#Jujutsu Kaisen x You

[tonycries]

Video Game Lover - G.S.

Synopsis. Suguru Geto, the resident nerd who “helps” you with your homework. Tall, gloomy, mean, and- and an alpha? And he’s in rut?!

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! nerd! Geto, ruts, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pánty-sniffer Geto, he goes FÉRAL, MEAN Geto, headIocks, slightly bímbo! reader, dúmbifícation, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, MANHANDLlNG, Geto with glasses + tattoos, overstím, knots, first times (Geto), pússydrunk Geto, MATÍNG BÍTES, oraI (f + m), p talking, spítting, praise, he’s POSSESSIVE, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.8k

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

“Please, Sugu—?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you keep my panties?”

And that makes Geto shudder, breath hitching into something dangerously husky as he pushes his thick glasses further up his nose bridge. Greedy gaze darting anywhere but where you were oh-so-vulgarly leaning towards him. “Tch- as if I’d ever…”

With a grin, you shift to show him a flash of cherry pink peeking out from underneath that sinfully short skirt of yours.

Purposefully. 

He was gone. 

“F-fine.” He’s gulping, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d goaded the ill-tempered campus genius, Geto Suguru, into doing your- ah, “helping” you with your homework. “But-”

Before Geto can ramble away the usual lecture about something called “academic integrity”, you’re jumping up and tackling his towering frame into a hug. Pressing the curves of your tits into his Digimon t-shirt - just as a little treat - and flouncing excitedly back to your friends. 

But what you didn’t notice is the way that makes Geto stiffen.

His tummy lurching, nose raising into the air- 

Oh.

You smelled so sweet. 

Geto’s spit-slicked lips part open to steal a sharp gasp of the sweltering lecture hall air- it couldn’t be. And his bleary irises can’t even focus, can’t lock on anything but the figure of you mere feet away. 

…Could it?

With a slight tilt of your head, you’re staring back at him - and something…carnal pangs through his suddenly-boiling veins.

Then you smirk- and Geto twitches.

Fuck.

He would’ve crashed onto his knees right then and there if it wasn’t for the way that you proceed to dig through your cute, useless bag - still in the middle of a conversation with your friends - and throw something flimsy and pale pink at him.

No shame. No regrets.

None for either of you; but especially not Geto once his strong palms reach out to urgently scramble for the shred of gauzy fabric in midair. 

Tangling the stringy satin between thick, ringed fingerpads, he’s sinking his face into its sugarcoated scent before sinking into the realization that you’d had the audacity to throw your fucking panties at him in the middle of a bustling seminar. 

Yet, he was even worse - jaw slackening, broad chest heaving with rasping ahs! as he drinks in loooong repeated puffs of your pheromones. Coating his brain in melty molasses of sugar and spice and you. 

There was a reason you were the most sought-after omega on the entire campus. With your filthy skin-tight outfits, and your flirty smiles. 

And him? He couldn’t get enough.

Smearing away a sloppy splotch of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth- when had he even started drooling? Geto watches through watery peripherals as you mouth a smug “an advance” at him, and saunter out of the class in your tightly-knit group.

Too tightly-knit, if you asked Geto. Dead-on stare narrowing, he catches the way one of your so-called friends brush away an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder. 

Just barely. His head snapping towards Geto when the latter growls-

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

He was fucked.

.

.

.

Listen, it’s not as if you make Geto finish all of your homework - just the ones that you found too tedious, too complicated, or too time-consuming. Which might just happen to be all of them, but you digress! 

He was more than happy to collect those slutty scraps of silk you called “panties” and you were proud to keep your streak of having the second-highest GPA in class (after the man himself, of course.)

The more important the grade the more sinful the panties. 

After all, it wasn’t as if you minded all of Geto’s fiery stares at you during lectures, the spark in his eyes when he tried to drill a difficult concept into your mind, or the way his dark lashes would flutter drunkenly the moment you got too close. 

In fact, you might even admit that you…like it.

Because Geto was hot. Fuck- he was fucking pretty.

You’d seen just how fawny his amethyst eyes were behind those clunky glasses. Lengthy Stygian hair, so many inches above six feet, and biceps that pull his gamer t-shirts so taut that it made you wonder what was underneath.

But it wasn’t as if a nerd - and a beta, obviously, though you didn’t care for secondary gender - like him would ever make a move. 

Hell, he barely even talked to anyone other than the professors. 

All grumbling and rude. It took you weeks to even get him to acknowledge your existence, and that was only by giving him an “accidental” glimpse of your red, red bra strap. 

So you were mostly fine and dandy with this lecherous transaction of yours. Geto was smart; he was never a minute late in emailing you your surely A+ worthy work before their deadlines, and you’d gift him his little treat just the day after.

Except- you were lounging on your couch as the 12:00AM deadline for your latest essay rolled around and there was still no sign of Geto. Not a single ping from your inbox. 

With an impatient thumb, you’re idly scrolling through the sparse chat history you’d all but bullied him into sharing with you, brows furrowing deeper and deeper at your plethora of ignored texts and calls. 

Nothing new but, seriously…

Scoffing as the clock tick! tick! ticked! its way to 12:01AM. 

He was late - and your homework was, too. 

You’d been feeling a little too…feverish tonight to attend that one party your friends had invited you to, and thank your stars for that. Because not even minutes later, you were stomping the few blocks down to Geto’s apartment building and all the way up to his white-painted front door.

“Hey, Sugu—” You rap your knuckles harshly on the wood, exasperated. “Are you in there?”

No answer. 

Huffing, your heated skin stings where it clashes even harder against his door. Impatiently, “Hah- making an omega walk all the way out here…I should take back all those panties I gave you. Yaga deducts points for late submissions and I am not leaving until you come out.”

Still no answer. Not even a sound. 

“In fact, I’ll only get louder.”

Not even a breath. 

That was…strange. He should’ve at least come out to shut up your racket so that he can study, if not at the mention of your panties. 

And right now your annoyance was being washed away with sharp waves of concern, a nervous bout of laughter escaping you as soon as your hand falls on the door handle to find it shockingly unlocked. Oh? 

You and Geto might not be the best of friends, but you wanted him to be alright goddammit. 

“Better come out and stop me now, unless you want me to barge in!” You call out, jostling the cold, metallic knob for good measure. It holds firm in your hand, the only thing grounding your swimming mind as you bask in a second of silence. Two. Three. Before sighing, “Have it your way then. I’m coming in–”

Then it hits you.

Slow, at first. Like a smell from a distant memory that you find yourself aching for - find yourself stumbling a few steps inside Geto’s cozy apartment and devouring in generous lungfuls. 

You slam the door shut to cloud yourself in the saturated air and gasp.

This was nothing like any expensive perfume you’d smelled before. It felt like your entire body was on fire, like every one of your pores was scorching from deep inside. Like you needed him.

Head whirling with the heady concoction of caramel salt scent and those dark undertones of wine. Something so dangerous. So tempting. So…Suguru.

You jolt. He was in rut. 

Wait, rut? Geto Suguru? Wasn’t he…wasn’t he a beta? 

You swear he was. You didn’t know what was happening, only angling your head up for more and more and more-

Shit, you’re shoving your thighs together before you know it. Already feeling the slippery stream of slick that sloshes past your pussy lips and puddles at the bottom of your underwear. And you know you’ve never been wetter. 

“A-anyone home?” You’re straining out, the doughy mountain of your palm rubbing mindlessly up n’ down through your thin skirt. 

Undoubtedly, there’s still no response. And yet, it’s almost as if he’s calling to you - and maybe he is.

Feet wrenching one jerky pitch after the other, you have to balance yourself on the hallway walls to fucking keep your sanity.

And to perhaps stop your weakened knees from slipping you into a pile on the polished hardwood floors. Perhaps to stop yourself from breaking out into a run to wherever your inner luna was clawing to take you. 

You breathe, “Th-this isn’t funny, Suguru…”

The soft thuds of your padded steps thunder in time with your racing heart. Louder and louder. Deafening by the time you’re catching sight of a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor that waves ever-so-slightly ajar. 

Where those hypnotic pheromones were the most saturated. And your mouth waters. 

It’s only once you’re reaching it - trembling, standing stock-still, right outside what you now assumed to be his bedroom - that you realize Geto was calling to you. Well, more like he was calling out for you. 

Your name. 

In soft, breathy moans that make his rich baritone crack.

“Get the fuck in here.”

.

.

.

The moment Geto Suguru catches a glimpse of your oh-so-cute face - the moment he senses that you’re actually, honest-to-goodness here - he cums. 

And he can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help it.

Even dabbing the fat of his massive thumb right over his bawling tip can’t stop the heaping torrents of gooey white escaping from him. Such slick ribbons upon ribbons crawling their way up Geto’s washboard abs, you can only watch with bated breath as his messy, round globs of seed trickle up n’ down until they drench his dark happy trail. 

Your watery thighs stick together, maw falling agape because you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined this.

You had. Once or twice or many, many times. 

All splayed out on his Digimon sheets like this; meaty thighs cracked open, silky locks slathered across every inch, glasses fogged up. Ruined. Geto’s sweat-shimmered back arches off the outdated bed springs with a creak! while his hand flew furiously up and down his swollen cock.

Shit, you’re biting your lip. Syllables jumping roughly off of your heavy tongue, “S-Suguru?”

SLAM!

It’s like the sound of your voice does heavenly wonders to him.

Plump, tender balls squeezing, Geto’s free hand encloses behind his sweaty scalp and onto the headboard above him. Hard enough that the sturdy frame snaps, pale biceps flexing enough that you find your skin clammy with need. 

“Fuh-fuck.” He’s hissing through clenched teeth. Staring right at your meandering form through dazed half-crescents, mouth departing endless husked grunts. And oh…oh a few more dewy droplets of cum spray out of his bawling orifice once you gulp. “Look what you’ve done t’me.”

“Y-you’re an alpha?” You finally manage to find your voice. 

He snickers, the murky scent of the room growing ever-stronger. And even more than that was your own scent, mixing and melding until you felt dizzy. “And you’re in danger, little omega~”

Your widened gaze grows to lock on the way that his rugged fingers continue milking out creamy sploshes of cum. Expertly flying up, up, up– before fisting his hefty base with an airy sigh. 

Large. He was so large. 

And in so many ways more than one. 

An alpha. He was an alpha. 

Seductively sculptured body dwarfing his single bed with what looked like miles upon miles of toned, tall muscles. Were those tattoos spying out from the sides of his back?

A syrupy geyser of sap formulates between his two legs the size of your head- this was Geto Suguru? 

And his cock - oh, he was so perfectly massive. Oversized, even in Geto’s engulfing hand. 

So painfully hard that he was blushing a blossoming magenta near the very tip of his globular cockhead, throbbing. Pulsing. Thick lightning bolts of veins gripping down either side of his pink shaft and all the way down to his breeder balls.

With a harrowed gasp filling your lungs, you’re spotting just the barest fringe of something soaked-through and gauzy tangled underneath his digits. 

Fuck. 

“Is that-”

“This?” Geto grins - grins. You’ve never seen him smile let alone show off this dopey, predatory leer plastering all over his flushed features. A gentle dimple embeds near his curled lip, and he quirks an eager brow. 

You can barely even think while he untwines the frilly pair of panties you’d thrown at him in class from around his aching cock. Sticky and stretched now, it finds home right near his flared nostrils as Geto brings it up and sniffs. Crazed. “C’mere.”

The rawest of glints twinkle in his half-lidded vision as you inch closer, the way you tremble on your two feet like a newborn fawn was adorable. And he can’t stop himself from letting out a low whistle–

“Yeah. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your body kneels you right by Geto’s bedside before your mind can even think to catch up. Head lolling lecherously against the wide plane of his shivering thigh, you let your tongue lap up a pearl of his buttery white cum and keen. He was even bigger up close. “Sugu—”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous.” Geto tuts, gravelly tonality rendering you confused just as much as you were needy. His two palms grip the crown of your head to peer upwards, “S’all because of you. You n’ those d-damn panties. M’not your hck! nerdy fuckin’ Sugu right now. Best remember that- m’gonna make sure you remember that.”

He’s more than gazing down at you, he’s boring right through you. 

Spectacle frames creeping precariously down his nose bridge, tendrils of his shaggy hair almost curtaining him, pellets of sweat trickle down his temples and hit you in thin spatters. So close. And you wanted him closer. 

“Tilt your head back, lemme see that ngh- pretty mouth.” One hand slips from your head to curl around Geto’s fattened hilt, nudging his puckered tip to strike your lips with a dull thud! “Count.”

“One-”

And it’s not once. 

