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tonycries · 23 days ago

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ATTACK ON P*SSY!

Synopsis. He’s a 10 but when you ask him to be rough…he goes rough.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rough s, headlocks, hard and fast, manhandIing, dóggy, GOJO’S POWERS, tummy buIges, spítting, dúmbifícation, MARATHONS, jealous s (Nanami’s side), chokíng, leaving marks, cúmplay, p talking, breéding, cervíx kíssing, true form Sukuna, dp, Ino cries, pússydrunk men, they go FÉRAL, p sIapping, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Lmk if you get the Love and Deepspace reference in Nanami’s heh.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Twisterrr!

“So…my girl wants it rough, huh?” Toji’s scarred lips tickle precisely the most sensitive spots on your neck, making him depart a husky snicker. “Heh- stop talkin’ outta ya pussy, mama.”

Your spit-glittered mouth formulates into a pout, hazy peripherals darting over your shoulder and towards your leering boyfriend. Hot. Each syllable hitched with whines, “I-I’m not. I reeeally want it r-”

“When ya can’t even handle this?”

He’s cutting your babbling off with an utterly mean drive of his hips, thoroughly opening up your clingy walls with the curvaceous tip crowning his shaft. Probing n’ probing until he’s pressing a sweet, sweet smooch lovingly on your g-spot.

Holding it there, unmoving.

Rendering you so stupid with only a single thrust that you feel yourself tremble like a leaf once he’s gritting out a low, “Oh? She got even ngh- wetter.” And before you know it, a lengthy foot is being pressed right along the middle of your spine. Strong, rugged palms pulling and pulling on your upper-arms to bend you into such a lecherous arch-

“Fine. Brace yourself, doll.”

And Toji barely even gives your popped ears the time to hear his rasped-out promise let alone register it- fuck, you should consider yourself lucky that he gave you a warning in the first place.

Because Toji Fushiguro was fucking you like he hated you.

His blushing mushroom head was as red as a strawberry, and just as thick - whacking against the poor bullseye of your tenderest nooks n’ crannies repeatedly until your tastebuds simply drowned in saliva.

Until you were throwing your head back with a thick gasp, “T-Tooooji- like that. J-just like that.”

“Just like hah! that?” He’s crooning from behind, planting a peck near your jaw. You feel so dirty when his foot strikes down to bow you even deeper into the perfect geometrical curvature, “Bend. Bend f’me a little more- yeahhh, just like that. M’only getting started, mama.”

Fuck, what?

Toji finds himself smiling all dopily at the tiny sob that slips through your cracked lips. Your glassy eyes wide, thighs shivering against his meaty ones, stringy wads of drool slipping and sliding in thin trails down either cute side of your maw.

So pretty.

“Whaaaat? D-don’t tell me this ngh- needy pussy-” And just as rude Toji talked, he pounded into you even ruder. Swollen, heavy cock now smearing streaks of sappy pre that stick on top of your g-spot like glue. “-can’t-” Hard. Merciless. So full and dumbstruck, you can only mewl when his big, beefy biceps ‘round you grow tighter. Bulging out large bruises on your heated skin, “-handle it?”

“I can I can—” You’re shaking your head like a rattle, vision fuzzy with tears and the arousal of his drenched black pubes scratching your violently papping mounds raw.

He coos, “Mhm, and this pretty pussy hck! won’t cum immediately?”

“Won’t-” You’re choking out, words getting stuck in the leaden ball in your throat when he angles his bloated cock to stroke the roof of your gummy walls. Puffed-up veins massaging every treasure trove of orifices in that delicious zigzag pattern of his.

“Hmm— dunno if I ngh- believe you.”

“P-promise.” Hips swiveling back into his in a lazy back and forth that slaps your ass into his toned abs, every murked pant you’re letting off matches the creaking bedsprings of Toji’s mattress. Sniffling, “Give it t’me. Fuh-fuck me rougher pleeease-”

You bite down on your slackened lower lip as soon as he graces your throbbing cunt with a claggy spank. Still being plastered against Toji’s slick, glissading front with one hand of his hands manhandling both of yours to pin behind your back.

You can feel the sloshing whoosh of his buttery precum dripping out of you, coating your inner thighs with such carnal need.

He chortles something dangerous, and you don’t have to ogle behind at Toji to know that he had his eyes dead set on the prize. Right on your sobbing pussy. “Well…since ya said h-heh ‘please.’”

Within two bats of your tear-lathered lashes, Toji’s unclasping his vice-like restraint on your arms to let you fall onto the cacophonous bed like a delicate piece of domino. Tittering.

Waiting the few sultry nanoseconds it takes for your brows to knit into an adorable furrow, waiting until that disappointed groan is just building up in your throat- before he’s shoving your sweat-shimmered face into the pillows and rutting.

“Jeez, mama-” You hear Toji drawl out through the muffling cotton in your ears, low baritone barely audible over the furious thwack! of his full, rounded breeder balls spanking your thighs. “Told you you’d cum ngh- immediately.”

Fuck.

And it’s only then that you realize that you are cumming - white-hot bliss flashing behind your flapping lids, your hips struggling to push and push off of the soaked sheets while he draaaaags out your high.

You’re grappling onto the headboard for dear life. For anything grounding, because right now you’re so weak you think you might just break. “Toji- Tooooji…c-cumming. M’cumming-”

“Shut up.” Toji hisses through gleaming, clenched teeth. Gone. Bosomy tip French kissing pinpricks of pre into your g-spot with every quiver of your high, and no matter how much you’re clenching your glutinous walls around him, he’s still driving out and in through the resistance so solidly deep. “Told you- told you.”

Before you can snipe back, his palm roughly plummets down on the sweaty crown of your head. Forcing you to bite on a mouthful of satiny pillowcase, forcing you to shut up.

To shut up so that he can slouch back and loll his greedy gaze to your gulping cunt, aftershocks of your orgasm so strong that he could count every time your saturated folds twitched. And he did count.

Five times in all before grumbling, “Told ‘er- didn’t I, p-pretty girl?” Not at you - but at your sloppy pussy. Who seemed more than happy to talk back in wet squelches upon squelches every time he was poking his veins into your gushing entrance. “Yeah- yeahhh I did, you’re so right.”

“Toji mmpf-”

“Wanted it rough, s-so now you’re gonna get it.” Toji’s every word rips out in a primal growl, and you feel your creaking bed snap! somewhere in the distance. Broken. A foot making its lecherous home on your head, hard. “Brace yourself, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Jealousy, jealousy

“P-please.” You’re whispering with your jaw hanging foolishly open, warbly tone right on the verge of breaking because your husband’s in so deep. So…insatiable. “You can be ngh- rougher today, Ken—”

“R-rougher?” Nanami’s echo comes out ragged, carnal. As strained as his sanity was beginning to feel right now when you were underneath him and begging so prettily like this. He dips a sensual peck near one of your ankles dangling off of his sculptured shoulders, “I don’t want to hurt you, my love. Or leave any marks that…” Pearly whites clenching, seethingly. “-others can see.”

And oh, Nanami Kento was a gentleman. Nanami Kento was patient with you.

Always.

But not with any touchy new co-worker of yours that just-so-happened to hang around you way too fucking often for his taste.

No, one singular mention of him and he’d dragged you to your shared bedroom to bend you into a filthy, filthy mating press until your melty, cotton-filled brain had completely n’ utterly forgotten just how your day had gone.

Until you were fidgeting the doughy heels of your feet against his curvaceous back muscles, “B-but I want it, baby.” Spit-shimmering lips automatically pulling into one of his weaknesses: your pout. “I want you t-to make me yours.”

At this, Nanami flinches.

He blushes - a cute blossomy red that scorches across his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears, already drenched with thin ribbons of sweat.

With a deeeep gulp, he croaks out. “...M-mine.” Swallowing a webbed mass of saliva that waters his tastebuds once. Twice. Before tenderly cupping your boneless legs and smearing them so wiiidely agape that they start to burn. Just the mere sinful action makes your pussylips let off a soppy squelch! “Arch f’me then, darling.”

You’re blinking, buzzing eardrums unsure of what you’d oh-so-clearly just heard departing Nanami’s parted lips. “What?”

“Didn’t tell you to question me. Did I, my love?” He hisses, the very fringe of his mouth curling into a sleazy grin at your adorably shocked expression. Rovering down to palm your lower tummy, opened flat and pressed against that thick, cylindrical outline he was fucking into you hard. “Better.”

Oh…he was feeling himself inside you. Caressing your tummy bulge with sheer loving, making your gluey walls stick to his solidly ridged shaft like you were keeping him hostage.

“Who s’fucking you deep inside?” He flicks the curved mushroom tip bumping through you, dabbing every inch inside you. Sleazy. Sloppy. Molten eyes half-shuttering until he looks so ruined. Fuck. “Who? Me or him?”

Your eyes blearily cross and uncross, the pressure of it so much. “Wh-who- who’s him-”

“Talking about another man when you’re with me,?”

Before you can gather your bearings, before you can even gasp in a lungful of shocked air at the gesture - Nanami shocks your throb-throb-throbbing clit with a sloooow drag of his metallic wedding ring. Smudging a cute, wettened heart right where you were the utmost sensitive.

“Pleeease-”

“Speak up.”

“I want-”

“Hmmm…what was that?” He’s striking the bulging patch of your g-spot with an achy glide of his bawling wet divot as soon as you open your mouth. Nanami was shutting you up with his fat, vein-covered cock not just once, not just twice- but three whole times before humming. “My apologies. Can’t hear you over ngh- her, darling.”

How could you ever underestimate just how strong your husband was? How rough he could really be.

Thickened, meaty thighs flex in tightened knots once his hips drive into yours viciously. Every harrowed pap! of his tawny happy trail scratching your slobbery folds open and leaving your mouth parched.

Whack after whack of his plump, split-ended tip scraping your magical spots expertly. And you couldn’t even predict when the next recurring strike would commence because your dazed eyes were sprinting all the way to the back of your head.

You could count eight of his Herculean abs in total, all of them cutting into your front and working to pin down your squirming hips. To stop you from getting more more more- “Fuuuck me. J-just want more-”

“Hmmm?”

“Ngh- I said m-more!” You yelp, breaths turning desperate and wheezing once he scrambles - scrambles - over the dewy, rumpled-up bedsheets to recover his favorite yellowy tie.

Immediately looping it around your delicate neck. Your fluttery lungs fight for gaspfuls of air once he’s leveraging it to drag you alllll the way up off of the claggy pillows- he was bringing you to him.

“Now, whisper it nicely in my hah- ear, my wife. Tell me exactly what you want.” Nanami’s panted puffs cloud your brain with heat and need and him. Before you know it, you’re already nudging your lolled head up to his ear. “There we go, upsy daisy. That’s a good girl.”

And all you can manage out is a slow, simpering gasp of syllables that sounded something like more!

But that’s all it takes.

All it takes for him to reel his greedy hips back, back, back until the very crown of his bloated cock was smooching your ringed hole. Spraying out sheen after sheen of sweltering hot pre that coats your cunt n’ slides right inside.

Timed exactly with the pace that Nanami himself picks up, barrelling out battering rams that indent his rotund circumference into your spongy cervix.

“Mhmmm, knew I’d h-have ya begging f’me–” Nanami coos something gravelly, holding your weakened head up to nuzzle sweet peck after peck on your lips. Shit, he’s even taking dirty lappings of the puddles of drool geysering from past your slack mouth. “Me. Me- right?”

“Y-yes.” You’re yelping once his relentless digits tighten on his tie, cutting off your winded breaths. Choking you. “You- you, Kento.”

Soft, padded fingers just finish drawing an obvious NK on your hooded nub- was he writing his name on your clit? “That’s riiiight, s’Kento. Kento’s here for you, my love.” Punctured with sappy snogs - on your lips, inside your leaking pussy. “Kento, no one else.”

“Ngh- n-no one else.” Tiny whimpers crack within your throat when you feel the swampy splat! of slick pouring more n’ more out of you and drenching him from abdomen to his twitching ballsack. Babbling, “You- Kennn—”

“Cute- mine. You’re my wife.”

“All yours.”

“H-heh, bet ya can’t even remember now- What was damn fucker- coworker’s name again?”

“Oh.” Nanami almost asks you to marry him all over again at the way your brows have to furrow, head shaking from side to cockdrunken side to clear your poor lil’ head. It takes a copious vicious pounds into the mattress to even recall the answer to his question. “Right! He said his name was Zayne…from Linkon City.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “Ya like that?”

Fuck- if the way whines pour from your overflooded lips wasn’t enough of an answer, then the syrupy slick constantly leaking out of you sure was.

Your bawling cunt was all but having a conversation with Geto, all stuttered slurps n’ squelches that rung like music within his red-tipped ears. And he’s lurching his head in a sudden nod, pearly white teeth all on gleaming display when he ogles a fat dollop of sap and spit slithering down your thighs slooowly.

“Y-yes!” You’re crawling towards the shuddering mahogany headboard, ringing with violent creaks after every pound. “Yes yes yes- I like it, Suguru–”

“Heh, fuuuuck yeah you do.” He doesn’t even bat an eye before hooking a hand on your waist and dragging you all the way back down. “S’supposed to be a punishment but yer such a slut when you’re hck! thrown around.” Smooching a frosty thumb all down your silvery slit, he snickers once he feels your cute insides clench on instinct around him. “Then again…”

Without a singular warning, without even a shred of hesitation, a firm arm roams over to your throat. Tight.

But Geto doesn’t just hold you- no, that would’ve been much too nice for him. Instead, he’s pushing the curvy mounds of his biceps ‘round your pretty neck like some sort of necklace - trapping you in a fucking headlock.

You’re plastered like glue against his glissading front, and you think you’ve never been wetter as you’re massaged by his ridged abs. Thin trailways of boiling hot sweat streaming between his cushy pecs and hitting at your backside with a plap! plap! plap!

Voice hoarse in your ear. Low. “There we go. Theeeeere we go. How about this? Ngh- ya like-” Squeezing his arm even tighter until bursts of remaining air leave your lungs. You could feel every twitch, every flex of toned flesh hot against your own. “-that?”

A sob lets off from your stupidly unhinged lips, “Y-yes– I like it-”

“Greedy fuckin’ girls shouldn’t answer.” He’s promptly cutting you off, both with his deep bass and his deeper strokes. Immediately oozing a tiny heart of sticky pre inside, “I was hah- talking to my lady down here.”

You practically shiver at the feeling of his burnished lilac eyes coursing down to your prettily dripping cunt, and just at that moment he hits your cervix with a sloshing spank.

Filthy.

A thumb dips down to pry your treacly folds apart, Geto’s pinkish tongue slobbering down his grinning lips at the sight of you swallowing him like mad. The sight of your arched back dappling with perspiration after every vulgar swerve of your hips trying to keep up with his. Needy.

“Mmmm yeah. She’s ngh- likin’ it alright. Look at her-” Sickly sweet strands of juices dangle off of his padded fingers like gum, so wet that his wrist gleams glossily. He just can’t help but lurch his head over to streamline a viscid web of saliva right on your sloppy hole, “-she’s a damn waterpark f’me.”

You keen at the back of your throat, spittle spraying a sheen all over Geto’s veiny forearm with a splash! “S-so mean, Sugu–”

“Mean? Mean?”

Something resounds like a growl at the back of your boyfriend’s throat, and only numerous sticky swats of his rounded balls later do you realize - that was a giggle. A giggle.

“H-hear that? My girl’s sayin’ I’m mean.” Another thwack of weepy spit hits your cunt, and the saccharine sweet gasp you take is delicious. Headlocking you tighter- “Oh, gorgeous. You asked to be punished with it r-rough. And you’re ah- getting it- fucking- rough-”

Rasping and ragged and gone. Utterly gone.

If this was supposed to be a punishment then you’d gladly take more.

