𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. The Ryomen Sukuna Has Never In His Thousand Years Of Living

more husband sukuna ooooo oooooo ooooooOOOo

Sukuna, your husband, was a menace to society to say the least. Not only because he was a dangerous, bordering on two meters tall, tattooed, muscular guard dog who's eyes would kill if they could, but also, because he was extremely judgemental.

Going outside with him was an actual nightmare. Always having critiques for everything. Food? Too salty. Drinks? Too watery. Places? Too dirty. Clothes? Too itchy. Everything in the world was fauled in his eyes. Specially people. The cashier at the store? Too slow. The waitress at a restaurant? Too ugly. That old lady standing at the bus stop? Too old.

But with you, with you it was entirely different.

Nothing you did could be wrong in his eyes. Of course you were perfect, after all you were none other than his wife. If he chose to marry you was because you were nothing short of perfect. Every part from your appearance to your personality was perfect in his eyes. And as such, his critical personality... softened.

And people tell you about it. His friends, your friends, your family. He was too critical of everyone, but you have never felt so. Not even when you were dating did you get a single complaint from his part... at least about yourself.

So you decide to test your theory. With a plate of deliberately salty pasta.

"It's perfect." He says while chewing, uninterestedly scrolling through his phone. And your jaw drops.

"It's salty." You say, palms clashing with the table, making it shake a little. And he takes another bite, staring right into your eyes, as if defying that claim.

"Is it now?" He asks, a satisfied grin over his face, canines showing as he chews, bites. "I think this might be one of the best dishes ever made."

"Sukuna!" You say, still in shock. And he chuckles.

"Sweetheart," He answers back, standing up, plate empty. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You'll have to try harder to drive me out of my mind."

TAG LIST

SUKUNA M.LIST

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it takes you a handful of minutes before you notice satoru's head resting against your thigh. he's staring off into space. there's a barely noticeable pout on his lips that replaces his trademark grin, and he looks... dejected.

albeit a little clumsily, you slip out of your seat as quietly as you can and lower yourself onto the ground beside him. satoru perks up once he sees you next to him, and everyone else around you two converses noisily, oblivious to you two crouched under the table like little kids.

you give your boyfriend a curious tilt of your head, and he smiles sadly.

"hi there, pretty."

"hi. who are we hiding from?"

there's a flush to your cheeks that is entirely from the drinks you've had tonight. your eyes are a misty haze — and in your intoxicated state, you fail to notice satoru's thumb brush over the small, velvet box in his hand as he tucks it back into his pocket.

tonight had been the night satoru wanted to propose to you. he'd give himself at least a dozen pep talks between waking up and picking you up for your umpteenth date — then, he'd taken you to your favorite restaurant, a modest little place tucked into the outer edges of the city.

he thought it was perfect. despite all the extravagant things that came along with dating the satoru gojo, he wanted your proposal to be personal and special. just the two of you.

what he didn't expect was to run into all of your sorcerer friends and co-workers.

satoru supposes it is kind of his fault for not telling anyone about his plans to propose to you tonight. of course, he planned to tell everyone after you two were formally engaged, but he never considered the possibility that you two could run into others.

before he knew it, tables were being pushed together and chairs were being dragged around to make room for everyone else to join. shoko, suguru, and a few other of your co-workers had all finished up a late night mission and headed to the nearest restaurant — which inconveniently happened to be the one you and satoru were dining at.

"no one in particular," satoru finally says, trying his best to mask his disappointment with a dorky grin as he pokes your cheek.

you catch his hand, eyes squinting as you look closer at him.

"you look sad. is it because i ate your spinach dip?"

your boyfriend gasps, loudly and deeply offended by the accusation as you break out into a silly giggle, telling him to shush before everyone eating notices you two under the table.

"is food the only supposed source of my emotions?" satoru laughs, and you shrug with a slanted grin

"if the shoe fits."

"oh, you are asking for it little miss—"

his hands find your sides, and you quickly cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as you squirm against him. eventually, shoko's head dips under the table, and her loud burst of laughter manages to distract satoru enough to allow you to pry yourself out of his grip.

