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tsukuhoe · 11 hours ago

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STRONGEST - G.S.

Synopsis. The strongest. The most feraI. Gojo Satoru’s powers aren’t the only thing that goes out of control after a battle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, fix-it, Shinjuku showdown, Gojo wins, established relationship, FÉRAL Gojo, Gojo’s powers, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, oraI (fem. rec), fíngering, limitless, pússydrúnk Gojo, máting presses, overstím, rough s, he’s a little bit ínsane, brief male mast., size kínk, tummy buIges, squírting, cervíx kíssing, p sIapping, making him whíne, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.2k

A/N. I’m Gege I say this is canon mhm.

BIoody. Broken. Breathing.

Only that last one came from Gojo Satoru— the sole person in the entirety of Shinjuku’s ravaged battleground that was.

Twitching, he could sense sorcerers rushing out of their hiding spots to inspect the disintegrating, blob-like form of the former King of Curses before they even moved. Others sprinting medical instruments towards Fushiguro’s sprawled-out - alive, Gojo made sure to keep his boy alive - figure.

Not many dared to step towards the strongest, who towered in the midst of the chaos.

After all, it was only Itadori who could grit his teeth and force himself to walk through the waves upon waves of magnetic cursed energy radiating off of his teacher. Bulldozing, gasping- “G-Gojo-sensei!”

And all at once, the power ceases.

For the first time since the showdown started, everyone could finally breathe without the pressure of over a thousand sorcerers emanating from the body of one man.

That is, until Gojo snaps his eyes behind and mankind flinches. “I need my wife.”

Oh.

By destroying one monster, they might just have created another.

You didn’t want to be here - you couldn’t.

Planted prettily like some prized porcelain doll behind the countless wards of the Gojo Estate, its location so classified that it wasn’t disclosed to even you.

You knew why you were here; your husband may be the strongest, but that didn’t stop Ryomen Sukuna from being the most treacherous. And in the unfortunate fate where he might’ve - heavens forbid - won, it was obvious that one of his next targets would be you.

A war prize for a war-bringer.

Your chest tightens at the notion, and you’re struggling to manually lug in smoggy pants- no, that couldn’t happen. Fingers seconds away from shattering the dainty ceramic bowl of tea that you’d made out of pure nerves, it couldn’t.

“Damn higher-ups.” You’re hissing into the now-frigid drink, and yet it still blisters down your tastebuds. Almost as much as the memory of those orders to stay put lest you wanted something to happen to Gojo’s precious students. A warning. A threat. “Leaving me here to rot- fuck, when I get out I’m going to kill those ol’ toads- oh!”

Your sip of tea was a tightened ball of lead that simply refused to go past your larynx– and your brows furrow as the pale glass slips like water flowing between your fingers.

Tumbling. Shattering a puddling splash on the tatami-covered floor below.

And yet, you don’t even remember weakening your grasp - almost as if the cup was magnetized towards the edge of your decadent bedroom.

“I must be going mad.” You’re muttering to yourself, feeling even more so as you do. Shaking your head to some semblance of clearance, you crouch down with a sigh to pick up the chipped shards-

Only to find that the ground was trembling.

What…the fuck? Urgently smoothing the mountains of your palm flat on the firm mats below, it felt like something was thundering. Rampaging.

Something was happening.

You should run, you should surrender.

But you stay rooted to where you are, feeling the tips of your ears tingle with a whirrrr of energy clashing against energy, a monstrous sort of crackling power in the air. Tummy tensing as the ancient protective jujutsu of the estate bends and bends and bends - generations of power that snaps!

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

Right in time with three sharp, repeated raps from behind the paper-thin sliding doors to your chamber.

Impatient.

It certainly couldn’t be one of the elders, they’d no sooner left you here to brace the impact of Sukuna’s looming victory and die rather than keep you company. Perhaps one of Gojo’s students? Shoko?

The King of Curses himself?

Squinting at the yolky outline of shadows drawn by the setting sun, your heart soars at the shape of those familiar broad shoulders and unruly hair.

Ones you could never mistake.

“Sa…Satoru.” You’re breathing, voice strangled as if not even your own words believed you.

Your calves sting with the impact of your running before you even register it- Satoru. Satoru was behind this door. Satoru won.

Almost out of breath once you reach the entrance, it’s all you can do to startle out a happy chuckle as your finger knot on the lattice handle and draaaag it open– “Sato- oh.”

Except…the man behind the door wasn’t your husband at all.

At least, not a version of your husband that you knew.

Because the Gojo rampant at the door was slouching, heaving.

Loooong, rasping breaths that made the mahogany doorframe clutched underneath his tense white knuckles crack into the tiniest of splinters. Every second wheeze fills the air up with so many charged atoms of cursed energy until you could barely even move.

Skin-tight black compression shirt torn in a jagged scratch right down the middle, billowing white pants tattered and sagging until you could almost see a few curls of creamy white. Could see allll of his washboard abs.

It looked like he’d clawed through hell himself just to take you there with him.

As your mouth opens and gapes wordlessly, your husband takes - well, more like stumbles - a singular step towards you that makes the expensive mats underneath break into a crater.

You’re catching the way his meaty thighs tremble through the cracks of his trousers, a singular dewdropped bead of sweat trickling down the side of Gojo’s flushed temples - almost as if he’d…run the entire way here instead of his usual teleportation.

Breath bated, your eyes cross over the lines of his sculptured deltoids to look at the destroyed mess of the hallway leading up to your room. Only your door was left untouched.

So he did run.

“Oh- Satoru.” Your voice drops into a sweetened tone unknowingly, and that makes Gojo stiffen with a hoarse breath.

With every pretty sound falling from your mouth, the sweltering hot atmosphere sizzled so many temperate degrees higher, until your skin was humid with power and want and power.

Instantly fighting against the rigid air to close the distance, all you wanted to do was hold him. “Are you- are you okay- what happened-”

And then Gojo lurches- as if he’d just been struck with your presence and it had electrocuted him, until he’s raising his eyes up to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Never in your life had Gojo Satoru looked at you like that.

Heavy lids only half-open, the semi-crescents of his pupils so dilated that they shone Stygian black, tendrils of miniscule blue lightning shoot from the corners of his gaze as Gojo fights to keep his long lashes from fluttering shut.

He looked ravaged.

The very instant you’re thinking of inching yourself closer to wrap his bruised body in a long-overdue embrace, he’s flinching.

Like he’d read your very mind.

And maybe he did, because in mere nanoseconds, Gojo’s kissing you and kissing you until you’re tasting everything iron and him-

Fuck, you couldn’t even stickily part your lips from his plush, puckered ones to breathe without him letting off a pained grunt. He’s so engulfing. “My wife.”

You’re gasping at the pressurized layer of power that sticks to him like a second skin - and it fights, yearns until you’re being pressed flesh-to-bloodied flesh. Drinking in the scent of candy and something metallically sharp, “Satoru.”

A few calloused fingers tighten ‘round your tender throat so that Gojo could drink all those cute wailing whimpers of yours.

Crushing you to his toned front, you weren’t sure if your fingerpads were digging into his chiseled shoulders out of his magnetism or pure greed. Still reminding yourself to be careful of his injuries-

“You-” Words warbling like never before, the crowned edges of your digits skim his undercut. Struggling through loudly snogging crashes of his lips, “Wh-what happened? Can you stand? Does it hurt somewhere? Do you need me to-”

“My wife.”

Oh…

“My wife.” His parched throat slackens to suck on your pinkish tongue like his favorite candy, “My wife-” Ivory lashes trickle your cheeks, and suddenly his honed canines nip your wobbly lower lip. Tugging sensually, “My wife.”

He couldn’t get enough.

“T-Toooru–” Your maw slicks with a thick gloss of spittle, and Gojo immediately catches the dangling strands on the flat of his lecherous tongue to laaaap it up like he was a man who’d been dying of thirst for eons.

“Need you.”

And it was the way he said it - so low, strained. A guttural groan that sounded almost like a growl, spat right through Gojo’s clenched pearly whites.

Devotion and power overflowing so much that he simply had to have you. He had to.

Silky locks of ivory brush your sweat-simmered forehead, “My wife- you- need you.” He’s snarling against your tightly smeared lips, almost as if stringing together coherent sentences had wrenched out whatever was left of his control, too.

In only two flaps of your shocked lashes, Gojo’s trailing his hotly opened maw down your neck. Fangs dipping right near your throat to feel the way your pulse pounds. Power thrumming underneath his touch, air stifling– “Need you always.”

Your lips buzz at the sheer cursed energy flowing through him, vocal cords too smoky to produce a proper noise, “Need- Toru–”

But the strongest didn’t need you to struggle out your words right now.

He’s widening his blazing sapphire peripherals once your weakened legs squeeze almost unnoticeably together. Nostrils flaring slightly and-

Ah. There.

Gojo Satoru knows the exact moment that particularly gummy droplet of slick escapes from the crevice of your throbbing pussy - because he can smell it.

Oh, that heady, hypnotic aroma that has your husband collapsing onto his knees in front of you with a resounding CRASH!

So hard, so rough that you’re wincing at the way his very own limitless flickers and falters to make Gojo’s capped knees bruise against the floorboards. Ground now shattered underneath his inhumanly strength- “Fuck- Toru- you just came back from-”

But any and all shrilling words evaporate on your tastebuds, replaced with the tangy excitement of having him loll his head drunkenly between your jittery legs to sniiiiff–!

“Neeeed you-” He’s croaking out, oh-so-raw. Your spine works as a runway for your goosebumps as he’s letting his cherry-pink lips twitch up into a sleazy grin. “-my wife.”

Perhaps it’s your melty brain trying to make sense of things, perhaps it’s Gojo’s teleportation working in overdrive - because one split-second you’re slouching your weight on his sturdy figure to hold yourself standing, and the next you’re being splayed out on the cool tatami floors like such a slut.

Gasping, head swimming.

The moment your legs fall open with a slurping pop! already talking from your oversaturated pussylips, you huff. “Did- did you just teleport us onto the floor, Satoru?”

“Teleport?” He’s barely removing his glassy pupils from the adorably damp spot peeking from between your legs. Gojo’s eyes flicker with faint recognition as he airily looks around like he wasn’t even sure how he got here.

All pinning you to the mat with one massive palm clung onto your hips, shuffled downwards so that the scorched breezes of his breaths hover over your clothed cunt in muggy lil’ gusts.

