ended the meeting with a wide smile on your face. Now you will never cross paths with him again.

“Good riddance”. You mumbled to yourself and opened your email. You remembered this day very very well. 

To: n.kento@goldenratiodesigns.com

Hello Mr.Kento,

It has been a pleasure interviewing with your firm and getting to know you and samantha. I would like to let you know that I will gladly accept your offer. I have attached a signed copy of my offer letter. Please let me know if anything else is needed from my end.

Looking forward to working with you and the team!

Regards,

Y/n l/n.

“Fuck Yess!!!!”. You creamed as you punched the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”.

“Y/n! What happened?”. You mom walked in barging through your bedroom. 

You turned around and saw the version of your mom not corrupted by Gojo but your still ached. You got up and hugged your mom like you were afraid to lose her.

She gently rubbed your back and chuckled,”What happened? I thought you had an interview right now so we were all quiet.”

“I..yes I did. But I didn’t accept the offer from Domain Dynamics”. You moved back and looked to the ground like a guilty child caught stealing.

“Why not?”

You could have lied that they didn’t offer a good pay but you wanted to know in your heart that she loved you regardless of how much you earned. 

“They were paying well but I didn’t like the company. People were quite rude and..selfish”.

“Oh, okay. What about the other firm?”.

“I accepted the offer from Golden Ratio Designs! The pay is lower than Domain Dynamics but I loved the team and everyone is really nice and supportive”. Your gulped anticipating cruel words that you had grown accustomed to,

Your mother stepped towards you and gently caressed your cheeks. “I am so proud of you. I am sure you made the right decision”.

Her words brought tears to your eyes and you wrapped your arms around her. “I promise I will take good care of you, dad, and ren! You don’t have to worry about anything!”.

“Oh my baby! If you are happy then we are happy!”. She smiled. “When do you have to move to tokyo?”.

“I don’t have to. The firm is right here in Kyoto”.

Taglist: @missybrat @lem-hhn @byakuya61085 @starlightanyaaa @inlove-maze

[girlkisser13]

suguru geto masterlist

* indicates smut

headcanons

being married to suguru geto would include

nsfw headcanons *

imagines

drabbles

[daemontargaryenwhore]

I had enough

[coffee-and-geto]

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY PANTIES?”

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: in a lazy, hot summer afternoon, it’s your boyfriend’s turn to do the laundry. but why doesn’t he respond when you’re asking where’s your panties?

warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, gojo is your boyfriend, needy! gojo, cute! gojo, fluff, nipple play, panties sniffling, masturbation (m), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, sex (p in v), also based on a @/yunonoai’s comic!

wc: 2,128

“Babe, can you do the laundry? I have a call.”

“Sure,” Satoru replies, standing up from the couch where he was lazily lying down, chilling out in front of some tiktoks.

He steps towards the bathroom, the laundry hamper waiting for him to be emptied and washed. With a resigning sigh, he looks down at the heap of dirty clothes. One of them overhangs them all: your favorite panties — the one he bought you last month. 

The lace surrounds with finesse the satin fabric of your favorite color.

So how can he not be hard at the only sight that reminds him how long you both haven’t had sex?

Fuck.

His breathing becomes heavier, each inhaling being a trial to not pay attention to the prominent bulge swelling down his gray jogging pants. Of course, the memory of your whimpers will always be like music to his ears, the fwap sounds of his cock buried deep, so deep, inside of your wet pussy, and his balls, so much filled with his cum and tightening when he's about to climax, slapping against your ass at each pound into you.

He is grouching now, at the edge of whining in need of your full attention — but of course, you needed to have a call at this very moment.

His hand twitches to his crotch, palming his already hard erection through the soft fabric of his pants, electricing at quiet moans, Satoru’s beautiful face wincing in pleasure. He swallows thick, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gives in. With messy movements, he lifts up his black shirt to grab the hem at his watering mouth and muffle his cute sounds between his clenched teeth and jaw. The fresh air blow at his hard abs, making him tensing his belly with scorching skin.

His big, calloused hand fiddles with his erection, so ready to free himself from the torturous sensation of your pretty panties, which he holds between his fingers and brings to his nose to inhale your scent, which makes him like a little puppy for you. Satoru utters a desperate whimper and finally buries his hand under his clothes to release his quivering cock.

It’s much bigger than usual, beads of precum glistening on the angry red tip, and veins sinuating the flesh. Of course, it’s perfect. That’s why it will never seem strange to anyone to see him stroke himself. He lazily fucks his tight fist, picturing your sweet pussy as he closes his eyes, beads of sweat leaking from his temples a flush spreads all over his cheeks.

His length girth throbs between his digits, coursing waves of lust through him as Satoru quickens the pace, as the same as his heartbeat. Saliva damps the fabric of his black shirt, and the idea of substituting the hem of his shirt with your panties carries out straight away, increasing his arousal until it’s twitching in a maddened way. With each stroke, the pre spreads along his shaft to allow it to be lubricated, at the point that if you all of a sudden show up in the bathroom, you both can skip the foreplay but damn!

“Toru? Did you see my panties?” Your voice echoes through another room.

But he doesn’t answer anyway.

“Fuck,” he grunts in a quiet whine, “miss you so much, babe.” His balls tighten, following the next moment — and it doesn’t take that much time he expected, because a few seconds after he twists his wrist in an upstroke movement — the exact way you’d do to him — he’s already cumming on the heap of laundry, dirtying them even more they already were, puddles of a viscous liquid, spreading out in droplets as the orgasmic peak subsides.

Panting heavily, he doesn’t hear you burst into the bathroom as you exclaim, “Satoru? You serious? Look at the state of the laundry now!”

With a swift gesture, he removes your panties from his mouth and turns his head suddenly towards you. He’s unable to justify himself and simply watches your disapproving pout ruffle your pretty lips. “Sorry babe, I'll clean it up.” He also notes how your mere presence makes him hard immediately despite having softened a moment earlier with the moment of “relief” he wished to provide for himself.

“Where are my panties?” you ask a second time as you rummage, eyebrows furrowed, through the basket of dirty laundry.

Satoru rubs the back of your neck nervously and hesitates to hide your underwear in his palm. “Uh... here,” he murmurs softly, slightly discomfited as you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“You’re that much needy?”

Satoru looks down, a little boyish pout on his lips that breaks your heart. “Sorry...”

Your frown softens. “Oh, um— No, Toru, please don’t gimme that look,” you whisper, walking over to him, your hands instinctively cupping his cheeks to make him look down at you. “I’m sorry, my love. You need to tell me when you need me, okay?”

Satoru nods slowly, still guiltily pouting. “Can I have you? Please? Just one round, I swear I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs.

His request makes your lips curl up. “My boy does want me? You’re cute, almost begging like this.” You graze a kiss on his cheek. “Get on your knees.”

“Like that?” His knees make contact with the floor, his cock still outside his dangling jogging suit. He so fucking cute, listening to you so obediently.

“Good boy,” you coo, sliding pants down your thighs. Your black panties hug the swell of your hips, your intoxicating scent spreading toward Satoru’s nostrils.

He moves towards you using his knees to grip your hips and sniff your scent once more. The action makes you giggle so much that it makes you suck in a breath when he pulls down your underwear to kiss your groin. “Love you,” he whispers. “I want to taste you, please.”