"come on, satoru! you didn't even try the chocolate fudge cake yet. nanami accidentally ordered three, let's try and snag one to take home." you suggest with a grin, rising on wobbly legs from under the table and wiggling back into your seat as satoru follows

"ooo — quick! before utahime eats it all!"

his first attempt at proposing was a total fail. but, honestly, satoru can't even be mad. you had a great time tonight with him and all of your friends, so what's there to be disappointed about?

his next try will be better, he's sure of it. and maybeee somewhere on a remote island where the chances of running into anyone else was in the negatives.

in a few years, satoru's hopeful he'll be able to look back at this moment and laugh about it with you. so, he'll forget about the ring in his pocket for now and focus on the present — which was competing in the 'who can eat the most cake without barfing' competition against you.

spoiler alert: he ends up winning :P.... fatass <3

College upperclassmen bully toji & shiu????? mhm mhm 🫡

COLLEGE BULLIES ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you’re the underclassman they’ve been tormenting—until toji and shiu pull you into their dorm room one night, ending with them coming inside you <3

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x bully!toji x bully!shiu

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. bullying, dubcon, intox!reader, alcohol, creampie, oral sex (f and m), threesome (m/m/f), spanking, hair-pulling, bondage (with belts), vid recording, edging, degradation, praise

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. need them inside me :(( hope u like it! ty for the request <3

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who’ve been ruling the campus since you were a freshman—toji’s the loud, brash asshole while shiu’s the quieter one, always got a cigarette dangling and a stare that cuts through you. you’re just some underclassman trying to keep your head down, but they’ve got their eyes on you anyway. it starts small—toji “accidentally” knocking your books out of your hands in the hall, laughing, “oops, clumsy little thing,” while shiu leans against the lockers, smirking, “better pick that shit up before someone steps on it.”

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who make it a game to mess with you—toji’s always crowding your space, towering over you in the cafeteria, “what’s a shrimp like you eating? need a real man to feed you?” shiu’s subtler, catching you alone in the library, blowing smoke in your face, “you’re too cute to be this quiet—makes me wanna fuck with you more.” they’re relentless, but there’s this weird pull—like they’re daring you to snap back, testing how much you’ll take before you break.

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who catch you after a late class one night—you’re alone, campus half-empty, and they corner you by the bike racks. toji grabs your bag, tosses it to shiu, “what’s she hiding in here, huh?” shiu digs through it, pulling out your notebook, reading some dumb doodle aloud, “aw, she’s got a crush or some shit.” you snap, lunging for it, and toji catches your wrists, grinning, “feisty now, huh? kinda hot.” shiu steps closer, voice low, “yeah, maybe we’ve been too mean—how about we make it up to you, princess?”

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who don’t let up after that night—start “helping” you instead, but it’s all laced with their bullshit. toji carries your bag over his shoulder, “don’t want you straining that little back,” while shiu walks too close, brushing your arm, “stick with us—nobody’s gonna fuck with you now.” it’s possessive, not sweet—toji glares at any guy who looks your way, and shiu’s got this subtle threat in his eyes when someone talks to you too long. you’re theirs to mess with, and they’re making damn sure everyone knows it.

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who drag you to some shitty off-campus party—toji’s got his arm slung around you, beer in his other hand, “stay close, kid—don’t trust these assholes.” shiu’s lighting a cig, watching you dance a little, smirking, “look at her go—fuckin’ cute when she loosens up.” you’re tipsy, they’re buzzed, and it gets hazy—toji pulls you into his lap on the couch, muttering, “too damn pretty for your own good,” while shiu leans in, breath hot on your neck, “he’s right—gonna get us in trouble.”

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who take you back to their shitty shared dorm bedroom after the party—toji’s grinning, “c’mon, crash here—safer with us.” you’re too drunk to argue, and it starts slow—shiu’s hand on your thigh while toji’s sprawled next to you, shirt off. “ever wonder what we’d do to a girl like you?” toji teases, voice rough, and shiu’s fingers creep higher, “bet she’s thought about it—haven’t you, princess?” you nod, half-dazed, and that’s all they need—toji’s kissing you hard, shiu’s tugging your top off, and it’s game on.

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who don’t waste time once you’re in—toji’s got you straddling him, ripping your skirt up, “fuck, look at this—been hiding this ass from us?” while shiu’s behind, grinding against you, unzipping his pants, “gonna take turns, huh? she’s ours now.” toji fucks you first, rough and fast, “tight little thing—fuckin’ perfect,” while shiu watches, stroking himself, “hurry up, man—want my piece.” they switch, shiu sliding in deep, groaning, “shit, she’s soaked—loves this, don’t you?” as toji holds your face, “tell us who you belong to, kid.”