Geto was pounding into you viciously now, rattling your cottony brain with every sharp slap of his fattened crownhead. Probing deeply into your warm innards to spread apart tender nooks and crannies you didn’t even know existed.

You were nodding like a stupid bobblehead, letting his veiny cock bloat n’ balloon up inside you- shit, the banging flesh where your ass met his silky pubes was rubbed raw by now.

A hoarse bark of laughter flees Geto’s lips once he realizes, immediately angling his rude pelvis just so he can grind purposefully against your agitated skin. It’s so cute the way your moans pitch even deafeningly higher at the texture.

Sliding his strawberry pink divot juuuust off your magical spot, he rolls his eyes. “Seeeee? N’ you s-say I’m mean.”

At that very moment, you think you’re seeing stars. The only sensations ripping through your mind being the Earth-shattering cadence that Geto was fucking into you, and the soft tickle of his long, beautiful locks curtaining your spine.

You’re tugging mindlessly on one of his inky tendrils, dazed peripherals sliding to a flushed Geto. That split-second of direct eye contact enough to make his base swell- “P-pretty.”

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

With a wicked slam! Geto’s both burying himself inside till the very hilt - straining your rubbery walls until you were whining at the hefty weight of him - and burying your face into the cushy pillow. His savage palm clawing and clawing at your head while he fucking cums, in the filthiest and most surprising way that fills your gooey cunt until you were overspilling.

Just from that.

“P-pull my hair-” He gasps - just barely audible enough that once you do, it makes a creamy coating of even more ribbony seed slip into your entrance. More and more and more. A steaming hot mess that makes you squirm-

“No. No.” Geto gasps - he begs.

And you don’t think he even registers that he’s promptly slamming a firm foot down on your head to pin you pliably down and make you take it.

This newer angle floods your orifice with such generous helpings that Geto feels his taste buds drench in water, sighing lovingly at the sight of your inner thighs being glued together by his sap.

He’s stepping your head even deeper into the sullied pillowcase once he hears you snicker. Shutting you up. Meaty thighs shivering, emptied balls twitching sensitively at the slap of saliva he spits once more on your entrance.

Gritting through furiously clenched teeth, “Oh, you are s-so getting hngh! pregnant tonight, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - OLFACTORY ETHICS?!

“B-baby…” Choso’s sharp canines snaggle on the drenched fabric of your panties, broad chest heaving in ragged huffs! as your roommate gulps in a deeeep inhale- and his mouth just drops. “Oh, baby.”

You smelled so sweet.

His favorite perfume - so good that it makes his pearly whites clench down and bite.

He’s smearing his favorite pair of your pretty pink silk all down the lower half of his handsome face, where it’d mostly glued to ever since you’d caught him stealing your underwear not too long ago.

Where it’d been since he’d blushed n’ begged for you to punish him.

And you’d known exactly how.

“Just fuck me, Cho–” You’re crooning, the pretty sound of your voice itching something deeply primal in his mind and making him twitch. Full-bodied. Making his achingly hard cock bulge a few millimeters even wider n’ girthier, carnally desperate. “Fuuuuck— C’mon now- you can do it.”

“L-like this?” He’s whispering, all muffled and breathy. Darkened mahogany eyes lock in direct contact with yours as he’s rubbing the ridges of his veined shaft along the sticky slope of your pussy. “Tell me- use me.”

“Mhmm— you’ve got it, baby. Rough now, m’kay?”

“R-rough…”

Slipping and sliding, his hips feel frenzied already. Tapping out a few fat globs of pre from that slobbering orifice nestled on top of his crownhead, Choso can’t help but thumb each bead past your sloppy hole.

“G-gonna fuck you now.” He’s hiccuping out cloudy syllables, piping hot bursts of air that fan your face and make you shiver. And he notices, oh, he notices and flushes. “Gonna fuck- fuck you, baby…”

Choso’s jaw remains almost permanently unhinged as he watches his globular tip push past your teensy resistance, the clingy surface of your cunt molding and melting around him. Hot. Puffed-up pussy lips stretched wiiidely agape, your hole quivers with every one of his prominent veins scraping their way inside.

A whine cracks at the back of his throat-

Shit, was this heaven?

Through half-lidded peripherals he’s stealing looks your way to confirm that you weren’t actually an angel.

Wet tongue lolling out to give your leaky mouth a big kiss, “S’this- this-” And just then Choso’s rumbling baritone is so hot that it makes you clench - and him to jerk into a rut-

He really was out of control now.

“Oh.” He’s trailing off, hitting the damp ends of your pussy and he fucking sees white. Every inch that you’re flawlessly gulping down making him swoon into you, “Ohhhh fuck wait- fuck fuck fuck—”

Hard.

Fast.

Choso was sloppy, letting his sensory tips dangle near your hips while he bludgeoned you with every sultry second. Using his lean muscular strength to pull your ass down to slap n’ slap against his pelvis.

Pumping his probing mushroom tip deeper until you swear you could taste every sappy ribbon of milky precum he was pounding into you. Until his sculpted abs were being struck ruby red at the stinging drives.

“This good? M’I good for you?” He makes such a messy puddle of slick pour from between your bloated folds, hitting a fat thumb over the gloopy mess. Your buzzing ears ring with the wet pap! “S’this r-rough, baby?”

“Fuck- ngh- f-fuuuuck, Choso—” Truthfully, you could barely even speak. The only thing able to escape your mouth being jumbles of fucked-out syllables and gluey drool. You whimper with each whack of his fat cock, “Faster-”

Combing through Choso’s silky bangs, you tug away the stray strands plastered to his sweat-slicked forehead. An action enough to make him burn as bright red as his sobbing tip, leaning further into yours with his utterly ripped front.

“M-more, baby.”

It’s the only thing that’s falling from your lips before nothing else can anymore.

Because your dear roommate is taking the kindly time to slap over his palm on top of your mouth - sodden panties and all.

Damn, was it a sight that made his dewy cockhead twitch dangerously in warning.

Muffling your lecherous words with the stringy scrap of fabric, he grumbles. “Sh-shut up, baby- another word out of you n’ I ngh! w-won’t last much longer.”

Though- fuck, if he wasn’t weak whenever it came to you.

Because as he feels your steamy maw loosen - droplets of spit dripping down to lather his doughy palm - Choso finds himself inching in closer. Bubblegum pink nipples rubbing sensitively against your front when he leans in and listens-

You’re batting your lashes up at him, “Want- want it all inside, Cho.”

Oh.

Oh, and when Choso cums it’s with his pussydrunken head buried into the delicate crook of your neck, sharp fringes of his teeth sinking so roughly into the side of your urgent pulse that you think it might draw iron-tasted blood.

“T-take it.” His voice lilts unstably a few octaves higher, massive hands manhandling the legs looping his feet - pushing and pushing and pushing until your capped knees hit your tits. Veins popping out of his own neck, hard. “Every last fucking drop.”

It’s burst after burst.

The curving globe of his plump head batters out stripes of hot cum with every single thrust, drilling right past the gluey maze of your walls to leave syrupy white splotches on your cervix that you feel coat your cunt in a sloppy second skin. Messy.

You claw your hands down Choso’s flexing back and it makes his eyes burst with white-hot stars of pleasure. “Yeah- yeah. I-inside, baby- don’t miss.”

Hypnotically, he drags the simmering pads of his tongue right along your all-new bite mark. Possessive. The entrails of your panties still dangling haphazardly from one side of your mouth-

Choso feels his heart race when he bites down on the silken edges; letting it stretch stretch stretch before he spits your slutty underwear aside.

“Oh, baby.” Snogging away the wires of spit that sliver from between your lips, “Was- was that rough ‘nough.” He murmurs in concern against your lips, eyes daring to dart all over his animalistic marking. And then he slouches backwards to tilt further down. “Didn’t wanna-”

He takes one heartbeat - two - simply staring at the frosty ivory rings of cum that spilled out of your pussy. A mess that he had to blame for.

And when Choso looks back up at you, it’s through pure heart eyes. “A-actually, I don’t think that was ngh- rough enough, baby…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Pony.

“Mmmm- my human’s always so sweet.” Sukuna’s sheeny glossed lips pry apart the heated folds between your legs, his long sultry tongue lapping up every bead n’ ribbon of cum pouring out of your cunt. “Sooo fuckin’ sweet.”

And just as monstrously big as his height was, his tongue was certainly not to disappoint.

You yelp once the split-ended pads of his tastebuds swirl allll the way inside your dripping pussy, round and round. Poking and prodding into sweet geysering spots that he knew would make your pretty lil’ mind useless.

One big, beefy hand of his roams up to curl around your throat and keep your dazed eyes dead locked on the slicked mess the king was making out of your sugary sweet pussy. Unmoving.

“Y-you’re so…” You’re drawling, words so drunken that it’s like they were clinging to your hoarse throat. Your mouth simply hangs at the sight of Sukuna constricting his tongue to let creamy oodles of his seed from hours before sliiiiide all down to his parched throat like a runway. “-filthy, Kuna.”

“H-heh.”

He doesn’t get up until you’re all thoroughly cleaned up, every dollop of thick cum lapped away from your overstimulated entrance.

Hell, you don’t even think Sukuna can think until he pulls away with a drenched plop! Stringy cobwebs of fluids sticking to his face as if some sort of lipgloss.

A bulky second hand of his leaves a spank right on your throbbing clit, and within the blink of an eye you’re being scooped up into Sukuna’s arms. Nestled right against his cushy pecs - his two achingly hard cocks-

And when he kisses you it’s a reminder - letting your maw slide over the caramel salted splotches homed inside his mouth. Savoring it just as much as he was savoring you.

Just as much as he wanted to ruin you.

Your spine arches with a scorched breeze as he inches in to grunt against your ear. Low. Prowling. “Callin’ me filthy when you’re the one leaking with my cum, brat.”

“W-well, not anymore because- fuck!”

“Quarrelsome.” He remarks over your shrill wails, toned muscles on his thighs flexing when he grabs the sweaty crown of your head and pushes you down, down, down onto his rock-hard dicks. Every gust of your heady breaths fucked out of you with just a few swallowed inches of his looong vein-decorated shafts. “I should fuck that outta ya.”

He’s bouncing his tattooed legs in a quick, harsh one-two one-two one-two. Panting, leering at the primal squeeeealch��! that rings in his ears.

Capped fringes of his knees smack against the sexy curve of your ass, the relentless little motions push past that tiny resistance and swivel Sukuna’s proudly swollen crowns all ‘round your bruised insides.

Bulging you open, prying your sticky insides apart until he had you seated all prettily on his lap and whimpering.

“Ride it then, pretty mama. Show me what that ngh- needy human pussy can do.” Sukuna grumbles through a teeth-clenched lil’ grin, halfway through breaking into a soppy smile when your cute noises only get louder. He slouches backwards into the centuries-old headrest so that he won’t miss a single second of your sensual show, “N’ remember- I like fucking rough. I like fucking hard.”

“R-rough?” You rest your hands on his broad shoulders, gulping needily at the way his corded muscles flex underneath your touch. Legs already twitching as you swerve needily, aching once more for that splitting sensation of him plunging oh-so-deep inside. “Fuck- fuuuuuck, Kuna-”

You could already feel the fat bulbs of his tips grow even fuller, snagging right onto the crevices of your g-spot and tugging. He barely even has to try to make your head fill with stupid fuzz.

“Ya call this rough, lil’ human?” He’s spitting into your open mouth, grabbing a handful of your ass and making your clit smear down his tufts of curly pink. Gyrating n’ gyrating. “Seriously- s’embarrassing the king.”

“Th-then you-”

Just at that moment, he’s digging two hands on either side of your hips to slam! them down onto his. Hard. Stinging. Rubbing over the tenderized globeful of your ass before doing it again. Again. And again and again and-

“This is h-how ya fuck rough, pretty mama.” You swear Sukuna’s smirked grin was glistening with a thin trail of dumbstruck drool. “Feel good? Feel the sting? The way m’all deep inside-” Staring down at your cute, cross-eyed expression, he taps a plumply padded finger halfway down your tummy. “-here?”

You’re overstimulated, sensitive. The only thing you can do is nod. Nodding and nodding while a flash of smugness flickers in his crimson eyes. “Count.”

Oh? Oh.

And it’s only when his two matching cocks plant vicious pounds right where he’d marked - only when he slurs out a wet stripe of pre that drenches your pussy from the inside out - that you realize what he meant.

“O-one-”

“Too late. Two.”

Sukuna grits out, practically mocking you. Numbering away every time his bawling divots were whacking your spongy cervix. The lightning-bolted veins on his lengths scrape every carnal spot he could reach - which was all of them.

“Three- ah! Four.” You mewl out, legs scrambling to latch around his tensing core when you’re struck with another one, two, three bludgeons of his girthy circumferences. It’s enough to make you dizzy, and it’s purely on autopilot that you let off soft gasps of, “Si- s-seven?”

Snickering, “Yer finally haaaah- gettin’ it.” The cushioned mattress rings with creak after creak as he repeatedly bucks. “Put yer back into it, brat.”

“Ngh! Eight-”

“Mhm.”

“N-nine…”

“Mhm.”

Your papping flesh stings at the ferocious contact, already rubbed raw that when Sukuna swats a rude palm against your pussymound - you find yourself sobbing. Big, fat tears of salt, “Ten!”

“Nuh uh- that counts as hah- eleven.”

Fuck- he has to stop himself from snickering. He has to stop himself from drooling through both cracked mouths, already missing the taste of you. If you looked closely, you could see the cursed mouth across his abs licking its lips greedily. Grinning. “Now cum f’me before I put my tongue in, too.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Blush blush blush!

“Here?”

“Taku.”

“Or here?”

“Takuuu–!”

“Orrrrr–” Ino’s tossing his chestnut bangs out of his face to see your cute face better, snickering to himself as he lets his ramming cockhead draw a looong wet trailway to your cervix. Sweltering hot and heavy, slithering right past your precious g-spot. “-here?”

Your gooey walls twitch instinctively around him. “N-noooo-”

Pressing down. Hard. “What’s that? Oh yeah, here. Right?”

You’re huffing and puffing something that sounds like a quivering ‘please’, wobbly lips bitten between the ends of your teeth until Ino pries them free n’ sucks.

“Hmmm. What was that?” His drenched, bawling divot rubs out a fat thud! mere millimeters above where you were aching for him the most. Again. Purposefully.

“S-so mean.” You whimper for just about the nth time tonight as his deeply probing dick pushes against your gummy walls, stretching out the hidden crevices. Prominent veins almost massaging your magical spots but not quite. Tease. “All I did was c-call you ngh- pretty.”

Fuck, there it is again.

And it doesn’t matter how many times the very syllables have departed from your unsteady lips - Ino Takuma still blushed a cute, maidenly pink from apples of his handsome cheeks right down to his collarbones.

Breath hitching, nose bridge crinkling. If he was any weaker man he might just have cum—

He whacks the spherical bulge of his plumpened cockhead into you until your peripherals are teary. Hefty balls so fat that you feel the side of them flinch tenderly against your dripping cunt.

“Sh-shut up.” He’s shivering, teeth grit to stop himself from slipping out a strained keen. Those pretty fawn eyes of Ino’s slide all the way to the back of his throat when you slink a hand underneath the dark ski mask capped on his crown n’ caress. “Gonna- gonna fuck you until you haaah- forget that, sweetness. Gonna fuck you dumb.”

Your awestruck tastebuds fizzle with the taste of his splattered precum sloshing! inside you, watery trickles of saliva travelling all the way down to where your chin was smushed against your chest.

Where Ino was folding you into a mating press so tight that you could feel your ears pop after every pressurized thrust.

He was being so…frenzied.

Manhandling you to every whim and want, you were fallen onto the bedsheets delicately whilst he handled you like some ragdoll. And you’d never seen him act this vehement, this filthy, clapping his toned thighs noisily against yours.