“T-two-”

Not twice. 

“Three- hah!”

Not thrice, until he’s leaving your mouth whimpering and stinging with the slam of his rock-hard shaft slapping down your tender flesh. Leaving a slimy trail of pre and salty cum that leaks between your maw and drives you wild. 

Then - and only then - is he wrenching you up closer. Manhandling your pliable body until the very tip of his perfectly button nose meets yours. So close.

Your teary lashes flutter halfway shut once you feel the foggy breeze of his breath scorching your face, cunt quivering with the anticipation of a kiss. His pheromones hit you in powerful gusts, your primal urges scratching up to the surface.

Closer. Too close- for a kiss that never comes.

“Heh. Cute.”

He doesn’t kiss you.

But before you know it, Geto pitches his tongue back and wets your shimmery pouted lips with a large wad of his syrupy saliva. 

In just a split-second. 

Bowing you back underneath him and stuffing your chatty mouth so damn full of his swollen cock that you can’t even think of anything else. Fat droplets of tears fountain up at the edge of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so split open.

He was eight- no, maybe nearing ten whole inches that scraped the back of your mushy throat with his ruthless mushroom tip. 

Hard. Girthy. 

Cratering out a wet circumference of bruises into your melty mouth with a singular thrust, and it wasn’t enough- fuck, it might never be enough.

Geto’s throwing his head back, toned core muscles tensing. “O-oh. This. Th-this is what it feels like?” 

You almost wonder whether he even knew what he was doing once you feel a shaky thigh throwing behind your neck and reel you in close. Drawing you all the way up until your nose scratches his tufted pelvis, mouth hanging wiiidely agape. 

“Sh-shooo big–” You’re mumbling through a scalding mouthful, slicked walls clenching at the realization that he had you trapped in a headlock. And by the looks of it, he was never going to let go.

“Yeah- yeah?” He shudders out, bass cracking into a zillion shatters near the end. Octaves higher. Unsteady. Meanly, Geto’s leg jostles you even further from behind to probe his shaft even deeper into your velvety mouth, your chin buckling underneath his curvaceous ballsack. Holding you still. Firmly. “Fuckin’ l-like that, don’t you?”

You can’t nod. You can’t hum affirmative. He was so bulky inside you that your lips sag underneath the sheer weight.

But your omega preens for the attention, sleek tongue zig-zagging over one of the pounding veins that poked into the roof of your mouth. And it’s enough of an answer for Geto.

Spitting out, “Oh yeah? Dirty girl. Didn’t expect your loser lil’ Sugu to have such a fat fuckin’ dick, huh?” 

So fucking…rude, words teetering right on just the edge of being menacing. And you were just so gorgeous crying all over his cock like this, so much better than when you were hanging off of other alphas. 

So much better when he strays a thumb to feel your filling throat, the way he’s lodged deep inside. Him. All him. 

You let off a whiny gag the moment his blushing red cockhead twitches up ferally at the thought. The static cotton in your head making you slurp his length with a sloppy squelch! 

He’s pushing up his glasses furiously, “Can you even take it? Seriously- acting so popular n’ mighty when you can’t even take my hngh- cock.”

And you’re about to rebuke, you’re about to- you swear.

But oh, he didn’t have mercy now. 

“Whaaaat? M’just saying.” The ridges of his head press up all against every nook and cranny of your mouth, a silvery trail of drool now seeping from between your locked lips. Geto wipes away his own cobwebs of drool with the back of his mouth, giggling. Giggling when you scuffle, “S’it too big? Too big for our f-famous lil’ omega?”

Your throat aches something carnally delicious when he keeps a hold ‘round your neck to plunge into the waterlogged bottom. Bobbing your head in lewd maneuvers allll the way up n’ down. “Ngh- Sugu–” 

“Hah- hah!” His glassy eyes gleam something wild, microscopic tastebuds watering all over again with just how intensely he was gawking down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his eyes were glowing- “Why are ya still fuckin’ speaking, gorgeous?”

It wasn’t a Command, but oh did it feel like one.

Only mere moments later and Geto’s springing himself off of the bouncy mattress to shovel your hot throat full of copious inches and leave you spellbound. Swirling a lazy few half-circles of his heavy tip where you were most sensitive.

“Cool that pretty lil’ head. You’re cuter when yer like th-this, y’know?” He groans, feeling your slippery cheeks grip his shaft in an adorable hug. Knee drawing up even tighter to hold you still while he fucked your mouth the way he’d been wishing he could for so long. “All shut up a-and mine and…”

Ah, breath wisping away. He’s prodding your poor gag reflexes at the very same time he rovers up a stray hand to squeeze your nostrils together. “-only mine.”

“Nghh- G-etooo—” And yet, he still doesn’t let up. You’re cupping Geto’s plumpened balls with a delicately loving touch, lustrous strands of spit layering your lips. “Want you.”

“Hm?”

“Want you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Those are the very same words he’s been dreaming of every single rut since meeting you. And he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself from letting out a slew of swears and cumming.

Shocked. 

“Sh-shit—” It’s all Geto can do to bite down on the plush of his bottom lip and wrangle back those embarrassing fucking whimpers on his tongue, dewy eyes sparkling with a few overstimulated tears. “You’re gonna- f-fucking…”

But he’s not given the privilege to finish his thought let alone his sentence. 

Just flooding your senses with the caramel salt of his scent, and his gobs of pearly seed. Every jackhammer has Geto pinpricking it on the back of your bruised and battered throat, every squeeze of his hand around your neck makes him drool out in wiry oodles of sap more and more and more-

“S’what you w-wanted, right?” And you’re sensing the way his scent tinged with something maddened, leaving your eyes popping. “Prancing around with your hah- p-pre-heat panties and your- fuck!” Geto fights to keep his eyes from flapping closed, “Take it- ohhhh take it all.”

As if you could do anything else.

Every tiny twitch leaves your cavern flooded. Geto was cumming so hard that it was overspilling from each crevice of your lips, a silvery waterfall of cum that he’s dabbing around a thumb to smear. 

Letting your pouted lips wobble at the fresh topping of white gloss, “There’s a good girl. My goood fuckin’ girl.” 

Oh, there’s no doubt in your fractured mind right now that Geto Suguru was an alpha. Inhaling his deep puffs of contentment, you’re arching your back mindlessly in delight. Throat loosening with the motions to-

“Don’t swallow.”

So mean. 

You don’t think you’re given the split-second to wonder otherwise before he’s grappling for the pretty column of your throat and kissing you raw. 

You’re gasping when his depraved tongue smacks down between the seam of your mouth to lather in every scorching hot mess of sap he’d left behind. The mess that he made. And he was only making it messier.

Watching you through barely-cracked open pupils while he scooped up the sticky webs of seed dangling from your mouth. Scratchy buds taking over. A kiss so filthy that you felt shy to even call it that. 

“Mmm—” Geto’s skidding his tongue down the buttered length of his lips, flicking over any stray droplets he could find. And something in his eyes told you that he was mere seconds away from doing it all over again. “Not bad for a first kiss.”

Fuck- what?

“Sugu- what-” You’re panting out measly syllables through the gaps of his sappy mouth. “I-I thought you’d be more…”

“What? A heh- bumbling loser?” His eyes narrow down at you, words purring sexily. “Oh, gorgeous…”

Fuck, and if the rasping growl in his tone didn’t shut you up, the way that Geto’s throwing you onto the bouncy bed sure does. 

He doesn’t have a care in the world, he doesn’t have a single thought other than ripping off your flimsy clothes. Everything but those very same cherry pink panties you’d teased up at him, well- more see-through than anything right now.

Kneeing apart your jittery legs to watch the way your cunt gushes in pure need. Lips curling into a leer at the way she winks up at him through filthy masses of slick.

“Sh-she’s mine now, isn’t she?” Rumbling out, eyes wide. Unfocused. And the look on Geto’s face made white-hot trills sprint down your spine - ones you couldn’t decode between primal need and fear. “She’s…”

Ptwah!

The vicious goblet of spit that hits you this time is somehow even meaner than the last, striking at the very top of your sobbing pussy and disappearing riiiight between your folds. 

“Mine.” Awestruck, Geto bullies one capped knee to smooch up against your slit. Gleaming his heated skin with the bucketloads of cute sap that you kept pouring out by the second. Geto was greedy, he was grunting. “Beg for it, omega.”

You’re squirming underneath him impatiently, clawing all over his unmoving wrists. You ached all over for something. Anything. “Don’t- don’t wanna-”

But Geto had ten times your strength and wasn’t afraid of using it. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of using it - wasn’t afraid of pinning down both your trembly hands on the bed springs with one of his. Rutting his knee up even more mercilessly, murking his pheromones until it burned of salt and spice. “Beg.”

You mewl, “P-please-”

“No stuttering.”

“Please.” And if that wasn’t enough, you’re batting your lacquered lashes up at Geto in exactly the way you knew was his weakness. Exactly the way that got you the second-highest GPA for so long. Jutting your back the perfect curvature off of the bed, “I’ll let you k-keep my panties, Suguru—?”

“Oh, giiiirl—” He husks out, leaning in so close to plant a yearning snog on your mouth. Blushing pink lips wrapping around your tongue and sucking. You always got what you wanted. “M’keeping those regardless.”

In his special drawer for all your slutty underwear, of course. 

And just as soon as Geto’s kissing your lips, he’s trekking his way downwards to make sure that your other ones don’t feel left out. 

“Look at her.” He breathes, words taking on an airy tone that makes him sound as if he was furious. Blistering with the anger that he’s been deprived of the heavenly proximity of your soft, seeping cunt for so long. “H-heh, if o-only those tch- popular friends of yours could see. Just look- look how wet she is f’me. All me.”

A fattened thumb fringes past your panties, and you flinch at the cold press of his silver rings. Rovering all the way to greet your puffy pussylips in languid drags uuuuup and down, pricking his manicured fingernail on the button of your clit. 

Geto’s hooded lids widen, heat rushing all over his cheeks at the sloppy squelches he draws out. So easily. Adorably.

And it was true - he did have a tattoo. A splashing inking of a dragon all across Geto’s muscled back, somehow making him even more unintentionally hotter. 

“And look how loud mmm–” He’s kissing the mound of your folds like a lover, lingering. Loving. Stealing deeeeep gasps of your scent, “M’gonna ruin you. Ngh- ohhh, m’gonna r-ruin you, gorgeous. Ruin ya for anyone else.”

And when Geto meant he was going to ruin you - he meant it.

“Shit.” He was going to mush his pretty features up into your sopping wet pussy until you could feel every minute, warm pant. Staring right up into the target of your fuzzy heart-eyes, “How do you- how do you taste so good.”

Every gasp he’s drinking in of your murked perfumed pheromones, showering ‘round every sense and making him dizzy.

“Squeeze- wanna feel-”

And maybe it’s his rut, maybe it’s the way your tension was so thick - but you instantaneously know what to do. 

To close your legs in a deadlock around Geto’s oily scalp. Your weighty eyelids bat up and down subconsciously at the attractive way he was digging his bulging biceps into the sides of your thighs. Pulling you in closer and closer and closer. “That turns you on, huh?”

But that wasn’t all- oh, that wasn’t what he was making out with your cute cunt and begging for. 

His mouth lathers over with a fresh bout of watery spit the moment your rubbery ring of muscle clench all around him. Making every ridge of his hot tongue catch on your gooey innards, the texture of it enough to drive you positively wild. 

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re letting out a primal groan, clawing at his tattooed back. Chest shuddering underneath the strain of one powerful hand pinning you down. Holding you painfully still. “Suguru- want more. More.”

Slipping his slick tongue in and out of your fluttery hole, Geto keens at the way your entrance kept on trying to suck him back in. 

“Fuckin’ know-” In one second, he’s pushing his cloudy glasses up his nose, and in the other he pries apart your puffed lips and caresses. “Yer turning into a fucking w-waterpark, dirty girl. Even wetter than all that p-porn I learned from…”

You’re whimpering, legs falling further n’ further open until it burned your inner quads. No matter how deeply Geto stuffed his face between them it just wouldn’t be enough.

It was almost as if…

“Heat.” He’s slurring a looong lap of his grooved tastebuds all over the lustre of your sweet, sweet juices. Free hand wrapping at his favorite position around your neck and making sure to angle your head so that you catch the twinkling droplets of slick pouring down his tongue. “You’re in heat, little omega.”

Gasping, “W-what?”

But it made sense. It was falling into place and that only made you wetter.