“Satoru, just wait I—” But he cuts you off, darting out his tongue to lick a strip enough to feel your bundle of nerves. A moan escapes your lips, driving your breath as crazy as he’s doing with his skillful mouth.

“You’re dripping,” Satoru comments, kissing your lower lips swiftly before grabbing you by the thighs and lifting you up, dropping you off the washing machine. “Spread your legs,” he mumbled, all needy and flushed to eat you out.

And how long he hadn’t—

It’s like he’s drunk on you, ignoring your moans and whimpers as he rests his cheeks on your inner thigh to wrap his wrist around your thighs. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your thighs, trapping you firmly. “Keep ‘em spread, baby,” he purrs, lapping your soaked core and sensitive, puffy clit. “It tastes s’good, I’ve missed you.”

His dick twitches and throbs afterward, your sweet sounds re-hardening him and making him more swollen than he was even after the few rubs he did to relieve himself.

“Hmm, ah, Satoru, you—” you trail off, throwing back your head against the wall, your hands grabbing the washing machine’s edge until your knuckles turn white. “I’ll be close, I—” you babble, and the realization of how much not having sex with him for so long is turning you into a virgin-like. And also, the clenching feeling of your pussy, lips parting and closing around nothing hits you so hard.

You need to cum on his cock.

“Satoru, stop,” you gasp, your fingers snaking gently through his white lock and tugging them carefully.

He stops the moment after your whine reaches his ears — a sound ringing like music to his ear. “But… I haven’t made you come yet,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly with his forefinger and middle finger. His cute pout is now begging you to give him grace.

“I want to cum on your dick,” you clarify, leaning in, your lips pressing down a gentle, loving kiss on this beautiful forehead of him.

“You sure? I haven’t stretched you beforehand.” He rises from his former crouching position and holds his sensitive length closer to your core.

“I don’t mind, I just want you right now,” you blow out, kissing his free hand.

Satoru blushes — and oh, how can anyone fall in love with this cute little face you want to madly shower with cuddles and kisses? “Can we put it in while I kiss you?” he requests, bringing his lips closer to yours.

You let out a little laugh, pressing a first kiss on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

But something makes your eyes drop lower, and you feel it. Satoru’s hand holds his shaft enough well to tap the tip and the length below on your core, teasing your squelching cunt.

“C’mon, don’t tease me, I want you n— Ah!” He shuts you down by crashing his lips on yours and sliding himself easily in you, stretching you impossibly wide. “S-Satoru, you’re bigger than usual,” you whimper. 

Your hands grab his broad shoulder, nails sinking in his compressed black shirt, lips moving on their own to taste yourself on his wet lips. His tender tongue asks to enter you, and you allow him, soft strokes on each other’s tongue.

Satoru moans in the melting kiss, waiting for you to adjust, and starts gentle back and forth hips moves, hissing through his teeth by the sweet, delicious tightness of yours. “You feel so good,” he squeals between kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You gasp, swallowing hard because of the different paces your brain can’t focus on — stolen kisses and perfect pounds into you. It’s so deep, so mastered, that it’s driving you mad and making you see stars.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru wraps his muscled arms around your back and encircles you flush against him, your heartbeat matching with his, and your fingernails slide down his back as you almost lose strength and balance every time his tip brushes against your cervix, etching red scratch marks for sure on his back as soon as he will remove his shirt.

With another buck before pulling out fully, he slides back in and manages to reach your deepest point, making your back arch and cry out. “Satoru, please, I’m so close,” you whine, wincing because of his hips rocking in you faster and harder. 

The washing machine sways to the same rhythm, threatening to give way under your weight. Your heavy, ragged breaths fill the air in a kind of steam room. Blood beats at your ears, your gummy walls clenching around his long, big dick without ceasing and have mercy for you.

But as if that wasn’t enough, Satoru slides your top off with a swift movement of his hand to free one of your breasts and taste the nipple. He sucks hard, tongue pulling and swirling at the nub like no other. The action makes you roll your eyes, the overstimulation engulfing you like a wave would.

He then uses his head to tease your nipple with a gentle tug, his cerulean-blue eyes captivated by your curve. You squeal, your walls swallowing up his thrusts inside you, tightening more and more until he gives in and takes you back into his arms, but this time with a hand under your thigh to lift it up and enable him to reach an even more precise and deep angle, making you scream out his name.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” Satoru warns you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and his jaw tense from clenching. “Please, where—”

“Inside me, Satoru,” you whimper in the hollow of his neck, closing your eyes before the following ride crashes the two of you.

Pussy clenching around his length, you squirt on him with a small cry, and Satoru does likewise, twitching as he grunts and his hips jerk to reach your womb and fill you up with his cum.

Muscles trembling from the aftermath, you pant against him, as weak as after an intense workout. “I’ve missed you so much,” Satoru whispers in your ear, in the same state as you. His large, quaking hands stroke your hair, soothing you.

White strings escape from your full, swollen-lipped pussy, the sound of trickling filling the silence of the room.

“I promise I’ll do the laundry, but please, can we have cuddles?” Satoru demands, blinking down at you with puppy-dog eyes.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and nod, a smile stretching your lips, as you reach out to stroke his cheek.

“Of course, my baby.”

DING DONG.

The ringing of the front door echoes in your ears and a memory pops into your head, slapping you in the face.

“Wasn’t Suguru supposed to come to borrow the washing machine here because his is broken?”

Satoru froze, flickering his eyes. “Huh?”

a/n: feelin to write something cute and smutty haha! i think writing things easy like this is unwinding me.

see how he’s so cute? 🥹 pls God give me one…

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t

[gojonanami]

content: drunk!gojo, clingy gojo, infinity acting up, pre-established relationship, down bad for you, mentions of having kids, poor Ijichi

“Hic— where’s my wife?”

You rub your temples, as you watch your husband whine, “how much did you let him drink?”

“Let him? He was a force of his own, he—“ Ijichi cuts off when he sees your glare, balking as he panics, she’s even scarier than Gojo when she’s mad! “I’m so sorry!”

You shake your head, “it’s fine, Ijichi,” and he scurried away quickly, leaving you with your very inebriated husband. The one who had drank one sip of alcohol too many and was probably liable to misfire a hollow purple any second, “Satoru,”

You approached him and were met with the resistance of his infinity, as he sat slumped over on the booth table, “Satoru, put down your infinity—“

“No,”

“Satoru, come on, you have to stop or I can’t take you home,” and he’s shaking his head, cheeks flushed.

“No, I mean I don’t know how to,” he sighs, “the infinity is all messed up, I can’t do it,” he rubs his eyes, and you’re sighing again.

“It’s just because of the alcohol, Toru,” you sit beside him, “you can do it

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, dead weight on his two feet, as he pulled you even closer, cheeks flushed and warm from the alcohol, “why didn’t you come? You told me you were gonna pick me up,”

“No, I didn’t, you said Ijichi was going to—“ you manage to say before he’s whipping his head up, eyes sparking with blue, but lips curled in a pout, as if he wasn’t two seconds from obliterating you and the entire block.

“Do you hate me?” And his eyes nearly glow in the dark of the night, infinity flickering as you drew closer, “do you not want me to have your kids?”