It takes your squirming buck for Gojo to finally, finally realize his position and startles out a shocked chuckle, like he himself didn’t even realize whether he teleported.

“Are- are you okay, Toru–?” You’re breathing out, concern rippling the rational part of your brain.

Jostling back your satiny skirt to bare your slick-sheened inner thighs to the chill air, Gojo only halts his laughter to answer - airy, about five octaves higher than you were used to.

“Do I look okay, sweetheart?”

Fuck.

You didn’t doubt that he wasn’t.

You were fucked.

Because the very second Gojo tugs down your skirt, “Fuck- fuck.”

“Toru, do you need h-” And riiiips it straight off of your hips to take a good - good - long look at the sodden, see-through underwear flimsily bunched at your quivering pussy, his half-opened eyes quiver shut.

You can’t even complain about your skirt being limited edition because Gojo just looked so ruined. And you were addicted.

Icy brows furrowed, jaw ticking, you’re watching speechlessly once he’s taking another deeeeep inhale. Pecs constricting, the curvaceous edges of his smirk dapples with a slight geyser of drool at the sweet, sweet smell of your cunt.

“Fuuuck, my sweetheart- my wife.” The flesh of your inner thighs clam with a thin layer of perspiration at Gojo’s reverent whisper. Taking in yet another deep breath- “All mine.”

And there’s something so primal in the way the edges of his sharpened teeth come snagging down on the thin layer hiding your pussy. The very slimy tip of his tongue grazes that slight moistness of your panties and the man finds himself snickering.

Gnawing down on the fabric– you don’t know if he realizes, you don’t know if he even cares that he’s teasingly nibbling on one of your plump labia.

“Missed you- missed this- fuck.” He’s only making his mouth grow more waterlogged, his teeth toyin’ and grinding near your aching hot pussy– Gojo slurps up another taste of you and his hips come humping down on the firm ground. “Missed her.”

Before you know it, Gojo’s superhuman reflexes have hooked a slender finger underneath your panties and he’s tearing them. Biting them. Clean off.

“T-Toru!” You’re squealing, your dripping hole slopping out yet another splosh! of sap at the act. Your heat races as your husband lazily trawls that translucent skimp of fabric up, up, up over to give it another drunken gnaw–

Groaning, “Oh, my wife-” His darkly predatory gaze snatches back open at the cloying dredges of syrup that tack onto his tastebuds, wide. Wild. “My wife- my wife.”

There it is again, and you’re just about opening your mouth to ask about his sultry little mantra- before Gojo’s bullying out every syllable in the back of your throat with a sudden, firm push of his tongue - flopped out right where your folds were leaking the utmost.

“O-oh my ngh- god!” Your dewy lashes moisten because his probin’ muscle was just so big. And he was never this urgent before, this hurried.

Never this filthy.

Gojo only nuzzles your flinching thighs further to give you such a sinful view, gawking at the way his bubblegum-pink buds spread wiiide open to act like a lil’ road for all your ribbony wires of slick. Every puddling bead slipping from where his tongue was plunged inside you n’ down to the target of his throat, “O-oh.”

Oh?

And Gojo was stuttering, just one taste of your soaking wet pussy and he’s letting his high cheekbones burn a bright blossoming red. Hips bludgeoning forwards to press his aching, heavy bulge into the floor.

He was a man gone.

“So sweet. Wet- s-so wet.” He’s sucking in a few breaths before veering up a single hand to plant a rude spank right on your soaked lips.

And imagine the strongest’s raw, carnal delight when that only makes your saccharine cunt even wetter. So drenched that your globs of slick were gathering on the point of his chin and formulating a slick puddle.

Voice wavering, stuttering. Almost like he couldn’t even believe it even though the evidence was clinging and dripping from his very maw, “So…wet. Like a waterpark- dessert- oh…So wet- f-fuuuck s’she drooling f’me? F’me?”

“For you- o-only for you.” You’re whimpering as his hand comes slamming down again.

Slap after slap after slap, until you swear his fingertips were starting to buzz with power. Speckles of pearly sheen flying from the knobs of his fingers and straight into his parched mouth.

“Ohhh don’t say that- don’t you say that.” He’s warning, “S’gonna make me- make me…” Prolonging the crown of his tongue to take more of you and stretch and stretch inside your elastic cunt. “Oh- fuck, m’fucking you-” Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gasp– he’s tasting you. He’s really, really tasting you now. “-I’m h-haaaa…fucking you.”

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Satoru you’re being so…”

Insatiable? Depraved?

“Can’t stop-” Comes out his ragged gulps, wanting to coo at your cutely twisting expressions and yet unable to even bear the thought of breaking his lewd French kiss with your cunt. “Can’t stop, sweetheart- fuck!”

He really couldn’t. Swabbing ridges of his tastebuds just keeping on swirlin’ into the tenderest spots of your gummy walls, and Gojo’s tongue is so long that every thrusting push past your snug hole leaves you feeling so dizzy.

You’re sucking in a sharp inhale, “T-Toru-”

Faring worse off, he couldn’t even speak.

Instead of an actual answer, the only sign that shows he even heard is one of his visceral flinches, as if just the way you said his name was enough to drive him crazy.

The scratchy tip of his tongue scours in a welcoming heart right where your hole was and playfully back - no hesitation, no shyness.

“Puh-please, Satoru–” He was fucking into you now. A great big helping of saliva slobbers down the side of your mouth, your foggy pupils starting to circle at just the exact tempo of his dipping tongue.

The only thing you’re able to let off is the wetly glistening gush of another clingy wave of sap. Swashing Gojo’s swollen lips until they’re soaking wet, your fingers scrape their way through his sweat-matted strands. Babbling, “M-more.”

And there you said. There.

You knew the instant that those strained syllables ripped from your throat that it would not bode well for your poor pussy.

Because Gojo’s Herculean shoulder muscles tense, lengthy lashes flapping, and you wonder if he’d stopped fucking breathing.

Not even the slightest gust of air leaves him as he’s wafting his eyes to your teary ones in shock– “M-more?”

You can’t even tease your dear husband for the way his husky bass was cracking at the very ends, because simply repeating the words makes his cerulean irises spark with bolted lightning. Staring dead-on as he keeps muttering away to himself—

“More?”

You’re mewling as soon as his fat wad of spittle strikes your heated core, slimily slithering straight down your puffed-up lips.

Just the sight of your glistening entrance so vulgar that, without even a second thought, Gojo’s once more surging his lips against your other pair until his pointed chin. So hard that he’s slapping the base of your treacly pussy until his skin’s all delicate n’ raw.

The curved ends of his jaw slipping n’ glissading up and down while his tongue sliiiides in.

“More-” He’s half-giggling to himself, the straight line of his nosebridge crushing your perked clit and sending your spine sparking. “More more more more- my wife- hah!” You swear you feel the cute crater of his dimples press against the skin of your thighs. Drooling, he’s crooning– “My wife wants more.”

And it’s the last thing said before your eyes blotch pure white with a sheer rummaging stretch. Wider n’ wider - not only was Gojo snaggling your leaking hole open with his tongue, he was adding in his long fingers, too.

The nearly six-inch length of his middle finger tucking between your slick-stained folds with a thundering squeeeelch–!

“Want more- gonna get it-” You can make him uttering in a gravelly tone against your swollen lips, grunting. Repeatedly swervin’ his padded digits back n’ forth, “-gonna- gonna get it.”

“Toru- Toru oh my god- fuck, s’too good-” Your knees tremor weakly as they bend in the air, head tumbling backwards as your eyes roll to the dark depths of your skull.

“Raise.”

It’s all you hear before a scouring tendril of cursed energy curls around your neck and your head is being forced to tilt upwards and stare deeply into Gojo’s dimly-lit eyes. Ravenous.

You didn’t even think that he had the ability to do that, but with the way he was ruining your cunt from the very inside out you wouldn’t be surprised.

And you think this might be the dopiest you’ve seen Gojo’s pretty smile. Something that would be so completely endearing if it wasn’t for the way that his azure eyes were flickering with cursed energy. “N’ let me ruin you, my wife.”

It wasn’t a promise - he was already doing it.

Barreling the tippy-tops of his two slippery digits so far deeply into your g-spot that you’re drooling. A wave of spitballing drool flapping from your gluey lips, “Are you- Toru are you- using Six Eyes?”

Fuck, that’s what it was.

That had to be it - he’s treating the treasure trove of your sweet spots so meanly. Like a lil’ dartboard that he’s carving out the exact spheroid circumferences of his fingertips, again. And again. And again.

Until his manicured fingernails were leaving that lil’ bundle so overstimulated that even the merest, slightest graze had you weeping out in slicked drool.

You’re crying out by the time that Gojo’s tucking the edges of his tongue inside your gaping entrance with three girthy fingertips - sweat-sleek brows knitting as he pushes and pushes against the resistance.

Doubly filling you up, and it was such a stretch that it left your hip restless.

“M’n-not gonna hck! last, Satoru.” Your lips pucker into such a cute sob, the melody of it going straight to the plump, aching tip filling up his pants.

He’s rasping, mouth barely giving the time of day for anything other than making out with your creamy pussy. “Cum.” Urgent, rapid strokes of his fingers like he was dragging that stormy high from you. The faster his sloppy movements were becoming, the more crazed his eyes were becoming. “Cum.”

And even though you were too dumbstruck to notice it now, Gojo was so feral for your leaking pussy that loose pieces of furniture in the room had begun to clatter.

Torrents of cursed energy zipping down to his fingers and concentrating there, “All f’me.” Breaths hoarse with belated pants, he’s groaning when the bzzzz–! of power on your battered g-spot makes your back arch prettily.

Like a perfect bullet vibrator that was precisely and never-endingly whacking your favorite area, faster. Sloppier.

So, so filthy.

Gojo was already widening his eyes and letting his spit-adhesive lips crack into a wild smile by the time you’re trilling about your orgasm - because he knew. Oh, he knew.

His Six Eyes could see it coming from a mile away; the way your heart was racing in a pitter-patter that matches the flicks of his narrowed tongue. Every sopping slap! making you clench your scalding insides ‘round him instinctively until it was almost difficult for him to press back against the mushy recoil of your g-spot.

But the strongest always got what he wanted.

And what he wanted was you cumming right now, your nails clawing adorable crimson rainbows all down his shoulders, his neck. “T-Toru- cu-cumming- ngh! M’c-cumming, fuck fuck fuck–”

Gojo would throw his head back and moan if it didn’t mean moving his rovering lips away from your pretty pussy.