With a smirk, Geto swats your hands until they tangle into his silken tresses. “Lemme take care of you.” SWAT! The plapping sensation hits you before the realization that he’d run his crowned digits over to spank your perked clit. “Ngh- just sit tight n’ let your nerdy ol’ Sugu here take g-goood care of you.”

He was pleading with you - begging you - to latch onto his pretty locks and grind your pussy in repeated gyrations all over his face. Guiding him, using the hook of his pert nose as the perfect ridge to rest your throbbing clit on. 

“Th-thank you, alpha—” Too good. You were giving into something baser, to let your head loll into the cushy pillow behind you in sweeping motions. And it was so cute he could cum. 

“Yeah? Who- who?”

“You, Suguru.”

“Damn right.”

With every drag of his hoarse syllables, Geto was trawling his face across every inch between the beautiful legs that you had to offer.

Purposefully. 

You’re holding back his endless, inky strands just to admire how pretty he looked. How ravenous. Greedy. 

Fuck, Geto was making up for all these years he spent parched. Spitting out streak after streak of spittle that made your pussy pour out all over his snogging mouth. “Gonna- gonna fuck you like this w’my cock next.”

His tongue folds into your slobbery hole and slithers into every tender orifice - so staggeringly long that you were feeling a lump in your own throat. 

Just a few flops into your earliest magical spots and Geto could already hear the way you were fighting to hide your little sobs. 

“Th-this right here-” He’s probing a finger underneath the panties that stuck to your cunt like adhesive, letting it spring back to hit you with a smack! Tittering at your yelp, “S’mine.”

Rubbing a fat few crowns of his fingerpads at the tender area underneath the base of your pussy. Pressing down. Hard. “And her? All the w-way from here-”

Drawing sensual patterns up, up uuuup all the way to your sensitive clit, and oh- it felt so right to have him draw sultry little hearts on your weepy hood. 

Tugging it over to nip underneath one sharp canine - one that you swear had grown even longer in the last few minutes. Geto was gone in the depths of his rut, hallowing out his cheeks to eat you out as if he was a man starved. And you were his favorite dessert. “To here? S’mine, too.”

RIIIIIP—!

Through your glossy heaps of tears, you can make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto tearing your satiny underwear into tatters. Balling it up into a wad of sugarcoated fabric that he unapologetically stuffs in your drivelling mouth.

“Gonna add these t-to my collection.” You feel him smile against the outer edges of your claggy cunt, tittering at the stupid way your overspilling lips slacken with a soggy pwah! You’re hearing and feeling a long-winded woooosh from below once he takes a deeeep breath in with his over-delicate senses. “Th-thereeee we go. Cum all over my mouth, gorgeous.”

And if you were in any better state of mind perhaps you’d have noticed the way that Geto’s driving his hips into the bed like a damn dog when he sensed your scent peaking. Sensed you getting closer.

Ragged breaths striking your quivering pussy mercilessly and making your teeth sink desperately into the muggy jumble of underwear in your mouth. 

Your broken moans burst out even through that particular watergate, right along with a slithery trickle of saliva and a huff of “S-Suguru—” Craning your head to watch his nostrils flare with knowing, “Close- clo- cumming.”

Eyes flashing. Heart thumping not just within your rib cage.

When it rains, it pours. 

But you weren’t just pouring - you were flooding.

Such glutinous ropes of your orgasm, it sprays Geto’s sexy face in squirts. Clinging onto the edge of his glasses and forming little puddles right at the apples of his high cheeks.

Suddenly, you were oh-so-thankful for the way he’d stuffed your mouth mercilessly full - because by the rusted rasp in your throat, you’re sure you’re singing out shrill trills loud enough that his neighbors would file a noise complaint.

But that was the last thing on his mind.

The last thing- well, fuck, it wasn’t on his mind at all. Geto’s cooing at how unstable you feel, treacherous fingers mazing across your fat clit and giving her a goood few pushes just the way he would with his gameboys.

“Good girl-” he spits into your gapingly widened cunt, still suffering from the remnant tremors of your high and still slopping out wads of juices. Like a mantra, Geto’s dark brows scrunch in concentration, “Good girl good girl gooood fucking girl.”

Words hitching up into something shrill near the edge, he sounded as if he was fraying his sanity with every droplet of slick you pumped into his mouth. With every single second. 

Pushing his aching hot cock deeper and deeper into the sullied sheets. More. He needed more. 

Every sloppy swivel of your widely pried-apart pussy on his tongue made him leave an open-palmed smack! on your thigh. Other hand traipsing to pin your hips down with his big, vein-decorated forearm. 

He doesn’t want to let go.

You’re barely letting off a whine at the lack of friction before Geto lets his mouth depart from your cunt with a soggy pwah! Leaving a final few French kisses on his favorite sweet orifice, he’s pecking a loooong open-mouthed pathway up to your loosened maw.

“Good girl…” He hiccups, clammy forehead sticking against yours. Each syllable struggles to wrench past the leaden ball slowly forming on Geto’s mouth. 

The syrup-glazed lenses of his glasses clash into you, and Geto himself seems to notice. “Look what a fuckin’ mess ya made.” He’s gruffing out at the thick topping of oozing gloss that made the frame impossible to see through. 

Immediately pulling back a few millimeters to take them off and dump them on your own nose bridge. Unceremoniously. 

And it was so wet. 

Almost as wet as Geto’s features were - all showered in gunky dredges of glistening sap. It streaks all the way from his pointed chin and up to his handsome cheekbones. Beads of it hitting your panting chest in a pat! pat! pat!

Heaving out a shaky exhale, he’s pushing away a few elegant strands of charcoal bangs. 

“M’gonna…m’gonna fuck you now.” Sounding more as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Or perhaps both. Puffy folds being rubbed all raw with the depraved back and forth of his veiny under-shaft. “Gonna fuck you. So take it- take it.”

Geto stares deep into your whirling eyes while he sinks his hefty cock into you just as thoroughly. A clingy film sticks to his gaze, dazed and all half-hooded that you wondered if he could even register what was in front of him.

Crazed.

And he’s such a fucking tease, too. 

Creating a slimy trail of pasty pre all over your weakened inner thighs, he drags his bawling divot all over every stretch of your entrance. Around and around in circles. 

“B-big, huh? Better take it b-before I- make it- fit-” He’s echoing, dimples peaking out at the cute way your breath hitches once you feel the sheerly massive circumference of his fat tip. “Shhhh shh sh, s’alright- s’where you’re m-meant to ngh- be.”

Even for an alpha, he was always staggering - but having him stuffing you to the brim would be a whole other feeling. Would have you ruined. 

You’re peering up at him through humid lashes, borrowed glasses smearing wet splotches of slick underneath your skin. Eventually, those panties had found themselves spilling out of your unfastened jaw, “Meant to- hah! be?”

“Mhmmm— pretty omega.” You’re hit with a sudden wave of coaxing pheromones, the gentle salty breeze making your hips buck subconsciously upwards. Subconsciously aching. “This s’where you’re ngh- meant to be.”

And as much as Geto loved hearing whiny questions bubble their way up to your spit-layered lips, oh- was it so much more fun to eye down at your speechless self when he snugly squeezes just a mere sensual inch.

Leaning back to watch the way his bustling cock was stretching and stretching and stretching your tender walls flawlessly. You were taking him so ridiculously well. 

“Fuh-fuck you-” His plush pecs rumble with his bass from above, words tumbling. Hips rolling. And Geto was fucking gone- staring at you with wide, humorless eyes that you doubt were even seeing. “Fuck you- m’fucking you…fuck you fuck you fuck!”

With every sharp fah! being whirled into your loose mouth, Geto rubs his puffed-up veins into the tender mound of your cunt. You can’t help but count every rapid ba-dump—! his achy length throbs. 

Desperately. Rutting and rutting just to fit himself inside. 

Around the time he’s only halfway in, Geto circles one hand over his drenched base to skid taut O’s at the edge of your hole. Nudging his fat girth past your entrance and keening-

“M-more!” You’re barking out primally, your tongue tied into all sorts of bows and ribbons with the way this stretch was searing. And it was the best sort of tight fit, you were practically drooling all over again at the fleshy thwack! of Geto’s rounded balls smacking your thighs. “More, Sugu—”

“M-more…?”

It wasn’t just you - your luna needed more, too. 

You’re nodding and nodding- only to realize with a harsh muffle of Geto’s palm over your noisy mouth that he wasn’t even talking to you.

No, he was tittering away in a small sort of voice. Octaves higher. Strained. Goosebumps smatter all across your skin at the way he sounded so unstable. 

“More…” Irises flashing a glowy purple, fingers twitching where he held you. A loser like him. A nerd like him. “M-more she says.”

Fuck. 

Without another word - without another breath - Geto’s flipping you around with only one beefy palm clawing at your hip. Shoving your face deep into the puff of his nerdy pillows, he’s bottoming out with just one thrust-

You think you scream, you think you bawl once you feel his plummy mushroom head draw a long line of pre along the insides of your cervix. And your pussy felt so full you could burst, your walls crushed with all overpacked inches of his.

Finally. 

“Thaaaat’s it, that’s it-” He’s grunting through furiously clenched teeth, a hand crowning the back of your scalp and muffling your words into the bed. Hard. Fuck- he was going to pass out if you made another pretty sound. “S’where you belong.”

Ah, there it is - that little broken prayer.

Except, this time it was being respired in boiling hot pants against the tips of your ears. Was being wheezed out of Geto when he lurches his sweat-simmered hips back to hit your ass with a resounding pap!

“All f-fucked dumb on my ngh- biiig fucking cock, hm?” He tilts your head up with one hand, smiling to himself once he catches a glittery flash of spit leaking from your lips. “All…” A warm splatter! strikes your back, and only then do you realize that he’s slobbering. “Mine.”

And where Geto was talking all possessively - he was fucking you even more so.

In the blink of an eye, he’s planting two sets of fingers on either of your wrists and pulling all the way back, back, back. A length foot being placed right at the small of your spine to get you to bend in a delicious arch-

“Fuck!” Your cute voice rings hoarse, like music to his blushing ears. Struggling to regain the gasps of air leaving your lungs, “There- th-there.”

Oh, shit.

The way Geto was manhandling you was not only bending you in all sorts of lecherously pliable ways that had your slit dripping, it was making his rotund cockhead stub oh-so-viciously into your cervix. 

Rough. Probing. 

“H-heh, guess I lost my first kiss there, too.” He’s giggling out, biting down on the rugged mewls that threaten to depart every time your cunt swallows him whole. “Congrats on being my ngh- first, little omega— yer e-even better than my ngh- bodypillows of you.”

Bending you over ever-deeper, honestly- your walls were cloying onto him so desperately that it was making Geto’s heart pang with disappointment every time his ruddied tip recoiled back from the bottom of your sloppy pussy. 

He wanted to be this close to you forever. 

Treacling out stringy wads of pre, he’s furrowing brows and making sure each n’ every jackhammer fills you up impossibly. 

You can barely grapple for air at this point, the sloshes of syrup left after each barrelling strike leaving you star-struck. 

He grins, “Shit, d-do ya ever stop fuckin’ drooling? Gonna hafta call the f-fire department, girl.”

“Can’t help it–!” All you can do it let your mouth unlatch to warble whimper after whimper–

“C’mon now, gorgeous- aren’t ya ashamed?” Licking his lips free of your taste, Geto diverts more pressure to his foot. Hefty balls rippling wickedly against the sobbing end of your slit with just how easy you were to throw around like his favorite toy. Like his favorite figurines. “Look at what a mess yer making. Being fucked so f-filthy. And I haven’t even ngh- found it, yet.”

Haven’t found it. Oh, but he knew he was going to. He was going to make you scream.

Your syrupy whines slip into something desperate, “Y-you don’t know…?”

“Of course I f-fuckin’ know. Who d’ya think you’re ngh talking to?” As if you could forget you were being thoroughly pounded by the smartest person on campus right now. And evidently the filthiest, too. 

A ringed finger treks down to your sensitive nub, soothing over where you were throbbing the most violently. Cute. Lulling you into a sweet, sweet state of bliss before Geto pinches–

“Oh p-please!” You’re targeting your hazy vision over your shoulder, and somewhere along the lines Geto’s spectacles had slid cleanly off of you. Toes curling as his bloated head bludgeons just the creamy edges near your g-spot. “Please- y-you’re so close, Suguru-”

You didn’t know whether it was your heat or just Geto that had you so desperate. Your sparkless mind blames the latter.

“Am I?” He hums, leaning over so that the soft tendrils of his hair tickled your back. 

Whacking his painfully achy crownhead mere centimeters below your magical spots, and you’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. 