Your hand finally reaches him, as you are the only one who can pierce through his defenses, “first of all l, I would be the one having your kids, weirdo,” your fingers cup his cheek, thumbing away his tears, “and how could I ever hate my husband?”

He blinks at you, “You’re married?” And you have to bite back your laugh at his affronted expression, “to who? I’ll hollow purple them!”

You snort, “Well he has light hair, blue eyes, and is drunk off his ass,”

He blinks, furrowing his brow, “Nanami?” And you laugh, before kissing him hard. You can taste the alcohol on his lips still, mixed with the aftertaste of sugar and chocolate he had at the bar most likely.

“Get it now?” And he grins, nodding, as he hangs all over you as you get him into the car with you, leaning against you as you drive home.

“So you’re gonna leave your husband for me?”

“…I might, if you ever drink again.”

[itsafairytalekay]

Toji always puts you on his back when he's doing pushups, that man says you are his warmup weight even if you weigh 90 kgs, he will come into your bedroom with his protein shake and smirk like a teenager and you know what's about to happen, you're used to this. he's putting you over his shoulder to then directly put you on his back and start doing pushups, fast af too. You just latch onto his neck for dear life and he's laughing while doing his workout.

He will also make you a dumbbell for working his biceps.

Then while doing squats he will put you on his neck.

He just wants to get a good workout in but, also spend time with his girl.

You talk to him while he's getting his workout in, literally on his neck or back and he's just responding with grunts and mhm's.

He loves how you talk so much, He just loves you too much <3

[colonelarr0w]

“As I’ve already stated,” Nanami pauses to sip at the coffee in his hand, “I’ve no interest in speaking to her.” 

Annoyed, Gojo leans back in his seat, casting a glance to the Instagram post that he had shown Nanami — the girl in it was attractive, but somehow it still wasn’t the blonde’s type. 

“Hmm, maybe you’re just not into brunettes,” Gojo says dismissively, scrolling through the woman’s Instagram before stowing his phone away into his pocket. 

Nanami bites back the chuckle in his throat, masking it by taking another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. A shame that Gojo kept interrupting him just as he wanted to enjoy his break.  

“I’m not into anyone,” Nanami finally says, setting down his cup — though he is quite frustrated considering that the coffee had been purchased by someone else for him.  

“Oh? What, have some secret girlfriend I don’t know about?” Gojo teases, already laughing at his own joke. Nanami shoots him a pointed glare, subconsciously running a finger over the smooth metal band adorning his left ring finger.  

“I don’t see how—“ 

Nanami’s phone buzzes on the table, its screen displaying your image. It’s one of Nanami’s favorite photos of you, one that he had taken himself during one of your monthly date nights.  

Gojo’s eyes flicker down to the flashing screen, his eyebrows raising and his eyes widening in absolute shock. “Who—?” 

Nanami is quick to answer the call, pressing the phone against his ear and doing very little to hide the smile that curls his lips upward. “Hi love.” 

Gojo’s jaw goes completely slack. It’s an expression that would make anyone laugh — Nanami is honestly shocked at how well he was able to keep his straightforward façade.  

“Yes, I should be home soon. I did not forget,” Nanami’s tone is reassuring, one that Gojo had never heard in the stoic man’s voice before. It’s heartwarming, not that he would ever admit it out loud.  

“I love you too, bye now.” 

The minute that Nanami hangs up, Gojo is practically screaming. Heads turn, and in a fit of both frustration and embarrassment, Nanami attempts to diffuse the situation. 

“You have a girlfriend?!” 

“Wife, actually.” 

“Are you—?!” 

[eclipseslayer]

An afternoon nap—warm, and cozy, bundled up together in each other's arms. Toji's arm is underneath you, holding you close to him, while his other arm is thrown astray across your stomach, tracing soft circles there.

The sunlight catches in the trees hanging outside the window, pebbling across the room, enveloping the room in soft apricot.

Toji looks around the room, and he looks out of the window, watching the trees sway.

Then, he looks at you, asleep in his arms.

He smiles, fondly, and he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He thinks you look beautiful like this, so soft, and warm underneath the effects of the sun. In fact, he thinks he could get used to this. This sight of you, like this, asleep in his arms. He could do this forever.

He makes a move to tuck another strand of your hair behind your ear again, but this time, he sees you shift, and it makes him stop. He looks at you with a warm smile on his face, happy you're waking up next to him.

"Mornin'," he says, before leaning over to kiss your temple.

You chuckle at Toji's words. You glance at the clock. It's two in the afternoon. "Good afternoon," you correct him, and Toji rolls his eyes.

"Well good afternoon," he says with a grin.

You chuckle, and at the sound, his heart skips a beat when he watches you smile.

God. He could be here forever—

"I wanna marry you."

The words escape him, suddenly, and they even catch him off guard. His eyes widen, finding himself even in shock, but his heart suddenly jumps when he thinks about your response.

His eyes watch you, intently, looking for some kind of reaction, anything—

"Okay."

His eyes soften. He smiles.

"Really?" He takes your hand in his, and he rubs a thumb over the back of your hand.

"Really."

[averyjadedemerald]

I'M OBSESSED

Blood and Chains

Chapter Four- Little Flower

Choso x f!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Next

Content: fluffy bonding time, mutual pining, protective Choso, mentions of death, a little bit of angst, multiple POV

Fridays have become a weekly tradition for you and Choso. Meeting at your home every Friday night to watch a movie, a different one each time. Comedy that would make you both laugh until your sides hurt, scary horror movies or a thrilling adventure. Sometimes the occasional romance movie that would bring big fat tears rolling down Choso’s cheek. He denies it, but you know he was crying. Every Friday you would order pizza from the same restaurant. The same pizza every time, and every Friday you would pick off the bell peppers and pile them high on top of Choso’s. He would insist that you order something different, but you never listen. Secretly, he enjoys the extra veggies you place on his. 

On Fridays you play games too. Sometimes simple board games like Life. Sometimes a random, complicated board game with too many rules that neither of you can recall halfway into. Once the two of you played Monopoly, which had the two of you arguing with each other until your faces were red. You got so mad when you landed on one of his spaces, owing him all your money, that you flipped the board and rage quit.  Plastic houses and paper money flying everywhere.

“You're such a sore loser!” he teased and pointed with a laugh, clearly not offended by your tantrum. You crossed your arms and pouted, immediately making him feel slightly guilty. He spent the rest of that night handfeeding you popcorn like your little servant so you wouldn't stay mad at him. Though you never were seriously mad.

You also shared your favorite video games with him. For someone so inept with technology, he caught on surprisingly fast. Beating your ass easily in Street Fighter and Super Smash Bros. It frustrates you to no end, but part of you watches in awe. You have never seen someone so skilled and strategic in those games. This man is perfect at everything. Everything except Mario Party. That is the one game you can always manage to beat him in. Seeing his cute pout after he inevitably loses makes victory taste so so sweet. 

And every Friday night, without fail, Choso would pass out on your couch. The first two times were a complete surprise, apologizing when he woke in the morning. Now he's accepted his sleepy fate. Making sure to pack pajamas and other nightly essentials. You never cared if he slept over, in fact, you enjoyed it. Getting to spend a few extra moments in the morning with him, listening to his rough sleepy voice and eating breakfast together on the couch before he left until the following week. 

