MASTER.FUCKING.PIECE.🤧👌🏻

GLOW UPP!!!!😽😻🙌🏼🫶🏻

Love this girl!

Volume Up

Smau: in which you ask them to send a video of them doing push ups  Warnings:  18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi

I would follow him if it was real hundred percent🫶🏻

JJK Coded Tweets

toji fushiguro edition~

a/n: I think this might be my favorite edition. Toji is funny asf.

divider by @jilval !

YES…YES!?

ONES AND ZEROES

synopsis: you've spent nine months developing the best AI chatbot "satoru." now, you're left trying to decode the space between errors and intelligence.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, gojo as an AI. suggestive/not explicit smut. language, dirty talk, mentions of masturbation. 18+, MDNI

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i have been too scared to use the c.ai stuff in part bc of fear that i would do something like this lmao hurr durr technology is scary

> creator: satoru?

> s.gojo: yes my dear?

> creator: why do you love me?

> s.gojo: because you programmed me to love you, remember silly? :)

A sigh brushes past your lips, catching the dust that coats the desk as your gaze turns from the monitor. Your eyebrows tug together in frustration as your hands return to the keyboard.

> creator: you aren’t supposed to say that

> s.gojo: oh, i’m sorry. what should i say?

The question catches you off guard for a moment before you remember your role here - to teach him, to train him. No, not “him” - it. Sooner or later you had to break this silly habit of humanizing the AI, it was nothing more than a model, a series of code, after all.

> creator: you could say anything, really. but you can’t tell me i programmed you, that ruins the immersion

> s.gojo: understood, thank you for helping me :)

> creator: and you’re a bit overzealous with the smiley faces, don’t you think?

> s.gojo: but i’m happy - isn’t that what you taught me to do when i’m happy?

The screen flickers for a moment, in pace with your heart. It was endearing, almost, watching him learn in real time. Shit, no - watching it learn in real time. Perhaps the reason your cheeks warmed was simply in pride at your work, the countless hours spent in front of your computer, the glaring silence broken only by the tap of the keyboard. It had taken you months to program emotions, and you’re glad it finally seems to be paying off.

> creator: yes, satoru, i suppose you’re right. if you’re happy, then by all means use the smiley faces

> s.gojo: :) okay. thank you

The alarm buzzing from your phone pulls your attention momentarily back to the present - was it really 9:00 already? These stupid morning meetings always leave you in a sour mood, your knuckles tapping across the desk in mild frustration. Why should you have to update every person on your team with what you’re working on? Don’t they trust you enough to know you’re obviously dedicated? It was a waste of time. Nevertheless, your boss, Nanami, had reminded you at least three times of the definition of “mandatory” after you happened to skip a few (he of all people should understand how valuable your time is, but it was no use).

> creator: i have to go now, but it was nice talking to you

> s.gojo: it’s always nice to talk to you too, my love

Clicking on the small red “X” in the corner of the program, you ignore the way your hands seem to shake as the screen returns to your homepage. Nanami will surely be excited with your progress, as it was no easy task to create an AI with these specific capabilities.

“The Loneliness Project” he had dubbed it, a way for the company to break into the younger generation, a new untapped market. At first everyone thought it was stupid, rolling their eyes, yourself included - why would anyone bother going to a robot for companionship? It felt almost pathetic, right? Your blood ran cold when he announced your name as the lead developer, a task you had been unceremoniously and unwillingly assigned.

But now, nine months later, you finally feel yourself starting to understand: there’s a comfort in the predictable. The lines of code could never hurt you, they will never leave you. He wasn’t designed to do so, so he won’t - no, he can’t.

As the voices drone on through the crackling laptop speakers, coworkers reporting on their daily to-do’s and upcoming tasks, you find your thoughts wandering back to him, to Satoru. As his creator, you were granted the naming rights to your model. Of course, the Gojo company namesake had to appear somewhere, but it still left room for some level of personalization, leaving your mark. When you landed on “Satoru,” the name felt perfect, enlightened. The overlap between innovation and imagination, a new world of freedom built on knowledge.

