#Suguru geto | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kkai-zen · 2 days ago

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˖⋆࿐໋ i like it like that!

summary: the jjk men as different pôrn plots! + drabbles for each!

featuring: [separate] fem!reader x satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, & yuta okkotsu

contents: 18+ nsfw! MDNI. [gojo] mutual masturbation, perv reader, mild degradation, fingering, p in v. [geto] power play, implied consent, fem!reader receives oral, mild degradation. [nanami] m!receives oral, mild degradation, finishing inside reader's mouth. [toji] fingering, hickeys, squirting, implied p in v. [yuta] nerdy implied-virgin yuta, exhibitionism, p in v, playing with him under the table (w your foot), overstim, creampie

wc: 3.5k

a/n: just some thirsts over the jjk men! (the titles are a little cheesy, i tried to make them like avg clickbait pôrn titles lmao). enjoy!

GOJO SATORU . . . spying on my brother’s best friend while he masturbates!

You yawn, rubbing your bleary eyes as you sit up in bed. You and your brother, Geto, decided to crash at his best-friend Gojo’s place for the night. Stumbling out of the bedroom, you squint into the darkness. “Where the hell is the kitchen? I just need water,” you mutter. But before you can continue forward, you see a sliver of light glowing in the darkness from Gojo’s room, followed by- moaning?

You quietly pad to his door, cracked open the tiniest bit, and peek inside to find-

“Haah- ugh, fuck-”

Gojo curses, fisting his cock desperately. He’s completely naked, sprawled out on his bed, sweat dripping down his lean muscles as he gasps for breath. A hand slaps over your mouth as your eyes go wide at the sight.

Something throbs in your lower abdomen, and you clench your thighs together as his moans continue. “Hngh- ah, shit.” When his hand starts moving faster, his glistening abs tightening, you bite your lip and slip a hand into your tiny shorts, pressing your fingers into your already-dripping hole. Throwing his head back, he bucks his hips into his hand and it takes you every fiber of self control not to moan, thumbing at your aching clit. “Ohh, fuck…hnngh, ugh-”

He looks ethereal like this, snowy white hair falling in elegant strands over his handsome face. Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and guttural groans slipping from his throat, you’ve never seen a sight so arousing, especially when you look at his cock; pale and pretty and pinkish at the tip, weeping precum, you drool at the sight of it, imagining how good it’d feel stretching you out, imagining how easily it would kiss against all of your most sensitive spots with that length and girth.

You’re on the verge of an orgasm when he slows his hand to a stop, catching his breath and closing his eyes. Sweat drips off the tips of his fluffy white hair, and he exhales sharply as his thick cock twitches violently in his hand. Shivering, you’re about to slip away to finish yourself in the safety of your room before suddenly you hear, “Did you enjoy the show, gorgeous?”

In an instant, Gojo’s standing in front of you, door swung wide open, his smooth, damp skin inches away from you. “Wha-?! I- um-” you stutter, avoiding his electric gaze with a blush. “I- I wasn’t- ”

“Don’t lie, sweetheart,” he breathes, tucking an arm around your waist, and you gasp when he drags you into his room, closing the door with a click! Tossing you onto the bed, he rips off your flimsy shorts and baggy shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you bare and quivering underneath his broad figure.

His bright blue eyes never leave your face for a moment as he lowers his mouth onto one of your stiff nipples, licking and sucking and kissing with abandon. You gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure, whimpering out his name when he slips two long, elegant fingers into your sopping cunt.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he purrs into your ear. “Gettin’ off to your big brother’s best friend? You’re so-” He scissors his fingers. “-fuckin’ filthy.” Gojo smirks down at you, handsome face painted with lust. “You’re already dripping and ready f’me. What a slut.” You try to muffle your sobs as Gojo presses his twitching tip against your clit, smearing his pearly pre-cum over your entrance before slamming his entire length into you.

“Oh, fuck, baby, you feel so good around me,” Gojo moans, dick throbbing eagerly in your wet heat as you cry out his name. He grinds slowly against you, stretching you out even more, letting his girth pulse inside your velvet walls. You can feel every ridge and vein of his hot length inside you, and it sends your brain into overdrive. “K-keep going, Gojo, jus’ move already!” You whine, weakly beating your feverish hands against his chest, and he chuckles, shoving two fingers down your throat.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

SUGURU GETO . . . casting couch audition with the hot interviewer!

“So, you’re here to audition for our talent agency?”

You blink at the startlingly handsome man interviewing you, faint blush spreading over your face before responding, “Yes! That’s right.”

“Alright, sounds great. My name is Suguru Geto, and I’ll be interviewing you today.” He shifts in the chair across from you, crossing his legs. “So, why do you want this job?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to be an actress or singer since I was a kid, and it’s been my dream ever since!”

“Mm, I see. What makes you qualified for a position at this agency?”

“After doing my research, I think the talents I have are an excellent fit for this agency in particular!”

Geto stares at you for a moment, and you fidget on the couch. His gaze is piercing, and the way he looks at you feels strange, like he’s undressing you with his eyes. “Mhm. I agree, actually,” he murmurs, standing from his chair. “Oh, really? That’s great!” You exclaim.

He says nothing more, taking long, relaxed strides until he’s standing right in front of you, towering over your figure. “As a part of the agency’s protocol, I’m going to need you to undress. We need to assess how well you’ll do based off your…physical features.” His fingertips glide over your blouse, and you shiver.

“A-ah, right,” you stammer. Shifting nervously under his broad silhouette, you slowly pull off your blouse and your skirt. Head bowed, you stare down at your trembling hands, wondering why you’re feeling something damp between your legs.

“Hmm.” Tilting his head, Geto’s obsidian eyes rake over you. “You’re gonna have to take these off too, doll,” he breathes, fingering the strap of your lacy bra with one hand and the band of your matching panties with the other. “U-um, okay, sir.” You nearly whimper out, and Geto bites down on his lip.

Unclipping your bra and letting it fall, your nipples harden as the cool air meets your skin. Swallowing nervously, your hands then shift down to your panties, tugging the delicate lace off. You try to hide the obvious wet patch staining the fabric, but Geto smirks when he sees them.

His cool hands brush over your thighs, nudging your legs open. “Ah! W-wait, sir, please-” you gasp, clenching your legs shut with embarrassment. “I��m-”

“You’re what?” He breathes, hot breath raising goosebumps on your skin. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” His voice is low and husky. “Like a little slut.”