Even on days that weren't Friday, you were constantly talking to each other. Texting back and forth all day long. Calling him when you had a rough day in class or just to tell him something funny. You even managed to teach him how to use Snapchat (something Yuji has been trying and failing to teach him). The man with such a serious face can somehow send the most absurd, silly faces. You screenshot each and every one, much to his embarrassment. The two of you continue to learn more and more about each other.

You know all his favorites. His favorite color is a deep purple. His favorite season is fall because he loves the sound of the crunchy leaves under his thick shoes. His favorite animal is a tiger, because it reminds him of his brother. He can never pick a favorite song, because he loves to explore new artists and genres. Each week he shares his top picks with you, and you secretly listen to them on repeat until he gives you his next list of songs. Though, through your bonding, you learned of several topics that seem off-limits. 

One. His job. You don’t know exactly what it is that he does. You assume it is something dangerous as his biceps bear countless scars. The few times you have asked about his career, he quickly shuts you down or changes the subject. You can’t imagine him being involved in any shady organizations with how truly kind he is, but you don't count it out yet. Not until you can get the truth out of him. So for now, you drop the topic of work until he can open up more. 

Two. Family. You have learned Choso has a very…complicated …family dynamic. When asked about his family, he completely avoided talking about his mother and father, you can only assume they are no longer in the picture. Something that you can understand greatly. You also learned his last name is Kamo. 

“Choso Kamo” you echoed back, and watched as he visibly cringed. 

“Please…just call me Choso,” he corrected softly. You agreed, never letting his last name leave your lips again. He joked around saying he was thinking of changing his last name to Itadori to match his brother. Part of you thinks he wasn't joking.

He mentioned that he is the oldest of many siblings, but he also doesn't say more than that. When he talked about how he only wanted to be a good brother, you could feel his sadness. Tears daring to flow from his waterline. So you stopped him, saving him from releasing the pain.

The only exception to the family rule is his little brother, Yuji. He loves Yuji. He would happily spend all day talking about his little brother if you let him. With how close he and the pink-haired boy are, you assumed they have been inseparable from the moment Yuji was born. This assumption makes the fact that Yuji only recently came into Choso’s life and that they are actually only half-siblings, even harder to believe. You can tell he's leaving out a lot of the details of their meeting, but you understand they only recently connected in the past four years. Now roommates in their shared apartment, Choso being the best big brother he can. You felt a spark of jealousy, you never experienced having siblings. 

You shared your own family issues with Choso. You rarely speak about your family to others, but he makes you feel so welcomed that you don't even hesitate to pour your heart out. You were your parent’s first and only child and sadly you can't recall any memories of them. Not long after your first birthday, they died together in a car crash. Thankfully, you weren't with them. After the tragedy, you were raised by your Aunt. She never married and never had any of her own children, she loved you like you were her own. Even though she filled the void in your parentless life, you still yearned for the life you could have had if your parents never got in the car that day. 

The year you started college, your aunt became ill. Then, barely a month after her diagnosis, she was gone. Leaving you more alone than you believed possible. She also left you with a large sum of inheritance. Money you were able to use to buy this tiny apartment in the city and help stay afloat while you study. Your little sanctuary is a constant reminder of your aunt’s love.

Three. Love. More specifically past relationships. Choso admitted he only has had one relationship in the past, and it ended very badly. You didn't press more than that after seeing the hurt in his eyes as he relives the memories. You also don't like talking about your love life. The one serious relationship you have been in resulted in broken trust and tears. There is an unspoken mutual understanding between you two that this is a touchy subject for both of you. 

The friendship between you and Choso continues to blossom as a month and a half passes. Leaving the chilly spring breeze behind and welcoming the first warm rays of sunshine. You can't believe how close you and Choso have become in this short time. Right now, you even feel like your bond has surpassed the level of your best friends Suki and Emi. Though you would never admit it to their faces. 

But is this it? Are you and Choso destined to stay just friends forever? The connection you have with him is so special, you wouldn't want to lose him altogether if you admitted your feelings for him. Would that make things awkward? Would it scare him away? Questions flood your head, though another part of you greedily wants more.

You check your phone, 5:10, he should be here soon. Glancing around the apartment, it looks spotless. Movie loaded up on the TV, pizza already ordered and on the way. Another fun Friday is about to unfold.

A soft knock on the door. He's been around so much now that you can tell it's him just by the way his knuckles rasp against the wood.

“Come in” you call in a sing-song voice. He enters a moment later, smile on his face as he sees you. He walks over and gives you a friendly hug, a warm Choso hug is the best kind there is. He breaks away and leans against the kitchen counter.

“So…how was your day?” He asks.

“Fine. Sara annoyed the crap out of me but that's nothing new” you chuckle, he laughs too. Sara is the only person who knows about your sacred Fridays with Choso. So every Friday, she makes a huge deal out of it and teases you until the end of the shift. 

Another knock at the door. Pizza is here. Choso moves back to the door to accept the food from the delivery person. Ever since the encounter with the man who grabbed your wrist, Choso makes a point to be the only one to answer the door when he's over. Even though you haven't seen that employee since. You're guessing he's fired now.

Choso returns with the pizza, and you begin the ritual of picking off the peppers and placing it on his. He rolls his eyes in fake annoyance.

“Have a movie picked out?” He asks as you both make your way to the couch. He sits down, taking the first bite of pizza, eyes glued on you as he waits for your response. 

“Yup…it's a classic. You're going to love it.” You sit next to him and press play. “Twilight” you smirk at him.

“That stupid vampire romance movie?” he groans in disappointment. You laugh as you nod your head enthusiastically. 

“Just trust me Choso, you're going to love it. It’s so cheesy now, it's more funny than anything.” You loved watching these movies as a teenager, they became kind of a comfort show to watch. Though now they are kinda cringy, but that makes you love them even more. You are excited to be able to share this movie with Choso for the first time.

After wolfing down your food, Choso stands up and takes both of your plates to the kitchen. As he returns and plops next to you on the couch, you watch him stretch his arms up above his head. His black t-shirt slowly rides up, unveiling his chiseled abs that hide underneath the fabric. Your eyes remain glued to him as you notice the collection of dark hairs that seem to flow down…down toward...

You quickly avert your eyes, heat creeping across your face. You shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about your friend. That's all you are. Friends! You snap out of your thoughts as you feel the sudden warmth of Choso’s hand come around you as he holds you against him. You turn to face him, completely taken by surprise. He never does this, never acts so affectionate. He always acts so careful to never cross the line beyond friend territory. His eyes stay focused on the movie, hand slowly moving up and down along the smooth skin of your arm. 

Maybe, just maybe Choso wants to blur the lines of friendship and something more. Something you keep wanting but never voice in case he feels differently. Your stomach flutters as all of your held-back emotions for him dare to explode. How you want to hold him, kiss him, make him completely yours. You want to transform this friendship into something so much more. He tugs you a little closer to him, hand still on your arm. You lean into him, feeling the heat of your body mix with his.