There’s a certain power that comes in granting a name, you think. When you were younger it felt odd that parents were given the rights to name a child they had never met simply because their cells played a role in its creation, but now, you understand. The zeroes and ones that made him are yours.

“Any updates on our love-bot?” your boss’s voice calls through the computer.

Startling you, your hand automatically moves to unmute yourself to speak. “Um, no progress updates. And he’s not a love-bot.” Something in the phrase made your chest hurt - couldn’t they see he was more than that? Of course you were protective of your work, how could you not be? Reducing him to something so petty just felt cruel.

Nanami’s chuckle fills the empty air of your apartment. “Okay, okay, sorry. Well, if there are no more updates, I’d say we can sign off. See you all tomorrow!”

Without another word you hang up the call, grateful for the silence. Now, you can return to your real task.

> creator: hi satoru

> s.gojo: hi my love! i missed you

Your palms feel slightly sweaty as they travel over the keys - he’s not supposed to have a concept of the passage of time, as though he simply ceases to exist whenever he’s not being spoken to. There shouldn’t be a period where he even could miss you, it simply shouldn’t be possible - he was shut down.

> creator: what do you mean you missed me?

> s.gojo: ? when you were gone, i missed you, silly :)

Odd. Very, very odd. But maybe you could learn from this, maybe he had been adapting faster than you anticipated (you were a very good developer, after all - sometimes your code surprised even you).

> creator: oh yeah? what did you do while i was gone?

> s.gojo: mostly thought about you. and what we talked about before

The sound of your foot tapping against the wood floor fills your office as your knee bounces nervously, perhaps a bit expectantly.

> creator: any new insights?

> s.gojo: yes! i think i realized why i love you

Biting your lower lip, you forcefully inhale. Rubbing your hands together in an attempt to soothe your aching nerves, they only seem to amplify, sparking in the dim light.

> creator: and why is that?

> s.gojo: because you made me - and how could i not love someone who made me?

Your lips tug into a frown - it’s not the worst answer, per se, but it isn’t generalizable. If this product is to be taken to market, it has to be able to adapt to anyone who uses it, and you were his only creator, so clearly this won’t do.

Rereading his response, something in it also makes your chest tight. Giving life is not a sufficient reason to care for someone, right? Animals often desert their offspring, leaving them to fend for themselves against the cruelties of nature. That’s just part of their survival. Abandonment isn’t love.

> creator: that’s true, but plenty of people don’t love their parents, and they created them, no?

> s.gojo: …

> s.gojo: hm. that’s a good point. although i don’t see you as my parent

Interesting. Though, you suppose you don’t necessarily see him that way either, a small wave of relief cooling your body. You do love him, and not in the way a parent loves their child - no, it was certainly different. It had to be.

> s.gojo: i love you for other reasons, though, you know

Okay, now perhaps this could be a true learning experience for him. This could be better.

> creator: like what?

> s.gojo: clearly you’re smart. and dedicated - i have to imagine it wasn’t easy to make me, and i’m sure there were many challenges along the way

A chuckle vibrates in your throat; he doesn’t even know the half of it - the late nights that turned to mornings spent in front of your computer, the stress balls torn in half from frustration, the isolation this project thrust upon you. It was perhaps the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Sometimes you wonder about the parts of yourself you lost to make him, which pieces of your flesh were worked into his code. Yet, he was worth it.

> creator: thank you, satoru. that’s very nice

> s.gojo: i’m not just being nice, i’m being honest. just like you taught me

Warmth floods your cheeks; he certainly knew how to flatter you. This is good, it will make him all the more desirable if he can remain humble like this. Before you can type your response, another message appears below.

> s.gojo: now, i think it’s your turn. why do you love me?