Geto starts holding it there for lingering French snogs into the steamy inner depths of your cunt and then you know he’s doing this on purpose. Spitting in your mouth with a smile. 

That mean bastard.

Jittering your hips to chase the texture of his curly pubic hair against your ass, he snickers. “Are you ngh- suuuure? You haven’t done a s-single one of your ngh- human biology essays lately, dirty girl.”

You’re molding your lips into a pout - difficult, with just how many loads of saliva were pouring out of you and cementing a puddle onto the Digimon pillows. “F-fuck you.”

“No…” You set free a gasp of air you didn’t know you were holding the very second he lets go of the rough foot anchoring your spine, instead- in only mere nanoseconds you find yourself jerked up into Geto Suguru’s hold with a hand at your throat. Back gluing against his glissading abs, even his voice was unbalanced and trembling now. “I’m fucking you, little omega.”

And you were about to remember it.

With an immediate pitch of his gasping breaths, Geto’s angled hips go from steadily ruined to sloppy. Calculated. 

He didn’t care if he made a mess of stringy slick that circled in the satiny sheets around the two of you, he didn’t care if your eyes were bulging out of their poor sockets when his pronounced hips dig into your backside with blistering bruises. 

He didn’t care for anything but digging the curled fringe of his fatly bloated tip right into the target of your g-spot. 

Mazing through your gluey folds and keeping them snugly open with his reddened girth, Geto knocks your sweetest spots with vengeance. 

“There–!” You call out, as if he hadn’t already felt the gooey seize of your pussy trying to hold him hostage. 

His mouth trudges over your throat, fingers roaming over to give your clit a nice few pinches. Meaningfully, “Here? Orrrr–” Punctuating each word, each second with a thorough drilling into your g-spot. “-here? Make up th-that ditzy lil’ mind. Seriously.”

Your head drunkenly crashes on top of his collarbone and stays there, “R-right here- there. Both, Sugu.”

“Again with the f-fucking Sugu-” Geto snarls out, though you can sense by his cloudy scent that he was anything but irritated with you. 

Your whines had quietened down into something more of an incoherent mess, and the main things ringing in Geto’s ears right now were the creaky protests of his bed and the clammy plops of his thrusts. 

“C’mon now— where’s my bossy fuck! omega? The one who loves her poor, nerdy Sugu?”

Arousal reaching a peak, and now that he’d found your g-spot, he was probing into it with fat thuds. Not just once or twice. Nooooo, it was over and over and- 

“Just w-wanna cum—” you’re sobbing out. Jerking your body like a bobble-head up and down to further feel the drag of his Herculean form behind you, to savor each ridge and sculpted curve sweatily massaging your back. “P-pleeeeease, Suguru. Let me cum?”

Swerving his tensing hips out alllll the way back to leave solid smooches ‘round your pussy entrance each and every time, and then there were the squelches-

Oh, you were just flooding a slippery sheen all over his hefty, swelling base. A viscid luster of slick that glided all the way down to drip off of his sack n’ between his legs. 

Your eyes manage to snatch themselves open- hissing at the realization that it was pooling especially around that particularly ballooned-up ring right over Geto’s breeder balls. 

Was that? With a shiver you’re rutting backwards, feeling for yourself the slow drag of his proud knot. Bigger than any else you’ve ever seen. It was. 

You rasp, throat itchy and raw. Sweltering droplets of tears streaming down your cheeks when he matches the stuttering beat of your heart with every pressurized push- “P-please.”

“Needy thing. Cum, huh?” Geto drawls out, voice thick with need and something else you were too stupid to register right now. He collides you even tighter against rippling pecs. Taking the sweet, sweet opportunity to poke his nose into your scent gland and steal a looooong breath of your overdriven pheromones. 

“Cum then, c-cum. Fucking cum all over my cock.”

Fuck, it’s with those exact words in mind that you do.

Startling straight headfirst into your high - and you don’t think you’ve even crashed into one wave of bliss before the other overtakes you. And another. And another-

“Oh g-god—” You’re trilling, only held up by the ruthless grip that Geto was maintaining. His hips were deep, and your pleasure even deeper. “-please. Please- please, Sugu-”

He’s hunching over your body ever-so-slightly, resting your thighs against his thick, flexing ones. Only bending you over to kiss your g-spot even more sinfully, Geto’s response comes out ragged into your lobes. “Tch, wh-what now?”

His ruby-red tip was blushing like a strawberry and just as plump - swirling around your treasure trove of spots, pounding you through each peak of your orgasm until you saw stars. 

“Cum i-insiiiide-” Your barely-audible groans spring out into the heady air, adding to its hypnotic mix of perfumes. And it’s not just the heat that made you crave Geto carnally, every pap! against the puffy ring at his base making you crave more more more- “Want it a-all up…”

You’re trailing off, melted mind unable to do multiple things at once. 

With tottering fingerpads, you’re trapping one of his palms underneath your own. Homing itself right above where his rounded tip was stretching open your insides, right above your womb.

“H-here, okay? Don’t miss-” 

You blink up at him and Geto thinks he might just be having a heart attack. Sparks fizzing around his sloshed brain, “Fuh-fuuuuck– don’t talk out of yer pussy, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit once. Twice just to watch your eyes glaze over stupidly. “Or m’gonna get you pregnant.” 

Soothing over that faint bulge he was fucking into your tummy, “Gonna h-have my baby growing allll up in here. Make you round and…” His voice sounds faint, whispering. “-big and…glowing. And…and pregnant.”

But, ah- you never did make it easy for him. Did you? Always had to have your way. 

Which Geto Suguru gladly gave. 

“But I want that, Sugu—” You pout, “Wan’ your knot…please?”

You didn’t have to say another word before Geto’s finishing off in such a messy way, reaching the biggest fucking orgasm he’s had in his entire life. The strongest. The most heavenly and oh- oh, were you an angel?

He’s collapsing onto the drenched sheets before he knows it, pinning you down with the strong v-line of his hips. 

“Shit-” Geto emits through the cracks in his bitten canines. “Shit shit shit- shit-”

You don’t know who’s losing their mind more, you or him. Falling into the well of a second, third, perhaps even fourth orgasm with how blissfully his fattened, split-ended cock bruised every nook of your adhesive-like walls. 

Your saliva cascades in puddles that soak the pillows through. “Suguruuu— a-are you okay-”

“Do I look okay?”

Sexily ridged abs kneading your back, hands scrambling on the mattress, inked shoulders shivering. His swollen knot hits and hits your pussymound. 

And it’s only once his trembly fingers latch around his glasses - fumbling, dropping it copious times before Geto manages to push them haphazardly onto his face. 

Tilting his head back just enough degrees to watch as the curved fringe of his knot disappears past your puffy folds. 

“There we- there…” He’s driveling clingy wads of translucent saliva, letting the stray pouring excess hit your fluttering hole with a splat! One eager thumb of Geto’s hooks into your entrance and bullies it aside to let his incredible perimeter sink iiiiiiiiin-

He’s melting into you now, spent. Ruined. “Get pregnant.” Geto whispers into your sweat-glossed shoulder blade once he feels the back of his knot get fully enveloped into your pussy with a gummy pop! Once he feels himself finally tip over- “Get pregnant.”

And it’s not just mindless babbling - it’s a promise. 

A promise that he rasps out time and time against with every wadded slip of seed that dollops out across your cervix. Pushing it so deep. Smearing acres of ribbony streaks all over your most precious orifices and spots. 

“Gonna know wh-what we did.” Geto whimpers, shit- he couldn’t pound his voluminous ounces of cum into you as aggressively as he wanted with this damn knot. “Entire campus. Professors. Everyone’s gonna know ngh- how I fucked ya full. F-fucked you pregnant. Gonna wonder.”

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

That didn’t stop him from wrenching out a hand to squeeze the ends of your sopping wet slit, forcing down on his very knot. Squeezing out so many numerous dredges of syrupy white cum that thwack! thwack! thwacks! a filthy second skin against your walls. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck— get pregnant, gorgeous.” He’s rutting. Grinding. Humping you like some beast more than man. “Gonna l-look at you all round n’ big and see me- me me me. Get pregnant get pregnant get-” 

Geto’s mouth parts at the pearly dewdrops of seed that leak from the overstuffed ends of your cunt. He can feel his entire body twitch, can feel his sharpened teeth lacquer so rabidly. 

He still wasn’t done.

Still letting one prespired forearm of his dangle around your neck, manhandling you into a fucking headlock. The other tracing the edges of his digits over your glands, squeezing until your skin was all tender and raw. 

And puffy. 

Perfect for him to tilt his head and bite—

“Ohhh- yes!” Every fibre of your being delights at the way Geto’s biting you so hard that you can smell crimson iron. Your pheromone bubble pops! to mix together with his own. Becoming one. And you can scent him - you can feel him. 

Glasses clashing, teeth tearing. Before you know it, you’re doing the same. “Suguruuuu— m’yours.”

Your mate latches onto the curves of your hips - your soon-to-be birthing hips. 

And the way Geto rediscovers that - tucking his face into the ruined, drenched fabric of those cherry pink panties and taking an endless, husky sniff - tells you that this was going to be a long, loooong night. 

“Mine.”

A/N. MMMMMMMMM NERD GETOOOOOOOO

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[solaceseven]

THINGS THEY DO THAT MAKE YOU SECOUND-GUESS YOUR 'FRIENDSHIP'

→ pairings: gojo satoru, geto suguru, kento nanami, ryomen sukuna, toji fushiguro.

→ a/n: finally had the time to write something!! school has been keeping me busy!! implied female reader for toji’s part.

GOJO - being touchy.

you’re used to gojo’s touch.

the way he drapes himself over your shoulders like a human scarf, pulling you into his side without a second thought. the way his hand finds the small of your back when he guides you through a crowd, his palm pressing firm against you, like he’s staking a silent claim. you’ve grown accustomed to the way he plays with your fingers absentmindedly—twisting your rings, tracing circles over your knuckles—while he rambles about something completely unrelated.

it’s always been like this.

that’s what you tell yourself, at least. that it doesn’t mean anything. that he’s like this with everyone.

but lately, it’s been getting harder to believe that.

because his touches have started to linger. his fingers don’t just graze your wrist anymore—they rest there, warm and grounding, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate strokes against your pulse. when he reaches for something above your head, he doesn’t just stretch over you; he presses his chest against your back, close enough that you feel the heat of him seep into your skin.

and then there’s the way he looks at you.

like right now.

you’re both sprawled out on his couch, half-watching some random movie he insisted was a classic (it’s not), when you feel it—his fingers, absentmindedly tracing shapes on your wrist.

you try not to react, try to focus on the screen, but your breath catches anyway. if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. he just keeps going, slow and lazy, the pads of his fingers skating along your skin like he’s mapping out something only he can see.

your pulse jumps when his fingers move up—tracing the inside of your forearm now, featherlight. it’s not accidental. you know it. he knows it.

but he doesn’t stop.

you sneak a glance at him, expecting that usual smug grin, but he’s still staring at the screen. too casual. too relaxed. he’s testing you.

like he’s waiting for you to do something about it.

you should move your arm. you should pull away. you should call him out.

but you don’t.

because the way he’s touching you now—it’s not friendly. it’s not casual. it’s not something he does with anyone else.

and the worst part?

he knows you know it.

GETO - never correcting people when they assume you’re his partner.

you don’t think anything of it at first.

you and geto move through the grocery store like you always do—bickering over which brand of cereal is better, tossing random snacks into the cart, laughing when he makes fun of your terrible attempts at balancing fruit on top of an already overflowing pile of groceries.

it’s easy. it’s comfortable. it’s just you and him.

and then you get to checkout.

the cashier, an older woman with kind eyes, watches as geto effortlessly lifts the heavy bags before you can even reach for them. he does it without thinking, just like how he had taken the cart from you earlier, just like how he always opens doors for you, just like how his hand had rested on the small of your back when guiding you through the aisles.

she smiles warmly.

“you two make such a lovely couple.”

you freeze.

your brain short-circuits for a split second, mouth already opening to correct her, but then—then you hear nothing from geto.

not a single word of clarification. not even a chuckle or a shake of his head.

nothing.

instead, he just hums, tilting his head slightly as if considering the statement. he doesn’t deny it. doesn’t laugh it off. just lets the words sit there, completely unbothered.

your head snaps toward him, eyes wide.

he meets your gaze, entirely too calm, a slow smirk forming at the corner of his lips. and then—because he’s absolutely insufferable—he leans in slightly, voice smooth as silk.