“N’ for that…” His sing-song bass tickles the precious soft spots near your neck, rearing to give your molten tongue tiny suckles. “M’not hittin’ that c-cute g-spot any time tonight.”

It wasn’t simply a threat - he meant it.

He was stroking the slick-glittered mushroom head of his shaft over n’ over into every nook and cranny inside of you except your g-spot. Every rut so greedy that his buttery streaks of pre were piling on near that particular orifice.

Drowning you.

Ino feels his heart race at the sultry little jitters you give him; your poor body torn between digging your heels into his tense shoulders and pushing him away or pap-pap-papping your ass down for more.

“Now now, where are you goinggg—” He doesn’t waste any fucking time rounding a hand behind his head and lassoing you ankles within a few slender digits. Trapping you. Dragging you until the backs of your thighs were clapping in a standing ovation against his. “Fuck that pussy back. C’mon. C’mon, pretty.”

“P-pleeeease, Taku-” You can’t even bring yourself to be an ounce ashamed at the whiny pleas that invade your voice. “S-so close, baby- want it. Want it so bad.”

“Fuh-fuck…” He’s breathing out, mouth drier than a desert at the way you had him so weak. His prominent hip bones pat down your pelvis and leave your mouth gasping into perfect ohs! “Fuckin’ evil ya are. How bad do you want it?”

“S-soooo badly.”

“Hmmm, I dunno- where are those manners?”

“Please!”

“Hmmm?”

Oh, how he could feel his abs tense dangerously at the mixture of annoyance and depravity twisting your beautiful face.

“...w-with a cherry on ngh- top.”

“Mhm, n’ you’re gonna take it nicely?” Ino spreads your legs open a little wider, rocking and rocking. And you’re so wet - even wetter than the splattering pools of slick spittle that splosh out of your other set of lips. So sensitive. “Take it like my pretty c-cockslut?”

You can’t mumble out anything through the thickly rounded fingertips that smush your cheeks together into a pout he almost finds adorable. “Y-yesh— give it t’me, pleeease?”

Fine. And then he does it - finally gives you exactly what you’ve been craving carnally all this time. Striking it right on the bullseye, like you knew he could.

Just a bump up of his plump, curvaceous tip into your splotchy g-spot and you’re halfway through screaming. Struggling and struggling your legs jerkily at the bolting shocks of your orgasm and Ino just doesn’t let up.

He keeps your ankles locked no matter how much you fidget, he keeps the vicious push of his leaking cock into your most favorite spots like it was a button.

Fuck, it was almost too much.

Gritting his teeth through the sloshing figure-eights your hips swerve through every peak of your high, you’re milking yourself on his throbbing shaft so good that Ino forces himself to tip a hand towards his cottony mask and pull down-

“Taku–?” You’re questioning out in warbly tones once your vision was being blinked back, high tapering out into flimsy tingles that still manage to make your toes curl.

Before you can stop yourself, your sensory pads flit over to his ski mask to tug away. And boy, were you fucking glad for that.

Because you’d never seen Ino so flushed. So ruined.

He was like a picture. A red, red gale overtaking his twitching features ‘nough that you could connect the constellations of his freckles.

Caramel brows furrowed tightly knit, tawny lashes flapping his eyelids almost shut. His cherry pink lips looked so kissable; swollen and glossed in slimy spit and- and overstimulated tears.

All ready and awaiting the way you drag him back by the hair and gift his pinkish tongue with a wad of spit. Groaning.

“My pretty boy.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Starboy

You’re stuffed.

So stuffed with heaps upon heaps of Gojo’s slick cum and yet he was still possessing a massive hand clawing at your hips. The only thing holding you fucking upright while he drills his overworked cock into you, furiously.

“T-Tooru—” Your sentence punctures with every hitch of your wheezing lungs, and you can barely see two inches in front of you let alone swivel your head back to stare at the strongest. Keening groggily, “How are you s-still even hck! going?”

He doesn’t answer. Fuck, you don’t even think he can even hear you right now.

But the way your voice pitches into a pretty whine makes him flinch. Buckling on your knobbly knees, you can feel the steamed handprints imprinted on either side of your papping mounds of flesh.

Dizzy peripherals flickering to the side you gasp- he was leaving scorching hot marks on you. All nice, shapely lengths of his five digits.

Gojo’s snickering- snickering through one of his ragged scoffs, and he rests his towering bodyweight until it was lounging on the base of your cutely arched spine. He’s shivering. Strained. “S’not enough.”

Not enough?

And at this point, your muddled mind is overtaken with the dawning realization that nothing might be enough for a freshly-unsealed Gojo Satoru.

Even though his raw cock was so red n’ swollen already, pulsing out inside you to the same ba-dump–! of your pulse rate. The fat lightning bolts of his veins angle oh-so-deeply against your g-spot. Everywhere and anywhere.

And Gojo only has to trace a few greedy fingers down to feel the dewy trickles of seed that dribble out from your puffed lips like a waterfall. Ogling his lustrously glazed limbs and gasping-

Your mouth drowns in a fresh lamination of syrupy saliva at the way it makes your thighs slap together as if they were held by glue. Gojo’s bulky base endlessly decorating with more and more creamy strings of sappy cum - and then some.

“I-I’m serious…” You’re blurting out, both hands fisting the drenched silken sheets in front of you. You keep your gaze locked on the way he’s pummeling behind you and find yourself rendered almost spellbound. “-m-might not even fit-”

“Limitless void, sweetheart.” He’s cutting you off smoothly, blushing red crownhead twitching up eagerly with just the lecherous thought. Breathless, fuck- he was so far gone he could barely even choke out an answer. “Be my c-cum…dump.”

It takes you one violent thwack - two - of his sloppy, succulent shaft poking messily into your deepest innards for you to realize what he meant. He wanted to use limitless void on your needy cunt. And then an exact three-second spank to your clit for you to wonder whether he was already doing that.

Because Gojo’s doughy soft fingertips leave your body jolted, miniscule tendrils of blue lightning slithering all across your spilling pussy.

“Toru- are you already…”

“O-oh.” He didn’t even realize.

Your eyes roll back at the buzzing sensation of his cursed technique sprinting down your perfectly curved spine, repeatedly pounding hips twitching involuntarily. Vicious.

“I w-wan’’ that.” You admit, the rooound plumpness of his tip swabbing at your g-spot precisely and making you more honest than ever. Bulbous tears formulate near your fluttering waterline, “Want it. Want it so bad- pleeease, Sato- mmpf-”

And you’re not sure if it’s the sorcerer’s superhuman reflexes or your cockdrunken mind - but it’s almost as if you’ve instantaneously teleported into Gojo’s broad, beefy arms.

“F-fuuuuck–! Toru, it’s so much- ngh- it’s soooo much.”

You try to jostle yourself, to perhaps run from the overwhelming cadence. But he doesn’t let you even budge. Of course, he doesn’t.

He was so rough. Using you.

One of his hands shackled to your hips like superglue, kneading filthy handfuls of your ass while he guides you to meet every pound. The other snugly curled around your throat, the only thing holding you upright - the only thing pinning you to him.

This all-new angle helping him maze deeper, deeper, deeper inside of you until it felt like he was permanently prying your jelly-soft walls open. The slosh! of his drizzled cum pouring lazily out of you, it was almost as heavenly as the feeling of Gojo’s chiseled abs sloping down your back.

He’s whispering in your ear, pitchy and rasping. “Yeah? Yeah?” His pearly white teeth nibble softly on your tender lobe, every sharp exhale of breath striking you swelteringly hot. “T-take- cumdump- take-”

The warm clinginess of your pussy has reduced the great Gojo Satoru to stuttering.

“A-all inside” Your head lolls foolishly backwards into the cushioned comfort of his pecs, just slightly slipping on the sweaty sheen covering his muscles. You bat your tear-dipped lashes up at him, “Wan’ it all inside- o-okay, Toru?”

His response departs in a breathless gasp, “Okay.”

And when Gojo cums he makes sure that his girl is not even a second far behind.

Throwing his head back with the most pornographic, draaaagged out call of your name- he wastes no time drenching his long, long fingers in a splat! of webbed saliva and pinching your clit.

It’s like an explosion, it’s like you burst with the nth high of tonight - your rubbery walls milking Gojo’s length completely dry with the intensity, your body shuddering, heart thumping so hard you think you bet Gojo could hear it.

And he was even worse.

“S-sweetheart-” Gojo grits his teeth so hard that you hear them clink! Murked heaves are so solidly condensed that you think you can almost see them. Weighted hips clapping against your ass in a sloppy recurring plap-plap-plap. “My girl, m-my…cumdump.”

Your toes curl the moment you feel his thick, ribbony knots of seed overflood your insides. Waves upon waves upon waves of it caking in with the rest of his excess remnants, so heavy that you can feel it tenderly stroke your most sweetest spots.

Almost too much.

The lights had shattered ages ago, and right now the both of you are so far gone that you don’t even hear the bits of loose furniture in Gojo’s bedroom fall to the floor with dull thuds!

A milky white ring sugarcoats Gojo’s ivory pubic hair, making his silky texture leave wet streaks across your stinging ass. Ones that make him leap from hoarse and dumbstruck straight into babbling helplessly.

Completely drunk on you.

“My girl- my cumdump.” Broad arms wrap around your fatigued body. “My girl my girl my giiirl– oh, my girl.” Before Gojo gifts your bruised mouth with a tiny peck, loving. “D’you know what a-a mating press is?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - OH BABY, BABY…

The broiling bathtub water sloshes over each ceramic side, almost as wet as the silvery oodles of sap that just kept on pouring out from your pussy. Churning n’ smearing so vehemently that Higuruma can’t help but lift your legs up higher to take a longer look.

Admiring, honestly.

“Isn’t this niiiiice?” He’s grunting out low into the cute lobe of your ear, your hips wriggling needily with every vibration rumbling from his broad best. So close that you could smell the flowery spuds of soap and his masculine natural musk. It was addictive.

“A hot bath, n’ my hot wife-” Oh, you can already hear the smirk in his tonality. “-in a hot f-full nelson to boot.”

“Ngh! Hirooo–!” Your weeping whimpers babble out without you even knowing, the masses of your ass grinding vulgarly back into his prominent hipbones. “F-fuck me already.”

“Impatient impatient.” He tuts, “And why should I?”

“B-because I wan’ you—”

You’re garbling out the prettiest noises, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop his vengeful teasing. Quirking a sleek, black brow. “Aaaand?” He loved this look on you, of course. All greedy n’ desperate.

Though…little did your dear husband know that you had a secret weapon tonight.

“And I want a baby.” You’re finishing off. Smug.

Higuruma freezes. Higuruma gulps, “A-a what?”

“A baby, Higu.”

“A…baby.”

“Mhmm– ah!”

The yelp that departs your mouth in a sudden rush is solely because of the way that he latches his calloused fingertips onto the small of your back like a steering wheel and pulls you down down down.

Greeting your sloppy entrance with pearly ribbons of pre and a sharp slap of his fat head.

“C-can’t just say shit like that out of your pussy, sugar, n’ ngh!” His gravelly tone punctures every pumped inch pinpricking inside of you. You feel so pliant letting him pry apart your deepest mushiest walls, “-not expect ta end up pregnant.”

Your hands scramble towards the smooth ends of the bathtub to keep yourself grounded onto something - anything.

But, ah- Higuruma was selfish for your attention. And he ends up guiding your roaming palms up to his damp cocoa hair, letting you pullll through your bouts of adrenaline however you pleased. “Fuck- fuuuck jus’ like that, Hiromi.”

“I know, I know how to fuck my ngh- wife proper, angel.” He slicks his tongue out to lap at a beaded droplet of water running down your neck. Staring through half-lidded eyes, “You just sit- back- n’ take- it-”

Your eyes comically cross and uncross repeatedly with every whacked slam Higuruma plunges into your gooey depths. A sharp, stubborn one-two that leaves your ass rubbed raw from his happy trail so dark that it was almost black.

And he wasn’t easing you in- oh, not even in the least.

He was hard. Rough.

Rugged pounds so much more vicious than usual, you swear he was battering a bruise the same thick circumference as his plummy crownhead. And his tempo was juuuust enough to force the cracks of your mouth to fill up with treacly drool - not urgent, not slow. Simply precise, loooong fucks of his mean length.

You swear your very cunt was being molded to every puffy vein and ridge decorating his shaft, and the mercilessly massaging texture was enough to drive you wild.

You’re clinging onto his velveteen locks with one hand, and his big, bulging biceps with the other. “Ngh- Hiromi- i-it feels so good-” Clawing and rutting your way through every creamy mess of pre he was slipping past your ballooned-up folds. “You’re in so deep.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

And, fuck, your husband didn’t like to see you wasting even those gummy slatherings of precum he was rewarding you.

You’re feeling the round-tipped ends of his fingers caress the saturated seam of your pussylips and pinch. Holding your dewy cunt tightly closed while he was bound to fill you up - so much so that he promised you were going to overspill.

“Gonna be s-soooo much fucking rounder n’ bigger when I fucking breed ya. Riiiight-” Higuruma hiccups, long lashes tickling across his clammy cheeks at the ever-tightening hug of your pussy. Free hand skimming down to measure out a loooong distance between your gulping hole and where he was hitting his pre-capped head into your cervix. “-there. M’gonna breed ya right there, my wife.”

He was measuring you.

Dark eyes a mere millimeter-wide crack away from falling shut, imagining just how glowing and pretty you’d be all full of his kid.

More thorough, even more thorough.

Your entrance was so cozy when he pinched your pussy that he had to arch off the polished bathtub with slippery schwfs! Pushing n’ pushing past the slight resistance of you sucking his heated, heavy cock after every thrust.

Desperate.

You were biting down on your lips to hold back primal screams, because Higuruma was making sure you felt every dragging scrape of his full veins. Making sure your fuzzy eardrums rang with every wiiiinded squelch and splosh resonating from down under - and that was not just the water.

“Gonna fuck ya u-until ngh- until they all know what we’ve done. T-till they all know how I made a ngh- fuckin’ mess of ya.” He snickers after your heels slip along the bathtub trying to rut wildly into him.

“H-Hiro-”

“You wanted a baby. N’ now you’re fuck- getting one.”

“P-please–” You’re letting your head tumble backwards, bleary eyes rolling way deeper and deeper to the backs of your lids as Higuruma keeps rocking constantly into you. Impatiently, “Harder, baby. Harder. Faster.”

“Haaah? Harder? M’supposed ta take care of the future mother of my kids, sugar- not break her pretty ngh- pussy.”

Though he’s grumbling this into your unfastened mouth, his pace only picks up into something filthy. You almost feel dirty letting the plumpened curve of his mushroom tip swat the door to your womb.

And then you feel his reddened, swollen divot dangerously twitch-

“W-wait-” It takes a few seconds for you to manage to get your eyes fluttering open, and even then you’re fighting against the temptation of his long, veined cock fucking you dumb. “Did you j-just say hck! ‘kids’?”

“Sure did, angel—” Higuruma titters by the side of your pulsating throat, gifting you with one, two, three pecks. Right before sinking his teeth into your fragrant skin and groaning, “We’re having five kids. At least.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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readwritealldayallnight · 5 months ago

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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

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satorena · 10 days ago

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HOTLINE BL☆NG!

summ. wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .

cw. eventual smut. 18+. fem!reader. alcohol/substance consumption. ex boyfriend!gojo. mild toxicity. breakup & makeup. girlhood ft jjk girlies. unreliable narrator sorta. sukuna slander. mild impact play. mild asphyxiation. oral (f). fíngering. backshōts. reader is a little questionable. self sabotaging my beloved. lowkey angsty. @/3aem on tumblr for art creds. most of these stories are real shit i’ve heard/experienced LOL. can you tell i’ve never used tinder a day in my life? 16.4k words. . oops.

rena’s note. @yung-notorious and her filthy mind. . .