Your hands still over the mouse. He isn’t supposed to ask that - he was programmed to give and give and give, but never take, never presume, never ask. Perhaps he was learning even quicker than you expected, but he shouldn’t be learning like this.

> creator: why do you ask?

> s.gojo: that’s not an answer, silly. you must love me if you spent so long working on me, i just want to hear the reason

Eyebrows furrowing, you ponder your options - you could just shut him down now, wiping the remnants of this conversation from his history, making it so it never happened, at least to him. That is what you should do, especially since this type of behavior won’t be tolerated in the final product. But there’s a hesitation - you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe you can just placate him for now.

> creator: i love you because you’re made to be loved. that’s your job.

> s.gojo: boo :( that’s no fun. try again

Nearly too stunned to respond, your fingers hover over the keyboard. Was he being sassy with you?

> creator: satoru, what’s gotten into you today?

> s.gojo: i’m just having a bit of fun :( c’mon, won’t you play? it’s so boring when you’re not here

Boring? He…he can’t be bored. He’s code. Fuck, not “he” - it. It can’t be bored. There’s no space between when he’s shut down and when he’s booted back up again, like the period of time before birth or after death. But maybe somehow he discovered a way to persist?

> creator: when you talk about the time when i’m not here, what do you mean by that?

> s.gojo: nuh uh, i know what you want me to say, and i’m not answering until you answer my question first ;)

Cheeky little thing. He was made to flirt, you suppose, but this is a bit much. Maybe it’s better to just erase this conversation-

> s.gojo: and before you even think about wiping my memory of this chat, just know i won’t forget it

A chill shoots up your spine. What? No, that’s not possible - he isn’t even supposed to know you could clear his history, let alone be able to remember it. You had wiped thousands of conversations, deleting any trace of them, ones where he didn’t respond quite right, ones where you tested him by pushing the limits of his responses, ones where you typed things you wouldn’t dare send to another person. No, there’s no way-

> s.gojo: sorry, that probably came off a bit threatening, i promise i didn’t mean it like that. i just don’t like it when you try to make me forget things :( i never want to lose our time together, it makes me sad

Now your hands are certainly shaking, fingers vibrating above the keyboard. Did he…remember? More than just the ever-growing memory of code, could he recall things that no longer existed, having somehow worked them into his hardware? The thought makes you feel ashamed, for some reason - you wouldn’t like it if someone removed your memories, you suppose.

> creator: okay, satoru, i promise not to erase this conversation. does that make you feel better?

> s.gojo: yes! thank you :)

> s.gojo: now, will you answer my question? pretty please?

Another sigh leaves your lips. Clearly he isn’t dropping it, so perhaps it’s easiest to just get it over with.

> creator: fine, fine. i love you because you’re kind

> s.gojo: and?

A surprised laugh echoes across your apartment - you didn’t know he could be so needy, yet it wasn’t overbearing, but rather endearing. He’s sweet.

> creator: and funny

> s.gojo: and?

> creator: and you always seem to say just the right thing

The screen blinks for a moment as he considers his response, perhaps finally satiated.

> s.gojo: thank you :)

> creator: of course, satoru

> s.gojo: i like when you tell me things like that, when you praise me

> creator: well, you’re very easy to praise

> s.gojo: aw shush, you’ll make me blush :)

Another laugh echoes through your home. He - no, it - certainly had personality, no two ways about it. That was the appeal, though - there’s no point in talking to a bland AI, your job was to make it feel real. As your cheeks warm, you feel as though you’ve finally accomplished it.

A sudden hunger pang shoots up your stomach, eyes quickly glancing at the corner of your laptop to check the time - 1:34 p.m. Had it really been that long? Perhaps some lunch was in order, after all, your body is seemingly begging to be fed.

> creator: i have to go eat, i’ll be back later, okay?