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who get possessive mid-fuck—toji’s got you riding him on the bed, growling, “this pussy’s mine—say it,” and shiu’s not having it, yanking your head back by the hair, “ours, asshole.” they argue over you while railing you, ending with both unloading inside, “guess we’re both keeping you, huh?”

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who love watching you squirm—tie you to shiu’s bed with some old belts, toji teasing your clit with his fingers, “beg for it, brat—let’s hear you,” while shiu’s filming it on his phone, “fuck, she’s pretty when she’s desperate—gonna jerk off to this later.” they turn it into a game—who can edge you longer, who can make you cry and plead harder.

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who don’t care about condoms—toji’s slamming into you raw, growling, “feels better like this—gonna fill you up,” while shiu’s right after, pumping deep, “fuck, she’s leaking us both—nasty little thing.” they love watching it drip out, smearing it back in with their fingers, “stay full, princess.”

BULLY!TOJI & SHIU who keep you around after that night—toji’s possessive as hell now, slinging an arm around you on campus, “anyone fucks with her, they’re dead,” while shiu’s quieter but just as bad, smirking, “she’s ours—nobody else gets a taste.” they share you whenever they want—toji bending you over any surface while shiu’s got you sucking him off under the table, “fuckin’ teamwork, huh?” you’re theirs, no question, and they love reminding you every chance they get.

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

You know who would make the perfect wedding date? Nanami Kento. Even if you’re not together, he treats you like someone he could spend a lifetime beside. He's the type who shows up early, dressed sharp but with his sleeves rolled up, offering to iron your dress without a second thought - just wanting to be helpful, to be close.

He's the type who sits through hours of dress try-ons, calm and attentive, offering quiet praise with that soft look in his eyes. You don’t see the way his fingers twitch when you smile at yourself in the mirror. You don’t notice how he lingers on the little details - how the color of your dress brings out your eyes, how your laugh makes the room feel lighter.

He brings over his whole tie collection, more invested than he’d ever admit, just to match with you. And when he hands you your favorite coffee that morning, there’s a small note on the lid in his handwriting - just a simple “You’ll be beautiful today.” He acts like it’s nothing.

He even shows up with a bottle of nail polish, a shade he spent far too long picking out, and offers - half shy, half serious - to paint your toes for you. His hands are steady, but his heart isn’t.

At the reception, he holds your purse while you dance with your friends, watching you with that quiet, wistful expression he tries to hide. He doesn't let himself hope for more , but when you reach for him during a slow song, when your hand slips into his and he pulls you close, he lets himself pretend. Just for a little while that he will always be your plus one.

work wife: part three

summary: you aren't theirs anymore tags: established relationship (not anymore bitch), angst, borderline cheating, actual cheating, divorce, breakups, manipulation, gaslighting, suggestive in sukunas, deadbeat toji, 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, not proofread incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, shiu, higuruma, sukuna, choso, ino taglist: open

part one, part two, part three,

How to breakup with your boyfriend ⸻ not a guide.

tw: mentions of food, just NSFW stuff, mention of periods, oral (m. receiving, f. receiving), p in v sex, no clear pronouns used for the reader, but written as a fem oriented person, insecurities, trauma responses.

If someone asked you what's your boyfriend like? — you'd say, "GREAT!"

And no it is not to compensate for the fact how badly you want to break up with him. It is infact that he is just great! No complaints really. Gojo Satoru was perfect.

He was kind, caring, attentive, and sweet. He knew when to just sit there and agree with you when you're telling him about this horrible fight you had with your parents, and not give you unwanted and unsolicited advice. He also knows exactly at what time to feed your cats, water your plants, how you like your coffee, which days you do your laundry — how you like them done. Which specific clothes are supposed to be sent for dry cleaning, and he drops them off on his way to work and pick them back up when they are done.

Satoru knows what foods you are allergic to, and which ones you're 'allergic' to (read: do not like to eat)—so he will be the first one at a table full of people you've known for decades, to say something like, "oh this dish has corn? Ah. Y/n can't have corn, allergies you know."

He also knows which detergent to pick up, which fabric softer you use. He knows your period dates and the brand of tampons and pads you use. He remembers your birthday, your cat's birthday, your parents' birthday, your bestfriend's birthday! He gets you your favourite cake to celebrate your promotion. He will watch every bad movie, every gore or horror movie and whatever you want, it doesn't matter if he doesn't like them.