“you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do.”

god, you do.

you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that had you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

friday nights were meant to decompose after a long week. a cute tradition you followed— sipping on moscato wine and munching on takeout with your homegirls while the lamest horror movie played as background noise. the skincare bit happened every third friday of the month, which fell on this particular night, thin layers of korean products lathering at your skins while fluffy headbands sat atop your hairlines, keeping stray hairs away.

it was an easy way of recapping all of your week’s worth of bullshit and listing each girl’s new lineup of men of the season.

girlhood.

“i’m cool off men for a whileee,” you sigh, placing your third wine glass on the coffee table. you tuck your legs back onto the couch, propping your head into your palm. you watch as shoko, who’s seated on the floor, grabs your glass and fills it with another unsolicited round. you narrow your eyes at her, “after the shit kuna pulled— girl, slow down!”

“don’t watch me,” shoko chews at her unlit blunt tucked in her teeth, lifting an arm above her head to pass you your refill. despite the slight spin of the room, you accept the cup against better judgment, “keep talking. what the fuck did he do now?”

“you mean what didn’t he do,” seated in the pink bean bag rested on the floor, utahime quips. in between her teeth sits a wooden stick, drizzled in the honey-like wax residue she smeared over her shin. “i woulda left his ass the second i found out he— FUCK— lived with his mama at his big age.”

as utahime soothes her smoothened skin, yuki leans over the coffee table to grab at the blunt passed over to her. “y/n baby, you know i love you,” she starts off, taking a deep inhale before ghosting the smoke. you can tell she’s about the cook the shit out of you, “but come on— he lives in his parents’ basement. was that not a red flag in itself? is that seriously the kind of man you see yourself marrying.”

“nevermind the fact he’s pushing thirty and still unemployed,” shoko throws in her two cents, takeout back in her lap as she breaks open a new set of chopsticks, “he’s one more ‘tap in’ away from getting caught by the feds.”

“how much y’all wanna bet he’s at the club right now as we speak?” it’s a rhetorical question, but utahime pauses her waxing to check. with sticky fingers, she taps away at her phone, and with a knowing smile she yelps, tilting her screen towards you three, “aha!— and there goes the infamous money spread.”

“cornballllll.” shoko cringes.

you’re filled with dread and shame at the sight presented. god— every single chance you gave this man, he spun around and somehow does worse. it’s not like the two of you were together— never officially, but the sole fact that you’ve let this man treat you as if you were his girl haunts you. you’ve let countless of bullshit slide all because his stroke game came second within all the men you’ve dealt with.

the only thing you’ll give him besides a being a good lay is that you’ve never had issues concerning other women. he’s a very transparent guy— you’ve yet to receive a “hey girlie. . .” text from anybody. though, it isn’t like either of you have ever dropped any hard launches. it was mostly content that only close friends could catch onto— the interior design of his car, your latest set of nails, subtle shots of his tattoos, your purses and jewelry. nothing evident but pretty obvious to those who know.

if sukuna was still cool with him, however. . . yeah, he’d definitely know, considering the fact he purchased most of the purses you own. that’s excluding the fact your favorite necklace, the one with your name engraved, the one you always wear, was also bought by him.

“move,” you push utahime’s hand away from your peripheral, slumping further into the couch. embarrassment floods you yet again, and you drown it away with more wine. much to your chagrin, they spare no mercy as they giggle at your pout, “not too much on me— shoko, you’re literally the one who put me on!”

“don’t do that,” she rolls her eyes, picking at the orange chicken on her platter. you have half a mind at chucking your drink at her. “all i told you was to fuck him. nobody said anything about keeping him around.”

“instructions: unclear,” utahime giggles, smearing another coat of wax mixture onto her calves. “she’s now a year deep into a situationship with a man who files for disability checks to blow on parlays.”

you spring up in your seat, your wine nearly spilling on shoko in your excitement, “shit, i never told you guys!”

“told us what?” yuki kills the blunt in the ash tray, and stretches an arm to grab at her food. she knocks over a few emptied bottles as they roll on the carpet, and winces when one of them knock at shoko’s knee, “my fault girl.”

shoko clicks her tongue, but you loop your arms around her neck as you proceed, “before you bitches attacked me for literally just being a girl,” you decide ignore the way they all groan, “i was trying to tell you all why i finally ended shit with him.”

“well don’t hold back now!” utahime eggs on.

“guess what i found out,” you set the empty wine glass back onto the table. you’re most likely gonna need your hands in this specific conversation, “he bet thirty thousand dollars on the super bowl game— and lost.”

the room falls quiet. utahime pauses in her ripping, yuki drops her noodles from her chopsticks and shoko nearly chokes on her wine. amidst it all, three pairs of eyes slowly crawl to meet your gaze, in complete disbelief at what you’d told them.

“are you deadass?” shoko speaks first, her facial expression almost incredulous. her eyes are teary from her food slipping through the wrong tube. “you’re playing, right? right?”

“she has to be. . . this is a new level of low even for him.” yuki shakes her head, most likely in attempts to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t blame her— no sane person would drop thirty grand on a fucking betting app of all things— and on top of that, lose.

“i wish i was?!” you groan, still upset, “the worst part is that he told me that money was supposed to be deposit money for a condo he’d been,” you raise your fingers in air quotes, “looking into.”

“you know what though? this doesn’t actually surprise me,” utahime laughs, as if she hadn’t been in a daze for a solid minute. she rips at the strip, and winces, “didn’t i just say he was getting checks to place on parlays? frank gallagher looking ass.”

“but thirty thousand?” yuki emphasizes, blinking rapidly in her disbelief, “what the fuck would possess somebody to bet thirty grand on anything?”

“grown ass man, by the way.” shoko mumbles mindlessly, before chowing down some more food. you can’t find it in yourself to disagree.

utahime nods, blowing a puff of air, “on god, bro. don’t he got mortgages to pay off or some shit?”

yuki shoots her a deadpanned look, “girl, with what house.”

and that had been your final straw with him. not the fact he lived in his mother’s basement despite clearly having money to rent out a place, or the fact he was still flexing bands he allegedly has on the gram— but blowing all your money on a fucking football game. and losing. you do respect yourself, as much as these girls believe you don’t. a man with no ambitions and no money? you need to run and far.

“i’ll miss his dick though.” you pout, the alcohol already coursing through your body. being wine drunk always made you horny, that was a known fact, and letting go of one of your greatest eaters was not on your bingo card. naturally, the girls roll their eyes at your antics, “boo me all you want— he horsed me the fuck around in bed.”

“you used to say the same shit about gojo,” utahime points out, rising to her feet as she grabs the used strips in her hold, before circling around the couch, “and look how that ended up.”

technically. . . she wasn’t exactly wrong but that still stung a bit. “hime, seriously?” shoko rolls her eyes, and you feel her hand rubbing at your foot soothingly. her motions are a little stiff but you appreciate the sentiment, “we get you don’t fuck with him but he was still her man. and basically my friend, kinda.”

you hear her wince in the kitchen, followed by footsteps, “right. . . sorry girlie.” she runs back to you after throwing the waste away, and kisses at your temple. she doesn’t comment on the pout on your lips. “i didn’t mean it. . . okay maybe i did, but i’m still sorry!”

your history with gojo was complicated. you’d met him through shoko in your third year of college, at a kickback party hosted by his people. it’d been an invite only thing, but shoko had brought you along as a plus one, and you both instantly connected. as far as you were concerned, it was technically supposed to be a sneaky link vibe, but you soon learned gojo was anything but sneaky. in fact, he was so vocal in him wanting you, that he actually did end up getting you a couple months later.

he’s a year older than you, therefore he’d graduated a year ahead. the separation in itself was something you hadn’t looked forward to at all, but he had found himself a condo downtown, not too far from your residency, therefore seeing each other hadn’t been an issue. he always made it clear he wanted to see you— even after gruelling nine to five shifts in the office. his words matched his actions, driving you up to his place since yours had a stupid curfew policy for visitors.

(you’ve kept him in your dorm numerous times.) (your closet has suffered enough with his lanky ass.)

the first year worked out for the better. he was still welcomed to the parties you invited him to, he made time in his schedule help you with your studies, planned consist dates and even took you out on trips. he was physically, mentally and emotionally present— and you genuinely believed he would be your forever man when you’d introduced him to your parents at your graduation ceremony and he seemed thrilled. they adored him— and that says a lot considering they hated all your other exes. with good reason, but still.

it’d been the honeymoon phase until it wasn’t.

you expected arguments. those are inevitable in relationships, but with every argument he grew distant. you were now both graduated students juggling between jobs, rent and a relationship. it was a lot— your schedules never seemed to align which jumbled into multiple failed dates, which further escalated into more arguments. it hadn’t always been him, you could agree you were at fault too. that post graduation depression spiralled worst than you’d anticipated— the fear of falling behind when your boyfriend had already been successful so early into his career entirely consuming.

he reassured you plenty, but you could see it in his face as he spoke to you— he was exhausted. of work. of life. of you. he had bigger fish to fry than dealing with a workaholic girlfriend with low self esteem. the bigger the promotion, the less your value. you’d seen this play out before— it was less i love you’s and more hours in the office. less dinner dates and more project plannings.

the more time you spent by yourself, the more your mind began overthinking. you had no place in his life anymore. you didn’t resent him for it— you wish nothing but the best for him. he deserves to be successful in life, and he’s already so close to it. your slacking behind is nothing more than dead weight in his rise to the top.

the breakup had been anticipated. you’d broken up with him first. he never asked you to explain why. he nodded, never uttering a word. it’d been the first time you’d seen him in weeks. you kept it simple, “we should break up.” and he kept it even simpler, a curt bounce of the head in agreement. as quick as he’d entered your apartment, he left.

and that’d honestly been it. you’d been together for four years, and broken up for a year and a half. after all this time, you still don’t resent him for it. he made the rational choice in prioritizing himself and his future, and you simply didn’t fit in it. it took you quite some time to work on yourself as well, and you’re honestly satisfied with where you are in life. the breakup clearly worked in favour for you both.

it sucks that he was genuinely the only man you ever cared about. the only man you can confidently say you loved.

“look— now you got her thinking about him!” shoko complains, chucking the nearest thing— a throw pillow, at utahime. it hits her square in the face, to which she lets out a muffled oof! “way to fucking go.”

you blink out of your thoughts. well that’s embarrassing, you got caught up in the past again. you lift yourself from the slumping position you’d unintentionally fallen into the midst of daydreaming, “shit, my bad. got flashbacks to that time he ate me off the bone after his first promotion.”

“yo, what?!” yuki hollers, falling into a fit of laughter. shoko rolls her eyes so much you’re thinking it’ll get stuck at the back of her skull and utahime physically cringed from head to toe. “so fucking unserious— here we are, worried about your ass and here you go, upset you lost your best eater.”

not exactly, though there was some truth to her words. gojo was your best eater, and nobody’s topped him since. he really did tongue fuck you that night like you were the boss who raised his pay. but it wasn’t just the sex you missed— you wholeheartedly missed him. the closest thing to a soul bond you’ve experienced, now gone.

they don’t need to know all that though.

“oh come on,” utahime groans, picking at her nails. trust her to find any reason to slander your ex. for what reason? she’s never told you other than him annoying the fuck out of her, “he could not have been that great. it can’t be anything you can’t find elsewhere— plenty of men eat pussy.”

“okay but do they enjoy eating it or is it more of a duty thing?” yuki points out, rolling her thumb on her lighter mindlessly. she watches the flame arise, casting a soft glow on the sheet stuck to her face, “because you can definitely tell the difference. one eats for foreplay, the other eats for his own pleasure.”

shoko hums in agreement, still poking at her plate, “a man versus a munch,” and with a beat of silence, she takes a deep sigh, throwing her head back, “i should call him.”

“no! no you should not,” utahime laughs, before shooting you a glance. your smile quickly falters and is switched with a look of confusion as she points a nail filer in your direction, “and you,” you cock a brow, “stop thinking about him. we’re supposed to be independent women, y’all need to stand the fuck up.”

“hime, please, you were literally just complaining to your close friends about your latest dry spell.”

“irrelevant!” she dismisses yuki, waving a hand absentmindedly. you don’t see how it’s irrelevant exactly, but you let her proceed. “we are sexy, successful and strong women. stop relying on the past and focus on the future. there are bitches that fought for their lives for the freedom we have! you could literally get dick anywhere— they actually have apps for it, if you didn’t know—”

“so tell us, o’mighty one,” shoko cuts her off, “are you suggesting we download tinder to relieve our stress?”

she remains quiet, and you can see the gears churning in her head. you’re about ninety nine percent positive shoko was fucking around, but the scrunch in your friend’s eyebrows tells you she’s seriously contemplating the idea, “. . yes actually.” she finally decides.

“hime. . .” shoko groans, but is effectively cut off when she springs up to her knees to grab at her phone.

“no, seriously, think about it!” she scrolls through her phone like a maniac, searching through the app store and typing the name in. you all watch her incredulously, her enthusiasm in the matter as if she hadn’t been preaching about feminism half a minute ago, “i’ve met some of my best lays in college through tinder. i haven’t been on this app in years though.”

you don’t see why not. you were pretty tipsy and would never have agreed to this under typical conditions, however it could be regarded as a bonding activity. you also haven’t been on tinder since before your last relationship, and the shit sukuna put you through this past year was enough to make you want to deal with literally anything else.

“i’m down.” you pull out your phone, and shoko may have gotten whiplash with how quick she snaps her head back to eye you. you shrug your shoulders, “we don’t have to take this shit seriously— god knows i’m not entertaining anybody on this app for real.”

“exactly!” utahime nods, walking up to scoot herself beside you. she nudges at shoko with her foot, who flicks at her toes to keep her away, “it’s just for shits and giggles.”

“i’m definitely not doing this shit,” yuki crawls to sit at the couch’s feet, right at shoko’s side, and grabs at the remote sitting uselessly on the table, “but i will be watching you both embarrass yourselves.”

“the only other bitch with common sense here.” shoko sprawls her legs onto yuki’s lap. she receives a slap at the back of her head by utahime, and naturally she slaps the hand right back. “can’t stand that little fucker sometimes.”

“aweee, love you too!” she blows a kiss at her to which she receives a middle finger. you snort, eyes glued on your screen as you redownload that forsaken app back into your phone.

you’d probably regret it in the morning, but that was something saturday you would have to deal with. as of right now, with white wine in your system, logic was not an option. you were learning to live more in the moment, and apparently that starts with the corniest dating app in the world.

it’s not like you’d magically stumble upon your ex on the platform. now wouldn’t that be something? ha!

there’s no fucking way.

this had to be one big, fat cosmic joke. a cruel prank, even. and if it was, then the universe had a twisted sense of humour. you still don’t believe it— were the girls in on this? this kind of shit didn’t just happen to anybody.

it took about a total of twenty minutes between logging back into your old account, updating your password and bio, and swiping left on passing profiles until you landed on it. on. . . him.

you blink slowly. your phone is shaky beneath your unstable hands, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your breath in far longer than recommended for the average human. it’s quiet as fuck in the room— despite the three girls huddled over your shoulders, sticking their noses in all directions to get a clearer view of your illuminating screen— almost as if to confirm if what they were seeing was truly was they were seeing, as if this was all too fucking ironic to be true.

there’s a knot of anxiousness that simmers in the pits of your stomach. you’re pretentiously aware that even the slightest movement— one wrong click or swipe, would ultimately change everything. there was too much at risk here. “oh there’s no fucking way. . .” shoko speaks up first.

utahime leans in impossibly closer, a few centimetres away from fully emerging with your iphone as her nose scrunches, “way too sexy? fuck around and find out? god, he’s still so corny, i swear.”

your eyes trail over his biography, curiously. that “way2sexy” had been an inside joke you both shared years ago— back when drake had dropped one of gojo’s favourite albums, certified loverboy. he overplayed the shit out of that song when it came out, so much that you received multiple complaints from your RA for “public disturbance”, but he swore it worked as daily affirmations for him in the same sense crystals and tarot cards worked for spiritual girlies. you called him corny for it, but before you knew it, it’d shown up in your spotify wrapped the following year.

rapid memories of morning rays of light peeking through blinds, a groggy yet mysteriously clear “alexa, play way 2 sexy” as you fixed your sheets and lit your candles, fighting over who gets to spit toothpaste residue first, hearty laughter to fumbled lyrics, shared minty kisses paired with one “gimme one more” too many.

the ache clenching at your heart is hard to ignore.