You glance up, trying to get a read on his emotions. Nothing. He stares forward, eyes watching every move of the characters on screen. Not a single twitch of a smirk, no quick glances your way. Curse his unreadable expressions. You turn your focus back to the TV screen.

The movie goes on and neither of you speak a word, attention solely on the film. The scene plays where Bella and Edward have their first kiss. Your mind begins to wander yet again. How soft are Choso's lips? What does he taste like? Is he a good kisser? Burning heat floods over your face as you envision it. You swear he could feel the fire rising in your cheeks in this moment. As the movie scene unfolds, you can't stop thinking about how his lips would feel against yours. How badly you crave this sensation. 

You feel like you are being watched suddenly. Tearing your eyes from the film, you look over at Choso. His dark eyes fixed on you, on your lips. His eyes half-lidded, peering at you through his long lashes. His own cheeks sporting a rosy hue. His lips are slightly parted as he takes in your flustered features. You wonder if you can hear your heart pounding violently against your ribcage.

“We should try that” he whispers lowly, eyes lazily flicking over to the kissing on the TV and back to you. He awaits your response, taking in every small move of your face. Your eyes widen, occasionally traveling down to his own plump lips. Your cheeks get warmer by the second while your mouth is watering with anticipation for his. Your mind still reeling, unable to form words to respond. You notice his adam's apple bob in his throat, a slight glimmer of worry in his eyes as you continue to not speak.

“Us?” You whisper in disbelief, eyes unable to break from his lips. He chuckles softly.

“Do you see anyone else here? Yes… us ” his hand not holding your arm reaches up to cup your check, thumb dragging along the skin. His eyes lock with yours. “Just once?” He whispers in question. 

“Just once” you echo, turning your whole body to face his now. Reaching your own hand up to tuck a loose hair behind his ear, his ear tinged pink with blush and excitement. Fingers trace along his jawline then travel behind his head, gently pulling his face closer and closer. 

“Close your eyes” he breathes out, his face mere centimeters from your own. Your lashes flutter shut and you're certain he has done the same. One hand holding your cheek and the other moving to cradle the back of your head. Your pulse quickens with anticipation. Lips tingling as you feel Choso’s warm breath cascade against them. Time is moving incredibly slow, you almost think it has stopped completely. The sound of the movie drowned out, nothing to be heard except your soft breaths mingling with his and the thrumming of your beating heart. 

His soft lips pressed against yours in the next instant. You held your breath for a moment, letting him take charge. Your lips obediently follow his, creating an electric symphony. His warm breath mixes with yours. Then, just as quickly as it started the kiss was over. Your eyes flick back open, looking through your lashes up at him. Noticing his flushed face, a soft sigh escaping his pillowy lips. In that moment, you no longer doubted Choso's feelings for you. That much was painfully clear. 

His thumb reaches over and traces the contour of your lips, his eyes never wavering from yours. A soft exhale escapes you. Neither of you had to speak, it's like you can read the other's thoughts. This was never going to stay ‘just one kiss’. You've each had a taste, an appetizer, and now you want more. You need more like your life depends on it. 

Just as he pulls you back to him, you pull him to you. Ungracefully, bonking eachother on the forehead in your rushed passion. He chuckles shyly and quickly leaves a light kiss where he collided into you. You can't help but smile at the sweet gesture. His lips meet yours again, sparking that burning fire between you. Wet lips gliding against each other in furious need. He moves a hand down to your waist, pulling your body flush to his. You take this moment as an invitation to crawl up onto his lap, all without breaking the kiss.

His tongue pokes at your lips, asking for entry into your mouth. You deepen the kiss, allowing him entry. Tongues dancing together in perfect harmony. A shiver runs through your body, heart crawling up your throat. Pouring all of your pent-up feelings you have for Choso out now into this very moment. 

Your fingers lock with his hair, pulling his head back slightly. As you pull, the hair from one of his pigtails falls out completely, a dark curtain flowing over half his face. You place a trail of light kisses from his lips, to his jawline and down his neck. Pausing to leave small bites along the way. A small moan escapes him by surprise. He grabs your face and pulls you back to look him in the eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. A dull ache pounding from where your skulls clashed earlier. His breath now coming out in quick gasps, head spinning from everything. Fingers reaching forward to swipe your own saliva off of his lips. His eyes flutter closed momentarily at your touch.

“You're so pretty” he whispered suddenly, his thumb drawing lines along your cheekbone. He smiles as he feels the heat return to your cheeks under his touch.

“You're so perfect Choso” you purr his name, a finger idly twirling his hair that fell out. A silence falls over the two of you. So comfortable that words aren't even necessary. The sound of your quickened breath starting to slow fills the air, Twilight forgotten on the TV in the background.

After tonight, things will never feel the same between the two of you. Which is fine, because you don't want to go back to normal. You don't want to go back to just being friends, you want to be more. The freedom to kiss him as you please, to hold him, to explore him body and soul. He's all you ever wanted. The connection growing between you and Choso is so special, so beautiful. You just want to nurture it more and see how it blossoms. 

“Choso?” Your voice is the first to break the silence.

“Hmm?” He hums, nuzzling his head against yours. You sit back slightly, wanting to glimpse a whole view of his face. 

“Umm…what are we? I mean…after…” you trail off, the defining question weighing heavily between you.

“What are we? I guess we are friends, right? Friends who kiss?” He chuckles softly, his lips leaving a kiss on your cheek. Yet you don't laugh along with his joke.

“I'm serious Choso. Friends…friends don't kiss like that” 

“Says who?” He smirks at you. You frown slightly.

“Choso. I want you, I want to be yours. I don't think I can do friends. I want more than a friendship. You understand that too…right?” Your brows knit in worry, frantically searching his face. Did I misread the whole situation? You could have sworn he felt the same.

“We can't” he gently takes you off his lap, sitting you next to him on the couch once again. His eyes look away from yours. 

“Can't? Why not?” You exclaim in disappointment. He still won't look at you. 

“It's complicated,” he mumbles. 

“Is there someone else?” you whisper, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Were you just toying with me?” Imagining him with another girl after the way your lips just locked, it hurts in a thousand ways.

“No!” He spins his head to look at you, eyes flaring in anger and a hint of sadness. He says your name softer “I would never…trust me. I want you too but…” he stops, biting back his next words.

“But what?” You egg him on.

“But we can't. You deserve someone better, someone who isn't me. I'm too rotten for you” the words come out hoarsely. 

“You have been nothing but sweet…nothing but good to me. You've been my protector since the moment we met. You're all I need, all I want. No one would be better for me than you, Choso” You don't care if your pleading voice comes off as pathetic right now, you need to get your point across. For a moment, a glimmer of hope flashes in his eyes, but then it fades. 

“Fuck (Y/N), we cant…I can't. It's just too complicated…too risky...” 

“It's your job isn't it” Your voice is raised louder than you meant it, frustration surfacing. Something finally clicks In your brain, that elusive job of his has to be the reason. He drops his gaze and gives a small nod. Just as you suspected. 

“Being with me…it's dangerous. People want to hurt me, and they won't hesitate to hurt you to get to me” his voice is full of raw emotion as he imagines the horrors. “I can't…I won't…do that to you”

“I don't care,” you blurt out. “Yakuza, assassin, whatever you really are. I. Don't. Care. I trust you, I know you'll keep me safe. I want-” he cuts you off by saying your name.