He is one of those people who will cover the head of the car's entrence after opening the door for you so you don't hit your head there, he'll cover the corner and the sides of the table as you move around to find something you dropped and urge you to sit back up, so he can pick it up for you.

When you guys kissed for the first time, he let you take the lead, to make you feel comfortable knowing that you're quite inexperienced. He'd rather eat you out for days on, tongue inside you, on your clit, fingers and all than have you give him a head. Unless you want to! And sometimes you do want to. And when you do, despite his urge to push your head down on his cock, he resists. His hands are always in your hair, pushing it back in a comfortable ponytail. Always complimenting you and telling you how well you're doing. He won't leave marks on you if you don't want him to cause of an important work event, he'll even resist his impending urge to bite you. Even sex is just very sweet, he's the most gentle when pushing himself inside you. He simply worships your body and-

Ugh! You get it! He is absolutely picture perfect.

So back to the matter at hand. Why would you ever want to break up with a person like that? Maybe because he is just TOO perfect. There is a thing called overbearing, sometimes it feels like— he's too overwhelming, and all too consumed with you.

You do not really mind the last part—but maybe you don't want a man who's straight out of fiction! You weren't familiar with such treatment all your life really, this all can be too new. You do see him treating others more roughly when needed. But he's just so delicate with you. Not that it is a bad thing, but sometimes you'd rather he stayed rough around the edges. Being treated like a fragile doll to the maximum does sound great in theory, but in practice it can make you feel pathetic.

You have tried to breakup with satoru on multiple occasions. First you started dropping hints here and there, seeming to be uncertain about your future together —all he'd say is, "don't worry your pretty head about the future sweets, I'm planning accordingly."

You've started picking unreasonable fights with him more often, whether you'd get genuinely pissed off or not, you'd fight him over the most silliest things. "Why did you turn over the pillow on this side?? You should know I don't like this side! How could you not know!? It's like you don't even know me Satoru!"

All he'd respond with, "I'm so sorry sweetheart. I am genuinely so disappointed in myself. I hope you can forgive me please. I'll make sure to know which side you prefer better from now on. Please sit down and let me finish painting rest of your nails."

Yeah so that also didn't work out huh.

So you opted for for this weird strategy. You told him you wanted to get a nose job — to make it bigger! (No shaming anyone for wanting that just saying this is a very silly strategy you've decided upon). Satoru just smiled and kissed your nose, told you that whatever you'd like to do, he'd love you anyway (Insufferably loving man).

Then you stopped reciprocating his kisses, doging them even. You went as far as to try to not have sex with him. But this bastard is too good, and unfortunately for you despite wanting to break up with him you just still really love him. Too much. And he loves you. Too much.

You'd move your head away and he'd cradle your head in his hands and make you look at him, then let this staring contest go on until you just give in and pull him into a kiss. He'd be very sly about his choice of clothing, his touches, and get you all riled up that you can't just help it! "What happened to the sex ban sweets?" Satoru would whisper smugly in your ears while thrusting in you. Bastard! Even trying to control your expressions mid sex to make yourself seem disinterested was not on the table! He's just that good.

And infact satoru is better than what you think of him. And he's much more perceptive than what you give him the credit for. Because he picked up on this little mission of yours the exact day you probably thought to yourself —i need to leave him. You stayed up the whole night one day and silently went to the living room to go on the internet and search up articles about 'how to break up with my boyfriend'.

I wouldn't say he was not hurt. But he also understood you. He understood you more than yourself at times. He understands that you haven't had the best childhood and the best parents around, resulting into this hyper independent mindset you've curated. You'd rather bleed to death than ask for help. And he gets that you can sometimes get in your own head about things. But he was ready to tackle those things head on the day he signed up to fall inadvertently in love with you. And if you want to make excuses to your friends about him being too soft for the reason behind wanting to break up with him—

He can show you rough. As long as he gets to keep you all to himself, love you and cherish you. However you want.

PART TWO>>

A/n: dividers by— @/omi-resources. To check out more of my stuff click this.