“i would give him the benefit of the doubt in believing he hasn’t updated his account,” yuki draws out, eyes narrowing as a finger sticks out to point, “but his age matches. emoticons as a grown man. . . no shade though.”

his age did match. inside joke aside, none of it was adding up. if he already had his account set up years ago, had he willingly changed his bio to one of your most infamous gags after the breakup? if you were to swipe right right now, would it instantly match? you don’t think you want to figure it out— both possible outcomes scaring you shitless.

“should i swipe left?” you speak uncharacteristically softly, torn between the idea of tucking your tail inwards and running away from the opportunity or your typical it is what it is mentality.

“yes! obviously— mmmph?!”

“do you want to?” shoko, with a pillow stuffing an agitated utahime in the face, counters. between all the girls, she seemed to understand you the most, granted her own relationship with the man. you’re sure he had given her his own version of their breakup, how you’d opened the doors to endless opportunities for him, had given him the easy way out. you never bothered asking her, afraid of the illusion you’d created to shield yourself shattering, “only you have the answer to that.”

“i honestly don’t know,” you sigh, joints in your thumb aching from hovering over your screen for too long. swiping left meant completely abandoning any the possibility of the two of you as one. you don’t want that responsibility weighted on your shoulders again, “what if he’s moved on? the shit that’ll do to my ego if i swipe right and he passes on me?”

shoko finally grants her friend the permission of speech, freeing her off the couch decoration, though the look she gives her serves as a warning to tread lightly. with a heavy breath, utahime releases a puff, “i’d crashout, just sayin’.”

“but what if he hasn’t moved on?” yuki poses, and apparently that was all the confirmation you needed to swipe. fuck pride— pride wasn’t going to get your back blown out. pride wasn’t going to help you get the love of your life back. pride can go fuck itself.

“wait—”

utahime is cut off again, however, not by shoko but tinder itself. the notification pings loudly, resonating in depths of your ear cavity and shoots straight to your chest. you can feel your heart pounding wildly against your rib cage. it’s so silent you can hear a pin drop, and the way your gut churns gives away the end result to your spontaneity.

it’s a match.

“well. . . shit.” shoko slumps back into the couch nonchalantly, and you don’t need to see her to know she’s sporting a smirk. you do feel her knee knock into yours. fake ass idgafer.

you’re no better, biting down your bottom in order to suppress the smile itching to spread. a year later and the sole idea that he’d already came across the same mindset as you, willing to give whatever it was that needed a second shot, had you beyond delusional. god, you need help.

“look at youuu, cheesin’ and shit!” yuki pokes at your cheek and you swat her hand away, ultimately caving into the smile. fuck yeah you were geeked— it’s hard carrying a nonchalant attitude when you were an honest to god, soft hearted lovergirl. if you played your cards right, with a few lash bats and glossy lips, you’d be getting dicked down in no time.

“i’m gonna be sick.” utahime deadpans.

“and i’m getting dickkk,” you sing, jumping to your feet as you stood on the couch. you turn around, hands clutching onto the headrest, giving your ass a cute shake as it rotates in circular motions. you feel shoko’s hand tapping it encouragingly, her phone illuminating as it records while she rests her head on your moving thighs. you hear yuki cackle, pulling out her phone to film as well. you giggle, “rip that pussy!”

“ayeeee!” they complete the lyrics, and the vibes are restored yet again, girly giggles filling the room. when your legs begin to feel wobbly, you stop your twerking to plop yourself right back down, leaning your head onto shoko’s shoulder.

you hear her click her tongue as the recording of your ass graces her screen, and she groans, “gojo is one lucky bastard— he can’t handle all that.”

he most definitely can, and has. you’ll opt with shrugging in the meantime.

“with that being said,” utahime jumps in, crossing her legs, “what’s the next move here? you reaching out first?”

your lips straighten as your mind reflects. if you still know him as well as you think you do, he��s definitely going to text you first as soon as he sees the green light. sure, you were anxious for a reply, desperate to check what his temperature was— but you’d already sacrificed a grand amount of dignity just swiping right. he could do take on the role of texting first.

“nah, i’m almost a hundred percent sure he’ll—”

ping!

you all whip your heads to the source of the sound. your phone. the screen shines as it undergoes facial recognition, and exposes the messenger. from tinder. gojo. sending you a message. just as you’d expected.

you can’t help the cocky smile, eyes trailing at their perplexed faces, “—text me first.”

naturally, the girls are impressed. even you are— that timing? would it be insane to genuinely be considering gojo might honest to god be your soulmate? yuki blows a puff of air, followed by a laugh, “your pussy has to be magical cause what the fuck?”

“ladies and gentlemen,” utahime stands to her feet, fisting her hand into an imaginary microphone, and addresses her fake crowd. in the hostiest voice she can muster, she curtsies as she continues in comedic fashion, “miss pussy fairy in thee flesh.”

“put a stamp on it.” shoko shakes her head in acknowledgment, laying her own phone in her lap as she claps. yuki places two fingers in her mouth and whistles at you, to which you rise to your own feet and dramatically place a hand over your chest in faux humility.

“oh please!” you flatter yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear. you smile behind your palm, your improv classes in high school coming in clutch, “this is too much— thank you! thank you deeply.”

“girl, byeee,” utahime breaks character first, giggling as she sits back onto the abandoned bean bag. you mimic her motions, as she pops open a stray water bottle and swallows a big gulp, “open his text! i wanna see what he said!”

you’re in the same boat, thumbing at your phone to unlock it and open the app. naturally the girls hover over you yet again, just as eager to see how he finally broke the no contact phase. it took him less than three minutes to slide in your messages, as the option had finally been granted.

right as your thumb hovers the message, a hum draws out your throat, “how much y’all wanna bet it’s something corny?” you tease, something close to a hunch giving it away. seeing as your assumptions were deemed accurate just a few minutes ago, the only way he’d think of clearing the ice would be with something plausibly lame.

“open itttt!” utahime ushers you, hands clamping at your shoulders. you roll your eyes, letting her dramatics sway your body back and forth before she lets up. you let out a sigh, and open the unanswered message.

and just as you’d predicted. . .

@gsatoru: they say shooters shoot 👀

“oh brotherrrr,” the girls groan in sync, and even you can’t stop the cringe that stiffens your face. if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s the fact he still doesn’t act his age. he needs to let those college days go.

“now, what’d i tell y’all.” you tut, leaving out the part of nostalgia simmering deep and warmly in your bones at his predictability. ever the goofy he was, gojo satoru. jeez.

“i was really found myself rooting for him too,” shoko sighs, rising to her feet. she dusts at her lap then stretches her limbs lazily, “i’m gonna go pee— hime, i swear to god, don’t take my seat.” she doesn’t look back to flip her off when she hears utahime blow raspberries her way. to which, against shoko’s wishes, leaps over to snatch her seat.

both you and yuki give her a deadpanned look, but yuki voices out your thoughts, “she’s gonna get on your ass and i’m not helping you out.”

“girl, boo.” utahime rolls her eyes, “more importantly, what the fuck do you answer to that?” her nail taps at your phone screen, peering at you expectantly through lashes.

you consider your options. do you reciprocate the same energy or do you call him out on his corniness? matching his vibe would be like starting off a blank slate— a new start, new conversations, something almost superficial. like a fling you meet at the bars for one night of fuckery that you regret the next morning. but calling him out would induce in falling into familiar patterns— calling him a cornball while he attempts to sweet talk you, old conversations brought up, risking broken boundaries for the sake of reminiscing.

decisions, decisions, decisions.

“i’m thinking taking the easy way out.” you nod your head, readying your fingers as you type your response out.

you miss the exchanged glances between utahime and yuki, too busy trying to format how to come off playful but not forgetful. flirty but not desperate. come pull up on me but demurely. well you’ll be damned— in what world had you ever expected second guessing yourself for gojo?

“what’s the easy way out?” yuki asks, and you hit send. where this confidence comes from is beyond you, but any error you make you can blame on the wine (you’re hardly fazed but it’s nice to have something to pin the blame on instead of yourself) (old habits die hard).

you tilt your phone, holding it out as you watch the girls’ brows furrow, eyes scanning over the screen. when their faces contort into a look of amusement mixed with horror, a girly giggle escapes your throat.

@yourstrulyname: sukuna ryomen wsp with you?? 🙈

“you didn’t!” utahime hollers, her laughter so intense she doubled over to clutch at her stomach. yuki sways her body back and forth as she finds herself in a hysterical fit as well. “goddd, i would kill to see the look on his face right now.”

“yooo, that’s evil.” the blonde swipes at a tear. “woulda had me deactivating the whole account.”

“who’s deactivating?” shoko pops back in, not without slapping utahime upside the head. she ignores the way utahime complains in favour to swipe a nearly emptied bottle to pour.

“it’s not even that bad,” you defend yourself, flashing her your screen as she installs herself in the bean bag utahime once occupied. her eyes squint as she reads the conversation, nearly bulging out their sockets when she catches your message, “nahhh, don’t give me that!”

“if he gives you the time of day after that,” shoko swirls the wine in her glass, snorting, “he must really still be in love with you.”

“he should know i’m playing. . .” you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince the girls, him or yourself. you really were just joking around— albeit a terrible joke, but one regardless! sukuna was officially removed from the roster, a financially irresponsible man never standing a chance against you, “right?”

“don’t ask us?” utahime chimes in, uselessly, to which you roll your eyes. well shit, maybe you should double text? let him know you were just fooling around, trying to check temperatures and establish the mood. your phone pings again, and all unnecessary thoughts are thrown out the window.

@gsatoru: oh so you got jokes now?

as you’re about to let him know you’ve been had jokes, but never the goofy type, you see the bubbles pop up, a telltale that he’s got more to tell you. you let him have it, already having possibly fumbled the mission before even starting. it feels like an eternity and a half waiting on his text, the girls having huddled over you yet again, just as curious to see what he had to counter with.

@gsatoru: can’t be a joke if the guy had you outside on valentine’s day tho. stk steakhouse? really girl?

your jaw falls slack. you watch with burning eyes at your screen as your built up suspicions were ultimately confirmed. okay, so those two were still somehow connected. you didn’t like to question male friendships, the lack of loyalty not one you’d ever understand. god forbid you ever started fucking with utahime’s ex of many years.

“wait. .” said girl speaks up, drawing the word out as she processes his answer. her tongue rolls around in her mouth, face cringing as the next words follow, “i can’t lie, he kinda ate you up.”

“just sassy as fuck,” shoko laughs, and it’s one of those giggles reserved to shit she honestly finds hilarious, “really girl is crazy. all comfortably like he’s one of your homegirls.”

“now what’s wrong with stk’s?” yuki grumbles, picking at her nails with a childish pout on her lips, “everybody isn’t born with a silver spoon plugged up our asses. god, i can’t stand rich people.”

you don’t bother answering the girls, already aware he chewed with his response, that he’s as sassy as he was years ago and that he had found that particular steakhouse shabby despite it being a fucking steakhouse. these were things you already knew. your thumbs proceed before your mind can register,

@yourstrulyname: been keeping tabs on me?

“you don’t look too happy,” shoko pokes at your cheek. there’s an ache creasing in your forehead, and you relax the furrow of your brows. you’re not exactly upset, just a bit on edge with his approach— you can’t tell whether he’s on tens or not. whether he’s genuinely joking around or not.

“i’m fine.” you poke back, and she nods. she ushers the other girls to pick a new movie to play, and you clock this is her way of allowing you some privacy between exes. you shoot her a grateful look, and she offers a sly wink. you’ll make sure to update her on whatever happens as soon as it’s over.

you switch your ringer off, and open his new message.

@gsatoru: hard not to when he posts you like he has smth to prove

@yourstrulyname: who said it was me?

you knew it was you. you knew he knew it was you. but still, you wanted to hear it from him yourself, wanted to know if he really was keeping tabs on you ever since the breakup. it’d help ease your mind with unanswered questions.

@gsatoru: you mean besides the bags and jewelry i got you?

@gsatoru: your build was a dead giveaway. could recognize you blindfolded in a room full of women

you bit your lip. you could work with this text, play around with it and see if shit flips. would he fall for the bait? you’ll start off slow, create an opening and see if he decides to indulge.

@yourstrulyname: like what you saw?

he answers instantly and your heart sinks a bit.

@gsatoru: of course

@gsatoru: you’re as a beautiful as the day you left me

is that how he saw it? you assume you did leave him in a practical sense, but there was no way he hadn’t seen it coming miles away. you had both been caught up in your lives, the additional stress of romance an unwanted factor in the rise of your careers. so yeah, you’d given him the opportunity to leave. it’s not as if he fought it anyway, so did you really leave him if he’d closed the door on his merry way out?

this was starting to get personal. toeing between the line of uncharted territory and familiarity. everything you didn’t want— debriefing the logic behind the underwhelming breakup on tinder of all places was out of the fucking question.

@yourstrulyname: you still cool with sukuna?

@gsatoru: something like that

@gsatoru: he’s slimey as fuck for sliding on you tho

you figured as much. you couldn’t imagine a world where gojo wouldn’t feel some type of way at his friend going after his ex girlfriend a couple months fresh off a breakup. he probably felt the same way towards you, the difference being one owes him more loyalty than the other.

@yourstrulyname: and what does that make me?

@gsatoru: did he mean something to you?

he didn’t. you think of the importance of somebody meaning something to you— the fear of losing that person larger than life itself. the joy of waking up in that person’s arms on a rainy morning. the vulnerability in bonding souls with that person. the relief your body undergoes as it melts in that person’s embrace.

he didn’t mean shit to you.

@yourstrulyname: no

@gsatoru: then that makes you someone who made a choice

neutral and impassive. you wondered if he truly meant that. in a sense, you assume he really did mature.

@yourstrulyname: so he’s in the wrong but i’m not?

@gsatoru: who am i to assign right from wrong? you’re both adults at the end of the day

you don’t know what to answer to that. there was a lot of truth to his words— you were both consenting adults with choices made. jeez, just what had gojo gone through all these months that made him none the wiser? you’re considering leaving him on opened for a while, at least until you come up with an answer to that philosophical ass message, when he double texts you.

@gsatoru: this is so backwards lmaoo. what’s good with you? how’ve you been?

so he realized it too. thank fuck— skipping small talk and diving into the nitty gritty this late at night was not how you expected your night to go. the girls had completely forgotten your predicament, invested in the latest reality tv show flashing on your flat screen.

@yourstrulyname: been good. you?

@gsatoru: wow you’re as dry as ever

@gsatoru: life’s been blessed, could be better tho. too much to explain over text

oh? was this what you were thinking it was?

@yourstrulyname: what are you getting at, gojo?

@gsatoru: gojo? so it’s fuck me then

@gsatoru: not getting at anything. ball’s in your court, yn

so it was. you contemplate it for a second— should you invite him over tonight? the girls won’t be upset about kicking them out, and if anything they’d encourage you to call them as soon as it’s over. you suppose your doubts lie within the idea of having your ex boyfriend back into your territory. in the comfort of your home, a home he’d once already graced.

as scary as it sounded, you also desperately craved seeing him. it’d been a solid eighteen months since you’ve broken up, and thirteen since you’ve last seen him entirely. ironically, around the time you started getting involved with sukuna. you weren’t sure if it was your heart or pussy talking, but laying up in bed with this man was not something you were against.

fuck it.