“No- c’mon c’mon c’mon- wanna taste. Need to taste-” He’s letting you ride your peaks of euphoria out on slobbering drags of your hips. Face crinkling, his free hand darting up to cushion your tempo with reverse cursed energy so you won’t get too tired n’ stop.

He wouldn’t have been able to handle it if you did.

Wouldn’t have been able to bare- “Again. Again-” Slapping down a hand on the slick-shined inners you’re crying out once the energy-capped crowns of his fingers inch dangerously towards your clit. “Taste- on my face. All over my face, alright?”

He didn’t just want you to cum - he wanted you to squirt.

“O-oh my god, Tooooru!” Your mouth clogs up with both spit and sultry whines, heels starting to dig into the dimples on Gojo’s sexily flexing back. “M’so sensitive, dunno if I can-”

“No.” He’s cutting you off, and you almost startle. A dull thud! emanating from where his v-line angrily hits the floor in a grindin’ push, another sparking spank punishes your sobbing slope. “No no no no- have to. Wanna taste- think m’gonna die without it.”

Practically begging on his knees right now. And if you thought that the vibrating sensation of his fingerpads were bad, then you surely weren’t ready for the way that Gojo’s lacquering his sizzling tastebuds over with a flimsy layer of energy.

“C’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon–” His reverse cursed energy bolts mindlessly from the left hand attached possessively to your waist, and you’re tearing up all over again with a fresh batch of salty tears when that thrumming tongue of his flops over your driveling hole.

The textured vibrations just felt so good that it was making your mouth flap sappily open, you’re sure that the only reason you could even think right now was because of his reverse cursed energy.

Circlin’ your fleshy folds, where your plugged-up hole was being thrashed with all his pummeling fingers, then up, up, up to your twitchy clit.

Gojo’s nimble muscle was drawing circles- no, hearts. No, a cursive T-O-R-U ♡

He wasn’t even trying - didn’t even have to - to let buzzing bursts of power flicker at your cunt. So teasing on purposeful, those shockwaves were making your thighs twitch with bliss each n’ every time. Every part of him.

“What does that saaay?”

“Toru- Toru” Right before you throw your head back and get steamrolled by your high like never before, such a crashing, blissful wave. “I-I’m…”

You don’t even have to finish your soft gasping moan because your squelching pussy does so for you. In the loudest, rawest sluuuurp that Gojo laps up gratefully- a drink made especially for his dry throat.

Ears popping, skin all tingly - you can only slouch your legs further open and take it.

Stringy, wadded splashes of syrupy sap that escape out of you even if you tried to stop. “Gonna fuck-” He’s grunting, throatily. Ruminating growls locked away in his chest, he spits into your fluttery cunt. “-gonna fuck you- fuck you so good.”

You’re so wet that Gojo’s finding himself soaked-through all the way from the tips of those creamy white curls by the shell of his ear down to his chin. A round goblet of slick glues to the sharp line of his jaw and makes a slithering trailway doooown his bobbing throat.

“S’here-” Letting go of your hips, he’s pointing to the mouthfuls of you that fill up his sloppy maw. “Down, down–” The very tip of Gojo’s lecherous finger points a pathway doooown his pale, handsome neck, “-down. All inside. Finally got ta t-taste ya, sweetheart.”

You’re still blinking back the full vignette of your vision by the time that your husband’s pulling his dexterous digits out with a noisy squelch!

Letting the proud layer of juicy slick smear all over your pussylips once he’s giving your cute, quivering clit a lil’ piiiinch. “And m’s-still thirsty.” He’s grumbling, grinning. Watching as your mouth falls into an awe-struck ‘o’ when you feel his buzzing cursed energy flowing through him again.

“Toru- fuck fuck fuck–!” It takes every ounce of strength in your body to lift yourself up onto your elbows. “Want…” You wanted him - namely that aching hot bulge you could peek at if you angled your head just right.

And even pushing your trembling thighs together doesn’t do anything to falter Gojo, because he’s simply pushing himself deeper between your gooey legs and gasping. Not for air, not for a breath, but for another taste of you.

Poking down the mushed tip of his tongue until he was pressing on your buttony clit. Hard. He’s seriously happy to die a death suffocated between your pretty thighs, “But why–?”

Walls clenching needily, you shoot your hand to clutch the strongest’s angelic hair and pull–

“Fuh-fuck–!” Gojo’s dizzy head falls back, breaking off from your syrupy pussy with such a sinfully wet pop! Through your tears you see his right hand shake, quiver down between his trousers.

And it makes your mouth water greedily to watch the schwf! of tattered fabric motioning back n’ forth as he’s grabbing his rock-hard bulge and thrusting. Angrily. Furiously. “Look what- look what you did- what you- ngh!”

Before you know it, Gojo’s clawing his free hand somewhere in the air hovering above you - all that it takes for him to snap his jujutsu powers and help draaaaag you down like some glorified doll.

Charred breaths labored, his meaty knees clatter on either side of your body. So urgent that you wonder whether it doesn’t hurt him to scramble up your figure this way, alllll up until you’re finding your face straddled by a heaving Gojo Satoru.

“S’your fault.” He’s grouching out in a gruff tone, and you’re taking the moment to just fully admire him in all his sinful glory.

Skin-tight clothes still hanging off of him in tatters, back oh-so-arched, and his expression– oh, his expression almost made you regret pulling him away from your cunt.

With a rosy blush flooded all the way from the tips of his ears to the back of his perspiration-glossed neck, heady gaze practically shuttered, lips dripping wet with all your essence still. A few glittery spatters of it slobber down from his cheeks to hit your own face once Gojo lets his lips fall into a soft oh!

Wheezing, “S’your…” You can only gape as he’s tugging down the ivory hem of his pants just enough to let his swollen, heavy cock free. “-fault.”

He was throbbing and big, flinching from the very tip of his lollipop-red cockhead just as soon as he’s feeling the cold breeze of your bedroom. Gojo’s biceps flex sexily as he nudges the moist skin of his tender shaft against your left cheek and pumps.

Sloppy.

“Didn’t have to be s’fuckin’ sweet-” Gojo hisses through gleaming clenched teeth, your blinking expression too gorgeous. “Didn’t have to be- so- ohhhh– m’gonna marry you. M’gonna marry you m’gonna marry you.”

“Toruuu–” You’re cooing out, gazing as he’s biting back into a snarl. Drooling strawberry orifice sprinkling a wispy jetstream of white, vulgar. “-we’re already married, baby.”

Fuck- and then he’s cumming.

He’s cumming and cumming so much that Gojo’s overworked brain half-wonders when he might stop. The rounded curve of his ballsack squeezing with every elongated ribbon of seed that he’s letting out- more once he catches sight of the way it glissades in a sheeny polish down your features.

Steaming hot and aching, just as much as he was.

“Th-there’s so much, Toru-” You’re whining when the salted caramel flavor edges near your tongue, every fat goblet of sap positioned exactly to drool down your face. “-Toru?”

Gojo was on cloud nine, and you didn’t even know he was even listening to you.

Only letting out a dreamy sigh, the knobbly curve of his thumb comes brushing down that pooling slick mess he was making on you.

Giggling - giggling, “Whoops.” He’s prodding over those webs of seed past your poutily puckered maw, purposefully gliding his fingerpad alllll the way down your wobbly bottom lip. “-missed a spot.”

You’re ogling with an ajar mouth once he glistens it over like some sultry lipgloss, you just looked so beautiful like this that Gojo feels his heart race. He feels his breath hitch, his wide length throbbing-

“Oh.” He hiccups, still sensitive with the shivering wracks of his high. And Gojo’s gaze hastily flickers behind him - to his second favorite pair of lips, after your mouth, of course. “Missed a spot there, too.”

Whatever shred of practicality left in him promises he’ll make it up to you later, he’ll take it slow and make mind-numbing love to you later. Much, much later, but for now: you’re being pushed against the bouncy mattress of your bed.

You gasp, “A-again? Toru you-” Faltering weakly for just the slightest second when Gojo corners you on the bedcoils and rids of his shirt. All pale, chiseled muscles and power for daaaays. Fuck, he was so hot. “-do you even hck! realize you teleported us?”

The only answer he gives you is a savage grin, voice dipping into just deepest territory as he muses. “No.”

He didn’t. He really, really didn’t even register it when his powers were thrusting you into the bed and making the bedroom lights flicker once he all but tears off those damn overlarge pants.

And then he gets closer.

Cornering you, a soft pant of shock lets off from you at the faint scars and cuts decorating those familiar muscles of his toned front. “W-wait, Satoru, are you feeling-”

“What? This?” With the click of his fingers, most of those bloodied injuries fade into obscurity. Leaving only a few scars and the remnants of reverse cursed tingling in the air. “Now ruin me, my wife.”

“Fuck…”

“Can’t think.” Gojo’s rasping voice wafts over your lips, making sure to draw out a wet sluuuurp when he suckles on your white-topped maw. Tasting you, tasting himself. His eyes flare madly wide, “-don’t want a-anything but you…”

You’re squirming sluttily at the faint bolts of lightning that decorate his creamy skin, flickering down from his eyes- down to where his ravaging cock was hanging low between his thighs. Slapping a wad of drooling precum on your inner thighs.

Gojo was so big and hard that you could count every ba-dump–! his ruby crown was thumping against your poor bloated folds. Squelch after squelch, you got the feeling that he was repeatedly rubbing his chubby tip just to drive you mad.

“Don’t have- condoms.” And Gojo could merely lift himself off to grab those familiar foil packets in that bedside drawer - hell, he could even teleport himself there.

But doing so meant that he had to be away from you and this cutely drooling cunt of yours. And though you didn’t mind if he went in purely raw, Gojo had another idea in mind.

Whimpering, “Then give it-” Gojo’s breath catches when you buck your hips impatiently, “Need you, Sato- fuck!”

He was never one to disappoint, of course.

Your eyelashes flap tearily at the sudden snagging streeeeeetch being pressured between your glued pussylips. Gasping, struggling to take a look and-

“S’gonna work.”

“I-it’s not.”

“It will.”

“Won’t- mmpf–!”

Pushing and pushing to try and fit the limitless-capped ends of his length into your tight hole. “Gonna-” He’s poking the reddish tip of his tongue between his teeth in a way that sends shivers down your spine, “-gonna work. Trust me- hck! Trust me, sweetheart.”