You flush crimson, thighs trembling. “I- It’s not like that- ” He grabs your knees and forces them apart. “What’s got you dripping all over the couch, then?” Geto chuckles, tracing circles dangerously close to your sopping hole. “Hngh, wait, sir-!”

But when he starts pressing kisses on your inner thighs, the words vanish from your lips. “What? You gonna say that we can’t do this?” He’s smirking like a devil, placing kitten licks closer and closer to your twitching heat. “B-because we can’t,” you whimper. “Then why’re you a dripping wet mess?” Geto laughs. “Slutty girl. You wanted me to fuck you stupid the second you walked in here, hm?” His tongue finally licks a burning stripe at your hole, and you whine. “S-sir, s-stop- angh-!”

“Haah- you tell me to stop, but you’re still whining like a whore,” he groans into your cunt. “Callin’ me sir with that slutty voice—‘S-sir, we can’t!’” he mocks, nose nuzzling into your clit. Geto laps at your hole so patiently, unraveling you so skillfully as he kisses and sucks at your clit, relishing in your whimpers and hiccups.

Before long, you’re creaming on his tongue, trembling and gasping his name as he pulls his pants off.

“Now, shall we get started?”

NANAMI KENTO . . . sexy secretary relieves her boss during office hours!

“I wonder what’s got Mr. Nanami so worked up,” one of your coworkers muses, watching your boss vanish into his office, door slamming.

“I think it’s the new project coming up,” you reply, sifting through the tall stack of papers left on your desk. “They dumped it on us with no warning, and we’ve got a tight schedule already.” Sighing, you rub your temples.

“Wonder if there’s any way for him to destress. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Miss Private Secretary,” she nudges you with a twinkle in her eye. Glancing at the closed door of Mr. Nanami’s office, you can’t help but wonder if you can find a way to help him relax…

The next morning, you show up to work wearing a tight dress shirt, pressing just right against your chest, and an equally tight pencil skirt, one that hugs your hips perfectly. You wonder if it’s too much by the time you’re at the office, pulling countless stares, but it’s too late for second thoughts.

You feel a spark of satisfaction when you walk into Nanami’s office and notice his eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Good morning, Mr. Nanami,” you say evenly, placing a cup of coffee and stack of papers on his desk. “These are the reports that have been submitted…”

And although he should be paying attention to your summary of the bi-monthly reports, all he can think about is how delicious your tits look squeezed against your shirt, and how alluring your ass looks, perked up in that tight skirt.

“Mr. Nanami? Did you get all that?”

You blink so innocently at him that he feels his cock twitch in his pants.

“R-Right, yes,” he coughs, covering the faint blush on his face. “So, about the new project? Any news?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Unfortunately not. The deadline is still set for two months from now.” Noticing the sigh he lets out, you pause. “U-um, sir?” You say hesitantly. He glances up at you. “Yes?”

“Is there…anything I can do? For you?” you manage out. He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean- you’ve been so worked up lately, and with the new project, things have been even more stressful…” you fidget with the collar of your dress shirt. “I just want to make sure you’re doing alright, sir.”

Nanami’s cock twitches again, and he curses when he feels blood rush down to his loins. “How would you suggest I…destress?” he breathes, looking up at you with hooded eyes. You open your mouth, blushing, but no words come out. “Why don’t you just show me, doll?”

“Mm- mmpf!” your moans are muffled around his cock, jaw aching as he pumps his length in and out of your throat. “Oh, fuck,” Nanami hisses. “You feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.” Head tipping back, he brings a broad, veiny hand to your head, guiding you up and down his dick.

“Fuckin’ slutty secretary,” he growls as you choke on his fat tip, balls pressed against your chin as drool leaks from your mouth onto his girth. “Probably wanted this the second I hired you,” Thrusting his cock hard into you, you whine around him, tears leaking from your eyes. He brushes a tear off your face with a deceivingly delicate touch before shoving his length down your throat with a rough thrust once more. “Shit, I could’ve been using you like this for years,” Nanami swears, his balls tightening, preparing for his release.

“Coulda been using this-” Thrust. “-slutty-” Thrust. “-throat-” Thrust. “-for years!” You gag as Nanami cums into your mouth, hot white ropes spurting into your throat. Blinking away tears as his salty seed coats your tongue, he pulls out of your mouth, a lewd string of drool and cum connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

He’s panting and red-faced looking down at you—all watery doe eyes and puffy lips covered in his cum. You think that he’s gotten his stress out, but when he grabs your waist and bends you over his desk ripping your skirt off, you squeak.

“We’re not done yet, angel.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO . . . cute babysitter gets paid with sexy dilf dick!

“He’s out cold.”

You giggle, gently poking Megumi’s chubby cheek. He’s fast asleep, tucked into your lap, as the superhero movie he insistedon watching plays in the background. “Tch. Little brat,” Toji huffs, though you don’t miss the affection in his voice. “I’ll put him to bed.” Gently scooping him up, you tuck Megumi into his bed, stroking his hair softly before hopping back to the living room where Toji is still sitting.

You’d been taking care of Megumi for months now, growing fond of the grumpy, black-haired menace of a kid. But you also found an unexpected bonus in Megumi’s dad, Toji, who is by far the hottest man you’d ever laid your eyes on. He’s all muscle and broad shoulders and seductive green eyes and oh, that deep, husky voice-

You clench your thighs together, feeling wetness spread on your panties. You can only imagine what he’s like under those grey sweats, and you shiver at the thought. But you don’t let yourself linger on the thought. What you need to do is go home quickly and take care of the issue that’s dripping between your legs—

“Why don’tcha stay the night, doll?”

Turning your head, your heart thumps against your chest. “Oh, no, I couldn’t bother you like that, Mr. Fushiguro,” You stammer, shaking your head. He narrows his green eyes at you. “I’m not askin’, doll face. It’s too dark out already, just stay the night. The brat will be happy to see ya in the morning, anyways.”

Swallowing, you resign. “Sure thing, then,” you reply reluctantly, rubbing your thighs together as subtly as you can manage. Toji notices, and with a grin creeping at his scarred lips, asks, “Is there something you need to do at home?”

Startled, you panic. “N-no! Not all all, Mr. Fushiguro!” you reassure, waving your hands frantically. Giving you an amused look, he stands, stretching his back with a yawn. You can’t help but admire the muscles rippling under the tight black tee he’s wearing— no! No, you can’t be thirsting over Megumi’s dad right now! You shake your head, mind spinning with lust.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice him now towering over you, muscled arms crossed over his chest. “It’s Toji for you, doll,” he breathes, leaning down to hover in front of your face. “None of that ‘Mr. Fushiguro’ shit. Call me Toji.”