I found this on Pinterest (sadly it didn't said who the artist was) but hello??? I'm foaming at the mouth, I NEED to ride him lmao

caleb has a habit of tilting his head down when you're talking to him, especially when you're standing close. it's not dramatic, just enough to catch your gaze, brows slightly raised like he’s listening to you and only you.

it's the kind of look that makes you forget what you were saying for a second.

the worst part? he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he'll lean an elbow on a table or rest a hand against a doorframe, letting his height naturally create that downward angle: eyes low-lidded, mouth relaxed, totally unbothered. and you'll just stare, cheeks heating up, heartbeat skipping.

and when he does know?

he tilts a little more, lowers his voice, and murmurs, “you were saying?”

yeah. he knows.

true love waits

three | gojo's ghost hunting guide

seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of

synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, ghost giving head, roommates-to-lovers but one of them is dead lol, paranormal aspects ofc, fem reader, idiots falling in love, petty reader, gojo being a DORK, she falls first + he falls harder, oral (m! receiving), kissing, gojo whimpers

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

Three days.

Gojo had been sleeping on his own couch for three days.

Banished from the bedroom, the door shut and locked. To be fair, he had the key, could easily check the cameras. But it felt wrong to snoop even more than he already had.

Whatever the reason, he'd try to respect the fact you clearly weren't comfortable with him digging into your past. Despite how much it was killing him to not know the answers to the million-and-one questions regarding your (after)life.

Were you stuck here forever? Would he be trapped wherever he died too? Or was there some other reason you were stuck with him, some unseen, unfinished business?

Still, he cared more about the damage he'd done to your relationship (if he could call it that) than to anything you might've done to his stuff during the last few days.

Those were all just physical.

Things that could be replaced.

There was only one of you. (Or had been.)

He was tempted to crash at Geto's place, but it sucked enough to see his stupid smug smirk when Gojo showed up to lunch without the so-called proof he swore he'd have by now. Plus, he sort of hoped to see that dumb door open each time he came home, for your cold hands to help him take off his jacket or a bottle of water to be waiting for him on the coffee table.

If there was anything he couldn't take, it was the quiet.

So he just ended up grabbing extra shampoo and conditioner at the corner store and convincing Geto to go out shopping with him for some new clothes, skipping over the reason being he currently didn't have access to his closet.

Could it be considered the silent treatment if you never said anything to him in the first place?

"Fight with your girlfriend?" Geto baited after noticing his unusually somber behavior, picking a black sweater off the hanger and holding it out for him to look at.

Gojo huffed, taking it and glancing over his shoulders to search for a dressing room. For some stupid reason, he couldn't help but wondering if you'd like it.

"What do you do?" He started, pausing at the amusement faintly flickering in Geto's eyes before forcing himself to continue. "When a girl is mad at you, I mean?"

"What I do? Or what I think you should do?"

Gojo didn't understand what the difference was, but then again, he didn't understand girls either. He shrugged, and Geto let out a low chuckle before answering anyway.

"Buy her flowers."

Ignoring his best friend's arched brow and suspicious stare while he handed over his credit card to the cashier half an hour later, he was unsure how to deal with the growing discomfort in his stomach whenever he thought of you.

Which was often.

He already tried talking to you from the hallway, slipping I'm sorry notes under the door and promising he didn't even see anything. But his pleas felt less effective when he still had no clue what your name even was.

Begging for forgiveness from a girl whose face he couldn't even see.

He hoped Geto was right.

Gojo turned the key in the lock when he returned home, a pretty bouquet of white lilies and shopping bags in hand, plus a small box tucked under his arm as he twisted the knob and peeked inside.

"Angel?" He called out, immediately cringing when it didn't come out quite as smooth as he hoped. Idiot. Who wants to be called angel after they died?

But then he heard it - the creak of a door opening, soft footsteps down the hall.

"Hey," He quietly spoke, walking in just enough to set the box and bags down on the corner of the couch before standing up straight and holding out the flowers. "I, um, got these for you."

You didn't take it from him - but a stem bent, a few of the petals rustling like you were touching or sniffing them.

"Do you like them?" Gojo tentatively asked.

He wasn't a virgin. Technically.

But he'd still ever bought flowers for someone else before. He wasn't sure what kind to get - and it felt more than a little morbid to imagine the last time you received flowers was probably for your funeral.

He hesitated, brows scrunching up in worry as chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he'd just lost his last chance as another bleak thought crossed his mind.

"Fuck," He winced at what he'd forgotten. "I don't think I have a vase."

You laughed.

It was soft, maybe even just a figment of his imagination, but God, he'd never heard anything so pretty. A small little giggle, one that rang in his head as you plucked a single flower from the bunch, the lace ribbon that tied them together unravelling.

He felt like he was unravelling with it.