If you thought you’d ever gotten used to the maddening girth of your husband before, then you sure weren’t ready for right now.

For when he’s coating his near-ten inches, thick inches with a layer of crackling limitless. Forcin’ your poor entrance even more full, the pointed corner of his head slips once more between your sandwiching lips and Gojo growls.

“Fuck- fuck!” In both your carnally muddled minds, you’re barely registering the way something in the bedroom shatters. Sounding halfway through tears, “Not even the tip- Gotta fit- s’gotta. I have to.”

You’re whining with every rutting push, “Wh-why the hell are you so big, Satoru–?”

“Shhh m’gonna make it fit- gonna hah- make it.” He’s urgently soothing you with a big hand on your forehead - not just to caress your forehead, no. Gojo’s clawing your sweaty crown and pushing you down onto where his bulky length was pulsating. Desperate.

And the smooch of his boiling hot length was so wiiide that your vision is shattering into something bleary.

Pupils rolling until your eyes were only pure white, you almost don’t catch the rippling forearm being planted right in the middle of your line of sight. “Bite.” Gojo grits out, tension ticking. “Bite.”

So you do - hard enough to draw blood, and that’s exactly the way he wanted it.

“Yeah- yeahhh jus’ like that.” He’s groaning underneath his breath once you’re gnawing, letting off the prettiest noises when Gojo keeps pulling his hips back and forth. Like some animal, he’s dolloping out a slimy topping of pre on top of your cunt and rutting– “Take it.” Somehow easing in his ridiculous length, “All of it, like my g-good wife now. All-”

And he meant it.

Slamming his toned hips so hard into yours that sparks - literal, powerful sparks - are sent flying from his body. Pants raspy, maw slackening, “Where is it?” Roaming his eyes rapidly down your body, your skin prickles with atoms stood on edge. “Where- fuck! Where am I…ah. H-here.”

“Here?”

“Here.” A trembling, vibrating finger of Gojo’s comes drifting absent-mindedly up from the start to your folds. And the deeper this fat, vein-covered cock was bludgeoning in - the further his digit was drawing. “Here- m’riiiight here, sweetheart.”

It’s only then that your saccharine brain thinks to understand that he was using his Six Eyes, targeting the sight where his swollen cock was probin’ around your sweet insides.

“Watch me- watch me get deeper.”

You’re watching with an unfastened jaw as Gojo precisely draws where his bulbous tip was smearing out your walls to their maximum. Subconscious, short jabs back and forth back and forth baaack and forth.

Just to fit inside.

“S-shoooo deeeep–”

“Not deep enough.”

Stupidly prattling with every knock of his size. Gojo was so damn big that you didn’t even need his outlining digit, your goopy innards were already bulging with his size. A bumpy cylindrical outline that only went deeper, deeper-

“-deeper.” Gojo rests his woozy forehead on top of yours, just as ruined as you. So close now that his chiseled abs gliiiide down your front, “F-feels good, huh? My cock so ngh- deep- my limitless. So, so…deep.”

And it’s at that very second that once your husband bottoms out, that he breaks.

SLAM!

His sanity, his palm collapsing down to splinter the headboard, and limitless. All at the same time.

Hours and hours later, you’ll both be told that there was a suspicious spike of cursed energy in this area during this exact time. One so strong that it alerted almost every sorcerer in the territory.

But right now you’re too focused on the way that Gojo’s mushy, furiously leaking tip was crashing head-first into your sponged cervix. And suddenly it’s not just the airy feeling of his limitless, it’s the feeling of you.

Warm and wet. So so wet.

It’s then that Gojo gnaws down on his rosy, trembling lower lip and stalls. It’s then that he’s scrunching his eyes to stop the outpour of power. It’s then that he gasps–

“Didn’t work.”

Letting out a high, wild bout of laughter that makes you wonder just how high the kill count would be.

Confused, “Wh-what?”

Gojo only removes his hand from the bedframe to reveal a scalding handprint exactly in the shape of his, a few shards of wood falling onto the floor.

“Didn’t…work.” His voice was hard, rough. And there was a jagged tone to them that you hadn’t ever heard before- “It didn’t- work- fuck fuck fuck- didn’t work. Didn’t work didn’t work.” All that he could even think to bellow out in moans every time that Gojo rocked his hips thoroughly. “And I…you…”

Running out of the fucking syllables, he’s letting go of your scalp to fully throw both of your legs over his shoulder and buck. So soft.

“S-soft-?” You’re making out through your pressured eardrums, clinging onto Gojo’s broad shoulders for dear life. You almost - almost - miss the way that his mouth drops, shit- he said that out loud?

Well, now that he started - Gojo couldn’t stop.

Spitting out nonsense between every jackhammer- “Y’feel s-so…soft.” He’s continuing on in an airy tone, gripping a good handful of either side of your hips. So strong that it barely take even a fraction of his strength to jostle you hip n’ down to meet every thrust, “So…sweet- fuck! Even sw-sweeter without a ngh- condom.”

So fucking looooong that every jackhammer from the tip of his geysering divot to his hefty hilt felt like it took ages. Your toes curled helplessly every time he was stirrin’ your insides right up to your cervix, crazed.

“M’really hitting her-” His breath fans your face in steamy gusts that humidify your skin, “-really, really can feel her.” Peking you once, twice, thrice. “Kissing you- kissing her-” A slam to your cervix, “-there, too.”

You’re letting off mumbled whines of something that sounds like “yes!” and “Toru!” as Gojo slows his craving pace down just a tad to splash out a stringy drawing of a heart right at the bottom of your pussy.

Long, thorough digging drills that bruise his exact circumference size, “N’ m’seeing her- seeing her take me so welllll, oh…deserves a lil’ treat.”

Too nervous to think about what he would consider a ‘treat’, you’re shoving your face into the clammy crook of Gojo’s neck and biting. Leaving him just as rawly red and stinging as his cock was, the action was enough to make him nibble his bottom lip.

Babbling, “Yeah- yeah, a t-treat. A treat for my good girl- my wife.” You’re feeling it before you register it, that stickily sweet buzzzz–! of cursed energy coating Gojo’s fingertips.

He unabashedly drags it all the way across your hardened nipples - giving just a lil’ pinch - down your tummy, that bulging outline he was fucking into you, down.

Until Gojo had his sparking fingerpads locked around your throbbing fat clit and refused to let go- “You like that? Yeahh fuh-fucking like that-” Hiccuping, every new roll of his hips plapping against yours made him twist your perked nub just the way you liked. “-like seeing me like this? Th-the strongest fucking you like this?”

“Yes-” You’re sobbing out, your hip gyrating lewdly upwards in tandem with his. And it makes both you and the ancient bedsprings sing in unison when Gojo reaches so deep, “-like it, like it- ngh! Love it.”

Oh.

If you thought that Gojo had nothing left to lose at this point then you were wrong, because with a rummaging spank of skin-on-skin, he’s probin’ a kiss so deep into your g-spot that you can almost taste Gojo’s candied caramel flavor.

Swiveling his hips just right to maze his lustrously crowned head into that filthy, filthy target. Thumping veins bloated enough to circle your elastic walls and make you remember each lightning bolt pattern.

Pulse leaping through your mouth, your head bangs backwards into the plush pillows, “There- there, Toruu–!”

“I already know.” Fuck, did he know - and he almost wished you could see the way he could with his Six Eyes. Just how lecherously you glutinous walls were bending to gulp him up straight into your plush g-spot. Every whack thrashing dead-on into that bullseye, “There- there. M’right there- fucking you right there.”

He was pounding into you like he was crazed at this point, and with every white-hot star of pleasure bursting behind your eyes, you could feel yourself sinking further into the cushy bed.

“-the bed, huh?” If you were in any better state of mind, you’d have been wondering about the fact that your husband seemingly had the ability to read minds.

But even Gojo doesn’t seem to realize.

A simpering smile falling over his features as he hoists your boneless legs further up his shoulders - locking them with a simple curl of his cursed energy. Before bending down, down, down until you’re all folded in half like a lawnchair and helpless.

Completely at the mercy of his sloppy, spanking cadence, “S’what I k-kept thinking about- ngh- a-allll today.” At just the mere mention, Gojo’s throwing his head back with another wave of excess power.

“R-really?” You’re questioning cutely, and he’s forced to concentrate on a lil’ patch of limitless on top of his weepy crownhead to stop himself from fucking cumming right then, right there.

“Thought about you- ngh- your lips. Your smile.” That explained why he was so ravenous, biting back grunting whimpers at the throbbing clench of your melty walls - molding ‘round his barreling girth. “And your…pussy.”

“S-so filthy, Satoru.”

Your features crinkle with a tiny, blissful twitch - so faint that you almost don’t even register it.

But Gojo does.

Fuck- of course, he does. He’s slouching forwards until the drenched tufts of his stark white happy trail scratch your already-buzzing clit. Until his superhuman senses can distinctly make out every slurring mwah-! being pulled out from your soppy folds, nodding along as if in conversation.

“Yeah- mhmmm–” He’s tittering at your starstruck expression, kissing away the clumps of dumbfounded drool splattering from your lips. Gojo squeezes the bullet vibrators of his fingers harder ‘round your clit and lets his eyes glow once you squeal, “-knew it. You’re close, my sweetheart.”

“I-I am?”

“Mhmm—”

And his Six Eyes was never incorrect.

Within only a few more vulgar, touching strokes you could feel that familiar tightness at the bottom of your tummy. Gojo’s giving your cunt another good spank to keep your legs twitching, “C-close.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” Taking on that maddened tinge, “Gonna cum- gonna cum f’me.” He’s giggling into your open mouth, letting a few oodles of spit let slip. “Can tell- so close so lose that- ooooone—”

Your hips jiggle hysterically up into his feverish pace, chasing your high with every uncontrolled thrust. Every spark of power– “Two- two.”

“Twoooo–” He’s calling out after a confirming glance downwards with his Six Eyes, manhandling your restless body pliably. Spattered specks of sweat hit your chest when he’s aligning his tip for once last crash into your tenderest spots. One. last- “Thr- fuck–!”

Right on time. And it wasn’t just you crashing into your high, it was Gojo, too.

Every bedroom light shattering, loose furniture hovering copious inches.