The tension between you two has your thighs pressed together again, and before you know it-

“Mmpf! Ahn, T-Toji!” you sob, tears pricking at your eyes. He has you pressed against the wall of his room, your legs wrapped around his narrow waist as he pistons his thick fingers in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Quiet down, doll face,” Toji whispers, grinning. “Wouldn’t wanna wake up the kid, right?”

You whine in response as his thumb rubs quick circles over your clit, bouncing you up and down on his fingers. “B-But Toji- when you- ugh!” Slapping a hand over your mouth, you try to muffle your moans as he sucks hickeys onto your neck. He nips at your bare collarbone, working his way down to your perked nipples with reckless abandon. “Cute lil’ thing,” he grunts into your breasts, fondling one with the hand not stuffed up your pussy. “Soon as I saw ya, knew I needed to have ya. Knew this-” He places a harsh slap on your ass. “-fuckin’ slutty lil’ body would listen to me so well.”

“Toooji- ” you moan, eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts his fingers into you even harder. “C’mon, doll, you’ve already cum once on my fingers. Gimme another,” he presses, smirking as your slick drips down his wrist. You wail out his name, tongue lolling out, drool dripping down your face and chest as you squirt all over his stomach, legs trembling.

Toji chuckles, licking his slick-covered fingers, admiring your panting, blissed out face. “Ya haven’t even had my cock yet. Can’t believe you’re cumming this hard on just my fingers, pretty.” He picks up your limp body, placing you on the bed, ass in the air.

“But you’re a good girl, right?” He settles his body flush against yours, and you feel his massive cock rub against your ass. “You can take all of me, right?” And you nod wantonly in response, grinding back against him with a whine. He licks his lips with a crooked smirk.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

YUTA OKKOTSU . . . slutty classmate convinces nerdy tutor to fuck in the library!

“Focus on the problems, Miss.”

Your math tutor, Yuta, taps on the worksheet in front of you. “This is an important concept, and will most definitely be on the exam.” With a sigh, you drag your eyes away from the library scenery, picking up your pencil. “Yeah yeah, I got it,” you say dismissively, scribbling down some messy answers before returning to your eyes elsewhere.

Picking up the worksheet, Yuta frowns. “Miss, these answers are completely wrong,” he says, distraught, crossing over your scribbles with a red pen. “You need to use this equation here, and you can’t apply this rule because of the domain…” he blabs on and on, and you find yourself only paying attention to how cute he looks when he’s frustrated.

To be completely honest, you’ve wanted to fuck Yuta the moment you saw him. Shy, nerdy, and utterly adorable, he’s definitely your type. A wicked idea sprouts in your mind as Yuta keeps talking, and you quietly slip a shoe off.

“Miss? Were you paying attention?” Yuta looks at you with large eyes. “Mhm, ‘course I was,” you hum. “But whaddaya say we take a break from all this?” You smirk at him, extending your leg underneath the table, gliding your foot up his leg until it hovers over his crotch.

You relish in the way he flushes red, shifting uncomfortably. “M-Miss, what are you doing?” He stammers, and you rub your foot over the hardening bulge in his slacks with a grin. “What do you mean, Yuta?” You say innocently, leaning towards him. He blushes harder as you press down on his erection. “This- isn’t appropriate! We’re in the library, we- you shouldn’t-” he bites down on his lip. “Shouldn’t what, Yuta?”

You toy with him some more, rubbing circles over his hard-on. “Does it not feel good?” You murmur, noting the muffled whine that slips out of his mouth. “M-Miss, please,” he chokes out. “Not- ugh!” He whimpers, and you feel something damp spread over his crotch.

You pause, shocked for a moment, before a wide grin spreads across your entire face as you pull your foot back. “Looks like you liked that a lot, Yuta,” you muse, standing up. “Wha- where are you going?” He stutters. You walk to his side of the table, pulling him to his feet. “It’s so late, Yuta, and the library is practically empty. Follow me,” you wink at him.

Stumbling after you, he covers his cum-stained pants with embarrassment as you lead him through the bookshelves to a secluded corner of the library. “What are we doing here?” Yuta pants, face still flushed from your earlier ministrations. “What do you think?” You press him into the closest bookshelf, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss.

He freezes, barely reacting to the kiss, and you pull away after a moment. “D’you not want this, Yuta?” You ask softly, staring into his eyes. He stares back, quiet for a moment, before he grabs the back of your head with a surprising amount of fierceness, pushing your lips back into his with a bruising force.

Yuta drags his lips away with a gasp, but before you can catch your breath, he’s ripping both your pants off, rubbing his shockingly large cock against your dripping pussy. “Yuta, w-wait-!” You squeal as he thrusts himself into you, rocking his hips against yours desperately. He kisses you, even harsher than before, moaning an apology into your lips. “M’sorry, just- just need you, need you so bad- hngh!” He’s whining, rutting against you like an animal in heat.

“A-ahh, Yuta,” you whimper, weeping cunt throbbing at the lewd plap-plap-plap your pussy makes when his balls slap against your ass. Before you know it, you’re creaming on his cock, arousal drenching his length as he keeps bucking into you. “Oh-ungh, Yuta- it’s too- too much!” You sob, your overstimulated clit throbbing as he reaches a hand down to rub it. “Jus- jus’ gimme one more, pretty girl,” he gasps, hips drilling you at an inhuman pace. “Want you cumming on my cock one- more- time!”

You muffle a scream as he pulls another orgasm out of your body, made all the more sweet by the feeling of his hot cum spraying inside you, filling you up so deliciously.

Head dizzy, you lean your head forward on his broad shoulder. “Ugh, Yuta,” you gasp out. “Are you- gonna pull out?”

He looks at you almost guiltily, and you frown. “Why’re you looking at me like that-huh?”

You feel something twitch inside you.

“You’re hard again?!”

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aesthetically-dying101 · 17 hours ago

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Smooch

A/N: TO THE ANON: IM SO SORRY, i accidently deleted the ask that asked: "how would the jjk men react to you randomely kissing them?" FUCK ME IM SORRY FOR DELETING IT, ANYWAYS POOKIE HERE IT IS

warning: some established relationships, some non established, kissing, gojo being a lil shit, nanami being so DAMN adorabe its making me vomit. creepy rando man. mostly fluff tho (not for geto, sorry pookies), i'm being nice. Mostly crack

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

The air still thrummed with the tension of battle, smoke and cursed energy clinging to the ruined streets like stubborn memories. You stood on trembling legs, the adrenaline making everything sharper: the glint of blood on the edge of Nanami's blade, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his tie flapped rebelliously despite the chaos being over.