@yourstrulyname: you know where i stay at

and his response comes instantly.

@gsatoru: be there in half an hour.

oh fuck.

“yo. . .” you speak up, for the first time in a few minutes. the girls turn their heads, acknowledging you, as you shut your phone close and chuck it across the sofa. “i love y’all but y’all gotta go, like now.”

shoko shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. utahime, as lost as ever, gives you a frown. yuki has most likely caught on, rising to her feet, dusting her lap, “say no more.”

the girls do you an immense favour as they excuse themselves. they pick at empty bottles and containers, throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher, rearrange the throw pillows and even light up your candles. you feel bad for kicking them out so late, so you pitch in some money for gas as well as the inconvenience.

as they cleaned out your living room and kitchen, you’d rushed to your shower for a mini cleanse. pulling out your bests, you wash over intimate parts thoroughly, lathering your limbs in scented soap, before rinsing, brushing your teeth and stepping out. you stare at your reflection through the haze of steam, the foggy mirror reminding you of the missing messages he used to leave on mornings you had to get to work.

no point in dwelling on the past when he was on his way over this moment. you swap your silk robe for the skimpiest loungewear you own— matching camisole and shorts, and let your hair cascade back down. you’re about your fifth spritz of body spray when the doorbell rings, and your stomach flutters.

you halt in your step when you notice how fast you’re going. yikes! the last thing he needs is his ego inflating, knowing you were rushing to get him inside, nevermind the fact you washed, pulled out your sexiest pyjamas and even wore a brand new pair of panties. you know. . . just for preparations. better safe than sorry.

after the third mindless lap around your kitchen, you make your way towards the door. you inhale sharply, clenching at your shaky fingers, easing your nerves. you quickly snap out of your daze, pulling the door open.

his eyes, momentarily distracted by the number engraved in the wall next to your door, glaze over your figure curiously. his hands are tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants. he lets out a breath, a sound borderlining a chuckle as it shoots straight to both heartbeats, shoulders drop from its hunch,

“hey.”

he’s thick.

no perverted shit. you’ve noticed he’s put on weight in the right places— not to say he’d been anything less than nicely built in the past, but his biceps are significantly fuller and the material of his compression tee stretched over bulging muscles in a telltale pattern.

somebody’s been at the gym one too many.

“you good with this?” he mumbles, hand running across the smooth skin of your calf. with every stroke of his palm are fleeting memories of the past, burning deep into your limb. you hate the way your stomach sinks st the thought, “me being here and shit.”

“wouldn’t have let you in if i wasn’t.” you answer honestly, back pressed into the arm of the couch. you don’t understand how fast he’d gotten comfortable with being in your personal space just like that— you don’t understand how you’d allowed him in your personal space just like that.

he nods, and the air is eerily quiet. you watch with furrowed brows as he traces shapes into your skin with his fingertip, a frenzy of emotions resembling those of turbulence all in cerulean eyes. he’s torn— you can see it in the way his nose scrunches, as if he’s debating on whether he should voice out his thoughts or not. whether it’s worth debriefing— if this is his last shot or not.

with all this time passed, he’s still so easy to read.

“what is it?” you sigh, albeit irritated. the last thing you’d planned when you got rid of your friends in favour of having your ex over was this weird ass tension roaming. crazy sentence to speak— you know, but you were really hoping it’d be less talking involved and more sexing. it wasn’t that you were against conversing with him, but the way he was choosing to go about it was just so. . . awkward .

he senses the irritation laced in your question and immediately chuckles. his laugh sounds breathless, almost dry, but he shakes his head. his free hand swipes at his nose, a tic of his you noticed years ago whenever he’s feeling bashful or caught, and clears his throat.

“how’d you and sukuna happen?” he rips off the bandaid, and asks you the last question you wanted to hear. the tracing on your leg slows down, and your arms tighten a bit around your torso.

you let out a puff of air. if gojo notices your discomfort, he doesn’t mention it. in fact, he doesn’t pull the question back at all— he stares at you intensely, as if baring into your soul, as if the answer to his question will determine whether the boulder weighted on his shoulders will free him of restraint or not.

as if he still stood a chance or not.

“not much to say,” you shrug, as dismissive as possible. he doesn’t budge, the same intensity in his gaze and you roll your eyes, “honest to god. we broke up, he was there at the right time and shit happened.”

the words simmer into the stillness of the night, and he swipes his tongue over his lips pensively, “were y’all ever official?” he pushes, and you click your tongue against your teeth, offering him a deadpanned look. seriously, as if he didn’t know his own friend— in what world was sukuna anything worthy of official?

“god, no.” you shudder, and he nods again. “you know your friend.”

“i don’t,” gojo counters, momentarily wrapping his hand around your ankle. it fits as perfectly as it did all those years ago, where thumbs at your anklet— another prized possession he’d gotten you. your face heats in embarrassment, and he flicks his eyes to glance at you, a fleeting smirk on his lips, before staring back at the jewelry, “going after my ex girlfriend is not something i expected. i don’t know him at all.”

fair enough, you think to yourself. there has to be some lingering resentment towards you for the same reason. had the tables been turned and he’d gone after one of your closest friends, you would’ve cut him off from your life completely. you were being truthful— it wasn’t anything remotely serious with sukuna, not even close to how it’d been with gojo, but you could see it as a matter of principle. you’d already taken the initiative to break up with him first, and going after his homeboy?

god, you had questionable morals.

“it’s different with you,” he feeds in, as if he could read your thoughts. it was probably written all over your face, the scrunch in your brows never letting up. his index finger slides beneath the band of your anklet, the contrast of the silver shade lining perfectly against his complexion, “‘s hard to explain, but you broke up with me so you technically owe me no loyalty— besides, i get why you ended things. never blamed you.”

now that peaks your interest. he gets why you ended things with him? he never blamed you? you clear your throat, forcing the question out, “you do?”

“of course,” he shrugs naturally, as if it hadn’t taken you eons to conclude. as if it hadn’t broke you apart when you’d realized how unneeded you were, “i honestly expected it. you deserved better than what i was giving. you must’ve been lonely— work had always taken a big part of my time, and that left you behind in the dust.”

you’re waiting for the punchline. he continues, “i can’t lie to you— i was wishing you’d resort to cheating over breaking up. that way you’d still be mine, even if it was temporarily,” he chuckles, a soft shade of pink dusting over his cheekbones, as he sniffs, “corny, i know. but you didn’t deserve putting up with my bullshit, so you left. time is of the essence, and that was the one thing i never seemed to give you. you fell out of it— out of love, so. . . i’m sorry.”

words cannot seem to leave you. you’re left utterly speechless— that had been so far from the reason, the realization sitting bitterly at the pit of your stomach. anything, literally anything, would’ve been better than hearing him lie to you again.

“that. . .” you inhale a sharp breath, steadying yourself, “is nowhere near the reason why we broke up.”

he stops in his caress. you think he got whiplash from how fast his neck snaps, eyeing you incredulously. he genuinely seems so confused, and you hate it. to think he’d show up with some lame ass excuse, so far stretched from the truth of the matter, and expected you to believe that. to believe him.

he blinks slowly, “i don’t understand.”

you try to pull your leg away from his lap, feeling like he was stripping you bare of the last bit of dignity you had left, wanting to rip you open. he presses the weight of his hand lightly, urging you to stay near while simultaneously giving you the option to pull away. the ball was in your court yet again.

“wait— help me understand,” the pad of his thumb rolls over your ankle bone gently— far too intimately. your feet curl away, protectively, and his fingers stroke at the ball of your heel, “please. what drove you away? what was it i did?”

there’s a pang in your chest. does he really plan on keeping this up? right in your face? it was one thing wishing him well despite the obvious, but dragging it out even a year later was a bit much. inviting him over was starting to seem like a terrible idea.

“i fell out of love?” you parrot, unbelieving. “gojo— i’m not the one who fell out of anything. i gave you a way out, and you happily took it,” his face contorts into a deeper state of confusion. you huff, “i’m not blaming you for it or anything, but shit, don’t get up in here with lies to cover your ass.”

“lies?” he whispers, to himself, running his free fingers through tousled white locks. he stares at your anklet hardly, like the gift has all the answers he’s looking for. you don’t think he’s avoiding eye contact, but he seems so distraught, so out of the loop, that broadway ought to sign him to a new movie deal. what an actor.

“time is of the essence and you failed to give it?” you continue regardless, throat restricting as it burns in an emotion you’re far too familiar with. suddenly, you feel like you’re twenty five again, left to your own devices and thoughts in the emptiness of his apartment, dressed in your prettiest outfit and another failed date night. “i never gave a shit about that, i knew how much of a hardworking man you were. i took it to the chest— anything to keep you from leaving. you stopped loving me, gojo.”

his jaw falls slack, mouth gaping and you blink your lashes furiously to prevent tears from appearing. god, this was so humiliating, bearing your heart raw in front of your ex boyfriend, “y/n, i never—”

“spare me,” you scoff, mortified by the rush of emotions coursing through you. you take a deep breath in, calming yourself to avoid further explosive feelings, “this isn’t me saying i was the perfect girlfriend. i know i wasn’t— you know i wasn’t, and piling a spiralling partner on top of all the shit you were dealing with wasn’t an option. that’s fine,” it was fine. it didn’t matter, “doesn’t matter anymore. i broke up with you, you didn’t fight to stay, and we both moved on. shit happens.”

it hurt a lot. the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by the crack splitting in your chest. the run towards your bathroom, emptying your contents from both your stomach and heart. you were undeniably a mess, that period of time it took for you to recover. you would never voice it out loud, but you’d been praying he’d tell you just how wrong you were. how he needed you in his life. how you weren’t a burden to him. how he loved you enough to fight through it all.

he hadn’t.

there’s a soft hum in the silence. the sound of your clock ticking near the entrance door. the pounding of your heart against your rib cage. seconds turn into minutes of quietness, and it does no good to your mind. you’re focusing your gaze on the inanimate objects in your apartment, anything to dismiss the reality of the situation. your leg feels cold as his hand pulls away suddenly.

he rolls his tongue against his cheek. another tic of his— he’s formulating his word choice, carefully. you’d seen a ton of this before, though it usually followed a deep sigh and a you’re good baby, trust me. the more you’d see it, the more anxious you became. and christ, if that anxiety wasn’t forming right back.

it takes a while for him to speak, and every passing breath had your chest tightening. he runs his hand across his face, tiredly. when he pulls it away, there’s a melancholic smile on his face, “i think there’s a lot that needs to be addressed. jesus, i always knew you sucked at communicating but this is something else.”

you glare at him. he doesn’t mind it, continuing, “no, you weren’t the perfect girlfriend. but you were my girlfriend, and that’s all that mattered to me. you wanna talk about spiralling? nothing i’m not familiar with— you’re the only reason i didn’t let myself fall into that rabbit hole. you kept me going after graduation. i worked as hard as i did to make sure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger around me. that was the end goal— you were end goal.”

gagged is what you felt. nothing else pure shock. he doesn’t stop there. he isn’t merciful anymore.

“i know i didn’t go about it the right way,” a regretful puff of air is released, “i canceled on you often. our phone calls were shorter, our texts were vaguer and at some point i’d forgotten what you tasted like. but i never loved you any less. not once, even after we argued. not to say i’ve converted into those spiritual people, but you’re the closest thing to a soulmate i’ve experienced.”

shit, you weren’t tripping. he felt it too. fuck. the weight of his words made it impossible to steer him away. you want to intercept, to call him a liar and turn a blind ear at his confession, to shield yourself but how could you when every word he spoke broke the bricks you’d built down?

“i’m not an asshole— i could feel you slipping away. i did try my damned hardest to reel you back in, as you’d done with me. clearly that hadn’t worked how i was hoping it would,” a bitter laugh, or maybe a resentful one. towards you or himself? you wouldn’t know, “it’s because i loved you so much, i let you go. i knew i was losing you, and when you finally came to me, the right thing to do was agree. why keep you from reaching your fullest potential? you weren’t happy with me, trying to fight the inevitable was cruel.”

the inevitable. letting you go was the right choice to make because fighting the inevitable was cruel. he loved you so much he had to let you go because you deserved more than what he had to offer. you call bullshit— in what right did he have to make that choice for you? what right did you have to make that choice for him?

it’s too much at once. your eyes burn with a remorseful feeling, your heart aches in agony and your mind is clouded with thoughts. there your ex boyfriend sat, wide eyes still as blue as when he’d once been yours, presenting you his heart raw in cupped hands— and you still couldn’t find it in you to believe him fully. everything yet nothing made sense. vulnerability was a scary thing, and you weren’t ready to face it.

so, you kiss him.

his breath is taken out of his chest as you lean forward, sealing his mouth shut. you can’t take any more of his merciless words, and the only way to get your mind off it is by getting on it. he feels stiff against you, pupils dilating as you mould lips with his own. your hand travels to the back of his neck, sitting on your knees as you hold him still.

and with a faint lip smack, he pulls away ever so slightly, hands hovering awkwardly over your waist, his breath warm and fanning your cupid’s bow, “wait—”

“don’t wanna talk,” you interrupt, placing another chaste kiss on his lips. he tastes as good as the day you left him. and with another soft smack, your voice lowers, reduced to a whisper, “you gonna fuck me or not?”

he blinks and you stare back at him, full of conviction. a simple yes or no question— and he could gladly see himself out if his answer didn’t satisfy you. his hands finally rest on your waist, and you take it as an invitation to straddle over his hips. he eases your movements by aiding, lifting you just barely to sit on him. his hands fit just as they did all those times ago. a sour, bittersweet feeling— fingertips caressing the nakedness of your torso beneath your camisole.

your back arches as he finds your sensitive spots with quickness. he’d always been great at that, leaving trails of goosebumps past his teasing touches.

“you’re doing it again,” he mumbles against your lips, ever the hypocrite, fingers gripping at your waist like a vice. he rolls your hips over his own, reeling in the softness of your palms cupping at his face. you ignore him when he continues, still nibbling on his bottom lip the way he loves, “you can’t— mmh, avoid this forever.”

maybe not, but you sure as hell could right now. the tip of your noses bump into one another as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss. you want to rid your mind of these plaguing thoughts, ones that made you doubt everything you thought you knew. losing control was out of the question, so naturally you needed it back into your grasp.

sex was an easy way to do that.

“yes or no, gojo.” you give him one last chance, grinding your hips down on his awakening dick. you feel his bulge through his pair of sweats, the print so evident you wondered why he was trying to fight it. the sight alone had your panties dampening in your arousal, uncomfortably sticky against your loungewear.

he hums in between kisses, a false pretend of debating his options. his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts and past your panties, fondling at the flesh that sat beneath. he could fake it all he wants, but fuck chivalry— he was turning to mush the more you sucked at his tongue, licking at the crevice of the roof of his mouth.

it’s when you sink your teeth into the flesh of pink lips, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to draw a moan from him, he comes to a conclusion. he nods his head, snaking his arms to wrap at your waist tighter as finally kisses you back.