Gojo was like a monster, his skin decorating with sparks of blue lightning after every long, aching bout of overstimulated euphoria that make the strongest’s famed eyes blur with big, fat goblets of tears.

Whimpering - whimpering - in muffled noises as he fucks you full with a roped, creamy sap. It knocks around your deepest insides and pushes up in fat wads against your cervix, that little puddle swashing around to and fro with every pump. “Milk me- yeah yeah milk me.”

He’s fucking and fucking you until his rock-hard cock rubs red n’ raw.

Your own high simply zapping tingles by now from the arched curls of your toes up to your sweltering head, Gojo slides his puffy veins just past your g-spot and your legs go weak.

“P-pleeeease–” You’re mumbling through streaky cries of your own, the feeling so filthy that you didn’t know whether you wanted more or to crawl away.

Before a splat! of something wet and viscid on your shoulder jolts you out of you reverie - and only then do you realize that Gojo fucking Satoru was drooling.

“Don’t you fucking run.” Before you know it, both Gojo’s handless cursed energy and his own right hand curl around your throat to draaaag you back into his ruthless hips.

His shivering thighs against yours, the stony ridge of his v-line grinding into your stinging ass cheeks just so. Gojo’s pounding you so full of his seed that you feel oh-so-sluggish, “But- but Tooooruuuu–” You could already feel every ounce of blood in his body rush to make his cock twitch, dangerously. Oh. “-a-again? More?”

It’s like the very word is enough to make him jolt. “More?”

“Will it even ngh- fit?” Your lower lip juts out into a pout, feeling the gluey mess of syrup sticking your thighs together. A few gumdrops of pearly cum already pouring out of your sheened hole and dripping right down onto his base.

“Well…” Gojo’s peripherals were so very hazy now, and they take their languid time falling to the cumflated bulge he’d jackhammered into you. Chuckling - pitched high, he’s plugging those escaping ribbons back into your milky pussy and licking off the excess. “-how many?”

“Wh-what?” You’re gasping as he leverages the hold at your throat to spit the mess right back onto your tongue.

“How many kids d’you want, hmmm-?” Gojo purrs right back, nuzzling the sweat-stuck side of your face. He’s whispering into your ear, “Because my Six Eyes tells me it h-hasn’t taken-” One thrust, and just about millions of angels and stars flashing behind your lids. “-yet.”

Reversed curse technique was just seeping out of Gojo, and for a second you wonder what time it was. What day- sore arms wrapping around his neck, you’re muttering your answer.

And he only chuckles– “B-because- limitless void, my wife.” And there’s a soft breeze of cracking energy washing over you - soft, loving, and so Gojo. Twinkling eyes drifting meaningfully to your humming cunt, “-m’gonna make you my ngh- cum…dump.”

He…did he just- your eyes widen, he did. Abusing that limitless void on your bawling pussy…oh, how it made you clench with need.

Power having him crazed.

The bedroom air prickles with a gush of energy so thick it makes your skin burn slightly, and makes Gojo throw his head back with a whine. A whine.

Eyes ablaze until only its faint bolts and the dusky sun were your sources of light right now - yet, little did you know that none of Tokyo had power, either. None of its wards. None of Japan.

The surge of power so ridiculously high that your comfy bed was sagging on one end, furniture unruly, the flowers of the estate’s gardens blooming.

He’s letting go of your skin with a faintly steaming handprint, breath catching at the mark- Gojo similarly guides his own zapping fingers to brand your own steaming initials on his v-line. Electric. Twitching.

“N’ who knows…” Giving you a probin’ dig of his swollen, ravaged cock, your husband grins. “-maybe I'll summon my haaaa- clones for this next round.”

A/N. Also I know most of y’all probably don’t celebrate but happy Sinhala and Tamil new year! Smooching all you lovelies <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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tsukuhoe · 4 days ago

Text

no. one party anthem

track nine: lover, you should've come over | prev track< | setlist

whose your man?

synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens

pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna

content: mdni, fluff, smut + angst! making out, heavy petting, smoking, domestic Suguru, babysitting, awkward conversations, fingering + finger sucking

art by @mmmm1lk and divider by @uzmacchiato !

a/n: this one is so long my brain stopped working so sorry for any typos/autocorrect I missed :p

Were you a whore?

Laying on your boyfriend's couch and staring at the blades of his ceiling fan, while one man kissed your mouth and another was serenading you on live television.

"You don't have to stop because of me," Suguru murmured into your skin, pressing another peck to your cheek before glancing back to the tv. Hearing Sukuna's voice, the gravel in it, the hurt in his husky tone, it all just felt wrong in Suguru's house.

Every line felt too raw, too personal, too not Sukuna for you to fully process. The harder you tried to tune him out, the more it felt like you were being drowned by him, like his veiny hands were holding you under until you heard him.

Suguru's eyes were narrowed, his lip pulling tight as he listened too.

"It's pretty good," Gojo's grainy voice chimed in from the forgotten phone. "Even if it's kinda whiney."

Whiney.

He wasn't wrong. It was as close to a whine as Sukuna could get, still hoarse and gravelly, but no one could mistake his plea.

For you.

Putting things you'd waited him to say for years into a song that was a few months late. Things that hurt you more now. Made every piece of you ache and burn the way his hands once did.

"What do you think?" Suguru hummed, and it wasn't until he pulled a few inches away back that you realized he was asking you.

"Hm?" You feigned innocence, despite the huge fucking lump in your throat, leaning up to distract him with soft kisses across his face while he chuckled.

"The song?" He asked, one of his hands moving to cup your face and actually turn your head towards the tv.

What did you think?

You wished it was off.

Because watching him sing about regrets only made you consider your own. And you refused to have any when it came to him.

Sukuna was the one who never wanted a relationship. Who would openly fuck around with other women while you were in the room. Who never fucking cared until he couldn't have you anymore.

You moved on.

He could too.

So why the fuck did it still hurt to hear him hurting?

To see it in his clenched jaw and cold stare?

It was silly and stupid, but you felt like he could see you through the camera, that it was you who he was pretending was on the other side, that all these words were for you and you alone and he couldn't give a shit about the rest of the audience.

"Baby?" Suguru tucked a hair away from your face, forcing you back to the present, to where you belonged.

"It's good," You simply replied.

It was different from their usual songs, but it was obvious the crowd adored it. Adored him. You suspected the reception online would be the same.

Suguru didn't seem that pleased with your answer, even if you could tell he agreed - if only technically speaking.

The muscles in his face were pulled too tight, his smile forced as he nodded.

You wondered what expression you were making. What little hints you accidentally gave away.

"You're s'pposed to say you hate it," Gojo chided you, apparently sharing Suguru's disdain for your former lover? Friend?

"I hate it," You echoed, and you actually meant it.

You hated him for putting you back in this position of wishing everything was different. Hated the song for shoving it in your face how much he only wanted you when you were someone else's.

You hated yourself too for the piece of your heart that still wanted to believe him.

"Good girl," Gojo purred over the phone, and Suguru made a disgusted sound for you, his scowl shifting focus.

"Go ahead, say that to my girlfriend again," Suguru dared, low and stern. A barely veiled threat.

"Good-"

Suguru hung up the phone before he could finish, throwing it back on the table and rolling his eyes.

"I swear he gets stupider every day," He murmured, shaking his head, but his attention had already returned to the screen.

The song was almost over.

Or at least, you hoped it was.

Suguru returned to kissing you, despite being distracted, his lips dancing over your cheeks, grazing over the corner of your mouth before tracing over your jaw. Phantom pecks that didn't do much to pull your own attention away from tonight's soundtrack.

Sukuna was haunting you without even being here.

His rough voice and the grit to his words, blunt and raw and wrong. That was the word you were stuck on, unable to catch your breath as Suguru's teeth scraped back over your skin.

You just laid there, lost between the two of them while a cool hand slid under your shirt and past your bra, groping your tit and toying with your nipple. You gasped at the contact, his fingers quick to pinch and twist just to get a reaction out of you while you pouted at him.

"You never play fair," You murmured, whining at how effortlessly he worked you up.

"Why should I?" He challenged, a cute crooked smile curling up on his face for the first time since Sukuna came on screen.

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't stop squeezing, his broad body readjusting over you, couch creaking as he moved.

His attention shifted again, looking over his shoulder at the tv. Eyes narrowing to thin slits as you realized the final notes of the song were being played, Sukuna's tormented stare cutting through the camera straight through to you.

And yet, you still couldn't help but wonder what Suguru made of it. What history they might share and why, exactly, hadn't you heard of it?

You weren't dumb enough to think Sukuna ever told you everything. But it seemed he'd left out more than just a few pages when it came to his distaste for your boyfriend.

Not that you'd be able to really ask him now. Or even Suguru.

What were you supposed to say, 'Hey, by the way, that guy you clearly hate? He's actually my best friend I've been fucking for years!'?

Was, technically. All past tense.

You weren't sure what he was to you now. You'd gone weeks without really talking before, but this wasn't the same - and he knew it too.

You'd never had an actual boyfriend before. And he'd never confessed he loved you on live television.

"What are you thinking about, pretty girl?" Suguru hummed, bringing you back to him. His hands were still all over you, but his eyes hadn't left the screen. You guessed he'd just noticed your quiet.

"It's nothing."

Another night he would've called you on it, cut you a disapproving look or folded his arms across his chest until you told him. But he was just as distracted too.

The host was back on stage, talking about cutting to commercial as the crowd just kept applauding, telling everyone to stay tuned for an exclusive interview with the band.

Suguru grabbed the remote and turned it off before he finished.

"Asshole," He muttered to himself, clearly still mulling over the performance before he managed to turn the charm back on, a lazy smile curling back up on his lips as he traced over the outline of your body. "Sorry."

"You really don't like him?" You tentatively asked, fishing for details you didn't know if you even wanted.

How much harder would it make it to tell him the truth?

He chuckled, but it was dry, almost condescending before he answered. "You could say that."

You nodded like you understood.

He didn't elaborate, and you didn't ask again.

Suguru glanced back towards the cigarettes on the table. It wasn't like he actually smoked that often, but after enough time together, you could tell when he was itching for one. Usually on late nights like this, when there was a lot on his mind or after a particularly brutal day. You wiggled out from underneath him, sitting up and swinging your legs off of the couch to stand.

"Hey," He spoke softer now, sitting up too just to grab your hips before you could slip out of his reach.

"Hey," You echoed him.