You’d seen him fight before, but this? This was something else. The man was a force. Watching him wade through curses, calm and unyielding, to protect his students—protect Yuji—had set your heart on fire.

Literally. Your chest ached. He was just so… Hot.

Inspiring.

Selfless.

Outrageously overworked, but hot.

Your crush on Nanami was no secret to yourself, though you’d buried it deep under professionalism and a healthy dose of "I'm-a-grown-adult-who-totally-has-it-together" denial.

“Kento,” you croaked, your throat dry from shouting during the fight. Not that he heard. He was still wiping blood from his weapon, his focus entirely on making sure Yuji wasn’t missing any limbs.

Yuji, for his part, looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m fine, Nanami. Really! A couple of scratches—��

“Scratches become infections. Infections become—” Nanami began, his voice low and even, and you wanted to scream because how dare he sound that composed after nearly dying. Maybe it was your brain short-circuiting from the sheer Nanami-ness of him.

The sheer whiplash of your emotions—from panic to relief to sheer I cannot believe this man exists—burst out of you like a firework. Before you could second-guess yourself, your feet moved. You grabbed the front of his stupid, perfectly pressed shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned.

It was pure, unfiltered relief, and affection, and admiration, and the overwhelming sense that Kento Nanami was too goddamn precious for this world. His lips were warm and dry, just like you imagined.

For one glorious moment, he froze—caught off guard in a way you’d never seen before. Then his hand twitched like he might touch you, and that’s when reality smacked you upside the head.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, shoving him away so hard he actually stumbled back a step. “Oh my God, I’m sorry—Nanami, I—Mr. Nanami—I mean, Kento—I—what did I just do?” Your hands flew to your face, muffling your panicked stream of consciousness.

Nanami stood there, stunned, his weapon slack in one hand.

“I don’t—uh—wow,” you stammered, pacing in tight circles. “That was so inappropriate. I mean, we’re at work—well, technically a post-apocalyptic battlefield, but that’s basically work. I just—oh my God, you’re bleeding. Are you bleeding? You are! Let me—no, no, I can’t touch you—”

“Do you like me?” His calm voice cut through your spiral like a knife through butter.

You stopped mid-pace, blinking at him.

“Do I…” You pointed to yourself, dumbfounded. “Do I like you?”

Nanami’s brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a riddle.

“You kissed me. That suggests…” He trailed off, his ears red. Red. Nanami Kento, the unshakable man himself, was blushing.

“OF COURSE I LIKE YOU!” you blurted, because what else was there to say? “Are you kidding me? You’re smart, and kind, and self-sacrificing to a fault, and the way you fight—” You gestured vaguely toward his weapon, heat flooding your face. “I mean, it’s really impressive, and your voice is, like, weirdly soothing? And—God, have you seen your hands? They’re insane. Like, how dare you have hands like that?”

Yuji, bless his sweet little heart, was standing a few feet away, looking utterly bewildered but also kind of...proud? Like he was rooting for you? You couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

Yuji made a small sound somewhere behind you.

“Yay?”

“Yuji, not now!” you snapped, your eyes still locked on Nanami, who looked like you’d just handed him a quadratic equation written in crayon.

The silence stretched. You wanted to melt into the cracked pavement and die there. And then—slowly, impossibly—his lips twitched.

“‘How dare I have hands like that?’” he repeated, his tone dry but warm.

“Don’t mock me! I’m having a crisis!”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint laugh lines around his eyes. “I’m not mocking you.” His voice softened. “I’m trying to process.”

“Process what? That I kissed you? That I have terrible taste in men—not that you’re terrible, you’re amazing—oh my God, I’m still talking—”

“I like you too.”

You froze. “What?”

“I said I like you too,” he repeated, his expression calm but his eyes gentle. “And I’m glad you kissed me, even if it was…unexpected.”

“Unexpected?!” Yuji exclaimed. “Dude, we all saw it coming!”

You and Nanami both turned to glare at him, and Yuji threw up his hands in surrender. “I mean—yay! Go, you guys! Woo!”

Nanami sighed, his hand reaching up to adjust his tie, and you caught it before he could. His gaze flicked to yours, surprised.

“Just…take care of yourself, okay?” you murmured. “You can’t keep putting everyone else first all the time.”

His hand closed around yours, firm and reassuring. “If I promise, will you stop worrying?”

You bit your lip. “Maybe. If you promise and let me take you to dinner.”

He raised a brow. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

“Understood,” he said, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw him smile.

You stumble into the apartment you share with Toji, at what must be the devil’s hour, the taste of dried blood and exhaustion heavy on your tongue. Your body feels like it’s made of bricks, each step a reminder of tonight’s shitshow. The job was a disaster, but hey, you're alive.

Barely.

Your shoulder’s throbbing, probably dislocated (you know you're gonna ask Toji to snap it back into place); there’s a slice on your thigh that’s gonna leave a nasty scar, and you’re fairly certain you’ve got a mild concussion. But the mission? Technically complete. Success, if you squint.

The apartment is dark, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp slicing through the blinds. The air is thick with the familiar scent of gun oil and that stupid cologne Toji always wears. You peel off your boots by the door, wincing as your sock squelches. Blood. Great.

Toji’s a lump on the bed, sprawled out like a dead man. His arm dangles off the side, his breathing slow and deep. Must be nice to sleep like that.

Must be nice to sleep at all.

You limp over, each step making you rethink your life choices, and shake his shoulder. Gently, at first. He doesn’t budge. Typical. You give him another shove.

“Oi, wake up, Toji.”

Still nothing. Unbelievable.

You’re mid-eye roll when he moves like a damn cobra, faster than your sluggish brain can process. In one smooth motion, he’s got you flat on your back with the cold barrel of his pistol pressed firmly against your throat.

Your first thought? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, but there’s enough menace in them to make anyone else wet their pants.

“Wife?” he grunts, voice rough from sleep.

Neanderthal, you think, staring up at him, unimpressed. You’ve just dragged yourself home from a near-death experience, and this is the reception you get? He smells like sweat and sleep (is that a thing?), his hair sticking up at angles only a demon could love. And he has the audacity to press a gun to your throat? Really?