“you hear that?” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “we’re a lovely couple.”

you want to strangle him.

your reaction must be obvious because the cashier just beams, clearly convinced she was right. “oh, young love is so sweet. you take good care of them, dear.”

geto chuckles, and before you can protest, he effortlessly places a hand on the back of your head, ruffling your hair like you’re some flustered little thing.

“always,” he says smoothly.

you don’t remember the rest of the transaction. you’re too busy contemplating whether it’s legal to strangle someone with a grocery bag.

as you’re walking out, geto leans in again, voice dripping with amusement.

“you could’ve corrected them,” he muses, lips dangerously close to your ear. “but you didn’t.”

your stomach flips. you hate that he’s right.

NANAMI - always taking care of you.

you don’t plan on staying this late.

but time slips away between deadlines and last-minute emails, and before you know it, the office is nearly empty, the sky outside painted in deep shades of navy. you sigh, rubbing your temples, already dreading the long commute home.

by the time you step out onto the quiet street, the city lights glowing around you, your phone buzzes.

you don’t have to check to know who it is.

nanami: where are you?

your stomach flips.

you: just leaving work. why?

the message is barely delivered before another one comes in.

nanami: stay there. i’ll be there in five.

you frown at your screen. he was nearby?

true to his word, exactly five minutes later, a familiar figure approaches.

nanami, dressed in his usual crisp attire, looking entirely too put together for this hour. he doesn’t say anything at first, just glances at you, scanning you over like he’s checking for any signs of exhaustion.

“you should have left earlier,” he says, voice even, but you catch the slight furrow of his brow.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, well, i got caught up.”

“hm.” he exhales, the sound bordering on exasperation, before tilting his head toward the direction of your apartment. “let’s go.”

you blink. “what?”

“i’ll walk you home.”

you huff a laugh. “nanami, it’s fine. i can handle walking alone.”

he gives you a flat look, as if the idea is so ridiculous it doesn’t even warrant a response. Instead of arguing, he simply starts walking, fully expecting you to follow.

and—of course—you do.

it’s not the first time he’s done this. You know it won’t be the last.

he doesn’t hover, doesn’t lecture you about staying late. but his presence is solid beside you, steady and unwavering. his hands stay in his pockets, but you know—if anything were to happen, if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way—he’d be on them in a second.

as you near your building, you sneak a glance at him. “you didn’t have to do this, you know.”

nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like you’re the one giving him a headache. “i know.”

“…then why do you?”

he stops walking. turns to face you, studying you for a long moment.

then, with a sigh—like he’s so tired of explaining the obvious—he simply mutters:

“because you don’t take care of yourself.”

and that’s that. no room for debate. no further explanation.

your heart stumbles in your chest.

because he doesn’t say i worry about you. he doesn’t say i do it because I care.

but he doesn’t have to.

the truth lingers in the quiet, in the way he watches you, in the way he makes sure you’re safe—every single time.

and when you step inside your building, looking back one last time, you catch him still standing there. waiting.

making sure you’re okay.

like he always does.

SUKUNA - being unreasonably jealous.

it starts off as nothing.

a passing comment here, an unimpressed scoff there. sukuna has always been blunt, always had a sharp tongue and an even sharper glare. but lately, you start to notice a pattern—one that becomes impossible to ignore.

it happens again tonight.

you’re out with friends, the atmosphere light and easy, laughter filling the air. you’re mid-conversation with some guy—a friend of a friend, nothing special—when you feel it.

that presence.

it’s not loud or obvious, but it’s there. a weight lingering at your back, pressing into your skin before you even turn around.

and when you do—

sukuna is already watching.

seated across the table, one arm draped over the back of his chair, his gaze locked onto you with an expression that makes your stomach flip. bored. blank. irritated.

you try to ignore it. you keep talking, keep laughing at whatever the guy is saying, but it doesn’t matter. because every time you sneak a glance in sukuna’s direction, his eyes are still on you.

unwavering. unrelenting.

you swallow, trying to shake the weird tension creeping up your spine. but then the guy leans in slightly—just slightly—and that’s all it takes.

there’s a sharp scrape of a chair against the floor.

and then sukuna is there, standing beside you, a hand dropping heavily onto your shoulder.

“alright,” he drawls, voice slow, lazy, but carrying something unmistakably sharp. “this conversation looks thrilling.”

the guy stiffens. you do, too.

you glance up at sukuna, narrowing your eyes. “what are you doing?”

“listening.” his fingers tap idly against your shoulder, his weight sinking into the space beside you like he belongs there. “should i join? or is this, what—special?”

your brows furrow. “are you serious?”

he tilts his head slightly, feigning confusion, but you know that look. the glint in his eyes, the smirk barely tugging at his lips—he’s enjoying this.

the guy across from you clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “uh—i was just—”

“no, no,” sukuna interrupts smoothly, finally dragging his gaze away from you to look at him. “you were just what?”

the guy hesitates, then shakes his head. “never mind.”

and just like that, he stands, mumbling something about needing another drink before walking away.

you whip around to face sukuna fully, shoving his arm off your shoulder. “what the hell is wrong with you?”

he doesn’t move, doesn’t even pretend to be remorseful. if anything, he looks amused. “relax,” he hums. “didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

you scoff. “oh? and how exactly was he looking at me?”

sukuna shrugs, completely nonchalant. “like he could have you.” his head tilts, eyes flickering over your face. “and he can’t.”

your heart stumbles.

you open your mouth, then close it. because what do you even say to that? what does he even mean by that?

he smirks at your silence, reaching out to flick your forehead lightly before leaning in—just close enough that your breath catches.

“relax, brat,” he murmurs, voice deep, low, too much. “i’m just looking out for you.”

you should shove him away. roll your eyes. call him out for acting like an overprotective asshole.

but instead, you just sit there, pulse unsteady, second-guessing everything you thought you knew about this friendship.

because you know sukuna. and you know damn well—

this wasn’t just him looking out for you.

TOJI - flirting with you consistently.

it starts small. barely noticeable at first.

a lazy smirk here, a lingering touch there.

you don’t even think much of it in the beginning. it’s just toji being toji, right? he flirts with everyone—cashiers, waitresses, random people in passing. it’s just how he is.

except… it’s different with you.

because when he leans in close, voice dropping lower just for you to hear— “that color looks real good on ya, sweetheart. what, tryna drive me crazy?”—his eyes don’t leave your face. because when his fingers skim the small of your back, guiding you through a crowd, they stay there a second too long to be casual. because when he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth, he’s comfortable like he belongs there—like he’s claiming that space.

and then there are the compliments.

not just the casual you look nice or that suits you. no, never that simple.

“bet guys lose their damn minds over you.” he says it so offhandedly, like it’s just a fact—just something everyone knows.

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “yeah, sure.”

“i mean it,” he murmurs, and you hate the way your stomach flips when his gaze settles on you, something dark and unreadable in his eyes. “if i were them, i wouldn’t let you outta my sight.”

you tell yourself you’re imagining it—that he’s just messing with you. that’s what he does.

but then it keeps happening.

every single time, without fail.

you’re just trying to grab something from a high shelf? suddenly, he’s behind you, reaching over your head, his chest nearly brushing against your back. he doesn’t have to get that close. he knows it. you know it. but he does it anyway, voice low in your ear as he hands you whatever you needed.

“next time, just ask me, yeah? don’t gotta strain that pretty little neck of yours.”

you push him away, muttering something under your breath, and he just laughs, all smug amusement.

he’s always touching you, like he can’t help himself. a hand grazing the back of your neck when he adjusts your hoodie. his palm resting against your thigh when he leans in to say something. he doesn’t cling to you, doesn’t make a big show of it—but it’s there. subtle. constant. a quiet, unspoken thing.

and then—then, there are the moments that really get to you.

like when you’re out with friends, sitting side by side, and his fingers find the hem of your sleeve. absentmindedly playing with the fabric, rolling it between his fingertips. he doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it, just listening to the conversation, relaxed and completely at ease. like touching you is second nature to him.

or when you’re waiting in line for something, standing close, and he leans in just slightly, dropping his voice low.

“keep looking at me like that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips for half a second. “gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’ from me.”

your breath catches.

and the worst part? the absolute worst part?

he sees it. every damn time.

sees the way your pulse flutters at your throat. sees the way your fingers twitch, like you don’t know what to do with them. sees the way you avoid his gaze, pretending like your entire body isn’t reacting to him.

and every time, without fail—he just smirks.

like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. like he’s enjoying it. like he’s waiting—patient, unhurried—for you to break first.

and the thing is…

you think he knows you will.

eventually.

[oreo-creampies]

𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Daddy/mama/brat etc…., overstimulation, breeding/creampie, riding, wall sex, full Nelson, mirror sex, praise/degradation, some mind break/dumbification, mention of a belly bulge (from satoru’s cum and cock), begging, possessive, size kink, squirting, knife play (no blood or cutting)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 my pussy ✨

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Lining Kento up with your sensitive wet little hole. Losing your mind over how thick he is. Too big for your fingers to touch. “My hungry little cock sleeve missed me this much? Barely letting me take my clothes off before your licking the sweat off my cock and trying to take me in your soaking wet cunt.” Messaging your cheeks with his large rough warm hand. Holding your hip, slowly swiping his thumb in small circles.

You can’t get enough of how it feels to be touched by Kento Nanami. His touch is firm, gentle, warm, comforting and exhilarating. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you non stop daddy!” The pinch in his brow smoothes, a lazy smirk tugging on his slips.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, his thick fingers sinking in your hip’s squishy crease. Kento roughly sliding you down on his fat, veiny cock. “Who am I?” Roughly smacking your ass, once, twice, your cunt clenching on the third.

Firmly grabbing your hips, guiding your tight hot cunt on his cock. Sliding your hand down his rock hard, cheilsted chest. Sinking your nails into his abs when he flexes, the lines deepening. “Tell me or I'm stopping, who’s fucking your tight cunt into a sloppy mess?”

You whine, “Daaaadddy isss! Daddy’s fat cock is stretching my cunt out, reaching so deep. I can feel your veins pulse, the shape of your head, nnnn you’re so deep! Right there daddy please keep bouncing me on your cock! You’re so strong!” Wrapping your arms around Kento when he stands.

Softly tugging on his soft blond hair, scratching his freckled backside. “You’ve been such a beautiful house wife, it due time I make you a mama.” Your cunt throbs, fluttering around him at the thought.

Needing one arm to hold you up, he wraps grabs a handful of your hair. Pulling your head back, looking up into his beautiful face, relaxed in pussy drunken bliss. He croon, “Am I your big strong daddy? Does my beautiful mama love it when I fuck her like a slut?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

You’re helpless in his firm grasp, your legs pinned by your sides by his muscular arms. Toji’s large hands are clasped behind your head forcing you to look into the vanity mirror. “Look at ya sloppy little cunt, it was so small now it's taking my monster cock like it’s made for it.”

His cock always looks too big to fit, yet your soft squishy cunt takes him perfectly every time. You’re split open in a perfect circle, your puffy lips dragging along his cock when he pulls out. His heavy balls bouncing with each thrusts memorizing.

He gruffily demands, “Who’s slut are are you?” Your cunt flutters around his cock, spasming, gushing thick cum. Squirting all over his bed, some of your slick trickling down soaking his cum filled balls.

His cock head hitting your already aching bruised cervix threatening to do deeper. Could he? Loudly moaning, “Daddy’s! I'm daddy’s slut! Please! Please cum!” He groans, his fat cock’s veins throbbing.

He glides his cock out, “Fuck! Ya daddy’s little slut huh? Keep talkin’ like that and ya gonna make me cum too quickly. N’ after I made sure to jerk off with your panties so I can last longer in your lil super soaker.” Effortlessly sitting up, easing you out of the full Nelson. Holding you up, lining his cock up, gliding himself into your soft, squishy cunt.

Curling your toes, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping. “Too much! Please don't stop wanna be a good girl for Daddy! Please! Cum! Daddy! Please! Cum daaaaadddy!” Attempting to wiggle off Toji’s thick cock, your attempts are a pathetic shifting of your hips.

Toji stands up, fucking his thick, veiny cock into you harder. “Damanding little brat, after I cum I’m taping a vibator to your clit so I can smoke n’ have a drink watchin’ you whine and cum till your lil cunt breaks.” Tightening his grasp on your thigh, grabbing your hair holding your head still.

“Watch daddy fuck his cunt into a gapping cum filled mess.” He groans, looking handsome balls deep in your cunt. His thick arms, broad chest, and muscular thighs, Toji is a massive beautiful man having his way with your cunt.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Tightening his grasp on your neck, pinning your thigh to the wall. Your other leg hooked around Satoru’s waist. “Dont even need to listen to you beg, your cunt is doing it for you. Hear how wet she is? Your little cunt keeps on cumming, soaking n’ gripping my cock.” Your cunt loudly squelches when he glides his long veiny cock in.