“Just stop!” Anger is rising up his throat. He drops his head into his hands. “What if something happens to you while I'm not here? What if I fail to protect you? I could never-” his voice cracks. “Never live with myself. I don't want your life in danger” Your gaze softens as you listen to his desperate pleas, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder, wanting to comfort him. Before your fingers can make contact, he abruptly stands up, avoiding your touch.

“I'm sorry. I should have never kissed you. I…I have to go. I'm sorry” he stands up and rushes toward the door. 

“Choso…please” You stand up to follow him, tears beginning to wet your lashes. 

“No…stop. Don't make this any more painful for either of us” he speaks harshly, avoiding your sad eyes. “I'm no good for you. I can't make you happy like you think I can” With that, he exits the apartment door. You stand there, mind reeling with the turn of events. How did such an amazing kiss turn into the loss of a friend.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Choso's POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

Choso storms away from your apartment, hands two tight fists pushed deep into his pants pockets. Gritting his teeth, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He walks along the trail to a nearby park, with the sun down there should be nobody there. 

He would be lying if he said he didn't want to be with you. He wanted to call you his, he's wanted to for the past month. But his mind continues to be plagued by thoughts of fear. Thoughts of you hurt because of him. Of seeing you dead because of some curse user. If he failed to protect you, he doesn't know what he would do. So he doesn't even want to give it a chance. It already felt too risky to be your friend, even with his minimal visits of only once a week.

He finds a bench at the park and sits down, the late-night dew seeping into his clothes. I should have never become her friend. He thinks to himself, kicking at the pebbles on the ground. Seeing the tears in your eyes as he left broke him further. He never intended to hurt you. Why couldn't I just be content being her friend…why did I need to kiss her? idiot! Choso kicks one of the large rocks near the bench, accidentally putting some cursed energy behind it due to his unstable emotions and sending it soaring. He groans and throws his head between his knees. He became too greedy, consumed with the need to taste your lips on his, and now he's gone and ruined everything.

BUZZ BUZZ! His phone vibrates in his pocket, he pulls it out. His heart sinks as he sees your contact photo, your eyes shut sticking your tongue out. He snapped this picture after teasing you about something and you begged him to delete it. Choso never did, he thought his picture was so cute and instead secretly made it your contact photo. A single tear rolls down his cheek as he declines the call. 

He goes back to hanging his head in-between his knees. He never wanted to get this close to you, he just wanted a friend. He didn't intend to fall head over heels. Unfortunately, that was his fate. He couldn't stop it, couldn't control his feelings if he tried. For so long, he bottled them up and prayed they would go away. That only made them stronger, unable to stay at bay.

It sounds silly, but he was hoping you would be a bad kisser. That maybe it would put off his developing crush. Hoping you would use too much tongue or move your lips too fast. God was he wrong. Of course, that had to be the best kiss of his life. Of course, you stole his breath away. The moment your lips first met his, he knew how big of a mistake he had made. 

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ! His phone vibrates as you blow him up with text messages. He sighs and checks them.

You: Pick up!

You: Don't ignore me!

You: Choso!

The messages continue to come in. One after another. Why does she have to be so stubborn? He sighs, about to turn his phone off when he sees the next message flash on the screen.

You: Come back :(

Then silence. The vibrations cease. A fat teardrop falls onto Choso’s locked phone. Then another, and another. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to stop them.

He was never supposed to love again. He made that promise to himself. His heart won't be able to handle another breaking. The last one was so painful he vowed to never love again, to protect himself and others.  She had ruined him. She was the reason he won't allow himself to love. She took his heart and shattered it into millions of pieces. In turn, he shut down. So much so that he didn't even want to make friends again. He didn't want to become close to anyone else. Love is too complicated in his field of work, he didn't want to drag you into his world. Wanted to keep it away from you, forever if he could. He only wanted to protect you, to keep you safe. You aren't a sorcerer, you don't see curses, you can't protect yourself. So why is he so madly in love with you? Why did he allow himself to get so close when he vowed not to befriend humans again?

In the month and a half he's been your friend, you're the only thing on his mind. When he's on a mission he thinks about how he can't wait to fall asleep to a movie on your couch. At home, he talks about you nonstop to Yuji until his ears bleed and Choso's throat is sore. He finds himself taking pictures of sunsets and animals while out working, things he knows you would enjoy. Eyes he can get lost in, the softest lips, gorgeous hair. You're so perfect, you drive him insane. 

Everything reminds him of you. He rakes his fingers through his hair, frustrated. Ripping the last remaining hair tie out and letting his locks flow freely. I need her. I need her. I need her . A cluster of tiny light purple flowers sit by the park bench, the same wildflowers in the rabbit print you made. Even these flowers make him think of you. Choso picks one, holding it delicately between his fingers. I can't lose her.

He rises from the park bench and sprints back to the apartment complex. He wants to hurry before you hate him forever, though he would understand if you did. He knocks on the front door, hoping you're still awake, that it's not too late to fix things. Please…please.  He silently begs, focusing on the sound of your footsteps on the other side.

After what feels like a painfully long moment, he hears the lock turning and the door opening. There you stand, eyes red from crying. For a moment, he froze. Not sure what he can possibly say at this moment to make things ok again. He twirls the stem of the purple flower between his fingers slowly.

“I'm sorry” he whispers, barely audible. “I lied…I was lying to myself. I want you, I can't stop thinking about you. I want you to be mine, and mine only.” Choso speaks nothing but the truth. Your eyes widen at his confession, he pauses to take a shaky breath, your name falling from his lips. “I need you…I need you like the air we breathe.” 

With that, you rush forward. Locking your hands around his neck and pulling him into your apartment. He is momentarily thrown off by the sudden sensation of your lips meeting his. He wraps his strong arms around the small of your back, kicking your front door shut as he enters, lips never leaving yours. Frantically kissing you back like his life depended on it. 

“I'm just…scared…I don't want…to lose you…to hurt you…” he whispers on your lips between kisses. You pull back as you gaze up at him, bringing your hands to cup his face. He tucks the small purple flower behind your ear as he holds you against him with the other hand. 

“It's okay to feel scared. Life is scary and unpredictable but that just makes it so much more exciting.” Your words seem to soothe the pit of worry in his stomach. “Things will be ok…we have each other” you whisper. You barely have enough time to get those words out before his lips caress yours once again.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @angel04-01

A/N: Happy New Year!! I hope everyone had a fun and safe night and isn't too hungover today lol!