“Put the gun down, idiot,” you mutter, too tired to care that he could accidentally end you right now.

Toji blinks, his foggy brain clearly struggling to connect the dots. But he lowers the weapon anyway, tossing it to the side with a grunt.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his face.

Instead of answering, you grab his face. Both hands, firm, like he’s some unruly beast you’re taming. Toji freezes, wide-eyed, and before he can start grumbling or say something infuriating, you kiss him.

Not a peck. Not a lazy, tired smooch.

A kiss.

Like the kind that says, I almost died tonight but didn’t, and for some reason, I wanted to see your dumbass face when I got back.

He doesn’t react at first, probably still half-asleep and trying to figure out if this is some kind of weird dream. But then his hands come up, one settling on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head like you’re made of glass. He kisses you back, slow at first, then with a kind of feral intensity that makes you forget you’re bleeding all over the damn bed.

When you finally pull back, panting and lightheaded, he stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What the hell was that for?”

You flop onto the mattress next to him, groaning as every injury makes itself known. “Almost died. Needed a kiss. Shut up.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutters, “You’re bleeding.”

“No shit, my shoulder's been dislocated too,” you snap, already regretting the kiss because now you’re reminded that everything hurts. “You gonna fix it, or just stare at me all night?”

Toji huffs, dragging himself out of bed.

“You’re lucky I like you, woman,” he grumbles, rummaging for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, letting your eyes drift closed. The bed dips as he sits back down, and you feel the sting of antiseptic on your shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he says, voice softer now. “Gotta patch you up first.”

“Whatever you say, caveman.”

You think you hear him chuckle, low and rough, but you’re already half-gone. And despite the pain, despite the chaos of the night, you feel... safe. Stupidly safe, with Toji grumbling insults under his breath and his hands working carefully to keep you in one piece.

Home. Or something like it.

Gojo Satoru walked into the apartment, exhausted but relieved to finally be home. He'd been on mission after mission for what felt like forever, leaving little time for himself, let alone his girlfriend. The past few days had been a blur of paperwork, cursed spirits, and long hours of absence that left an ache in his chest, a longing to be with the one person who always made him feel like himself.

As the door clicked shut behind him, a familiar shift in the air settled over him — his Infinity. It wasn't just the buzz of the usual limitless power that made him feel protected and invincible, no, this was different. This was the subtle, barely perceptible moment when he knew his Infinity was off because she was here. It always did that when she was around, and he knew she’d be nearby.

But before he could even finish the word “I’m home—”

BAM.

You crashed into him, practically knocking the wind out of his lungs. Your lips slammed against his with all the pent-up affection that had built in your heart over the past few days. You kissed him like he was air, your hands grasping at the front of his shirt as if you'd missed him more than anything. The kiss was messy, needy — but most importantly, it was real.

Gojo froze for a split second, a low laugh escaping his lips as he felt the sheer intensity of your sudden onslaught. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as though he could disappear again if you didn’t hold him tightly enough.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he mumbled against your lips, feigning surprise, though the dramatic shift in his voice betrayed how deeply he was enjoying it. “Is this how you welcome me home, huh?”

“You’ve been gone for days, Satoru,” you muttered in between kisses, your voice muffled but full of emotion. “I missed you.”

You couldn’t help but slip your hands lower, brushing against the firm muscles of his chest, feeling the warmth that only he had. It wasn’t just about the absence- it was the aching distance, the unsaid words, the nights you'd spent curled in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, wishing he was there.

Gojo felt his heart skip a beat- you had that effect on him, always. Your warmth, your softness, and the way you seemed to understand him better than anyone else. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he melted into you, hands sliding down to hold you by the waist, to anchor you against him.

And then, with a dramatic gasp that could only be Gojo, he pulled back, his hands coming up to cradle your face (kinda squishing your cheeks), eyes wide as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“Princess—” he whined, the very term of endearment a mockery of how absurdly dramatic he could get. “I’ve been gone for days, and this is how you treat me? After everything I’ve sacrificed for you? For us?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You adored his theatrics, even if they were so Gojo Satoru.

“Yes, this is how I treat you,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Now, kiss me like you mean it.”

And as if on cue, his lips descended, only to be met with—spray.

Hsssssssssss!

The sharp, cold spray of her plant vaporizer hit him right in the face.

His mouth immediately fell open in shock, the spray misting his face, and Gojo recoiled in mock horror. “WHAT—?!”

“You were gone too long,” you said, still holding the sprayer with an air of nonchalance, though you could barely keep your own smile from breaking through. “You don’t get to come back after disappearing and act like everything’s fine. You’re gonna have to earn your kiss.”

His hand flew to his face, rubbing the wetness away in exaggerated frustration.

“You vaporized me?!” he asked, turning his eyes toward you, his dramatic pout making him look like a child who’d been wronged. “After all I’ve done for you?! All my sacrifices? I’ve been risking my life, getting cursed every time, and THIS is how you treat me? This?!”

You giggled, looking at him like he was a giant kid. “You did disappear for days, 'Toru. And you were busy being all heroic, saving the day. Not like you left me with any choice.”

He wiped his face again, but as he did, he kept his eyes on you, his usual smugness replaced by a touch of genuine longing.

“I didn’t want to be gone,” he muttered, the act slipping for a moment as he looked at you with an almost vulnerable expression. “But you know how it is... sometimes I’m not really in control of it. I just... miss you, too. I just...”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward again, slower this time, your hands gently cupping his cheeks. This time, your kiss was softer, more tender, a quiet apology for the harsh spray. Your lips were warm against his, and the familiarity of your scent- the sweetness of your presence- seemed to fill every space around him. Your kiss spoke of longing, of missing him in ways that words couldn’t explain.

Gojo’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. For a moment, there was nothing but the shared warmth, the closeness of your connection.

“I missed you,” you whispered, breaking the kiss just long enough to say it. “I missed you so much, Satoru. You don’t even know.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, brushing a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of affection. “I missed you, too. You’re all I ever think about when I’m out there.”

A silence fell between you, comfortable, soft. You rested your forehead against his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment.

Home.

“I’m never leaving you that long again,” he promised, his hands still resting on your hips, pulling you into him.

“Good,” you said with a playful grin. “If you do, I'll vaporize you again.”

He shot her a teasing look. “NooOOo- t's gonna mess up my hair-”

With a dramatic sigh, he kissed you again, and this time, there was no interruption, just two people who couldn’t bear to be apart any longer.