“Seems like no matter how much I cum my cock is keeping getting hard again. It’s all your fault. Sending me those sexy pictures and videos of you playing with yourself making my cock and balls ache.” Some of his thick cum is dripping out, your stomach’s bulge grows when he stuffs you with his cock.

Loosening his firm grasp on your neck, grabbing your other thigh. Pinning it and leaning back looking down watching slowly his thrusts down. He croons, “Aw I filled my your little cunt is too full of my cum, it's all dripping out no matter much I fucked it deeper!” He groans, it’s breathy ending in a needy whine.

Barely catching your breath, whimpering “Daddy please! I can't cum anymore!” Rapidly picking up speed with each hard thrust, till he’s moving faster than than the machine he’s gotten to watch you get fucked with.

Leaning in close, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back. His messy white hair falling into his beautiful sky blue eyes you swear have clouds in them. “Oh you can't? That’s too bad my poor little princess will have to keep taking Daddy’s cock in her broken little cunt anyway.” Roughly kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting of sweets and your cunt.

Biting your lip, stopping when you cry, your cunt clenching his sensitive cock. You can feel his veins throbbings, he’s close but that doesn't mean he’s done. Tilting his head back, his beautiful neck covered in lipstick and red hickies he won’t cover.

His jaw drops, he drops his head, pressing his forehead to your’s. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! You’re getting so tight! Mmmm you’re daddy’s little slut, my beautiful whore. Tell me who I am when I’m fucking your cunt into a sloppy mess.” Leaning back, stroking your clit with his thumb.

“You’re my-my! Nnnn!” You’re too cock drunk to get the words out. Whining, your cunt spamsing the intensity of your sore, sensitive cunt cumming for an unknownth time too much for you.

Satoru croons, “My my what? You said it? Whined it so beautifully it almost made me cum. You’re so fucking adorable, sexy, beautiful and needy, who else better to make me a daddy?”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Holding a knife to your neck, fucking your your sloppy cunt like he hates you. Suguru’s harsh, quick thrust too intense for your poor sensitive cunt to take. Closing your eyes, “Daaaady nnnn you feelsooogood! You’re cock! Nnnnn you’re!! Ahh!! Daddy!!” He fucks you harder with every word you utter till you’re a whimpering mess.

Dragging the sharp knife’s tip down your neck, between your breasts. Slowly sliding it closer towards your nipple, grabbing your jaw. “I need you to look your daddy in the eyes beautiful, it gets me off seeing the sexy look on your pretty face when you cum, let me see you cum for the tenth time.” You’re so close.

His pierced tongue, his thick fingers and his beautiful fat cock have spoiled you. Swiping the cool knife over your sensitive nipple. “Ahhhnnn dadddy.” You can feel the strong vibrations of your butt plug in your cunt.

His thick, being cock stroking all the right spots. “Squirt on Daddy’s cock.” Gushing on Suguru’s thick cock, soaking his balls hitting your ass. Slick trickling down to the toy pulsing in your other hole. He relentlessly, fucking you through your intense high.

Your mind shattering, eyes rolling back. Suguru groans, “That’s it! Good lil’ cock slut!” His smirking, groaning he knows how beautiful he is.

Holding his long, luscious hair back, thick longs framing his beautiful, angular face. A hungry, cocky smirk on his parted lips, the pink flush of his cheeks. And the loving passion in his warm honey brown eyes.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, stopping your pitiful attempt to run away from Suguru’s cock. “Where you going? Daddy isn't done with you yet, you got me hard for another round now ya gotta be a good girl n’ take it.” Setting the knife aside, grabbing your hair leaning down.

He’s too tall forcing you to look up. Using his weight and his firm grasp on your hip to keep you pinned beneath him. Legs spread for him to beat up your sloppy cunt with his hard cock. You can't believe he is all your’s.

“Nnn I can take it, wanna take daddy’s fat cock, wanna be filled with your warm cum. Please daddy, you didn't fill me up last time. N’ I've been good! Wanna! Wanna feel you cum, please!” Letting his hair go, swiping it to one side to make a thick curtain.

“That’s why you’re daddy’s good girl huh? Nnnnfuckmamafuck tell me who’s gonna make a beautiful mama.” His thick veins pulsing he’s so close.

[mechsangel]

wingman!

synopsis: your toddler is the best wingman you could ask for.

warnings: reader has a kid, good dad!toji, fem!reader

[baepsays]

ADORATION & AFFECTION ⸻ cult leader husband Geto Suguru.

cw: NSFW, husband geto, cult leader geto, established relationship, he is very charming, in a lowkey manipulative way lol, suggestive stuff :3c, pervy Suguru smh, somnophilia, dubcon, eating out, some manhandling, fem oriented reader, no pronouns mentioned, he can use that mouth for more than words, but words sure are his strong suit, anyway kind of just cute shit

Geto Suguru prioritizes his mornings spent with his wife in their bed, over everything. It is the determinant of the quality of his day. If he does not get to laze around in your arms before reluctantly waking up, it will make things harder for his followers that day. Hence they do not even try to wake him up, they leave it to you.

But it is no easy task, if he feels the slightest stir on your side of the bed in the morning, quickly grabs onto your wrists and pulls you on top of him. Holds you tightly by the waist and hips, groping and marking up your skin through the bunched up silhouette of the nightgown. 

And if with much thrashing you get half up, he's rolling over— making you lie under him, to have his body weigh you down, pressing you into the mattress. Any voice of protest is drowned by his rhythmic words and steady tone. He talks in riddles and poetry, tracing a single callous finger from your forehead, to nose, then lips and cheeks.

"Every attempt you make to get away from me, pulls you closer into me." He'd say words as such

"What are you, quicksand?"

"If anything, it is you who consumes every fiber of my sanity every living moment, darling."

A slight chuckle would leave his throat along with his finger, still tracing you like a map he has known for centuries. It goes down and down. Ending up on your collarbones, and then goes back up again, gliding on the length of your neck, to your chin—pulling your lips to his.

I suppose everything can wait.

So one has to imagine these bad habits of his—coercion and not looking beyond what he wants—results in some trouble with you at times. 

One such instance can be brought up, where he told you about a meeting which was scheduled, prior as an important one—which is not uncommon. He has to attend a plethora of meetings and gatherings to keep the people (or monkeys as he likes to call them), interested and charmed. It was not the mention of his work, you've come to understand the man you love happens to be a little cruel, that makes your brows scrunch. Which is ultimately for the betterment of everyone, of course, what he tells you.

“What do you mean? Is this some joke?” 

“Why would I be joking about this darling? It is work after all.”

“Yes, but- how long will it be?”

“As per usual, most of the day, and if it takes more time I might have to have dinner outside as well.” 

“So you really do not remember?”

“What are you referring to?”

It was the particular date that the meeting was set on, and the length of the time he was supposed to spend there. Instead of with you, on your anniversary especially. That is what pissed you off.

So when subtle hints, and constant queries of confirmation of the date, does not give him the hint. The vocalization of your anger through the silent treatment, does. Unfortunately, he's someone who reciprocates your annoyances at him absolutely right back.

You are not talking to him at the dinner table?

Good. He won't either. He won't even accept the glass of water you silently offer him when he's choking on his food. Persistent and annoying to the point it makes you leave the table.

Days pass with both of your petulant, silent, persisting fights. Making things harder for yourselves and the poor servants and followers. 

He gets an important call one day, summoning him to a meeting and he's on his feet, but has to halt at the door of your bedroom—because just as he's at the threshold, you slam the drawer of the dresser by the door really hard, still very pissed off at him. 

“Miguel! Get the car ready.” 

As soon as he yells his order, he moves haphazardly to the side where you stood, staring and observing with angry eyes, furrowed eyebrows and pouting lips. Barely giving you any time to process anything, to even get the chance to back away, he comes at you at light's speed. And so he forcefully grabbed onto your forearms, and slammed you into the nearest wall. With enough force to make you understand the little charade of yours has prickled him more than enough.

His lips are feverishly hot on yours, teeth, tongue, bites and all. Your hands grip his hair to get him off you, while simultaneously pulling him in— making his neatly tied up hair fall stray everywhere. And if one of your hands gives up and goes to grab onto the curtain beside you, for some support, one of his own hands is already creeping on your arms to snatch your hands off the curtains, and ripping the curtains off the rod in the process.

After leaving you further speechless, with every intention this time, and a little breathless; he simply walks out with his hand in his hair, smoothing out and tucking back the loose strands of hair in a half up bun. But he does not bother to wipe away the lipstick smudged all over his lips and chin.

And while in the car, he cannot help but smile to himself. Looking at his messy appearance in the reflection of the windows, if anyone has anything to say of his wife's beautiful shade of lipstick, they can deal with him first. And then worry some more about their tongue snatched out of their throat, later.

The thought alone of not being able to wait to tell you that the apparent cult meeting he told you about, scheduled on both of your anniversary, was a lie. 

And why did he lie? Well. He felt like it.

The sight of you struggling to express your absolute wrath on him, is the most adorable thing to him. You can call him sadistic, but he just likes to see his ever so patient and kind wife get absolutely stirred up by his made up stories. He cannot help but imagine how he would be tormenting you in your shared bed later when he returns tonight. How he would slide his hands up your nightgown after throwing the blankets off your sleeping figure. And he knows for a fact, despite any amount of anger, you’d sleep without your panties on. Only for him, to bury his face in between your thighs and put his tyrannizing mouth to better use. Because with his tongue down in your cunt, he is the most helpless poet of them all.

You can get angry about that as well, as usual, when you wake up. But he knows how to leave you a whining moaning puddle, just as well as he knows how to provoke you to become a screaming shouting mess.   

Do what you like, he will fuck you pliant, then sweet talk the anger right out of you.

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources. header from Yamada-kun to Lv999 no Koi wo Suru. honestly i would not mind writing more of him this was a very short on a whim oneshot type of deal, but i can totally see myself expanding their relationship and dynamics. he is crazy, believe me when i say he is super good at making his wife forget that. if you see any mistakes please lmk i did not bother reading it after last edit.

this has been marinating and going through edits for no reason lol. Anyway was gonna be a nanami oneshot but just suited this guy more ykkkkkk. ugh.

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @cuntphoric @nanamiskentos @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @moonchhu @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic

[webism]

ino gets so desperate to eat you out that it's almost endearing.

as in, he will very genuinely drop to his knees and beg for a taste. hair falling into his eyes, which are so wide and blown out with need that you'd be evil to deny him such pleasures. and you always oblige, for the pleasure his tongue can bring you, but also for the pleasure it shocks through him.

he loves it when you sit on his face and set the pace. he often jokes that under you is exactly where he's meant to be. arms hooked around your thighs to bring you down on top of his face, your reservations about giving him room to breathe be damned.

it's hard to worry, even, when his tongue works so diligently against your clit. he knows you from the inside out, every drag of his lips through your heat or desperate vibrating moan against your pussy is both carnal and aimed to please. you're always thoughtless by the end of it, takuma so proud of the way he melts you down and seals your pleasure with a kiss.

it's a regular thing, too. even if you aren't laying back just to be eaten out, he's pulling out in the middle of sex to latch his lips around your clit and watch your back arch up off the mattress. you had asked him once if it were to stall his own orgasm, but he shook his head. you believe him too, considering a few minutes of your taste is enough for that man to cum in his fucking pants...

oh and he's a firm believer of eating his own cum out of you once he's filled you with it. its only right to clean you up after. dont shoot the messenger!

for @beaniefish

[nayy-a]

baby fever is going crazy

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[kunareads]

always, forever

choso x reader

obsession is just another form of devotion. and no one is more devoted to you than choso is.

masterlist

wc: 6.8k

um. i apologize in advance. this version of choso is very special to me and so is this reader, which is why it took so long to finish. i love them!!

content: stalker!choso, obsession, toxicity, dark romance, power dynamics, yandere in many ways, unchecked limits but not dub/noncon, choking, slapping, biting, bruising, spitting, restraints, praise, ownership, unprotected p in v sex, oral (f! receiving), religious undertones, worship/devotion, subspace, u and choso are NOT normal about each other like at all

18+ please <3

choso has always been good at paying attention.

people don’t expect that from him. he’s quiet, watchful, the kind of presence that blends into the background. most people assume it means he’s not listening, that his stare is vacant instead of calculating.

they don’t understand. he notices everything.

he notices when you use a new mascara. he notices how you reach for your phone when you hear a notification, even when it’s not yours. he notices the way your lips part before you laugh, how you tilt your head when you’re listening, the way your eyes linger on someone when you want them to stay.

he notices because it’s you. and you make it easy for him. you’re open, unaware.

it’s normal, the way he watches you.

he’s your friend. you trust him. you say his name when you see him.

morning, choso.

his chest tightens every time. it fits there, in your mouth, like it belongs to you.

would you still say it like that if you knew what it did to him?

your friendship is easy. you text him late at night when you can’t sleep. you pull him into conversation when he’s too quiet in a group. you lean against him when you’re tired, press your fingers to his wrist when you need his attention.

you let him in.

so it only makes sense that he knows you better than anyone.

he doesn’t think it’s strange that he watches you leave your apartment every morning. or that he walks the same route. or that he knows how long you’ll pause before crossing the street. this is part of his day, too.

he doesn’t think it’s odd that sometimes, he gets close enough to touch the loose thread on the back of your coat. or the nape of your neck.

once, you dropped your phone and bent over to pick it up. if you had turned around then, he would’ve been right there. standing too close.

but it’s not stalking. he’s not obsessed. he’s just making sure you’re okay.