"You mind if I step out for a few minutes?" Suguru sighed a little, but his eyes were sincere. He wouldn't smoke if you asked him not to, but you both knew you wouldn't.

"Course not," You shrugged, hoping it came out easy instead of exhausted.

"Keep me company?"

He held you close, one hand shifting to your back so he could rest his head on your stomach. Affection you were starting to think you were addicted to.

You couldn't imagine this ever ending. Couldn't risk it.

"I think I'm, um, just gonna grab a drink," You murmured, pulling away and glancing back towards the kitchen. "Listen out in case the girls wake up."

Suguru nodded, too absorbed in his own afterthoughts to call bullshit as he bent over to grab the pack of cigarettes and started towards the back patio, flipping the lock and starting to step out.

He'd forgotten his lighter though, so you snagged it, feeling strange as you scurried to catch up to him, grabbing his forearm before he could slip past the door.

His familiar chuckle was the first taste of real comfort you had since Sukuna had once again ripped open a huge fucking pit in your stomach that threatened to swallow you whole.

He plucked a cigarette out of the box, bringing it to his lips and leaning down so you could light it for him. A small smile curled up despite your growing anxieties, your thumb dragging over the cold metal of the little wheel on the side, watching the tip of the cigarette glow as the flames danced over it.

He took a small huff, blowing it out into the cool night breeze, a pretty gleam in his eyes when he glanced down at you.

"No thank you?" You hummed, gaze flickering from the rings of smoke up the the tired circles under his eyes.

Suguru only took the cigarette out long enough to kiss your cheek, and you could feel his smirk on your skin. "Mm, I can think of a couple way to thank you properly later."

"You're brushing your teeth first," You muttered, reluctantly releasing his forearm. "And changing clothes."

"Anything for my girl," He wryly teased, leaning against the glass door as you wistfully watched him take another drag. "Although I wasn't really planning on wearing clothes."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back inside and shutting the door behind you.

Maybe he wouldn't mind as much as you feared.

The night be picked you up in the rain - hadn't he reacted rationally? Reassuring? Didn't put you down for sleeping around or having sex with someone else?

You just couldn't shake the feeling it wouldn't be the same if he knew that someone was Sukuna.

Attempting to drown your anxities in a glass of water was far less effective than a bottle of bourbon, but nicotine was the only vice to be found in Suguru's house, and even that was always kept out of sight of the girls, only indulged when they were asleep or out with a babysitter.

You hadn't even finished half of it before you heard soft footsteps padding down the hall, quiet sniffles breaking the silence.

Nanako peeked out into the kitchen, big brown eyes watching you curiously.

"Hi, sweetheart," You softly said, glancing back to the door. You could only make out the outline of Suguru's broad back through the glass, but you doubted he was about to come inside. "Nightmare?"

"Mhm," She yawned, rubbing her eyes and shuffling her feet closer until she was resting her head on your leg.

"Need me to get your daddy?" You asked, brushing her hair back out of her face.

To your surprise, she shook her head no, tugging on your hand instead.

"Tuck me in?" She quietly requested, still sounding half-asleep as she started pulling you back through the hall.

You let her drag you back to her room, a funny sort of floating feeling rising in your chest as she kicked stuffed animals out of the way and you had to suppress a quiet giggle watching her climb back into her bed.

Fixing the blankets back over her while she readjusted, wiggling around until she was comfortable. You glanced over at her still sleeping sister before leaning in to whisper. "All better?"

Nanako nodded, but her eyes were still wide and uneasy.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" She whispered back.

"Sure," You smiled.

You ended up sitting on the floor next to the bed, cross-legged and holding her hand while you struggled not to doze off yourself in the dim room, only the soft glow of the nightlight to cut through the long shadows.

Suguru found you like that, eyes half-closed and head resting on the mattress, gently nudging you.

Nanako wasn't asleep yet, but she was yawning again before she could whisper a hushed protest.

"Go back to sleep, honey," Suguru murmured, patting her head. Nanako looked up at you with big eyes, flat out ignoring her dad.

"You said you'd stay," She whined, tugging at edges of your shirt when you went to stand.

"For a little bit?" You relented, glancing up at Suguru with puppy dog eyes of your own.

It was kind of sweet to feel needed, to have a place you felt like you belonged. A little space for you that they had carved out.

You both stayed until she fell back asleep, Suguru sitting on the floor next to you, a hand rubbing comforting circles on your thigh while he whispered her a second bedtime story.

Creeping back out without stepping on one of the thousand toys they'd left out from staying up playing past their bedtime was harder than you expected, stifling a laugh at Suguru's frown, almost breaking into giggles when he muttered something about making them clean their room in the morning.

The smell of cigarette smoke clung to his clothes, but you'd started to find it almost comforting, familiar. It'd never really bothered you to begin with - but your feelings had shifted with the rest of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You were falling for him hard - bad habits and all.

Suguru shuffled into the bathroom, but not before stripping off his shirt and jeans, muscles defined and on display as he tossed them into the laundry basket. You smiled, trading your own clothes in for one of his oversized shirts hanging in his closet and a pair of your own shorts you'd kept in the drawer of stuff you'd started keeping at his place.

"You'd make a good mom," He commented, toothbrush still dangling from his lips while he watched you climb into what had unofficially become your side of the bed.

"I dunno," You laughed, a little too airy and breathless to be real. "You think so?"

Sometimes you wondered what he saw in you that Sukuna never did. And which one of them was right.

"Mhm," He insisted, slyly eyeing you before returning to the sink to spit out the remnants of his toothpaste. There was still a little smudge of white on his bottom lip when he leaned back against the doorframe. "You don't think so?"

"Never really thought about it, I guess," You shrugged.

Suguru was your first real relationship after all. The first guy that'd made it past more than a handful of dates to stick around.

"You're great with the girls," He simply said. You could feel yourself smiling at that, even if you knew it was just because you had enough practice chasing around Yuji, accustomed to the easily-changing moods of toddlers.

"Well, thanks." You tried to hide your flush, how giddy the compliment really made you. Suguru flicked the lights off in the bathroom, only pale moonlight from the window streaming in to illuminate the room.

"Makes me want to make you a mom," He teased, walking over to the bed. Instead of getting on his side, he climbed directly on top of you, palms sliding over the outline of your body over the blanket before he settled in next to you.

"I think you have your hands full already," You laughed, despite the heat in your face.

You? Pregnant?

Sukuna would have a stroke.

"Maybe not right now," He sighed. But later.

"You're so full of shit," You quietly said, rolling over so your back was to his chest.

He was a master at teasing, at luring you in with those low laughs and smooth words, weaving a web to snare you in, wrapped so tight you'd never be able to squirm out.

His casual kisses and intense stares, suggesting a future together so easily.

As if loving you was really so simply to him.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Suguru murmured in your ear, brushing your hair to the side so his lips could ghost over your skin.

"Hoping you're free," You giggled. He chuckled back, pressing a longing kiss to your throat as his body snuggled closer to yours under the covers.

"The girls are getting watched," He hummed, and you were already smiling, pulling one of his muscled arms around you tighter. A date then? Maybe a movie? "We're supposed to have a rehearsal. At that venue we're performing at next weekend?"

Oh.

Your smile turned down, disappointment closing your throat, the thick taste of it hard to swallow.

"You could come with me," He added, his hand wrapping around your waist so he could trace little patterns with the pad of his thumb. "Watch a real show. Might be some management there, but doubt it'll be that formal."

It was impossible to miss that sharp dig at Sukuna, the harsh edge to his sweet sentences.

"Yeah?" You replied, but your voice was small, unconvinced.

"Could find an empty dressing room after," He suggested, and you were a little ashamed at how quickly you felt the heat skyrocket in your stomach at the implication. "Or I can take you out to eat."

You could practically feel the curve of his smirk as he dotted your collarbone with more pecks. You didn't say anything though, waiting to see what else he might add.

"You could be my dessert," He sighed, all dreamy and smooth, like you weren't already hooked on him.

"Deal," You muttered.

What else could you say?

"Shit."

Out of all the words you could hope to wake up to, that wasn't one of them.

Blinking wearily, you sat up, pushing off his soft mattress and glancing over to the empty spot next to you.

Suguru was pacing the floor, talking on the phone, or just hanging up, you guessed, pulling it away from his ear and running his fingers through his hair. The rest of the house was quiet, the girls probably still asleep.

"Sugu?" You yawned, and his face swiveled towards you, his irritation softening to just annoyance, or inconvenience.

"Sorry, baby," He murmured, looking back down at the phone in his hand distastefully before glancing back over to where you'd started to sit up in his bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," You stifled a second yawn, covering your mouth before stretching your sore limbs out. "Something happen?"

"The babysitter cancelled," Suguru grunted, and you could practically see him running through the list of options in his head, if he'd have to bring the girls to the rehearsal or try to find a trusted caregiver on a Saturday with such short-notice.

"I could watch them," You heard yourself offer, still too sleepy to realize what exactly you were suggesting until after it left your mouth.

Suguru paused, his lips parted as he played with the idea, his head tilting to the side while he considered it.

"Are you sure?" He asked, carefully choosing his words as he squinted at your attempts to rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Yeah," You nodded. The girls seemed to like you. Or at least, tolerated their dad's new girlfriend most of the time. They'd whisper to each other sometimes, watching you from across the room while they played with their toys, but they still included you on their games and shared silly stories when you came over - which, uh, was pretty often lately.

And you were the one Nanako wanted last night, right?

"They can be a lot," Suguru started, really staring at you now, and you tried to tame your mused-hair, a little self-conscious at the intensity behind it.

"Yeah, I think I've gathered that by now," You mumbled. You climbed out of bed, padding over to the soft rug he was standing on to poke his chest. "You think I can't handle them?"

You watched Yuji plenty of times - and he probably had enough energy for two kids.

"I know you can," He replied, catching your finger in his massive hand rather than swat it away. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"I really don't mind," You insisted. You liked your place with him, the spot they were dusting off and making for you, where you were wanted. "It'll be fun."

You were wrong.

Well, half-wrong.

Handling two kids turned out much different than dealing with just one. You'd try to help Mimiko fix her pigtails just for Nanako to slip out of the room and start rummaging through cabinets, clanging pots together the second you turned your back. Making snacks and sandwiches meant two sets of hands were pawing at your clothes and trying to steal bites from the plate, then having to clean them, the table, and the floor.

But considering no one was crying or injured, just minor messes and only one broken toy, you'd say you were succeeding so far.