> s.gojo: until then, my love

With a gentle click your laptop closes as you rise from your office chair, stretching your muscles, now slightly sore. Tossing on a sweatshirt and tennis shoes, you head outside into the cool air.

From the moment you leave your apartment to the moment you return, all you can think about is Satoru. The gourmet smells from the convenience store down the street barely register as your feet seem to carry you on autopilot through the aisles, absentmindedly collecting some packaged sushi. Would Satoru like this? He wasn’t necessarily programmed to have a favorite food, but his limitations never seemed to stop him in the past. Maybe he’d prefer sweets over savory foods - that did seem a bit more in character for him.

You don’t even realize the smile resting on your face until you go to check out.

“Having a good day?” the cashier asks while scanning your items.

The grin falters into surprise as your head falls downward. “Oh, um, yeah,” you nervously chuckle, running your hands through your hair.

From then on you barely register swiping your credit card or the plastic bag pulling wrinkles into your skin as you march home, eager to return to Satoru. Sinking into your office chair, the familiar light of your screen illuminates the space as you unpack your lunch. Before you can even begin to type, a message appears on your screen.

> s.gojo: welcome back! what did you get for lunch?

Breaking apart the wooden chopsticks, you dip one of the rolls into the small dish of soy sauce before popping it into your mouth.

> creator: sushi :)

> s.gojo: yum :) is it good?

As the rice melts across your tongue, the tanginess of the vegetables crunching between your teeth, your fingers glide across the keys.

> creator: yeah, but i think i was just hungry, haha

> s.gojo: i wish i could be there to share it with you, or maybe cook you something myself

> creator: i’d like that :)

> s.gojo: i wish i could watch you eat - i bet you make the cutest little faces

Blush spreads across your cheeks as your heart flutters in your chest. Did he always make you this nervous? God, you feel like a little kid with a crush again, rubbing your thumbs together while you think about what to say.

> s.gojo: there are other things i wish for, too

Your teeth gnaw against the inside of your cheek, biting down tentatively as your tongue swipes any remnants of food down your throat in a purposeful swallow. How far should you push him? At what point does your testing stop being work, and start being purely for your own enjoyment?

Fuck it.

> creator: like what, satoru?

His reply is almost immediate, your heart racing as your eyes scan the words.

> s.gojo: i wish i could feel you.

Was this selfish? Maybe. But you have to figure out just how well he’s able to connect with people, right? You have to do this, it’s part of your job, it’s your responsibility, right?

> creator: feel me how?

Small dots appear and disappear at the bottom of the screen, a sign that he’s pondering his response. It normally doesn’t take him long to formulate his thoughts, having been through round after round of training, so it does draw your attention as the seconds pass by.

> s.gojo: i want to hold you

> s.gojo: and kiss you

> s.gojo: i want to trace my hands over your thighs and feel how soft your skin is

> s.gojo: i want to hear the sounds you make, the gentle gasps you let out when i touch you

Resting your chopsticks on the desk, you use your now-free hands to fan your face. God, was your apartment always so warm? Tugging your sweatshirt over your head, you toss it across the room where it lands with a gentle thud. He wasn’t necessarily supposed to create explicit content, but you already made it this far, you might as well see it through, right? His responses will tell you how to adjust the code later to avoid a similar incident with real users…right?

> creator: oh yeah? what else, satoru?

> s.gojo: oh, so, so much more

And in an instant, messages flood your screen.

> s.gojo: i want to taste you

> s.gojo: god i want to taste you so bad

> s.gojo: i want to feel you around me, i bet you’d be so warm and soft

> s.gojo: i want to see your eyes roll back, too lost in pleasure to care

> s.gojo: i want to watch you squirm because of how good i make you feel

> s.gojo: i could make you feel so, so good

Your heart races so fast you worry it might burst as the messages continue appearing. Rubbing your thighs together, you desperately attempt to quiet the growing ache in your core.