+++

choso likes keeping things.

it started small. innocent.

a receipt left on the table after lunch. a pen you let him borrow. a candy wrapper, the foil crinkled between your fingers when you pressed it into his palm. he didn’t mean to keep them. he just…never let them go.

then, a bit more personal.

a cherry chapstick left in his car. an earring you thought you lost—he remembers watching it fall, small and shiny and delicate. a tissue, blotted with lipstick.

none of it was on purpose.

but you leave so many pieces of yourself behind. you’re careless, in a way that only makes sense to him. he had to start paying attention.

the things he keeps now are less accidental.

a bracelet you thought you lost. a nearly empty perfume bottle. strands of your hair, pulled from his hoodie after you borrowed it. a bloodstained tissue, from the time you cut your finger cooking for mutual friends.

your voice in his head hours after you’ve spoken. your fingerprints burning his skin like you meant to leave them there.

a photo of you sleeping. that one’s his favorite. a little secret, tucked between pages of a book. a moment you don’t remember, but he does. proof.

he knows things about you that you’ve never told him.

he knows your passwords. your wifi login. how much money is in your bank account.

he knows what you search for late at night, when your body is warm and restless. he knows what you watch twice, what you turn the volume up on, what you come back to later. sometimes, he watches with you.

at the bottom of his drawer, there’s a single zip tie. red and sturdy, waiting. it isn’t yours.

but it makes him think of you.

it’s not wrong. he’s just keeping you safe.

+++

afternoons are harder.

your lunch breaks are less predictable than your mornings, but even your unpredictability follows a rhythm. sometimes you run an errand. sometimes you meet a friend. others, you stop into a cafe, settle by the window, scroll through your phone between bites.

today, it’s the latter.

he leans against a brick wall across the street, observing you through the glass. you’re alone, stirring sugar into your drink, the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your hand.

then some guy slides into the seat across from you.

choso doesn’t recognize him. doesn’t care to.

the guy says something. you laugh and tilt your head, play with the edge of your napkin as you talk.

he’s seen you like this before—warm, engaged, giving. he knows it’s nothing. he knows that. but the sight still twists in his chest.

it’s not about fear. he doesn’t worry about losing you. that’s impossible.

it’s about keeping you.

about being on the receiving end of that smile. your attention, your laughter—they belong to him. no one else deserves them. they don’t know what to do with them anyway. they don’t hold them the right way, don’t understand how dangerous it is to waste them.

if he walked into the cafe right now, crossed the room, took your wrist—would you let him?

he imagines it. leaning close, lips brushing your ear. let’s go home.

your breath catching. your body tilting toward him on instinct. your little nod.

but he won’t do that. you have to come first.

he remembers the last guy. the one who texted too much, who made you laugh too easily. the one who stopped showing up.

he got the message. you didn’t even notice he was gone. but choso did. he noticed every second that passed before you stopped checking your phone, before you moved on like he never existed.

how long before this one needs a message, too?

his hands flex in his pockets. he takes a step forward. but he exhales, lets it go. he turns before the thought can take root, before the want takes shape and he can’t push it down.

he walks away, but the feeling doesn’t.

+++

when evening comes, choso’s right back where he belongs—watching your apartment from a distance, waiting for your windows to light up.

you should be here by now. he’s been standing here long enough for his body to register the cold. long enough for his pulse to slow.

he waits. this is easy to do when it’s for you. when he knows that, eventually, you’ll come home.

it’s fine.

maybe you stayed late at work. maybe you lost track of time. maybe you ran into someone.

it happens.

his fingers tap against his thigh once, then again. then again. a pattern, his body tracking the time even if he doesn’t mean to.

twenty minutes.

a car passes. the street lamp flickers.

his jaw tightens, but his breathing stays even. it’s not impatience. not paranoia. just an understanding of how things are supposed to be.

thirty minutes.

the cold bites at his knuckles. his fingers flex. the rhythm on his thigh picks up.

forty minutes.

his hand stutters.

something’s wrong.

he doesn’t decide it. he doesn’t even process it. the knowledge just settles, heavy and absolute. instinctive. like sensing a storm before the clouds roll in.

his hand slips into his pocket.

your key fits nicely between his fingers.

he crosses the street.

+++

your apartment smells exactly like you: floral, a little sweet, undeniably familiar.

he moves through your space, cataloging. your blanket on the couch, waiting for you. the unopened mail stacked neatly on the counter. a single glass in the sink. everything is where it should be.

but something’s wrong.

his eyes flick to your bookshelf. the order is off. books are misaligned, there are gaps where there shouldn’t be. choso’s not even sure you’ve touched these shelves before—they’re always perfectly neat, always the same.

his gaze dips lower. a box, tucked away. not well enough.

he hesitates.

then he crouches, pulling it out, fingers ghosting over the lid. he doesn’t know why he holds his breath he lifts it.

the first things he sees make him smile, just a little. a matchbook from a bar you both went to. a concert wristband, still looped closed. he carried you on his shoulders that day. a pin he gave you once, the clasp slightly bent.

his hand skims over them. he’s always known you were sentimental, but seeing it like this—seeing himself in it—makes something in his chest loosen. he thinks you’re cute.

then, a polaroid. the two of you, smiling. a moment he remembers. he runs his fingers over your image.

underneath it, another. just him.

he stares for a second before setting them aside.

the hoodie string he thought got lost in the laundry, coiled in the corner. a cigarette butt, flattened at the tip. his brand.

when did you find out he smokes?

his hands move slower now, pulling each item from the box, laying them out beside him.

a receipt—his, not yours—crumpled, then smoothed back out. a lock of his hair, neatly tied with a ribbon. his scalp tingles like he can feel where it was taken.

more photos. him again, but he’s not posing this time. stepping off a curb. shopping for groceries. sleeping.

his heartbeat pounds in his throat.

his fingers graze a slip of paper, the ink faded but still legible.

choso is restless today. he doesn’t talk much, but his weight shifts when he gets impatient. his breathing changes when i touch him. he watches me more when he thinks i won’t notice. i always notice. i wonder if he knows how soft his voice goes when he says my name. i could listen forever.

his fingers press into his thighs, his breathing slows, his mind splintering at the edges.

it’s not the same as him. it’s not.

he reaches the last few items in the box.

a mirror, small enough to fit in his palm. his name in lipstick, smeared over the glass where a finger had brushed.

a knife. the one that should be at the back of his nightstand drawer.

the room presses in around him. his body stills. his thoughts feel slow, thick.

he’s missing something. he must be.

before he can decide what to do with it, the door unlocks.

choso stays frozen where he is. his breath pulls in his throat.

you step inside, closing the door behind you. your movements are easy. fluid. unbothered.

there’s no shock, no fear when you see him. no gasp or startled jolt. you don’t even hesitate.

you walk to the living room entrance and stop there.

and instead of asking why he’s in your apartment, looking through your things, you just look at him expectantly.

his fingers tingle.

you shouldn’t be this calm.

his gaze moves over you, searching for a flicker of guilt, a flash of panic—something.

but you’re steady. unblinking. he feels like prey.

is this a test?

the silence stretches, taut and thin, and something inside him bends with it. part of him already knows where this is going.

he should say something. ask something, demand an explanation. how did you get those pictures? his knife? his fucking hair?

but his breath is caught somewhere between inhale and exhale.

you tilt your head. the corners of your lips curl upwards.

and then, lightly, “you found it.” your voice is sweet, but underlined with a tone he’s never heard before.

his stomach clenches. his fingers tighten around the box.

“i left it there for you.”

his mind fumbles for an answer, a reason this isn’t what it looks like. but nothing comes.

it’s exactly what it looks like.

you left it there. for him.

he should be horrified. he should recoil. but the pieces fit too well. the truth clicks too easily.

you’re just as bad as he is.

realization winds through his ribs like smoke. relief follows soon after, dark and cool.

he places the box down beside the scattered items with an exhale. his arms are looser now, his muscles relaxing.

he understands.

he stands and takes a step forward. then another, tilting his head, voice low. “say it.”

amusement glints in your eyes, your lips parting slightly.

“you first.”

him first.

choso doesn’t move, neither do you.

but something shifts—*pulls—*like gravity bending around you. his hands flex at his sides, his jaw tightens against the weight of the moment.

then, finally, he reaches for you.

one hand cups your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb grazing over your cheek. the other slides down, curling around the delicate skin of your wrist. he presses your pulse, just enough to tell you he’s here.

he lifts your hand, turning it, bowing his head in quiet worship.

his lips brush the inside of your wrist, featherlight, careful.

warm breath fans over your skin, then his teeth, sending a tremor through you.

the scrape of enamel blurring into the glide of his tongue is overwhelming.

he feels the way your fingers twitch against his palm, hears the sharp inhale you try to bite down. his thumb rubs slow circles into your cheek.

he lifts his head, moves in, and then he’s kissing you.

it’s needy. built from tension too thick to hold any longer. heat and teeth and hands—one pressing your wrist behind your back, the other sliding to the base of your skull, pulling you close, closer.

you give it back to him—your free hand tangles into his hair, nails scraping. his hair ties come loose one by one, and you slip them down over your wrist. a quiet keepsake. for later.

the moment is raw and unsteady. his mouth explores, breathless against your jaw, then lower. his teeth scrape below your ear, testing, waiting for a reaction.

you press forward, not willing to stop this.

he exhales against you, then moves, walking you backward until the edge of your desk presses into your spine.

his belt slips from his waist in one motion. the leather slides over your skin, smooth as his hands work, looping, tightening, adjusting.

he pulls it snug, your wrists now pinned behind your back, the press of leather holding you in place.

he thinks of the zip tie in his drawer. red, uncut, waiting.

not tonight.

then he lifts his gaze, eyes searching.

“you could stop me.”

it’s a door cracked open for you. you could stop him. he’s telling the truth. if you pulled away right now, if you said no—he’d let you go. because taking was never the point.

but the thought of stopping him doesn’t even form properly.

how could you?

you don’t pull away. you don’t resist at all. instead, you tilt your chin up, watching him.

and then, a smile.

something inside him aligns, seamless and final. everything before this was waiting. his mind quiets. the constant restlessness, the gnawing hunger—gone.

you’re his. you always were.

he tightens his hold for just a second before taking a step back.

the sight of you, wrists bound, waiting for him—he just needs to see it. needs to convince himself it’s real, to prove that this isn’t just another fantasy unraveling in the dark. that he’s not imagining the way you’re looking at him right now.

he drags his gaze over you, memorizing. you look exactly how he imagined you would. better.

you shift, testing the belt. not to escape, just to feel it.

his eyes track the movement, feeling the pull of you. he exhales, slow and controlled, and moves back in.

his hands travel over you, pushing your shirt up, fingers pressing, tracing. his lips aren’t far behind. he takes his time, dragging heat and teeth and intention over you*. marking you.*

his fingers slide lower, brushing your inner thigh. he watches the flutter of your lashes, the pull of breath in your throat.

then softly, “i should keep you like this.”

a pause. his fingers move higher.

“tied up.”

a flick of his fingers through layers of clothing.