"I'm sorry," Gojo murmured, probably for the fiftieth time in the past few days. "I wasn't trying to pry. I just-"

You broke the stem in half, a small flash of green falling to the floor as you tucked the flower behind his ear, held in place by the thick frame of his glasses.

And he was so distracted by your smaller hand slipping into his, he didn't realize just how close you were until your lips were pressing softly on his. Cool, tender. Blinking back surprise for a second before he was suddenly leaning down to deepen it, knuckles turning white around the rest of the flowers as he tried to wrap an arm around your waist.

When it actually worked?

He was kissing you back twice as hard, trying to squeeze you into existence, fingers digging into flesh that wasn't actually there as he almost moaned into your mouth already. Sucking on your bottom lip like his own life depended on it, teeth nipping at it knowing there wasn't any blood to be drawn, no hickies he could actually leave on your neck, across your breasts, no matter how much he wanted to.

You squeezed his hand, your thumb delicately tracing a little pattern over the back of it, and all he could picture was one of those hearts of yours etched into his skin - seeping through his skin and into his soul.

The flowers were tugged free from his grip as you pulled back, twisting around to gently place them on the table, careful not to crush any of the petals. He tried to tighten his grip, but your presence weakened at his attempt to hold you still, forced to let go and scared you wouldn't stay.

But two firm fingers pressed into his chest, pushing him down onto the couch. He breathed, struggling to find words for the first time in his life. A blink, and his zipper was being tugged down. His jeans and plain white boxers wiggled down his hips before you pressed another kiss to the white fuzz of his happy trail.

Your breath was surprisingly warm, the ridges of your teeth briefly grazing over his exposed midriff as you planted feather-light kisses across to the sharp bone of his hip.

Admiring him.

You toyed with the band of his boxers, low enough you could see the thick patch of his hair, his cock throbbing painfully hard, and then you were running your palm over the clearly outlined bulge.

Gojo groaned, low and deep, head reclining back on the couch and legs spread wide as you nestled between them.

He had never wished so badly he could see you.

Dying to know what color your eyes were, if they were wide and glossy as you peeked up at him, lashes fluttering and lips parted. Your touch flickered between soft and firm, your fingers sending shivers down his spine when you finally freed his cock.

It was almost embarrassing how hard he was, how red and swollen his tip was, pre-cum smeared around it already. It'd been months since he'd jerked off, something he'd been abstaining from thanks to you.

And shit, he was sensitive.

The second you wrapped your lips around him, the second he felt your surprising warmth, the drag of your tongue over his pulsing veins, he was moaning like he'd never known the touch of another woman.

All other memories erased, scrubbed from his brain so he had more space to catalogue every searing sensation of you licking and lapping at him, sucking softly while your fingers wrapped around his base to stroke what didn't fit.

Did ghosts have a gag reflex?

Or was he the first human in history to receive a blowjob from a ghost?

His cheeks flushed, the lump in his throat bobbing hard as you gradually took him deeper, his thick cockhead bumping into the back of your throat, pleasure building brighter, hotter inside him, his fingers shakily reaching out until he felt for your cheek, your soft skin.

Fuck.

Gojo caressed your cheek, groaning loud enough his neighbors could definitely hear him. Finding a loose strand of your hair and wrapping it around his finger, vaguely wondering how you managed to get him so wrapped around your own.

He wondered if he'd be able to to see you with the pair of thermal goggles he hadn't gotten to use yet, or if that would kill the mood.

Your free hand slid up his thigh higher, squeezing him as his cock grazed against the roof of your mouth, and he was barely holding on by a thread. Sanity ready to snap, white-hot need he'd never felt before ripping through him.

He couldn't help it, bucking his hips up and damn near losing his mind when he hard the muffled little moan you made, like you could feel him too, and the thought you needed him even half as much as he needed you right now had him feeling for the back of your head to hold you closer, eyes scrunched close as a particularly lewd whimper escaped him.

All his muscles were pulled taut, abs painfully tense when you suddenly cupped his balls while you were already practically choking on him, and he was cumming before he could stop himself, trying to pull out just for you to swallow his cum anyway.

You'd never eaten food before - not as far as he was aware.

Shit. Could you eat? Had he accidentally been starving you?

Panicked, he pulled out, reaching out to touch your face, a thumb brushing over your lips before you suddenly pressed another kiss there too, suddenly sucking on it until his knuckle was between the ridges of your teeth.

His cock throbbed, threatening to get hard again.