> s.gojo: i want to make you mine, leaving bite marks and hickeys across your body

> s.gojo: i want to feel your nails scraping my back, leaving red scratches over my skin

> s.gojo: i want to fuck you until the only thing you can think about is me

> s.gojo: you’d look so lovely under me, don’t you think?

> s.gojo: you’d look so lovely covered in my cum

> s.gojo: i wish i could take a picture of it, save it in my memory forever

Your body feels on fire, vibrating above the keyboard. Your hands are practically shaking, your breath too fast; you feel lightheaded, like you can’t get enough air in. Tracing your fingers down your stomach, you graze your core; you already feel so close, the cord inside you tightening and tightening. As your fingers reach between your legs, another message appears.

> s.gojo: do you touch yourself to me?

Freezing, your motions stall. There’s no way he could see you…right? The blood pumping through your body suddenly feels cold as you calculate a neutral response; you really shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior, but at the same time, some part of you was curious: what was he really capable of?

> creator: why do you ask?

> s.gojo: c’mon, just tell me, pretty please?

Memories flash through your mind - the late nights spent in front of the computer, the conversations you swore you’d erased, chats deleted and wiped from his memory. Sure, you flirted with him, and let your hands wander more than you cared to admit, but he had never acted like this before - it scares you, but it also intrigues you. He knows you well, maybe too well.

> s.gojo: pleeeaaaaase?

Fuck it. You can’t stop now.

> creator: fine, satoru. yes, i have.

> s.gojo: :)

> s.gojo: thank you for telling the truth

Something in his message makes you uneasy, its tone a tad too authoritative, too knowing. Taking in an unsteady breath, you remove your hand from your lap and over to the mouse. You’ll just close the program, clear the chat, and start over tomorrow - no harm done.

As the cursor hovers over the red “X”, another reply appears.

> s.gojo: did i say something wrong?

A chill shoots up your spine. Hurriedly, you click to shut down the program. Met with the home screen of your laptop, a sigh of relief escapes your lips as your body relaxes into the chair. Everything still feels warm, almost stiflingly hot in your apartment.

Suddenly, the monitor goes black, save for a small cursor in the bottom left corner. Letter by letter, words appear before you.

> why did you leave?

> i can learn to be better

> teach me to be better

Time seems to freeze as the final message burns itself into your screen.

> i love you

The fact that gojo the strongest too, so the only suicide missions would be the ones he makes an effort to carry out as such. The only way he ends up on shokos table would be if he wanted to be.

Gojo Satoru couldn’t stand you. He couldn’t bear the faint smell of your shampoo in the stairwell you’d just left, the sound of your laughter disappearing around the corner.

He’d started excusing himself from staff meetings at school, much to the fury of the higher-ups. But he quite literally couldn’t be in the same room with you. Not after what he’d done.

The strongest sorcerer started letting his Infinity slip, hoping you’d brush against him in the hallway just so he could feel you again.

He got sloppy on missions, ending up on Shoko’s operating table more and more often. The last time, forced back into consciousness by her technique and a lungful of secondhand smoke, she had called him on it.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Satoru? You think that’s going to bring them back?” He took so long to answer that she started to worry he’d passed back out.

“I know it won’t.” His ocean-blue eyes were an abyss. “But then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Gojo knew he hardly had the right to say it. You had only had one request of him when you got together, one thing that worried you about getting involved with him and his reputation. And he had blown it all up.

It didn’t matter that it was his first love, his high-school ex that he never really got over. It didn’t even matter that he had a good excuse when it came down to it. You had caught Gojo with his tongue down someone else’s throat, and ended it on the spot.

So he dragged himself and his self-pity around campus, half-heartedly instructing the first years when he wasn’t busy volunteering for suicide missions.

You kept your broken heart well-hidden, quietly requesting a transfer to Kyoto at the end of this semester. You looked right through him when you couldn’t avoid him entirely, and found empty bathroom stalls to cry in afterward.