The sun was setting, casting golden rays across the horizon, as though the universe itself mourned for the moment. You sat beside Suguru, his body battered and bruised, the life draining from him far too quickly. Blood pooled around him, a cruel mockery of the warmth he used to exude. His breaths were shallow, his strength ebbing away like water through a sieve.

He was still so beautiful.

Your hands trembled as you reached out to him, brushing strands of dark hair from his face.

That face.

It still bore the faintest traces of the boy you once knew—sharp, confident, full of purpose. Now, his features were gaunt, his skin pallid, but his eyes... his eyes still held a spark of the man you had loved. The man you still loved.

"Suguru..." your voice cracked, a whisper more than a word.

He managed a weak smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"You're here," he rasped, his voice barely audible, strained.

Tears blurred your vision.

You nodded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, as if the pain could anchor you in the reality of the moment.

"Of course, I’m here," you said, your voice breaking. "Where else would I be?"

A bitter chuckle escaped him, though it sounded more like a cough. "By his side," he murmured, the weight of Gojo’s name heavy in the space between you.

You shook your head fiercely. "Don’t," you pleaded. "Don’t do that. Don’t push me away—not now."

His gaze softened, but there was a flicker of sadness in his expression. "Old habits, I guess."

Silence settled between you for a moment, save for the distant cries of the injured and the hum of the world continuing without care. You hated it. How could everything go on like this while he was slipping away?

"I should’ve done more," you blurted out, the confession tearing from your chest like a wound ripped open. "I should’ve stopped you... back then. I should’ve fought harder for you."

Suguru’s brows furrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and regret crossing his face. "You couldn’t have stopped me," he said softly. "I made my choice."

"But I should have tried!" you cried, your voice cracking under the weight of your guilt. "I knew you were hurting. I saw it, and I—" Your words faltered, choked by a sob. "I thought if I gave you space, you’d come back. That you’d find your way back to me. To us."

His hand, weak but steady, reached out to yours. His touch was colder than you remembered, but it grounded you all the same. "Don’t blame yourself," he murmured. "You... you were the one good thing I had left, and I couldn’t taint that. You were my light, even when I didn’t deserve it."

You leaned closer, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. "You’ve always deserved it," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I never stopped loving you, Suguru. Not for a second. Not even when you—"

Your voice caught, and you lowered your head, pressing your forehead against his. He smelled faintly of blood and something earthy, something that reminded you of home.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

Suguru’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought you saw his composure crack. His eyes glistened, his lips parting as though to say something, but he hesitated. "I... I don’t deserve your love," he finally said, his voice barely more than a breath. "Not after everything I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt."

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "You deserve every ounce of love, Suguru," you said fiercely, your voice steadier than you thought possible. "Even when you were lost, even when I didn’t know how to reach you—I loved you."

And then, before either of you could second-guess, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, tentative, a brush of lips that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. Suguru stiffened beneath you, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief, fragile moment, it was as though the weight of the world had lifted. There was only you, only him.

When you pulled back, his gaze searched yours, wide with surprise and something else—something raw and unguarded. "Why...?" he asked, his voice cracking, his brows furrowing as though the question itself pained him. "Why would you...?"

You smiled through your tears, shaking your head. "Because I never stopped," you said simply. "And because you deserved to know before—" Your voice broke again, and you choked back a sob. "Before it’s too late."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and his lips curved into the faintest smile.

"You’re cruel," he whispered, though there was no malice in his tone. "Giving me a taste of something I can’t hold onto."

"You’ve always held it," you said, your voice trembling. "Even when you didn’t know it."

You kissed him again, deeper this time, as if you could pour all the love, all the regret, all the words left unsaid into that single moment. When you pulled back, Suguru’s eyes were glassy, his breaths shallower than before. God no- please, he needs more time.

"I wish..." he began, but his voice faltered.

You nodded, understanding the words he couldn’t say. "Me too," you whispered, your thumb brushing against his cheek. "I wish we had more time."

The light in his eyes began to fade, and panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay steady. This was his moment, not yours. You wouldn’t let your fear steal it from him.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "For... for everything."

Your heart shattered, the pieces lodging in your throat, but you managed a smile, even as tears blurred your vision. "Always," you whispered. "Always, Suguru."

His eyes lingered on yours for a heartbeat longer before they slipped shut, his breath hitching once, then stilling. You clung to him, pressing your forehead to his, your tears mixing with the blood and sweat on his skin.

And then, there was nothing.

The grand hall buzzed with life, the air thick with wine, roasted meats, and the chatter of those brave—or foolish—enough to attend a banquet in Ryomen Sukuna's domain. You, one of the longest-standing servants in his service, moved amidst the chaos, your well-practiced steps carrying trays, refilling goblets, and blending into the shadows. You had no illusions about your position here. To serve the King of Curses was to balance on a knife's edge, but the years had hardened you. You were still alive, and in a place like this, that was an achievement in itself.

Perhaps you were even favored.

The whispers among the other servants suggested so. Sukuna, for all his wrath and godlike power, hadn’t crushed you beneath his four arms or silenced you for eternity. It wasn’t kindness, you knew that much. But the fact that you were still here, breathing, meant something. And that meant you tread carefully—at least most of the time.

But tonight? Tonight, you drank (a terrible decision, really).

The banquet was in full swing, and even servants were afforded some respite during such grand affairs. You’d accepted a goblet of sake, relishing the brief warmth it offered your tired limbs, and maybe—just maybe—you indulged in one too many. Which is why you didn’t immediately notice the attention of a particular male servant lingering too long, his touch brushing your arm as he whispered something that made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Don’t.” Your voice was firm, but the man didn’t relent, his smirk a sickening thing.

The room suddenly felt too small, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that felt sharper, darker. You turned, stumbling slightly in your attempt to move away, only to collide with something solid, something unyielding.

Four arms caught you in an iron grip, steadying your swaying form.

And then you looked up.

Sukuna, in all his terrifying glory, loomed over you.

His dual faces stared down, one expression unreadable, the other bearing a smirk that could freeze blood. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, and the room seemed to hold its breath. The noise, the revelry—it all faded into nothingness as your brain registered who you’d just stumbled into.

“Oh—my Lord, I—” Words failed you, and before you could think better of it, you leaned up on unsteady toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

As if that'd make any situation better.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even logical. You’d kissed him out of pure instinct, as though the ridiculous gesture could smooth over your mistake. The taste of sake lingered on your lips, and you felt his skin—warm, impossibly warm—beneath them.