My resolution for this year is just to keep writing :) Looking back at the first chapter of Blood and Chains written in October and comparing it to the new chapters and my other ongoing fic, I feel like I have grown a lot as a writer. So here is to 2025, to creating new chapters and making friends! I love doing this and every kind word from y'all means so much to me <3

[fushitoru]

so i know who i'm looking at! a sukuna ryomen oneshot

pairing ⸺ ghostface!sukuna x reader

summary ⸺ on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff (at the end), pre established consent but dub con just in case, cream pie, lots of degradation and praise, “good girl,” oral sex (m!recieving), recording and pictures, suggested infidelity (but it’s not actually infidelity), exhibitionism, reader gives him a show in exchange for her life, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, mdni, pls help me find artist for credit :(

next. week two

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

you stretch, yawning as you adjust the blanket you had on you to cover you and give you warmth on the chilly october evening. gazing forlornly at the balcony window outside, you see kids and college students alike in their halloween costumes visiting homes for treats and bars for booze, respectively. tonight was a night you were supposed to get dicked down by your boyfriend in the bathroom of a frat, but you’re stuck instead with a last minute call to babysit yuji because he’s sick. 

you love the kid too much, like he’s your own baby. which is why you couldn’t refuse playing babysitter, even if that meant forgoing pictures for your instagram with the slutty angel costume you had bought a month who in anticipation of halloweekend. instead, you’re tucked in and cozy, watching scream for the nth time just to fangirl over how hot ghostface is. 

so you’re in your tank top and boy shorts, relaxing and chilling (that is, as much as you can while locked in on your movie). and, as if on cue, the moment the phone rings in the movie, the itadori household’s phone number gets a call.

you jump at the noise, a bit on edge because of the movie and definitely regretting the idea of setting the living room pitch back in spirit of mood lighting. groaning (albeit a bit freaked out), you get up to answer the call, as yuji babysitting protocol required that you answer any call in case it may be an emergency.  

picking up—but a bit on edge—you drone, “itadori household, how can i help you?”

there’s heavy breathing on the other end and you hate your scaredy cat tendencies because your heart is picking up at the distorted and low pants. “h—hello?”

“hey.” the voice is low, just like the breathing, and for a moment, you hate your brain for immediately recalling the nsfw audios you watch to masturbate because the guy on the phone sounds exactly like them. it’s a little freaky that you’re getting such a weird fuckin call at this time, but regardless you persist, in case this was relevant. you kind of need this job.

feigning cheerfulness, you ask, "what can i get ya?" as your fingers absently toy with the thin strap of your tank top. the cool air from the nearby vent sends a shiver across your skin, but the silence on the other end of the line is more unnerving. you're met with nothing but heavy breathing, and each exhale seems to scrape against your eardrums.

shifting uncomfortably, you feel the sweat beading at the nape of your neck as impatience builds. your fingers tighten around the receiver. "are you gonna talk or should i hang up?" you finally snap, agitation bleeding into your voice.

but before you can slam the phone down, he speaks.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

a groan escapes you, the kind that rises from deep in your chest, exasperation overtaking any lingering nervousness. "look, buddy, this is soooo corny. like, i was literally just watching scream, so you’re not doing shit. if you wanna prank call a girl, try somewhere else because—"

“you got a boyfriend?”

“i do,” you quip back quickly, a hand on your hip as you stand straighter, eyes flicking to the doorway of the kitchen. shadows dance in the dim light, your heartbeat subtly picking up pace. you move to hang up the phone, more irritated than frightened now. “so you better not try anything funny and waste more of your time, you fu—”

“but he’s not sleeping upstairs with the kid?”

the world freezes. you pause, the phone hovering mid-air. what did he just say? your pulse quickens, each thud louder than the last as dread claws at your chest. "what?"

a laugh, deep and guttural, slithers through the receiver. it’s the kind of laugh that makes your stomach drop and your legs feel weak. his voice is smooth, velvety even, and it curls around your ear like smoke. despite the creeping fear, something primal makes your thighs clench involuntarily. “okay, now that i’ve finally got your attention, let’s try this again. what’s your name, baby?”

that word—baby—the way he drags it out, rich and slow, makes your heart stutter, even as fear wraps tighter around your ribs. you grip the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cool surface. “why do you wanna know?”

“so i know who i’m looking at.”

the room spins. your breath falters, shallow, barely there. it’s like the walls are closing in, and your throat feels thick with fear. you lick your dry lips, throat tightening painfully. “wha—what do you mean?”

a soft coo hums through the phone, mockingly sweet. “no need to be afraid, pretty baby. you don’t want the kid upstairs to die, do you?”

your blood turns to ice. the words don’t make sense at first, but when they do, it feels like the floor’s been yanked out from beneath you. your mind races, every nerve in your body screaming. “what the fuck? is this some kind of prank call? this isn’t funny.”

but the man just continues, as if he didn’t just say something so horrifying that your stomach churns. his voice remains steady, eerily calm. “the kid, how old is he? five, six? he’s dozin’ off in those stupid iron man pj’s of his.” you swear you can hear his smile through the phone, a wicked curl of satisfaction. “and i love those shorts on you. parading your ass around like the slut you are. how’d your boyfriend leave you alone tonight?”

the walls feel like they’re closing in. a cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and suddenly the room feels too small. your eyes dart toward the darkened stairs. every creak of the house becomes louder, sharper. the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you swallow, mouth dry as cotton. it feels like someone is watching—someone who shouldn’t be there.

for a second, you digest the information he’d bestowed upon you—information about yourself. not-so-subtly freaking out, you get out a “please, please don’t do this.” 

 “then gimme a show. follow what i say.”

“o—okay. what do you want me to do?” you’re trembling, your realize, in your fear. or was it arousal?

“come closer to the window,” the voice purrs. you tentatively walk up to the balcony window facing the itadori garden, awaiting instructions as you stand shivering with the chill of the air.

“now,” the voice instructs, “take your top off. gimme a show, alright? better see that fucking back arch when you’re talking it off like filthy stripper slut you are.”

you whimper in humiliation but follow his instructions anyways, slowly becoming more and more of a slave to your arousal, caused by his assured and suave voice. when you take your tank top off, back arched just like he asked, the man groans and you hear distant squelches on the other side of the line.

“good girl. now when you take that bra off, pull up your cups, but don’t take it off, leave it bunched. those tits better bounce for me.” pulling up the cups of your bra, your tits recoil and bounce and the squelching gets even louder as you feel eyes rove over your tits. “fuck, i love those tits. get on your knees and bounce em for me like you’re riding cock.” 

you clench so hard as you move to do as he says. part of you is soooo aroused to be forced around like this, so you’re easily giving him the show that he wants, getting on your knees and moving your chest so that they start rhythmically bouncing, synced up with the squelches you hear in the other side of the phone.

“stick your tongue out. drool on your tits.” you moan, your tongue lolling out as a glob of spit starts trailing down your body.

 “fuck!” he exclaims, aroused by the sight. “you like being bossed around this baby? like my little bitch?”

“no!” you sob, tears springing out at the utter humiliation you were experiencing. “please let me go, please don’t do anything to yuji!” 

the voice chuckles. “really? i think you’re lying, baby. i know that pussy is wet while you’re giving me a show. matter of fact, why don’t you show me? make sure i get a really good look at that cunt, okay?”

slipping your shorts off, you turn so that your backside is facing the lawn and uncover your traitorous pussy—glistening wet—to him. taking a few steps back, you breathe heavily—like the person on the other side of the phone—as you press your pussy against the glass, the heat and humidity originating from your inner walls fogging the area on the glass. you hear a snap! on the other side, indicated that he had taken a photo. eyes widening in panic, you ask, “what are you doing? please, i’m doing whatever you wa—”

“i can’t let everyone think you’re some innocent virgin, can i? parading your ass and pussy for me, when anyone in the neighborhood can see? matter of fact,” and you start panicking at his next words, “i’ll post this online if you don’t grind that ass back for me.”

you swallow and start to do as he says. the glass is cool as you rub your folds along it, your slick dirtying the glass as you move your folds on the glass door. of course, the glide isn’t smooth—your clit keeps catching on the glass, but the fact that you’re bare to the world, any stray eyes being able to see you on display arouses you to no extent. you’re ashamed of being aroused at having to perform for a stranger, but you continue regardless and clutch the phone in your hand as he speaks to you again.