Satoru had picked Suguru up after a late breakfast, your boyfriend giving you a kiss on the cheek before kicking his best friend out of the driver's seat and leaving you with the twins. He'd left the keys to his dad-mobile on the counter, scribbling down the address of the venue and texting it to you too, entrusting you to bring the girls towards the tail-end of their rehearsal. Murmuring more apologies in your ear and suggesting Satoru might watch the girls afterwards so Suguru ould make it up to you.

You nodded along to all his plans in the moment, forgetting how hard it could be to get a single child buckled into a car seat. Two?

God, whoever was babysitting the twins before needed a raise.

Getting them out was somehow even worse, trying to hold Mimiko while you struggled to unbuckle Nanako while she wiggled and grabbed at your fingers.

Eventually though, you managed, locking the door and slipping the keys in your purse while you glanced around the mostly-empty parking lot. You wondered if Gojo was the one who pulled strings to get it as a space to practice, or if maybe it was something their manager arranged to get ready for their show next weekend.

Sukuna might've snagged a late night show spot, but Suguru informed you over pancakes this morning that they were going to just perform their own new single at the next concert.

Something he'd written himself.

You hadn't heard it yet, but after last night, you were a teensy but terrified it was about you too.

"Is daddy here?" Mimiko asked quietly, peering up at you with big brown eyes as you plastered back on your perkiest smile.

"Mhm," You nodded, keeping an eye out for any cars as you made your way to the side entrance. "We're gonna go see him now."

With one girl on your hip and the other clutching your hand, you awkwardly led them inside, familiar eyes of stagehands and security guards curiously watching you with your new companions as you navigated through the narrow halls backstage.

You heard them before you saw them once you turned the corner, instruments still slung over their shoulder while they argued about something surey stupid.

"It's terrible."

"It's not." Cue Gojo's overdramatic groan. "You just have terrible taste."

"I agree with Nanami," An unfamiliar voice added, somewhere from the audience, or maybe just out-of-sight offstage. An older guy, if you had to guess, maybe a manager or someone else on their team.

"Seriously?" Gojo scoffed.

Whatever him and Nanami and the mysterious third party were bickering about, you weren't exactly looking forward to walking into the middle of it.

But Nanako was, her tiny palm ripping away from yours to start sprinting ahead of you, beaming at the sound of their voices.

"Nana, wait," You called out, barely catching her before she could burst through the side onto the stage.

But the squeak of her light-up sneakers against the floor had them all turning your direction, your face flushing as you tried to wrangle her with Mimiko still perched on your hip. Nanako just slipped free again, and you figured she'd make a beeline for Suguru, but she threw herself into Nanami's legs instead, tugging at his pants before holding her arms up to be held.

"Kennnnn," She whined, and you couldn't help but crack a grin at the way he was already readjusting the shoulder straps of his bass to make space for her at his side. "Pick me up."

Nanami clicked his tongue, but he didn't hesitate to pick her up, carefully holding her. She squealed, clearly pleased at this as she threw her arms over his shoulders. Haibara was laughing at the scene, standing up behind his drum set and wiping the sweat off his brows with his t-shirt. You didn't quite catch what he said, but you guessed it was something about water or getting a drink, hurrying off the stage and almost bumping into you.

"Sorry," You apologized, hoisting Mimiko higher on your hip as you walked over to the rest of the band, glancing anxiously over at an amused Suguru. He'd probably pout later that his daughter didn't even come to him first, but you knew he wouldn't ever admit it out loud. Just silently frown and ask her who she loved most until she said him.

Right now though?

He seemed to be swept up in your performance playing babysitter to the girls.

"I don't think they're finished yet, sweetheart. Wanna go color together backstage?" You hummed, offering out another hand. You'd packed coloring books and crayons plus a few of their toys in an oversized tote slung over your other shoulder.

"No."

Suguru chuckled dryly, walking over to stand by you, ruffling Mimiko's hair first and yours next as he observed his other daughter's little fist balled up in Nanami's shirt.

"You guys miss me?" He asked, pinching Nanako's cheek while she huffed and buried her face into his bandmate's chest.

"No," Nanako repeated, and you laughed at how quickly Suguru's smirk dissolved into a frown.

"What can I say?" You teased, nudging Suguru with your hip. "I'm fun."

Even if you had a twin-sized headache forming behind your eyes.

Mimiko helped him recover his composure, mumbling that she missed him, barely speaking loud enough to be heard with her face still pressed against your shirt.

"How are my favorite girls?" The voice you'd forgotten about called out behind you, loud and a little obnoxious considering the acoustics made it echo and boom.

You turned around instinctively, but your brain struggled to register what you were seeing.

Two Gojos.

Or well, there was your normal Satoru, his usually bright eyes narrowed into a glare and his guitar still slung across his chest. You didn't mean to stare at the other one, but it took you a second to piece it together, only a few extra wrinkles and lines giving it away that he was older.

Sukuna had claimed he was a nepo baby before, but it wasn't until you realized it was Gojo Senior standing in front of you that it clicked Satoru's father was someone important - maybe the owner of the management company, or some CEO, judging by his crisp business suit and overpriced loafers.

They looked ridiculously similar - the cheeky grin and clear complexion, but his dad's stark white hair was a bit longer, wearing a thin pair of glasses that reminded you of the reading ones Suguru had back home.

The intense blue eyes behind them focused on you.

"I've been begging Suguru to bring you by," He chuckled, glancing between you and Suguru. He hadn't glanced back at Satoru once, beaming at you.

"Um, hi," You awkwardly greeted, holding out your free hand just for the older man to pull you into a bear hug.

Like father, like son, you guessed, if lacking the concept of personal space could be passed down. Or maybe Satoru was just mimicking what he saw at home.

"Heard a lot about you," He laughed, a little too loud while he pulled away and patted your back. He squatted down so he was eye-to-eye with Mimiko, pulling out a plastic-wrapped lollipop from his pocket and holding it out for her. Nanako's head snapped towards you at the sound of the wrapper, eyes gleaming as he chuckled and passed her one too. "These two are the closest I think I'll ever have to grandkids."

He said it like he was confessing some secret to you, leaning in like this was information you were supposed to keep to yourself when he was talking loud enough for everyone to hear.

His actual son included.

You didn't know what to say, but Suguru came to your rescue, his hand finding the small of your back, the pressure of his palm reassuring you.

"The babysitter cancelled," Suguru explained, tracing over your spine with his thumb as he introduced you properly. "I asked her to bring the girls by."

You felt that sharp stare on your face, but it was hard to meet, only managing to glance up a few times, your attention shifting to the floor and between your boyfriend and his best friend instead.

Satoru's jaw was clenched, locked onto the exchange carefully.

"Well, looks like you won't need a babysitter much longer, hm?" The Gojo you decided you liked much less asked with a slightly condescending tilt of his head, glancing over your body. You weren't sure what exactly he meant to imply. That you were supposed to play mom already? Or that you'd be actually be one and give im a third fake grandkid?

Okay, maybe you were overthinking - last night's late night conversation worming its way deeper into your brain than you wanted it to.

"I'm sorry?" Suguru stiffened behind you, clearly trying to work out what the hell Gojo's dad was trying to say.

But the older Gojo had moved on, looking back at his son for the first time since you'd gotten here.

"Have you invited them to dinner yet?" All the warmth that'd just been in his voice had drained into something cold and clinical.

"No," Satoru grimaced.

You didn't know it was even possible for him to answer a question with just a single word.

He begrudgingly walked over, slinking up to your other side, his mouth still stuck in a frozen frown.

"Family dinner's at six, Suguru," The older Gojo sighed, checking his watch and glancing behind him. His mask was quick to come on, cheery and pleasant as he tapped his watch. Probably some luxury brand you'd never even heard of. His time seemed to be of greater importance than everyone else's, judging by his impatient huff. "I have to get going, but I expect you there."

His demand was directed to Suguru alone.

You guessed the girls too, but you weren't sure if it included you. Or even Satoru, judging by the irritated scowl he was throwing his father's back.

Satoru nudged you, a funny look on his face while he swept over your face, taking note of how hard you were nervously chewing on your lip. "Ignore him. I do."

There was no way his dad didn't hear him.

But before he had even left, there were more voices approaching, a pretty woman in a tight little purple dress greeting him politely as she glanced up from her phone.

"Hello, Manami," The older Gojo purres, pitching his voice down too low for you to be comfortable.

You decided you probably shouldn't ask Satoru about Mrs. Gojo then.

"That's our bitch of a publicist," Satoru muttered in your ear, quiet enough that even Suguru wouldn't hear.

If it was someone else, you'd scold him for calling another woman a bitch.

But whatever was going on between them seemed personal enough, you had no intentions of getting involved with.

"Hi, boys," She chirped when she walked out, walking straight over without even looking at you.

"Manami, this is my girlfriend," Suguru started the introductions up again, but your audience this time couldn't be less interested.

"Oh." She didn't hold her hand out. Barely looked at you at all. Just quickly sizing you up before returning her attention to Suguru. "Well."

Maybe Satoru was right.

"A few fans are about to drop by for autographs and a photo op," She casually informed them, checking something on her phone.

"What the hell?" Satoru scoffed. "That wasn't on the schedule."

For someone who loved attention, hearing him complain about more, even if it wasn't planned just added to the uncomfortable situation you'd gotten sucked in.

"Yeah, that was before Sukuna started the whole heartbroken rockstar act," She returned his disdain, rolling her eyes before returning to typing.

"It's fake," Suguru grumbled, and you shifted your feet, the weight of Mimiko on your hip starting to make your back ache.

"Yeah, duh."

You kept your mouth sealed, not sure if it'd even make a difference if they knew it was real.

"Anyway, you guys need some press if you want your single to compete with theirs next week," She dismissively said.

Suguru made a disgusted noise behind you, loud enough you could feel it in their bones.

Was that how he'd feel about you if he knew you were the reason for it?

"Fine," Suguru gave in, clearly unhappy with the cd signing or mini meet and greet cutting into their practice time. "Everyone should break for fifteen then, I guess."

"Whatever," Satoru grunted, walking away before anyone could stop him. Manami wasn't paying attention, going to take a small seat off the side, her dress riding up her thighs when she sat down.

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay?" Suguru leaned in to murmur, kissing your head as you nodded, overwhelmed to the point of almost being numb now. You watched him catch up to Satoru, calming or consoling him over what the hell just happened.