“it’s always a yes.” for you. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to, but you hear it and dismiss it. no more lovey doveyness and time to get to the nitty gritty of shit— getting your back blown out. the very thought alone is enough to put a smile on your lips.

bingo.

your bedroom door hardly shuts before he pins you against it. he’s annoyingly big— tall in height and wide in weight. he towers over you comically, hands roaming at every inch of your body as he drinks you up. his lips seek yours desperately, sliding over your glossy ones with practice that suggests hints of comfort.

your arms loop at his neck, and his at your waist. his mouth hardly lets up of yours, mumbling a little jump, as you comply with ease. thighs trapping him in your hold, you then find yourself face to face with him as he lifts you, large palms cupping at your ass. you fit just as perfectly in his hands as you did years ago, flesh so fat he gropes it tenderly.

the walk from the door to your bed passes in the blink of an eye, a timeframe you find pointless to recall as you indulge in the taste of him through his tongue. his presence is so overwhelmingly powerful— every touch and caress at your body reducing your limbs to mush. you cling to him, either out of safety reasons or desire, tilting your head from side to side to deepen the lip-to-lip action.

when he gets to the edge of your bed, he lowers you until your toes reach the floor. due to the difference in height, your lips part, a thin string of saliva connecting from both your mouths as proof of your unison. the blue shade of his orbs darken with desire, eyelids lowering as he drinks up the sight of you— lips plump and swollen, slick in saliva, chest heaving from lack of oxygen.

he raises a hand from your waist to cup at your face, and you detest the way your lean into his touch. your cheek fits in his large palm, and he swipes a thumb at your bottom lip, collecting your shared spit onto the pad of his digit. as he smears the fluid further across your mouth, he prods his thumb a little further— testing out the waters, wanting to see if you’d cave into old habits.

naturally, you allow it, his thumb swallowed by your puckered lips. you roll your tongue over his finger and your eyes never leave his— hoping to convey the rush of emotions you feel through your sultry gaze. your core throbs in want, your stomach erupting in butterflies and your heart pounding unnecessarily. unspoken words you’re positive he understood, if the way he groans when your teeth sink lightly into his digit said anything.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, popping his finger back out. it’s coated in saliva, and like the freak he is, pops it into his own mouth. once he’s had his fill, he removes his hand from his mouth, and lowers it to your fleshy waist, slipping past the waistband of your panties, “take these off— ‘m hungry, need a taste of that pussy.”

your cheeks nearly split from your excitement, and you comply to his order, gripping at the hem of your shorts to pull them down to your ankle. he assists you despite the previous demand, his own hands atop of yours, a warmth and sense of security so familiar. when your shorts reach past your mid thigh, you allow him to meet you halfway.

he pulls your shorts down to your ankles, lowering himself to a knee. his movements are agonizingly slow, basking in the sight of your thighs in contrast of the shade of your loungewear. he steadies a hand onto your calf, patting it lightly, and you lift your leg just barely, permitting him to slide the shorts off your ankle and tossing it aside.

when the item is discarded, he redirects his focus back to you. he pampers your skin in kisses— delicate but hungry, trails of moisture crawling back up at your inner thighs and shooting right to your core. he looked unexplainably sexy on his knees, littering your body in hushed praises, the tip of his nose nudging at your soft skin. you bit your lip in attempts to cease it from wobbling at the intimacy he was providing.

“god, you smell so good,” he speaks into you, hands snaking to the back of your thighs, pressing you forward into him. your panty covered cunt presents itself right before him, and he plants his nose right into your intimates, your body shuddering as his nose bumps into your clit deliciously. a shaky breath escapes you, and his hands travel upwards to play with your ass. “turn around, wanna eat it from the back.”

the words are taken from you when his hand slaps your ass encouragingly, releasing a mini squeal, “you’re still too freaked out.”

“mhm, something like that,” you don’t see it, as you’re occupied on spinning on your feet to plant your hands on your matters for stability, but you’re positive he’s smirking. your arch your back for him, wanting to properly present the meal he plans on devouring. your cunt oozes slick against your thong just thinking about how he’s going to do you in, “there’s that arch,” a hand slides in the curve of your lower back, before snapping the band of your thong. it recoils against your cheek and you jerk forward at the sting.

“oh? did that hurt?” he taunts, and as you’re about to protest, he does it yet again. the snap is intense but never painful, but the nerve he had to play around like your pussy wasn’t a few centimetres away from his face. you don’t acknowledge how your panties cling even tighter to your folds.

“fuck off,” you curse through gritted teeth, but your hips wiggle backwards in attempt to get him to hurry it up. as if now was any time to tease— you couldn’t stand it when he did it all those years ago, and your feelings haven’t changed since, “get on with it. . . the fuck?”

you hear him sigh, almost disappointedly, and it only aggravates you further. your brows furrow in annoyance and you think you feel a vein tick at your temple.

“still so disrespectful,” gojo tuts, rubbing at your booty tenderly. so he wasn’t exactly wrong, but how was he expecting you to react when he’d just said he was going to eat you out, and proceeds to do anything but that? of course there’s going to be a little pout on your lips, “we gotta work on that attitude of yours.”

your face twists into a look of further aggravation, and you tilt your head back, readying whatever other bratty objections you had— though you’re ultimately interrupted by a sharp sting that spreads across your ass.

the strike of his palm against your cheek sprawls into an intense heat, the pain oddly pleasurable, and the moan that rips out of your chest is impossible to suppress. your eyes nearly jump out of their sockets at the audacity, and right as you’re about to complain, he does it again. and again.

“o-okay, shit!” you attempt to voice out, but he’s relentless, delivering blow after blow onto the same ground. there’s a curve in his palm, and it amplified the sound across the room. despite your protests, you can’t deny every jolt of pain rushes to your clit. you’re positive he knows you’re enjoying this, “gojo— fuck, okayyy!”

to your pleasure, he eases the slaps, opting to smoothen his hand flat across the reddened flesh. he hums pensively, the heat of your skin radiating against his palm in a way that forces a smile on his lips, “ ‘okay?’ what do you mean by that, baby?”

you clench your teeth at his faux ignorance. you know exactly what he wants from you, and you’re not sure if you’re able to give it to him as you are. an apology— he wants you to apologize, that bastard. your left cheek stings like a bitch, even with his now gentle touches, and your core is begging you to cooperate with him, in order for that attention it was neglected of. he is such a dickhead— putting you in a predicament like this one.

you swallow the last bit of dignity you hold, a constant reminder in the back of your mind that this was for the greater good— for the sake of your pussy. with a pained sigh, you tilt your head backwards to meet his playful gaze that stares back at you, right below the plump of your ass, and you muster the cutest look you can give.

doe eyes paired with a little pout, “‘m sorry. . . for the attitude,” you’re not sorry at all, but you desperately want your cunt in his mouth, so you do what you have to do, “can you eat it now? please?”

he flashes you a million dollar smile, all thirty twos on full display, and it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to roll your eyes right then and there. he was so full of shit, his eyes might as well brown. but still, you knew he got off on this kind of thing, and when he presses a quick kiss at the print of your lips, he replies, “of course, sweet girl— only because you asked so nicely.”

there’s no further need to speak, as you feel your thong being pushed to the side, followed by a cold breeze hitting your bare cunt, meshed with warm breathe as he feasts .

gojo eats you out like he has something to prove, and you know what— maybe he does. to prevent you from straying from him, he grounds you with two firm hands gripping at your ass. he spreads the flesh apart, his tongue lapping at your slick greedily. you can’t tell who’s moans are louder— yours or his, the man so engaged in sucking at your clit, nibbling on the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. you hold onto the sheets on your bed with dear life, thighs trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

“fuck, don’t stop,” you whine, pushing your hips further back, your mind overcame with utter greediness for more of that insatiable pleasure. you might as well have swallowed him whole into you, just as he’s swallowing you whole into him, his tongue diving deep past your hole and into your folds. he flicks his tongue expertly, licking at every crevice and nook of your cave, his jaw working overtime as his bottom lip never lets up at your clit.

your entire pussy is consumed by him, no area going neglected— drool slips past his mouth and spills onto your floor. a familiar heat licks at the pit of your stomach, a telltale that your dam is bound to burst anytime soon. he remedies your ache with another painful spank at your ass, groaning into your pussy when you clamp down on his tongue.

he was so fucking nasty— fucking into you with his tongue like he needed this more than you did. he makes out with your cunt, like he was a starving man on death row. at a particular cruel angle of his tongue fucking, your body would react with an all consuming tremble, fingers clawing at your duvets, your lungs releasing pathetic mewls. and the further you pushed back into his merciless mouth, the closer his nose nudged at your puckered forbidden hole.

he pulls away with a gasp, subbing his mouth out for his fingers, the pads of three fingers rubbing messily at your sloppy lips. the sound it creates is downright filthy, so painfully loud that it damn near drowns out your own moans.

“pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he spits a wad of saliva at your already soaked cunt, further amplifying the squelching sounds. he drags his fingers down to your clit, pinching at the bud with enough pressure to have your knees buckling, before sliding back upwards to your clenching hole. he slides into your entrance, index and middle fingers twisting in with ease, “bet she missed me, hm?”

“y-yes!” you nod mindlessly, your high creeping up on you as he works himself into you. taking six inches of fingers twice was a task in itself— the average length of a man’s dick serving purpose as fingering was just downright disrespectful. his knuckles poke at your silky walls, stretching you out to the best of his abilities, “shit— oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum!”

to your statement, he latches his lips back to your neglected clit, sucking on the bud as if he were intentionally trying to milk you dry. he hums at your taste, the vibrations shooting right up your alley and into the knot tightening in your guts— and when he curls his fingers upwards, at that spot that has stars dancing beneath your eyelids, the dam breaks. that knot stood no chance.

“oh goddd,” you cry out, spraying your release all over. it dribbles out your pussy and past the lower half of his face, to which his jaw widens as his mouth gapes— greedily aiming to slurp at your juices while simultaneously flicking your bean. the stimulation has your brain going dumb, as you fall flat onto your bed, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth and staining your sheets damp.

he lets you ride out the euphoric bliss, the movements of his fingers and the lapping of his tongue slowing down the more your body reacted to the overstimulation. when he deems you well spent, he lets up, slipping his fingers out and popping them back in his mouth, swirling your taste across his pallets, “as sweet as ever,” rising back to his full height.

you haven’t came that hard in a while, limbs reduced to nothing as you merge into one with your bed. your legs are still trembling, and your chest heaves as you exhale deep breaths. letting your eyelids close shut, you take the time to regroup yourself from that mind shattering orgasm. who the fuck had he been fucking that forced him to keep this skill? granted, you had no right to complain but holy shit, he was no fucking noob.

you feel the weight of his body press on top of you, a well-built chest meeting your moist back. it doesn’t take much to realize he’s hovering over you. his lips litter kisses at the column of your neck, moving up to the shell of your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps after each embrace, “you tappin’ out already?” gojo snickers at your shell of a body, and you kiss your teeth at his typical mockery, “what happened to my champ while i was gone?”

“fuck off,” you pout, a little embarrassed by the fact that you really were retired from the game. sure, you were getting dicked down real good by your previous partner (question mark), but it never had you as exhausted as you currently were. there was absolutely nothing gojo satoru couldn’t do, and that ticked you off to no end, “nobody said shit about tappin’ out.”

“hm. . .” he hums, nuzzling his nose into your jugular, his hips grinding into the cleft of your ass. it’s impossible to ignore the bulge poking into you, and you doubt he was trying to hide it regardless, his hips rolling against the plushness of your behind, “guess sukuna didn’t do as good of job as he should’ve.”

that has your eyelids opening right back up. talk about an awkward situation— bringing up you and your ex’s (question mark) sex life while having sex with your other ex was a double edged predicament in itself. had you agreed, which lowkey wasn’t entirely wrong, you’d be stroking the fuck out of gojo’s ego and be disrespecting sukuna. but had you disagreed, you could end up on gojo’s wrong side and fumble an entire night worth of dicking.

so, once more, you take the easy way out, at the expense of inflating the white haired man’s ego, much to your dismay, “think you can do better?”

he stays silent for a while. in what you assume is him coming up with an answer to your question, his kisses travel to the dead centre of your shoulder blades, wet and open mouthed, as they crawl lower down your spine. with every kiss, your body caves into a state of relaxation, as if he was undoing every stress clouding at your hazed mind with his mouth alone.

he lands at the middle of your back, before he pulls away abruptly. and just as soon as he started, he was finished— removing himself off your body entirely. panic settles quickly in your stomach, as you turn your head around to see what he was up to. had you unintentionally hurt his feelings? damn, and here you were enjoying the body worship.

“what are you—” your words are cut off as his hands cup at your waist. he slides you back towards the edge of the bed, your feet planted on the floor once more. you feel some residue of your previous orgasm beneath your heels, eugh. you don’t have much time to spend thinking about how gross it feels when a hand holds your shoulders, and lifts you right back up.

your brows jump to your hairline in surprise at the sudden manhandling, though you can’t deny you found just a bit sexy. with his chest pressed into your back once more, you can feel his heartbeat thudding at the blade of your left shoulder, the organ withholding a steady rhythm— the tempo of a lullaby you’d once been accustomed to. and then big arms wrap around your frame, and holds you.

you hate the way your body folds so easily to his touch. it’s been an entire year, and despite your mind shouting at you for the intimacy you’re allowing to gallop right back into your life, your heart craves it. the sense of security his embrace offers you alone makes the least of sense, but you blindly lean into him, allowing yourself to be deluded for the time being. he won’t be yours as soon as this is over, so you might as well take the most advantage of the situation.

it takes a minute for either of you to speak. here you stood— half naked and legs sore, but still happily in his arms. his cologne is still as rich and dominating as it’d been all those times ago. he breaks the silence first, his chin resting above your shoulder, as he mumbles, “you really hurt my feelings, you know.”

to some degree, you know you did. about what exactly? you weren’t sure, but still, you offer him what you believe he wants, the realization leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, “i’m sorry.”

“‘s all good,” he kisses your cheek so tenderly that your neck cranes to the side to meet his gaze. gojo had always been so readable when it came to emotions, as he always wore his heart on his sleeve, but even with all the knowledge you knew about, you weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes. raw, unfiltered emotions. you only notice the close proximity between you both when your noses bump into one another. he shoots you a warm smile, “could never be upset with you. you hold that power over me.”

it’s you who kisses him first, and he returns the favour with more intensity. it’s an awkward positioning for your neck, but you don’t let up regardless of the ache in your joints. his mouth stays on yours as if you were his lifeline, tongues sloshing one over the other, brushing your lips together so gingerly.

in the midst of his tongue down your throat, he slips a hand in between your thighs, cupping at your abandoned pussy. the casual brush of his fingers at your core sent a breathy whine from your throat right into his mouth, and it only motivated him to work harder, rubbing slow patterns into your throbbing clit. your hips chase the feeling, riding the wave of his fingers.

he pulls away from your mouth, just barely, mumbling against your kiss bitten lips, “one of these days you’re gonna let me finish speaking,” followed by a knowing smile. sure, it could be seen as a flaw, but it was the only way you could protect yourself while keeping him within arm’s reach. never ready to have him but never prepared to let him go, “we can do that later— gotta blow your back out first.”

you couldn’t agree more.

it all happens so quickly— he retrieves his hand from between your thighs, having collected your juices at his fingertips, before lubricating his dick. he pumps at the length leisurely, his bottom lip tugged by his top row of teeth, and the groans he lets out are enough to have you squeezing your thighs eagerly, your cunt aching and ready to go. in the midst of your eagerness, you slip your hand behind you and catch his twitching cock, working your wrist right above his own, jerking him off.

a deep groan grumbles from his chest, and he instantly stops your hand from moving any further. you frown at his ceasing, but when you tilt your head to voice out your confusion, he offers a sheepish smile, “don’t wanna cum too soon,” ever the minute man, he was.

though, you soon find yourself regretting your own thoughts the very instant you feel the tip of his dick pushing past your entrance.

there’s a blended harmony of both your moans that bounces off the walls. his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips, holding onto you so tightly you’re positive you’ll bruise, and you clamp down on his intruding dick so tightly you’re positive you never want to let him go. the initial stretch is a feeling you’ll never get used to, but the sensation is all but unwanted.