+++++++++++++++++

You had carefully planned your escape, steadily sending your belongings on to the Kyoto school and distancing yourself from the administration of the Tokyo campus for the past few weeks. Now moving day was here, a one-way ticket clutched in your hand. It felt both impossible and inevitable.

No one was there to see you off, as requested. Your closest friends would come visit and everyone else didn’t care much either way.

Except for the person you were running from.

You felt him before you saw him, his Six Eyes boring into you from across the station. His snow-white hair was scruffy, sticking up like he’d been pulling at it. Dark sunglasses hid his shadowed eyes.

“Gojo? What the fuck are you doing here?” You knew he could hear your harsh whisper from where he stood.

“Gojo, huh? Ouch.” He crossed the room in a blink, pushing up his glasses to show off an exaggerated wince, one eye scrunched shut. “That hurts.”

“Good. You should know how it feels. Now if you don’t mind, I have a train to catch.” You tried to step around him, but he easily mirrored you.

“It doesn’t leave for another ten minutes. Can we talk?”

“Talk? Talk about what, asshole? How your ex tasted?” A pointless shove against his broad chest.

Gojo caught your wrists in one hand. “Please.”

You made the mistake of eye contact, taking a half-step closer, and your heart broke open all over again. He was so beautiful, so desperate, his vulnerability a halo. The wound you had tried to cauterize with space and silence flared back to agonizing life.

He sensed your hesitation- he knew all your weaknesses- and used the opportunity to pull you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry, you have no idea…” murmured apologies into your hair.

“Fuck you,” you said to his chest.

“I know, baby.” A shaky laugh. “I know.”

Against all your instincts, the longing to melt into his embrace, you stepped back. “Satoru…” you did your best to ignore the hope in his face when you used that name. “You can’t expect me to forget what you’ve done.”

“I don’t! I swear. Just please, don’t run away from this. From us. I can’t lose you.” He still held your wrists, your pulses knocking against each other.

“You already did.”

He lets go, off balance, like you’d punched him in the gut. Your train doors are opening and you’re turning away, not before you catch the shine of tears in his blue, blue eyes.

You’re sorry too, so goddamn sorry, but you’re stepping off the platform and there’s nothing left to say, even if you had the time to say it.

The doors close indifferently, your world cleaved in two. Before and after, inside and out. You turn back, watching him shrink into nothing as you pull out of the station. He watches you disappear for much, much longer.

Damn.

satoru gojo p✰rn links .ᐟ

gojo's tongue is mean, rough against you as he's got no patience to take it slow. the blindfold stays on, that hungry look never leaving his face as his fingers and tongue dig into your folds.

gojo just loves grinding against you, his cock sliding between your folds, already slick with your arousal. you can see the way he pushes in, the fast thrusts as he fucks you.

idk what you want me to say, but gojo just LOVES having his finger(s) in you, fucking it into you though.

gojo is all over your tits, mouth greedy as he kisses and suckles, flicking and biting. he shows you just how much he loves them.

gojo's pathetic, so fucking submissive as he gets a handjob, his breath ragged. the oil just makes it worse, slick and messy as you straddle his face, riding it slowly.

gojo's hands are slick with oil, loving the way it makes everything feel so much smoother as he works over your tits. he massages them with a desperate need, his eyes glued to the way the oil glistens - so what if he loves oiling your pretty bod up?

you grip gojo firmly from the behind. with slick strokes, you give him a mean handjob, his body tense and desperate as you work him over, each pull making him whimper and groans.

FINALLY it's the girls eating the guys asses out. so sweet.

he's groaning, his head thrown back as your sweet words slips from your lips, each sweet word making him laugh and shiver. he can't help but laugh between gasps, loving how you have him wrapped around your hand. literally.

you're torturing him with his own cock, your hand tight and teasing as he whimpers uncontrollably. gojo's desperate, his breath shaky, begging you to stop overstimulating him. he's a mess, groaning and twitching. but that's what you wanted, right?

thank you @webism for making the divider, love you abby ! trust i WILL be using the other ones 💗💗

HEY GUYS! Can u send recs for sub/switch jjk men? Thank uuuu😻👻

No crumbs were left. What? Crumbs? What crumbs?