“the fuck you so wet for?” the voice mocks you. “you get off on this shit?”

“fuck you,” you moan, continuing to rub yourself. “i hate you.” 

the man laughs meanly. “for someone you hate, you’re getting pretty wet for me, baby.” the sounds of him stroking his dick are even louder as you grind against the door at the same tempo that he moves his hand at, grunting as you continue moaning into the mic. “look at how you’re clenching—good girl. want me to come in and make you cum?”

“real fucking cocky,” you hiss into the phone, “really fuckin cocky of you to think you can make me cum. with the way you had to threaten me, i just know you have a micro.”

as soon as you say that, the call hangs up and you look at your screen in confusion. that is, until you feel hands on your bare hips, knees–covered in black fabric—pressing against the junction between your thighs. “say that again,” the voice whispers.

you turn, eyes wide and heart speeding up as you turn to see the very figure that showed up in your movie. reminiscent of the killer, a tall man in a mask is hunched over you, now moving his hands to grip at your hands. “let’s take this to the bed, shall we?”

“oh shit,” ghostface curses, continuously snapping photos of your lips, the flash going off in the dark room. “look at this,” and he brings the camera closer and closer to your pussy, using his other hand to spread your lips as you helplessly lie on the bed, forced to spread your legs for him. “this pussy clenches everytime the flash goes off!” and he’s laughing, mocking you as slick leaves your hole in drops as the utter way you’re being humiliated. he grabs your cheeks roughly with the hand that was spreading your nether regions, squeezing them together and focusing the camera on your face. “this is the slut i’m going to fuck. gonna suck my cock, right?”

“mhm,” you whimper, resigned to your fate. making quick work of his robe, he takes them off completely, still leaving his mask in place. as he uncovers his pelvis, your eyes immediately rove over the hardened muscles on his abdomen. there’s a pink happy trail leading down to his dick, which is furiously red and standing. he grabs it, pumping the length as he moves closer and closer to your face until his precum is smearing against your face.

 “fuck,” he curses, as he takes in the sight of your teary eyes looking up at him dumbly, lips puckered as he slaps his cock against your cheeks until your cheeks are turning red. you’re giving kitten licks to his tip every time he alternates between slapping your two cheeks, not knowing what do to with yourself except focus on your oral fixation telling you instinctively to suck his cock. he then uses his fingers to pull your mouth open and slowly feeds his cock inside, eyes rolling back as soon as he feels your warm breath and hot tongue encompass him. 

you’re sucking at his tip and alternating between licking the rest of his dick, and he’s lost in the tight, wet heat of your mouth hollowing around him. you then prop yourself on your knees, using your hands to grab and play with his balls, stimulating him even more and causing him to rip out of your mouth and growls, “on your hands and knees. now.”

he doesn’t give you sufficient time to turn around and fully adjust in your position as he’s slamming into your roughly, the wet plush of your pussy too enticing. because you didn’t see it coming, your face is smushed against the pillow, and he grabs at your hands, using his free hand to hold them together at the small of your back. 

“you like my cock, baby?”  he pants, sweat beginning to run down his torso. when you don’t respond, he lets go of your hands to smack you consecutive times on your ass. “answer me.”

“i love it sooo much,” you babble, too lost in the pleasure to form more coherent thoughts as you ramble. “it’s splitting me—oh my god.” your eyes roll back—in pain or pleasure, you can’t decide—as his cock kisses your cervix. the masked man keeps thrusting in you, the sounds of his hips smacking into yours echoing throughout your room in a series of plap plap plap’s. 

“yea? fuck, i’m so close. you wanna live baby?” he grabs your hair and pulls, giving you a sloppy wet kiss on your cheek. “let me come inside. you’ll let me dump my cum in you, right?”

you only clenched tighter at his words. “please,” you sobbed. “please come inside. please paint my walls. i want your cum so bad.” 

you were so close, staving off your orgasm until he filled you up. at your words, the intruder laughed mockingly and kept thrusting into you, but the telltale sloppiness of his hips indicated that he was close. “god, what a slut—” he was interrupted by his own climax, and as soon as the thick ropes of cum filled you, you came with a squeal, your back arching impossibly further as your thrashed on his dick because of the intensity of your orgasm. both of you rid it together, panting as you came down. 

he pulls out of you, and before you can catch your breath, the man flops his entire weight on top of you, making you laugh as you let out a startled exclamation, “ryo!”

you squirm beneath him, trying to push him off, but it’s futile. he’s far too big and heavy, and he knows it. with a low, lazy chuckle, your boyfriend, sukuna ryomen, removes his mask—tossing it carelessly onto the floor—before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath is warm against your skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own.

“did you enjoy that stupid thing you wanted, brat?” he mumbles, slightly panting in exhaustion.

his words are snarky, but you can hear the affection laced beneath them. your heart swells with a sudden rush of warmth, the fondness you feel for him almost overwhelming. it’s moments like this—where he does something ridiculous just because you asked, despite all his grumbling—that remind you why you love him so much.

you wrap your arms around his broad back, fingers trailing lazily up and down his spine as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “you didn’t have to go all out, you know,” you whisper, smiling into his hair. “but i really appreciate it. you’re kind of the best, even when you pretend you’re not.”

ryomen grunts, but there’s no bite to it. he tightens his hold around you, his large frame practically cocooning you in warmth. you feel his lips brush softly against the skin of your neck, a tender gesture that contrasts with his usual roughness.

“yeah, well... you’re lucky i love you, freak,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. despite his usual bravado, there’s something undeniably soft in the way he says it, as if the words are meant just for you.

you hum contentedly, feeling the weight of his body press you into the mattress. it’s comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. you trace circles on his back with your fingertips, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, where it’s just you and him—no roleplay, no teasing—just the quiet aftermath of love.

“lucky, huh?” you tease back softly. “i’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

ryomen huffs a quiet laugh against your skin before lifting his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes soft in the dim light. then, he gets up and makes a move to walk out the door. at first, you thought he was heading towards the bathroom door to give you a towel to clean you up, but he’s heading towards the door—soft cock swinging, butt naked—and you’re only left in confusion as to what he’s doing.

“ryo, where are you going?”

“fixin myself a sandwich, i’m hungry,” he grumbles over his shoulder, leaving you dumbfounded. you’re left sitting on the bed as he continues the trek down the stairs to satiate his post sex hungries. 

“hey!” you shriek, “your balls are out! what if yuji sees?” 

later, when yuji walks deliriously into the kitchen to see his uncle’s cock and balls, he almost wishes he could fully succumb to his fever.

next. week two

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hehe i love fluffy sukuna. consider joining my kinktober taglist if you'd like!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto

[girlkisser13]

kento nanami masterlist

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nsfw headcanons *

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