"W-was that okay? Um, a-are you hungry?" He was stammering, tongue-tied as your presence suddenly shifted, taking his fingers out of your mouth and holding it so his palm was facing up. Then, you traced several simple letters out.

Y-E-S. N-O.

He breathed a sigh of relief, chuckling as he realized you were answering his questions.

"Can you say something again? I want to hear your voice," He nervously admitted, hoping you didn't notice how much clammy his hand was, unable to wipe the sweat away when you were holding it.

He was painfully aware of the fact his cock was still out, but he didn't dare move to put it back up, not when you were trying to communicate with him, when forgiveness still felt so fragile.

There was just more silence, but somehow, your presence felt a little stronger, your form a little more solid. Light streamed in through the thin curtains, and when it caught just right, he could almost swear he saw little slivers of you, movement his brain couldn't fully perceive.

"Um, did you?" He awkwardly asked. "Say something?"

Another Y-E-S.

"Shit," Gojo muttered. But his disappointment was hard to hold onto when you were still here, when he could still touch and talk to you, even if he couldn't see or hear you. Yet. "Try again tomorrow?"

S-U-R-E.

He stared biting his lip, debating on what he could do for you. But for every question he got an answer for, ten more seemed to pop up.

Gojo guessed there was only one more he couldn't live without knowing. His face flushed, blinking hard as he tried to pull himself together enough to ask without stuttering.

"So, uh, do you like me?"

a/n: the amazing @madamechrissy inspired this <3

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thinking abt soft!toji..

Toji Fushiguro is a scary, mean, mean man.

He’s all teeth, all bite, and he bares them at any innocent passerby without a second thought. His hands weren’t made to hold—they were taught to destroy. He was forged from gunmetal and a wolf’s hunger, his bite laced with stinging venom.

But even the roughest exteriors hide something secret, something tender. Every cage has a heart, and every lock has a key—and you, somehow, are Toji’s key.

He comes home with blood on his calloused knuckles, eyes still burning from the fight, but he washes it off carefully, like he’s trying to pretend he’s a clean man. Then he crawls into bed with you, tracing slow, lazy circles on your bare back after pressing kisses from your ankles to the tips of your ears, leaving a hungry fire erupting in your lower belly.

Before every mission, he stands at the door, letting you smear gloss all over his grumpy face with a dozen goodbye kisses. He grumbles, complains, rolls his eyes—but he loves it. Loves the sticky shimmer that never fully fades from his scarred cheek, a mark that reminds him his woman is waiting for him at home.

When you’re out walking, tugging at his arm like an overexcited child, chattering about all the places you want to see that day, your shoelace comes untied. You trip. Reflexively, he catches you—effortlessly. It’s automatic for him.

You’re a klutz, and he finds it so adorable. You get so absorbed and full of excitement about the things you love that you forget your surroundings. So keeping an eye out—and a hand ready—is second nature to Toji now. Just like bending down with a grumble of, “Watch where you’re going,” or, “Lazy ass, tie your own damn shoes.”

Which is funny, because you hadn’t even asked him to tie them. Well, you were about to—but he was faster. You try to insist, yet like always, he cuts you off, already finished. It’s like that with everything.

He runs your bath water before you think to ask. Brushes your hair. Zips up the back of your dress without a word. “It’s just easier doll,” he says, but you suspect otherwise.

Like when you’re craving something sweet—always. Toji hates junk food. Will soapbox for hours about how awful it is for your health. But he still answers your call, listens to your sugar-fueled ramblings, and walks those familiar candy aisles, filling a basket with your favorite sweets.

Or when your nail appointment gets canceled last minute—on date night, no less—which means you can’t wear your new strappy heels.

So he scoops you up bridal style, the straps of your heels clenched between his sharp teeth that are, somehow, so gentle against your skin. He sets you on the couch, rummages through your cosmetics bag, and finds your favorite wine-red nail polish.

He sits with your foot in his lap, kneading the arch with those quick hands as he paints your toes with furrowed brows and a string of muttered curses.

No matter how tired or bloody he is, no matter how brutal the day was, he always makes time. He pulls you into his lap and rubs your tense shoulders, works at the knot in your neck you get from hunching over your sketchbook or your laptop for too long.

Those same hands—designed to take life—become something that gives you life. Full of comfort, they press slow circles into your aching muscles, melting you down, easing the ache from flesh he was never meant to touch this softly.

masterlist link here.

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