The world stopped.

Sukuna didn’t move, didn’t speak. He merely stared at you, the faintest arch of his brow the only indication of his surprise. One of his mouths twitched, as though he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or bare his teeth.

But the other servant? He slinked away without another word, the weight of Sukuna’s gaze enough to cow even the boldest.

You, however, weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how dead you were.

“My apologies, my Lord,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly, your legs trembling as you bowed low. “It was a mistake. I—I’ll leave—”

You fled without hesitation, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

*-*

The morning came too soon, and with it, a summons to Sukuna’s quarters.

You stood outside the heavy wooden doors, your palms sweating despite the cold. Servants whispered as they passed, their pitying gazes confirming your worst fears.

You’d kissed the King of Curses- on the cheek- but still.

You’d crossed a line so absurd it was almost laughable—almost.

The doors creaked open, and you stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of incense and something darker, something uniquely him. Sukuna lounged on a throne-like chair, his four arms resting lazily, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees threaten to give out.

“You summoned me, my Lord.” Your voice was steady—barely.

He leaned forward slightly, a smile curling one of his mouths. “Do you make it a habit to kiss your superiors, little one? Or am I special?”

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your chest.

“No, my Lord. It was— It wasn’t intentional. I—”

“Explain.” His tone was almost amused, but the weight of his command was unmistakable.

You swallowed hard, words tumbling out before you could stop them. “There was a servant. He—he wouldn’t leave me alone. I was trying to get away, and I—” You broke off, heat flooding your face as you realized how ridiculous it all sounded. “I thought… If I kissed you, he’d stop.”

Silence.

And then Sukuna laughed.

It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you’d feared. It was low, rumbling, and almost—almost—genuine. “You used me as a shield? Bold. Stupid, but bold.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“Offend me?” He rose, his massive form towering over you as he descended the steps toward where you stood trembling. One clawed hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re lucky I find this amusing. If it were anyone else…”

His words hung in the air, unfinished, and you didn’t need him to elaborate.

“But…” His voice softened, though it was no less dangerous. “The thought of another human touching what’s mine—” His grip tightened ever so slightly, his crimson eyes darkening. “—that doesn’t sit well with me.”

You blinked, confusion warring with fear. “Yours?”

“Yes, mine.” The declaration was calm, almost matter-of-fact. “You’ve served me longer than any other. You’re still alive. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Your heart stuttered, his words wrapping around you like a noose. “I—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, little one.” He released you, turning back toward his throne. “You’ll stay by my side from now on. I don’t want anyone else getting ideas.”

The dismissal was clear, but your legs refused to move, your mind reeling. Sukuna glanced back, his smirk widening at your stunned expression. “What are you waiting for? Go. And don’t make me summon you for something so trivial again.”

You bowed quickly, fleeing the room before he could change his mind.

As you stumbled into the corridor, your heart still racing, one thought burned in your mind.

What just happened?

Choso hadn’t expected to see you here.

The fight had been messy—blood everywhere, clinging to his skin, his clothes, the ground. Some of it wasn’t his own, but that didn’t make it better. The curse had been stubborn, and Choso’s cursed technique demanded sacrifice, drawing from the very essence of his being to fuel his strength.

Now, the aftermath was a field of carnage, and he stood in the middle of it, panting. His hair clung to his damp forehead, stray strands falling from the tie that barely kept it in place. Crimson stained his hands, dripping from his fingertips like a grim metronome. He was still catching his breath when your voice broke through the haze.

“Choso!”

You ran toward him, your expression shifting from relief to concern as you closed the distance. He froze, wide-eyed, as you reached him, ignoring the gore and grime that painted him from head to toe.

“Hey—what are you doing here?” His voice came out rough, almost scolding, but the undercurrent of worry was impossible to miss. “This isn’t a safe place—”

“Are you okay?” you interrupted, not stopping until you were right in front of him. You looked him over, your hands hovering near his arm before pulling back. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not mine,” he said quickly, though his voice faltered when he saw the doubt flash in your eyes. “...Most of it isn’t mine.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as you stepped even closer. He could feel your warmth now, the way your presence melted into his, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“You shouldn’t—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face in your hands, ignoring the sticky residue of blood that smeared against your palms. His lips parted in a silent protest that died the second your lips met his.

The kiss was soft, lingering—nothing hurried, nothing frantic. Just your warmth, your assurance, pouring into him like sunlight piercing through a storm. His mind blanked. For a moment, the weight of the fight, the exhaustion, the blood, it all evaporated.

When you pulled back, you didn’t move far, your faces still close enough for him to see the tiny flecks of color in your eyes.

“I’m covered in blood,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So what?” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face with a thumb. “I still love you.”

The words hit him harder than any blow he’d taken during the fight. He stared at you, his breath catching, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might give out.

“You shouldn’t—” he began, but you cut him off again, this time with a finger pressed gently to his lips.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t feel.” Your voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument. “I love you, Choso. Blood, scars, all of it.”

He swallowed hard, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, any trace of fear. But all he found was sincerity, shining as brightly as the sun.

“I—” His voice cracked, and he cursed himself for it, looking away. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Yes, you do,” you said without missing a beat. You tilted his chin back toward you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”

For a moment, he could only stare at you, his mind a whirlwind of emotions too tangled to unravel. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached for you, his blood-streaked hands trembling as they came to rest on your waist.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken, something fragile.

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” you said with a gentle laugh, leaning in to rest your forehead against his.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of your laughter fill the hollow spaces inside him. For the first time in what felt like forever, the blood on his hands didn’t feel like a weight he had to carry alone.

“I’ll get better at this,” he promised, his voice a quiet vow.

“You don’t have to,” you replied softly. “You’re enough just like this.”

And in that moment, with your arms around him and your love anchoring him, he almost believed it.

Shiu Kong was done.

Done with Toji’s crap, done with his own responsibilities, done with the persistent ache in his shoulders from hunching over paperwork all damn day.

His tie was loosened, but it felt more like a noose. A neat pile of ash gathered in the tray beside him, his third cigarette of the last hour smoldering between his fingers. Even the quiet hum of his office was suffocating. He just wanted— needed—a moment of silence, of nothingness, where the world would stop demanding every ounce of his energy.

So when the door creaked open, a surge of frustration welled up in his chest.

“Not now,” Shiu barked, spinning his chair around, ready to tell whoever it was to get the hell out. But the words died on his tongue the second he saw you.