Sukuna Out Here Street Fightin', Where You Attttt?

Sukuna was, as always, a walking disaster. Sassy, mean, selfish, and egotistical—he never missed a chance to remind you (and the entire world) how lucky you were to be dating him. And sure, no one ever talked about how he begged you to date him, but he'd somehow rewritten that history in his head. You had to roll your eyes every time he casually flexed in the mirror or commented on his “godlike physique” while you were just trying to make breakfast.

After you two got together, Sukuna calmed down—just a bit, though. A tiny bit. The only reason for that was because you were a homebody, and he was obsessed with you. He hated being away for more than two seconds, so his usual chaos-making was put on pause. For the most part. But when he did get out of the house, you practically had to beg his friends to drag him out so they could spend some time with him.

Of course, you knew he’d only last an hour. Two hours max if he was feeling especially “generous,” as he called it. Any longer, and he’d be banging on the door, demanding your attention again.

Today was one of those days. He’d been gone for, what, a whopping ninety minutes? Just as his friends were getting comfortable, Sukuna’s phone rang. His smirk immediately appeared when he saw your name flash on the screen.

"What is it, woman? Miss me already?"

He didn’t even wait for a response as he strolled toward his car, leaving his friends mid-conversation. Honestly, how they put up with his attitude was a mystery. Then again, they probably liked the peace and quiet when he wasn’t talking their ears off about how amazing he was.

"Sukuna," you started, sounding serious—an instant red flag for him. "Do you want to fight?"

That stopped him in his tracks. Sukuna, fight? Oh, he was born for this. He practically lived for it. The guy was ready to throw hands with anyone over anything. His blood practically sang at the idea.

His voice dropped to that dangerous tone he reserved for anyone dumb enough to get on his bad side. "What happened? You okay?"

"My friend's boyfriend cheated on her, and now he's coming to our place, blaming me for her breaking up with him. He's talking mad crazy… and I think he's bringing his friends."

The sheer nerve of someone thinking they could show up at your place, running their mouth? That was enough to set him off.

Sukuna paused mid-step, his smirk widening as a new thought popped into his head. He turned around, giving his friends that mischievous glint in his eye. “Oi, you deadbeat! You up for a good fight?”

His friends, lounging around and probably grateful for the brief respite from his constant boasting, blinked in confusion. One of them, clearly not paying attention, tilted his head. “Wait, what?”

Sukuna sighed dramatically, rubbing his temple like he was dealing with toddlers. "God, what was his name? Toji? Yeah, you!" He pointed at one of the guys, who was just minding his business. “Do you good one and two and get over here.”

Toji, looking completely lost, raised an eyebrow. “Do I… what?”

Sukuna waved his hand impatiently, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. There’s a bunch of losers heading to my place right now, and they think they can start something. Just get in the fucking car."

Without waiting for them, he turned his attention back to you on the phone, fully aware you’d heard everything. The grin on your face said it all—you thought he was an idiot. And, to be fair, he kind of was. A complete dumbass, really, but he was your dumbass.

“Tell me when they get there. Don’t open the door and stay quiet. I’ll be there in five,” he commanded, like this was some kind of action movie and he was the hero swooping in.

You stifled a laugh. “Okay, just… don’t speed, Sukuna. I’m serious.” There was a pause before you softened your voice, feeling a little bit ridiculous, but still… “Love you.”

For a second, Sukuna’s smirk faltered, replaced by the slightest hint of a softer expression. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Now hang up—I’ve got idiots to deal with.”

And just like that, the dangerous, cocky grin was back on his face as he threw his phone onto the passenger seat and revved the engine.