“fuckkk, y/n,” he moans right into your ear, his voice so full of want, you can’t help but understand exactly where he’s coming from. he pulls his hips back, almost entirely, though his tip stays inside. it takes him a second to regroup, mumbling incoherent words under his breath, before he plunges back into your cunt.

and from that point on, it’s wraps. he fucks into you like a madman— as if he’d been punishing you for your crimes. punishing you for sleeping with another man. punishing you for leaving him a year and a half ago. punishing you for punishing him. his pace is ruthless— hips meeting your ass as fast as he’d pull out, pounding into your little hole to mould it into the shape of him.

he’s thick, this time on perverted shit.

you’re so painfully full of him, and despite your arms stretched outwards to grip at the sheets that had suffered more than enough of your abuse on them, your walls never let go of him. you don’t want him to pull out ever, utterly obsessed with the rough pace he set from the jump. it feels impossible keeping the curve of your back when the tip of his length repetitively attacks at your golden spots.

“ohmygoddd,” you words come out slurry, head lolling forward uselessly. if he kept fucking you like this, you weren’t going to let him leave again. stuck in an endless loop of bliss, with every thrust into your folds, his balls would slap at your clit and drive you insane, “y’re d-doing me s’gooddd,”

“yeah?” he eggs on, his voice as breathless as you’d been, though his pacing would never suggest so. there’s a hypnotic recoil of your ass bouncing back onto his pelvis that indulges him into disrupting it, delivering a new spank at your cheeks. you cry out at the feeling, and he strikes again, hips never letting up, “tell me more baby.”

you rise at your tip toes when you feel yourself sinking, legs giving out yet again. you hold yourself up at your elbows, a newfound confidence pushing your hips back to match his pace. when he heaves out a loud moan, you’re encouraged to keep going. the melody of your skins slapping against each other echoes into the stillness of the night, arching your back the further he plunges into your guts. you’re so turned on, the evidence creaming around the perimeter of his cock, easing the slides of his dick inside of you.

“toruuu,” you whine, too fucked out to notice your first mistake— calling him by his favorite nickname. at that given moment, you couldn’t care any less, the intense heat in your guts growing once more. the curve of his dick reaches spots you don’t think anybody could reach, almost as if he was made entirely for you, “you’re so big— can feel you, nghhh, everywhere!”

“that’s cause i am everywhere,” you think you can hear him smirking behind you. though, he has every right to feel entitled, with how much of a mess he’s reduced you to. he rolls his hips deep, a firm bulge forming into your tummy. as if he’s got a sixth sense or eye, he leans forward to rest his chest against your back— your eyes rolling back from the new angle. he slides a hand beneath your stomach and presses at the bulge hard. you can’t help the squeal you let out, “that’s me right there.”

you nod your head feverishly, the applied pressure on your stomach pushing his cock right at your cervix. oh god, he was going to kill you. what a wonderful way to go— all judgements clouded in favour of an eight inched dick penetrating your walls, “‘s all yours— mmh, always been.”

and that’d been your final mistake.

because the chuckle he lets out right into your ear is dark. the sounds shoot right up to your spine, shivers crawling up your back deliciously. he might as well be back stabbing you with how his cock plunged so sloppily out of your gaping cunt, “you always knew how to, fuck, pillowtalk,” he pants into your neck, his additional weight onto your shaking frame nothing short on welcoming. the hand pressing into your stomach lowers to your clit, and pinches meanly at the bud, “you know i’d, mmh, give you the world if you asked— my smart girl, shit.”

he’s so cruel, talking to you so lovingly despite it all. you tighten your eyes, in poor attempts to ignore the tenderness of the words fleeting his lips and focus instead on the stretch of your cunt down his dick. you feel yourself creaming on him, further proof of both your unison through his diabolical thrusts. he pinned you into place like this— unable to do anything but take what he gave you gratefully.

at a particular stroke at your abused golden spot, your body releases another tremor of shudders. it overtakes you from head to toe, a moan so ripe escaping your lips as you claw at ruined sheets. gojo works into aiming at that spot over and over again, each thrust more intense than the previous one. the change of his pace, slowing for a minute, draws you near the end of the line quicker than you’d anticipated.

“oh?” he grunts playfully, swaying his hips back and forth into your poor pussy. mercy is nowhere to be found, however, “you like it when i fuck you like this?” another agonizingly beautiful thrust at the same place, you can’t help but reward him with a cry. he’s fucking you into the damn mattress, and he has the balls to ask this question knowing the answer. still, you nod your head mutely, tears collecting at your lash line, and he nips at the skin on your jaw, “yeahhh you do.”

god, you do.

and suddenly, you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that would have you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

in the midst of your delusions, he pulls you both back up from the bed, standing once again. at this new position, he reaches impossibly further into you, the difference in your heights making up for the inches he’s dug into you. his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

or was it you were feigning you don’t? because as he works himself back into you, at a pace so tender yet cruel, the line of boundaries you’d once set has been entirely deterred. a force so overwhelming, just like his entire being, bringing you right back to him as if you’d never left— nevermind the fact your thighs could barely support themselves, quaking pathetically. it was getting too much— everything was a lot.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. you were a trooper, but there was only so much pleasurable torture you could handle. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, he coos, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

oh right. . . tinder. you had a bone to pick with the ceo of that app right after you come back to your senses.

“i— i can’t,” you fumble at your words, the lack of oxygen catching up to you. you’re bound to his mercy— hands tied, breath nearly restricted, pussy obliterated, and yet, there’s nowhere else you’d want to be. the pressure on your throat lolls your head backwards, chin facing the ceiling as your eyes fall onto snowy lashes, “gonna cum again— oh fuckfuckfuck,”

and despite his brutality, he shoots you a sweet smile, the contrast in his words versus his actions grand, “right behind you, baby.”

you cum, and hard . much harder than you had before. you gush your fluids down his piercing cock, your folds squeezing him tight as you release. you think your mind blanks for a minute, an orgasm so powerful, you fear your eyes would stay stuck at the back of your skull. you shiver in his embrace, the insatiable desire racking your body from top to bottom.

when he pulls out, you fall flat yet again onto your stomach, face first. you assume you look like a puddle of nothingness, your limbs spent from the overexhaustion. but still, you find yourself in a similar position to prior, as gojo leans over your body, a hand holding him up as the other works on his jerking him cum out. smart move, not finishing inside, though a weird feeling of disappointment sits in your stomach, swapping the fiery heat from your orgasm.

he sinks his teeth into your shoulders as you wince, emptying himself right onto your lower back. it runs hot and smooth into the dimples of your back, that you can’t help but stretch your limp arm towards the mess to collect the residue on your fingers. you pop them into your mouth, his taste still so familiar as he plops right at your side, face up.

there’s a thick silence that fills the sex scented room. you wonder what is going through his brain now that the lust demon that was half his ego had been taken care of. was he on the same page as you were? had he realized just how messy this could turn out? he’s too quiet for a man of his nature— and that terrified you shitless. no matter the outcome, you’re ready to kick him out. post nut clarity was a scary thing— it revealed the violent truth of how tempting the flesh could be, even with consequences on the line.

you want to beat him to it. the last thing you need on your consciousness is your ex boyfriend who’d you invited into your home a year after you broke up with him, leaving you. he seemed petty enough to do the eye for an eye shtick— it wasn’t too out of character for him.

with a heavy heart and sigh, you turn your head to the side where he lays comfortably. the words want to die in your throat, but your urge them out, the sooner the better, “you should—”

“no.” he interrupts, followed by a yawn.

you frown at that, brows scrunching as you insist that yet again, “you need to—”

“nah.” gojo cuts you off yet again, rolling onto his side. his dick falls limp onto your bed, and you don’t think about the mess it’s making. to be fair, you’d done far worse. and it was proven difficult to care about that mess when he brought a finger to play with your loose hairs, cerulean eyes zeroing in on them, “i’m tired. let’s get you cleaned up and go to bed.”

“you’re not listening to me.” you click your tongue, a little desperate to have him hear you. you’re scared to keep him around longer, because you know you’ll grow attached again and that already ended terribly once, and took you forever and a half to get over. he has to leave and right now, “you have to go.”

gojo hums at that. he stops the twirling of your hair, rather reluctantly, and finally meets your sharp gaze. he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “why?”

you narrow your eyes, “you know why,” you shouldn’t have to explain why two exes cozying up after indulging into each other was a bad idea. common sense, you figured, but was it common sense to have him over in the first place? a flurry of various emotions coursing over you laced with exhaustion had you overthinking like a motherfucker, “this was a bad idea.”

he trails his finger along the slope of your clenched jaw, and you don’t think about the fact it immediately relaxed at his touch. the longer he traced your skin, the longer he kept looking at you like that, you were wavering in your own logic. you’d both gotten what you wanted in the first place, so why was it he was still here? the rational decision would be to pretend this never happened and part ways again, but why was the thought of him locking the door behind him once again at your expense making you feel sick to your stomach?

when his finger lands at your pouty lips, he taps his index finger twice against the flesh. naturally, your pout deepens. his eyes flick from your mouth to your shying gaze, and his index swaps for his thumb. he runs the pad of his finger across the reddened surface, and his voice falls a few octaves lower, hushed for nobody else but you to hear, “you don’t want me to leave.”

you don’t.

he takes your silence as acceptance, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. it’s enough to rid your mind of its plaguing doubts in the meanwhile. and when his hand slides to cup at the back of your neck, ultimately deepening it, you can’t find it in you to care about the consequences for the time being. not when he was swallowing you whole like he was the one terrified to feel you slip from his fingers. you melt into him far too easily.

well. . . that was something you’d deal with in the morning.

tinder: 1, you: 0.

now can y’all stop calling me a deadbeat 🙎‍♂️

#rena☆star.#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo thirst #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

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willwoodshipsbyler · 3 months ago

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AUTISM TIME!!!!!

#LIE DOWN BABY ARCH YOUR BACK NOW MAYBE YOU CAN HELP ME GET WHAT I WANTTT #CURVE YOUR LITTLE SPINE AND TELL ME THAT YOURE MINE ITS ALL ABOUT THE GAME AND WHAT YOU FLAUNTT #RAAHHHHAHAHDHRB #i love this song #and the one wheat mark animation #i just watched it like 15 times jn a row

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stunie · 9 months ago

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ok so i hit 30 tags pretty early so i wanted to add extra thoughts under here i am SOOO SORRY OMFG ITS SO MUCH 😭😭 GOD

attempt 1 at reading - thoughts:

i love how you wrote the nervousness and hesitation of both reader and atsumu ): this relationship feels so genuine and realistic, like every thought is so real and complex and it all just plays out soooo vividly in my head. i can literally feel every single thing in MY SOUL. it got me holding my breath, my heart racing, my stomach churning

the kiss . the first kiss where mr suna interrupted . when i tell you i read it like this >//////< EXCEPT MY HAND WAS CLASPED SO TIGHTLY OVER MY MIUTH. oh my god the reaction i had. it really felt like a first kiss all over again, i was genuinely WARM and all blushy

attempt 2 at reading - thoughts:

i loved how u wrote out the tension again .. and your characterization for all of them ?? kita being all observant? osamu being all curious ?

the emotional rollercoaster i am on in this chapter is crazy. i took my first break after suna interrupted (the kiss killed me), and im taking my second break right after atsumu confesssd (i was killed a second time). i was irritated during the cafe bc WHY r u avoiding me, and then the next second i’m like squealing 😭 the way that u write yue !! the way that u write . i am such a mess right now give me another moment

attempt 3 at reading - thoughts:

holy shit this scene . the kissing ? THE AAY YOU DESCDIBED IT from the first kiss ?? this one made my stomach FLIP omfg .

oh god the neck kisses . the .. the everything . my left leg has goosebumps idk why it’s only my left leg am i okay yue ? am i okay what’s wrong with me

i have a little ways to go i’m almost done but i need yet another break holy shit i have been reduced to a dizzy lil mess what have i become

attempt 4 at reading - thoughts:

oh my god ): oh my god ): what am i even supposed to say here. i love how u wrote the smut part ?? it feels like actual love ? he is so sweet pls

osamu interrupting had me jolting upright BECAUSE SUNA FIRST NOW OSAMU ? is kita the next victim ?? poor baby

AGHHH THE ENDING IS SO CUTE i fr feel like im in an anime ): i feel so pretty and so lovely THIS WAS SO LOVELYYY TYSMMM YUE FOR WRITING THIS

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: vi. Epilogue: Sakura sweetness | series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?”

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday.

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’ What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it?

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere.

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!”

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike.

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

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#.recs #s.haikyuu #this is going to be a LONG set of tags bc i know ima have sm to say. i did reread the last ch to put myself in tears again to fit the mood #vision tunneling when atsumu is there is so cute btw ): everything becoming background noise when he’s there ? also u write so pretty.#‘it took all the effort for atsumu to ignore the feeling of ur bare skin against his’ THAT ENTIRE SENTENCE FUUCK pretty ))):#‘so .. does that mean we can be friends again?’ no. date me . DATe. MEEEEEE. PLEASEEEEE #‘a searing itch that left your skin feverish’ yes i remember being in tears last chapter i remember it so vividly . my heart was shattered #ok the small smile after we move our fingers from his actually made me physically react idk why i pictured that 1 so clearly in my head but #‘i want you.’ ‘did you cry thinking about him?’ YEAH. YEAH I WAS CRYING IM TEARING UP RN JUST THINKING ABIUT CRYING PLS DATE ME PLS 😭😭😭😭😭PL #THE WAY I JJST GOT SHIVERS AG THE KISS. OH HOW IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT. IM ACTUALLY LIKE D: W A HORRENDOUS BLUSH RN OMG IM So WARM #god FUCKING DAMMIT SUNA FUUUUUCKKKKK YOUUUUUUUUUUUU #ok atsumu shielding us makes me feel some kinda way but also suna u asshole ‘how was i supposed to know u two were sucking each other’s fac #kita ? tomfoolery?? that’s so silly that made me giggle hehe 😭 he’s such a mood btw i love him #ATSUMU. u want to sit the FURTHEST AWAY FROM ME ? what do u think i have cooties ???? i kissed YOU so that means u have cooties too u GOOF #the gloomy rainy day. tying that in to how we feel. god yue you know to make my head explode (compliment)#‘if you’re looking for samu’ ???? did i hear you correctly ?? did i ??????? i don’t think so. u are testing me mr atsumu #‘miya.’ YEAH TELL HIM WHATS UP !!! (i am also ogling . sweats .. messy hair …. geez….)#atsumu you. YOU. you didn’t regret it !? so why r we not kissing rn . why am i calling you miya rn if u didn’t regret it. U TEL #YOU TELL ME. omg he did tell me. oh my eyes r in fact widening oh i am in fact blushing oh this is really something omg omg omg :’)#LIGHT GROANS AND MOANS SLIPPING? This is .. THIS IS … YUE … IM SO !!!! IM #THE TEETH NIPPING AT THE NECKKK GOD I AM ACTUALKY FEVERISH IM ACTUALKY TURNING ON MY FAN RN WTFFFF WTF WTF WTFMSMS #MOANING HIS NAME AND TYHEN HIM CURSING HNDER HIS BREATH PLS I JJST GOT ANITHER SHIVER DOWN MY SPINE #OGLING HIS MUSCLED CHEST YES I AM WHHHWEWWWWWWWW GOD #a faint i love you before falling asleep pls this is so soft. also this scene killed me i am a mess now i have no words #OSAMU ? THe door Slamming SHUT LMAO? OMFGGG WE KEEO GETTING CAUGHT FR #replaced by fluttering heartbeats ): oh no more tears for me yay!!! i can finally experience happiness now #YAYY CONGRATS KITA. omfg the last sentence yue this was fr so perfect i love you so much how am i reading this for free #oh i am so in love with this series oh my god ?? every chapter was so beautifully written im just in awe #the pacing the everything was so perfect . it all felt #i literally love them all. i love every part of this sm i mean it :’( this was such an awesome read fuck what do i do now (i hit 30 tags☹️)

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