You.

His wife, standing there with that soft, knowing smile. The one that threatened to disarm him every single time. And before he could say anything—an apology, a question, anything—you closed the distance, your hands cradling his jaw like he was something fragile.

Then, you kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried or fleeting. It wasn’t the type of kiss meant to start anything more. No, this was one of those grounding, soul-deep kisses—the kind that said everything words couldn’t.

Shiu froze. For a heartbeat, his mind couldn’t quite catch up. But then, his eyes slipped shut, and he melted into you.

God, he melted.

The cigarette tumbled from his fingers into the ashtray as his hands came up to hold your waist, pulling you closer like he needed you to keep him tethered to the earth.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed lightly against yours. His eyes opened, and there you were, looking at him like he was something worth saving.

“...I was working,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

“I know,” you replied softly, brushing a thumb along the dark circles under his eyes. “But you looked like you needed a reminder of why you bother.”

He huffed, a sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. His head tilted, and you felt his lips graze your temple. A quiet, almost whispered, “You’re too good to me.”

“Someone has to be.”

The words came out lighter than you intended, but there was no mistaking the sincerity beneath them. You stepped back slightly, fingers still brushing against his tie as you loosened it further.

“You’ve been at this for hours. You’re going to work yourself into an early grave,” you chided, though your tone was gentle.

“Could be worse. Could be Toji burying me,” Shiu muttered darkly, his lips twitching in that way they always did when he tried to hide his amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “If Toji doesn’t kill you, the stress will.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested over his racing heart. “Take a break. Five minutes, even.”

He looked at you like you’d asked him to dismantle the entire operation single-handedly. “I can’t just—”

“You can,” you interrupted. “And you will. Because if you don’t, I’m going to drag you out of this chair myself.”

The silence stretched, but there was no tension in it. Just the steady thrum of your shared breath. Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging like the fight had gone out of him.

“Fine,” he relented, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Oh, so you can be charmed,” you teased, grinning as he shot you a mock glare.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I am.”

Another quiet laugh escaped him—this one real, unguarded. He reached for you again, his hand finding yours, thumb brushing along your knuckles. For the first time that day, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured. But his tone betrayed him, softer than silk, full of gratitude he didn’t have the words for.

“And you love me anyway,” you replied, leaning in to press one last kiss to his forehead.

Shiu said nothing, but he didn’t need to. The way he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck, spoke volumes. The smell of smoke and the faintest hint of cologne lingered between you as he breathed you in, as if you were the antidote to all the poison in his veins.

And for the first time in hours, Shiu didn’t think about Toji. Or work. Or the chaos waiting for him tomorrow.

For now, there was just you.

The room was cloaked in the kind of silence that only exhaustion could birth, heavy and thick like a shroud.

Papers were strewn across the table—witness statements, diagrams, hastily scrawled notes that didn’t quite connect. The overhead light buzzed faintly, and Hiromi could feel the weight of hours pressing down on his shoulders, the ache of his back bent too long over evidence that refused to yield.

You were pacing.

Barefoot now, shoes abandoned hours ago, socks sliding against the tiles as you moved like a restless pendulum, muttering bits of the puzzle under your breath. He watched you in the moments he dared to lift his gaze from the documents—watched how the fatigue softened your edges but sharpened your focus, a juxtaposition that shouldn’t have made sense but did.

Then, it happened.

You froze mid-step, eyes going wide, lips parting as if you’d just swallowed lightning.

“Wait,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “Wait, wait, wait—oh my God.”

Hiromi sat up straighter, the air shifting with your energy as you spun on your heel, face alight with something triumphant, manic, and devastatingly beautiful. “We’ve got it.”

“What?” His voice was hoarse, unused for hours, but you didn’t answer. You only crossed the room in three steps, grabbed his face in your hands like he was some divine revelation in human form, and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t even fully conscious—an act born purely of adrenaline and sleeplessness and the electric hum of victory. Your lips pressed to his, fleeting but fierce, a lightning strike that left him stunned in its wake.

Before he could even process it—before he could react—you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, as if you didn’t even realize what you’d done.

“We’ve got it,” you repeated, a grin breaking across your face. “I have to tell them—this’ll break the whole case open—”

And then you were gone, feet pounding against the floor, the door swinging shut behind you with a gust of air that smelled faintly of you.

Hiromi blinked. Once. Twice.

The world slowly resumed its shape around him, but everything felt wrong now, tilted. You’d kissed him.

You’d kissed him.

And then you’d left like it was nothing, like it hadn’t sent a shockwave through every nerve in his body.

For a moment, he just sat there, fingers brushing absently against his lips, stunned into an unfamiliar stillness. Then—

“Wait.”

He shot to his feet, chair scraping harshly against the floor, legs moving before his brain caught up.

“Wait!” His voice echoed in the hallway as he stumbled after you, his usual composure unraveling like thread. “Hey—wait—come back!”

You were already halfway to the supervisor’s office, still riding the high of discovery, when his hand caught your wrist. The sudden pull made you spin, chest colliding with his as you blinked up at him, wide-eyed and confused. “Hiromi, what—”

“You kissed me,” he said, breathless and disbelieving, like the words had been dragged out of him by some unseen force.

“What?”

“You kissed me,” he repeated, voice cracking just slightly, and he was looking at you now like you’d hung the stars but forgotten to tell him they were his. “You—back there—you kissed me.”

For a second, you just stared at him. Then, like a slow dawn, realization crept over your face, turning your expression into something equal parts horror and wonder.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I—oh.”

“You already said that,” he pointed out, but his voice was softer now, almost teasing, and you couldn’t help the way your lips quirked despite the mortification blooming in your chest.

“I—” You were cut off by his lips on yours, warmer and surer than before, a second chance taken with both hands.

This time, you kissed him back.

And when you broke apart, both of you laughing, breathless, and slightly unsteady on your feet, it felt like the exhaustion had been replaced with something brighter, lighter.

“Case first,” you murmured against his lips, though your hands didn’t quite loosen their grip on his jacket.

“Fine,” he said, smirking. “But I’m not letting you run off this time.”

And you didn’t.

A/N: ikikikik that hiromi's and nanami's are similar but LET MEEEE BEEEEEEEE. i tried okay, an attempt was made or whatever.Again, i'm so sorry to the anon that requested this and i stupidly deleted the ask. at first i wrote the gojo one in "her" pov, but i didn't like that and went back to "you".

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