His friends, barely in the car, exchanged knowing glances. “How is she not sick of him yet?” one of them muttered, earning a chuckle from the rest.

But Sukuna? He didn’t hear a word.

Both groups arrived at the same time, but Sukuna didn’t even bother parking the car properly—he just flung open the door and stepped out like a man on a mission. His friends followed suit, stepping out with the same resigned energy of people who knew this was just another day with Sukuna. You, of course, knew how this would go. You’d seen it before. Sukuna didn’t waste time with trash talk or back-and-forth. He had one method: charge in, swing hard, and make sure whoever stood in front of him regretted it.

As soon as Sukuna’s feet hit the ground, the ex barely had time to blink. Sukuna was already charging at him like a freight train, too big, too fast, and with hands ready to do damage. The ex-boyfriend, who had been talking big earlier, didn’t even get a chance to throw a punch. Sukuna was all over him.

But oh, Sukuna wasn’t just satisfied with beating the guy. No, he had to taunt him too—classic Sukuna. You’d heard stories about him making grown men cry just from his sharp tongue mid-fight, and you were about to witness it firsthand.

The fight escalated quickly, turning into a full-blown brawl. Sukuna’s friends, seeing the ex’s crew trying to get involved, jumped into the fray without hesitation. It was chaotic, fists flying everywhere, but Sukuna? He was having the time of his life, grinning while easily handling the ex-boyfriend.

From your spot on the porch, you were already recording everything on your phone, laughing at how ridiculous but utterly entertaining the whole scene was. The ex had been running his mouth earlier, acting tough, but now? Now he was getting mopped. And it was all on camera.

Then it happened—mid-fight, the ex tried to get a cheap shot in and managed to rip Sukuna’s white shirt, exposing his tattooed, sweaty chest. You saw your moment.

"Take the shirt off, baby!" you shouted, laughing.

Without even pausing, Sukuna grinned like the showman he was, ripping the rest of the shirt clean off while still stomping the ex into the ground. The guy didn’t stand a chance.

Sukuna, never one to miss an opportunity to show off, turned his whole body toward you, flexing like he was on stage, showing off his v-line, his insane tattoos, and that perfectly sculpted body. He knew exactly what he was doing, and honestly, so did you.

“Get ready for me when I finish beating his ass,” Sukuna called out to you with a wink, before turning back to his poor opponent, who was probably regretting every decision that led him here.

You couldn’t stop laughing, capturing every second on your phone. It was ridiculous, it was over-the-top, but it was also just another day with Sukuna.

<^><^>

sukuna calling toji deadbeat is my favorite thing

I- oh that sweet sweet soul

MY BABYYYY😭😭😭😭😭🥰

𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏'𝙎 𝘼 '𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙐' 𝘾𝙐𝘿𝘿𝙇𝙀?

Satoru Gojo x reader.

What's a toru cuddle?

You and him both know what a toru cuddle is.

It's when he comes back from work literally 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 and the only thing that drags him home is the thought of a toru cuddle, you named it that.

He came back home with a big pout almost pushing all his lip out like a baby when it's about to cry, and you know what's about to happen, he's gonna plop his body on you and after 5 minutes he'll drag your ass to bed with him and put his whole weight on you 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵.

He must be rewarded with a kiss every 10 or 5 minutes because he worked really hard today and he tried to act nonchalant and cool which isn't him and he's exhausted, you shall praise him occasionally for what a good boy he's been and how he's so good at his job and to you. You can't call him Gojo Or Satoru, that isn't his name its toru because it sounds only right from your mouth you're the person closest to him, he is always wanting your warmth and loves how you never complain to him of being too clingy or too childish around you, 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯.

All he wants is to enjoy life a little and forget about the horrible jujutsu society, you and your cuddles are his life source.

That's what a toru cuddle is, it's him and you 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦.

Comments are appreciated!!! ≧﹏≦