You only noticed Nanami watching you then, catching his stoic stare out of the corner of your eye.

Each of you carrying a kid too absorbed in their candy to pay anything else attention.

"You watched it with Suguru last night?" Nanami asked, although it didn't really feel like a question. He didn't have to specify for you to know he was talking about Sukuna's performance.

Or perhaps he was testing you, a pop quiz that you were about to get wrong.

"Yeah," You answered, a small crease forming between your brows while you tried to read his blank stare. It was funny though, the weird feeling of trustworthiness he had. Or perhaps he just had that effect on everyone.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He hm-ed, offering you nothing to go off of.

Frankly, he'd have to pay you a hell of a lot more if he wanted your real thoughts.

"Depends," You shrugged.

"On?"

"If you can keep a secret," You teased, and he actually cracked the tiniest of grins.

"You liked it?" He arched a brow, curious or cautious or some mixture of the two.

"The song, sure," You replied.

"And the man behind it?"

You froze, realizing what he was hinting at. Or rather, remembering which guitar pick Sukuna had been using last night.

Nanami knew.

You had no way of knowing how much, but at the very least, he had to be aware you knew him enough to snag a guitar pick and give it back.

"Not particularly," You neutrally said, wondering if it'd even matter if he believed it.

"Oh?" Whatever it was he was thinking, his interest was piqued. "And what about the whole heartbroken act?"

"If I liked it? Or if it's real?" You could hear the tinge of bitterness in your voice, biting your cheek now.

"If it's real," He clarified.

You heard footsteps and faint voices, Satoru finally laughing at something down the hall. You swallowed hard before answering him this time. "Yeah."

"M'sleepy," Mimiko muttered to you, her mouth stained purple as she glanced around again.

"Okay, sure we-"

"Do you mind taking them somewhere else?" Manami interrupted, her tall heels clicking against the floor as she looked at the tiny toddlers with barely-disguised distaste behind her polite smile.

"Sure," You dryly replied, cutting her a sharp look before turning to Nanako. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go find a place to nap."

"I can take them to Ijichi," Nanami offered, coaxing Nanako into standing on her own so he could take off his bass and set it back in his case. Once both hands were free, Mimiko reluctantly let go of you to follow him, still holding onto the same stuffed animal she carried everywhere as she took the hand her sister wasn't holding. He paused to look back at you, and you still hadn't decided what to make of him. "Good luck."

Or that.

But then he was heading off the stage, only interrupted by Satoru and Suguru returning.

Suguru nodded towards Nanami, pulling him aside for a quick conversation as Satoru returned with the same sour look on his face. You watched between them, wondering what exactly happened but Suguru hurried back to where you were awkwardly standing the second he finished, your arms folded tight across your chest as you tried to tell yourself this wasn't going as bad as you felt like it was.

"The girls were sleepy?" Suguru asked, his hands sliding up your arms and squeezing softly.

"Yeah," You accidentally yawned, covering your mouth as you looked up at him. "Me too, I guess."

"Come on," He chuckled, tugging you against his side and guiding you in the same direction Nanami went.

You ended up in a dressing room bigger than your bedroom two minutes later, getting dragged onto his lap on top of a couch with more suspicious stains than clean patches.

"Guess we'll have to be quick, huh?"

Suguru wanted to add to them, apparently.

Five minutes later, he had his tongue down your throat and his cock throbbing between your thighs.

"Sorry," He muttered between open-mouthed kisses, one hand under your skirt and the other under your shirt. Massaging messy circles over your clit while two fingers rolled your nipple back-and forth, groaning loudly as you grinded over the bulge in his jeans.

"For what?" You whispered, eyes closing as his thumb swept back over your aching bud, washing away the anxieties of this afternoon.

He made everything else easy to forget.

"All of that," He chuckled, his hand sliding down so he could shove your damp panties to the side, prying them off your sticky skin.

Your giggle turned into a gasp when he abruptly pushed two thick fingers inside your dripping cunt, scissoring and splitting you open with a fucking smirk on his face.

"Jerk," You muttered, but your thighs were trembling, your muscles tense as he sent shudders down your spine, pumping in-and-out with no reprieve, burying his fingers down to the knuckle and cruelly curling them until you were panting and clinging to his shoulders for support.

"Hm?" He dared you to say it again, cocking his head to the side as if you couldn't feel how hard he was underneath you, your hips trying to arch up to get a break from the intense pressure building in your core, how his fingers were practically rearranging your guts on their own.

But he was quick to hold you back down, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"Baby," He purred, and you hated how even his condescension made him so much hotter.

"You're still a je-"

Two thick fingers pressed down on your tongue before you could finish repeating your insult, your lips closing around him as your eyes scrunched shut. Sucking his fingers the way you would suck his cock, his pretty groan almost pushing you over the precipice as he pumped his fingers deep.

The sound of the door hitting the wall made you jolt, but he subtly slipped his fingers out from under your skirt, as if it wasn't obvious what you were doing from your tits pressed tight against his chest and his fingers still shoved inside your mouth while he lazily diverted his stare towards the intruder.

You sorta expected to see Satoru standing there, lollipop tangling from cherry-red lips and a crooked grin plastered on his face at catching you two.

But no, it seemed Manami had come to collect him.

"The fans are here," She said, her voice flat and still only looking at him.

"I'll be there in a minute," Suguru dismissed her, but she didn't budge, her stare lingering as he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, mortification setting in at the humiliating position she'd seen you in.

"I'm counting," She finally said, turning to leave without sparing you a sliver of pity. Utterly un-phased by the scene.

Was it ironic that it reminded you of the morning you caught some girl on Sukuna's lap? Or just another symptom of being lovesick and lost when it came to Suguru?

"Shit," He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is ten minutes too much to ask?"

"Apparently," You muttered, climbing off of him.

"Ijichi's watching the girls for the rest of rehearsal, but I guess dinner's at the Gojo estate," Suguru muttered, eyes closed, head resting against the back of the couch. Safe to say he wasn't exactly thrilled either. "Sorry about him, he's a little, uh, eccentric."

You nodded, something you'd been doing a lot lately.

Really, you just weren't used to any of this. Sharing this much of your life with someone, occupying their space and meeting their friends and getting close to their family. Didn't know how to navigate being someone who was half of a whole.

"I'll, uh, just head home," You muttered, smoothing out your skirt and pausing in front of the mirror to fix your smudged makeup. "It's fine."

"You could join us," He offered, but you couldn't imagine making it through an entire evening devoted to Satoru's odd father and listening to them strategizing about overtaking Sukuna's spot on the charts with a straight face when you were already about to crack.

He trusted you with his kids - couldn't you trust him with this?

The more you tried to convince yourself he'd understand, the less sure you felt. The more unsteady the ground seemed underneath you. Like maybe you'd never been standing on concrete at all. Or worse, you carving the cracks yourself, chipping away at it with your insecurities and inability to put your faith in him fully.

"I've been fighting a headache for a few hours anyway," You spoke softly, leaning over to pick your purse off the ground, digging out his car keys and tossing them back to him. You'd left your car back at your place yesterday since Suguru had been the one to pick you up, but honestly, you didn't mind just ordering yourself a ride share if it meant you could just decompress and rot in bed by yourself for a few hours. "Should probably just take a nap or something."

"Are you sure?"

He didn't want you to go, and honestly, you didn't even want to leave him, but you felt like the words 'I used to fuck Sukuna' might spill out all wrong the longer he looked at you with those dark eyes of his.

"Yeah," You nodded. Your head did hurt, but it was probably for other reasons than what he was imagining. Totting around toddlers and feeling like you had the emotional intelligence of one trying to work out what Sukuna even fucking wanted from you or why you even still cared at all anymore was migraine-inducing enough before you showed up here just to get your personal space invaded and your private life investigated.

Good luck.

You didn't know if Nanami genuinely meant it, but you obviously needed it.

What could you do?

Just confess to Suguru you weren't who he thought you were? Have to promise to never see Sukuna again or beg him to understand?

You hadn't decided by the time you made it back to your apartment to discover a small square jewelry box waiting at your door, a small slip of paper slipped under the gift-wrapped bow. Your heart deflated at the familiar sharp scrawl on it, the signature you hadn't expected.

The simple I'm sorry.

And even if you weren't a whore, you were probably a coward for ignoring your phone and staring at that stupid box a handful of hours later, sitting cross-legged on your bed and feigning interest in some stupid show playing in the background while you debated on opening it.

You should throw it away.

No, that would be bitchy. You could return it to him through Kaori and Jin though.

That would be sensible.

But if you were returning it anyway, would it really hurt just to take a little peek?

You groaned, tempted to toss the box across the room while your phone vibrated for the twentieth time tonight. You finally worked up the nerve to check that, at least, scrolling through a surprising number of messages from Suguru, slowly growing more slurred and typo-filled as they progressed. You hadn't even gotten two words into a reply when he started calling.

"Sugu-"

"Hi, pretty girl," He hm-ed, his soft purr hinting at just how many drinks might be in his system.

"Having fun with Satoru, I guess?" You sarcastically asked, fiddling with the edge of the ribbon tied around your gift box.

"Dinner was awful," Suguru admitted, although anyone could've put together that much if they had to compensate for it by getting drunk. "Satoru stormed out and decided to throw a party at his place instead."

"I take it that's where you're at?" You couldn't help your smile at his easy laughter, at how cute he sounded so tipsy.

"Didn't you get my messages, baby?" It was as close as Suguru could come to a whine, his complain soft and slow in your ear.

"I hadn't looked through all of them," You admitted, re-opening his texts and actually reading them this time.

One of his other friends had taken the girls for a sleepover tonight, and he'd sent Satoru's address twice asking you to come over before the link to an Uber driver already on the way to pick you up five minutes ago.

"You miss me that bad already?" You teased, giggling as you pushed off the bed and switched him to speaker phone, hurrying to rummage through your closet for a party dress, something short enough he'd surely fuck you until you stopped worrying about the rest of the world.

"Yeah."

No maybe.

No sign of uncertainty or doubt.

"Fine," You relented, as if you weren't already stripping down to squeeze yourself into something tighter. "I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting," Suguru smoothly replied, never missing a moment to make your heart skip a beat.

Your phone vibrated again right as you want to slip on your heels, picking it up expecting to see a notification from Suguru about the ride he sent arriving earlier. But it wasn't him

from: Sukuna can we talk?

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