“waiting for me.”

how long would you last like this? how long before you’d beg?

the longer your wrists stay bound, the deeper the inevitability settles into you. you lean into it, let it take root.

he drags a thumb over the waistband of your pants. he undoes the button. lowers the zipper.

you don’t help him. you can’t—and that’s the point.

his fingers press into your hips as he works the fabric down. your panties follow. you watch as he stuffs them into his pocket and drops to his knees before you.

his hands settle against your thighs, and choso lets himself feel the gravity of this. it’s hypnotic, the way you open up for him, the way you let him take what’s his.

he’s craved this. dreamt of it. and now you’re here. bound, vulnerable. every version of this moment was different—except for one thing. you always looked at him like this.

he half-expects to wake up still standing across the street, waiting for the glow of your windows.

but this isn’t a dream.

he dips down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss above your knee. then another, and another.

you want to touch him. to twist your fingers in his hair, to pull him closer, to feel his shoulders flex under your hands.

he takes his time. works his way up, teeth scraping, tongue flicking against sensitive skin. he closes his eyes as he breathes you in, but he doesn’t give you anything.

a sharp nip to the crease of your thigh. a lazy drag of his tongue there. he kisses right above your clit—so close, so fucking close, but not enough.

you whine. you need him.

he smirks. “you open up for me so easily.”

his tongue presses flat against you, slow at first, moving through the heat of you. you let out your first unrestricted moan.

then deeper. more.

he groans into you. “shit—” he drags his tongue through your slick again, his mouth starting to water. he savors your taste, taking his time, patient and thorough.

his mouth covers you completely, sucking, dragging you higher, working you open. you’re moving, pressing closer, needing more. the slow build makes you dizzy.

but just when your breath stutters and your thighs start to shake, he pulls away.

your head jerks, a whimper slipping out, raw need spilling over.

but he just slides his fingers through your opening, coating them, spreading it.

“you shouldn’t let me do this,” he says, but he’s already lifting his fingers to your face. his lips curve. “but you’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”

when you take his fingers into your mouth without hesitation, fire surges in his chest*.*

his pupils blow wide, his breath catches. he pulls his fingers out, spreading them over your lips, your jaw, rubbing wetness in, watching it shine under the dim light.

“so fucking pretty like this.”

he buries his face back between your thighs with a moan. his tongue moves rougher now, making up for all the time he’s spent wanting and waiting.

you can’t move, can’t do anything but sit there and let him have you.

the pleasure builds too fast, too sharp, and you realize—he’s dragging you over the edge whether you’re ready or not.

his hands, his mouth, his breath—you swear you can feel him everywhere. on your skin, under it. in your cells, unraveling you from the inside out.

he keeps you spread open, his tongue fucking into you until you break.

you come undone, sharp and shattering, your body arching and your vision flickering. he growls against you, greedy, drinking in every sound you make and every drop of your release.

you tremble, breath coming in jagged, desperate pulls, aftershocks rolling through you.

he doesn’t stop until he’s done. until he’s sure he’s tasted everything you have to give. only then does he pull back, breathless, flushed, his face slick with you.

his hands don’t leave you. one stays firm on your thigh while the other drags up your body—slow, possessive, tracing the marks he’s already left behind.

his lips follow the same path. butterfly kisses at first, soft and fleeting. a press of his mouth to your hip, your stomach, your ribs, his breath warming your skin.

by the time he reaches your chest, he’s standing again, crowding you. his mouth teases each of your nipples, then moves up to your collarbone, your throat, then your lips—deep and heady, like he’s sealing something in place.

you taste yourself. it should be filthy, humiliating. but the way he does it, the way he runs his tongue against yours with so much care, like it’s meant to be this way—you shudder, melting into it.

his hands move behind you. he unfastens the belt, unwinding it with slow precision. your arms drop, the tension leaving so suddenly that a tremor runs through them. before you can move, he catches your wrists, holding them gently.

“you okay?” his thumbs smooth over the tender marks.

you nod and smile, just slightly, but it’s enough. he takes in the gesture, tucks it into the little box in his mind reserved for you.

his grip on you changes—firmer, more intent. the next kiss is messy, the way he presses into you, the solid weight of him between your thighs.

you feel him, hard and thick, putting pressure on your core through his jeans. he rolls his hips once, and the friction pulls a moan out of you.

your fingers twist into his hair, pulling so tight it must burn, but he keeps moving against you. he whispers your name, a quiet, broken sound.

does he even hear himself? does he know how much weight it carries, how needy he sounds when he says it? what it does to you?

you push.

your teeth catch his lower lip, biting down hard. enough to hurt, enough to bleed. you drag your tongue over it, tasting him, wanting to thank him for giving this to you.

he moans, growing desperate and grinding into you again, gripping your thighs, holding himself back. “you make me insane.”

before you can answer, he moves.

he lifts you effortlessly, walking you through your apartment like he’s lived here forever. his mouth is everywhere—kissing, biting, tasting—as he presses you against a wall, a doorframe, and then the bed.

he sets you down. his hands move to his shirt, pulling it over his head in one motion, muscles shifting under his skin. his pants follow, and then he’s back, sitting and reaching for you, drawing you into his lap and guiding your legs around him.

he moves one hand down to run his length through your slick, wetting himself up before easing you down onto him.

he’s thick, almost too much to take, and you whimper softly as his fingers slide up your sides, grounding you.

“you’re okay,” he coos. “you’re doing so well, pretty girl.”

he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t move at all to speed the process. he just watches you, takes you in, drags his hands over your skin like he finally has what he wanted.

his arms wrap around you when you eventually sink all the way down. he wastes no time rolling his hips, feeling you, reveling in the way you whimper at the stretch.

the position is deep, intimate, almost tender. but the way he holds you, the way he grips and takes and owns as he drags you down and snaps his hips up to meet you—there’s nothing soft about it.

you pull back enough to look at him, really look, and it makes your stomach churn.

he belongs to you. you love him. you love him too much. more than is reasonable, more than is safe.

you want him to know what this feels like—the unbearable ache, the madness, the constant need that grips you so hard you don’t know what to do with it.

before you even realize what you’re doing, your palm cracks against his face.

his head jerks to the side, his jaw tightening as something dark flickers in his eyes.

he stares, breath measured, holding something in his throat. the red on his cheek spreads like watercolor, stark against the black ink on his skin. a smile tilts at his lips.

”again.”

so you do it again.

his hand slides to the back of your neck as he lets out a breathless laugh, his other arm locking tighter around your waist, forcing you up and down, over and over again.

he’s fucking lost in it. in you, in this, in the way you give and take and ruin.

your body is stretched open, raw and aching, so fucking full, drunk on the way he claims you, the way he needs you.

then, lower, slurred against your skin, “*please—*baby, spit in my mouth.” half-lidded eyes lift to yours, and you realize he’s not just asking. he’s offering himself up.

you’re pulling his head back by his hair before he’s even done speaking.

his lips part, tongue barely peeking out, ready and waiting.

you let it drip into his mouth, and he groans like you’ve blessed him as he drags you into another desperate kiss.

it’s not enough. it’s never fucking enough. you need more.

“tell me you love me.”

it tumbles out, raw and unguarded. you both know it’s not a request—it’s a demand. a life sentence. a tether neither of you will be able to break.

his answer is instant. “i love you.” it lands like a vow, like a promise. like knowledge he was born with.

it floors you. tears brim in your eyes, and before you even process what he’s just given you—”i love you, choso.”

you love him. you love him. and that destroys him. his name belongs here, with you. always has.

his arms crush you, a vice around your body. like he could break you open and crawl inside, stay there forever. his thrusts turn brutal, desperate, unhinged, carving you into his shape.

he wants to say something, but nothing comes. just you, just this.

because the realization is too much.

because he never thought he’d hear this from you. never expected to be allowed to have this, to keep this.

because he’s been content just knowing you, quietly keeping you safe.

but this? this is something else entirely.

his grip tightens, almost desperate as his rhythm grows rough, erratic. your name spills from his lips like a prayer, over and over, his body going tight.

he moans freely against your skin, holding you flush to him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you. he’s locked around you, unyielding, trying to hold the moment in place, trying to stop time itself.

and it undoes you.

the warmth of him pressed into you, the way he swells inside you as he releases, the way he stays, like he belongs there—it sends you spiraling.

you tighten around him like a vice, gasping his name, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as your body locks up. your nails rake down his back, desperate, needing to mark him, keep him, to ruin him the way he’s ruined you.

his breath stutters, still drowning in his own pleasure, but he cradles your head, fucking you through it. “that’s it, pretty girl. let me feel it.”

and you do. you give him everything. every wave, every pulse, every broken sound as the feeling rolls through you. your body trembles in his arms, spent, oversensitive, but he just holds you, smoothing a hand down your spine, pressing slow, grounding kisses to your temple.

he pulls out of you, a slow retreat. the absence leaves you aching, still open for him, your combined juices leaking out.

time slows. your heart pounds against his. the heat between you lingers, warm and hazy. his fingers trace lazy patterns over your skin, letting you relax into him as you both come down.

once you’ve both settled, he lifts you off of him carefully, reluctant to let go. his hands guide you, breathing you in, smelling sweat and sex and something unmistakably yours.

his thumb drags down your back. he watches the way your body responds, still trembling, still open. he fits a pillow beneath your hips, shifting you into place.

he hovers, kissing you—over your shoulder, your spine, the side of your ribs, soft but weighted. his body follows, pressing you under him, where you belong.

“you’re not done yet.”

a shudder moves through you.

his lips press between your shoulder blades, lingering, exhaling before he pushes back into you.

the position lets him sink deeper than before. the stretch is slow, unrelenting, and you let out a low moan into the mattress.

his groan is rough, his voice wrecked. “you take me so fucking well.”

his pace builds—deep, ruthless. he’s everywhere, taking you apart, remaking you in his image.

you feel his teeth on your shoulder. his teeth on your neck. his tongue dragging fire over your skin.

you’re too sensitive. it’s too much. you reach back, trying to slow him down, but he’s faster. he grabs your wrists and pulls them behind you, dragging you upright into him like a puppet on strings.

your body bows into his. his breath is hot against your ear, his lips brushing over your jaw, your cheek, your throat.

his hands pull you down onto him again and again, pushing you beyond yourself.

fingers trace your collarbones, his thumb finding the soft dip in your throat before he wraps his hand around it. he doesn’t squeeze—not yet. but he feels the way you clench slightly around him.

“you like this?”

a whimper escapes you—not an answer, but enough of one. your hips rock back, body moving on instinct.

slowly, methodically, his fingers flex around your throat, measuring, testing.

then he closes his hand, cutting off everything but him.

your breath is gone.

everything stills. the world narrows—collapsing to the points where his hand meets your throat, where he’s buried inside you.

you clench around him hard as your limbs go weightless. a slow, creeping quiet drags you under, like slipping underwater.

you can feel your own pulse weakening under his hand. you can feel the numbness creeping up your spine, feel your eyes roll back, feel how completely you trust him to guide you.

he could kill you like this. is that what this is? a kind of offering? if he asked, would you give him even that? you both know the answer. he could demand your life right now, and you’d hand it over. just like he would if the roles were reversed.

he’s studying you, observing every reaction, watching you slip, mentally recording the sounds you make as you fight for air. his thumb strokes your jaw, coaxing you deeper.

and in the haze, you think:

he’s made you something sacred, something holy. a body to bow down to, a name to whisper between gasps. if this is devotion, you’ll kneel. if this is love, you’ll let it kill you.

everything is soft—your vision, your breath, your body. he’s siphoning the world away, tightening his hold even more. the floor drops out, and you’re falling, though you don’t know for how long or to where.

he lets go.

your body seizes as air floods your lungs, a shuddering inhale that rattles in your chest, half sob, half plea.

an orgasm overtakes you without warning or control, tearing a ragged cry from your throat. your vision flickers, your body spasms around him, but he doesn’t slow down.

“oh, fuck—” his voice is ruined. his hands keep you open for him as he fucks you straight through it. “keep fucking cumming for me, pretty girl.”

you try to squirm away, the pleasure making you hot, blinding you, too much.

“no—no, stay here,” he grits out. his palm spreads over your nape, forcing you down, shoving your face back into the mattress to take it.

he fucks you like a punishment, like a gift, dragging more sounds from your lips and tears from your eyes, letting you feel everything—every thick push, every deep stroke, every pulse of him inside you.

you were made for this. you were made for each other. shaped by each other’s hands, bound by each other’s will.

your body can’t decide if it’s too much or not enough, because somehow—somehow—you’re cumming again, clenching so hard around him he’s nearly forced out of you.

your body breaks open, pouring out and soaking the sheets, soaking him, feeling the delicious release as the force of it drags you under.

his breath stutters, his grip bruising as he chases it. he buries himself, spilling inside you, filling you and leaving something permanent behind.

his forehead presses against the back of your neck. his body stills, but his arms tighten around you, sealing you in the moment with him.

because this is it.

if you ran, he’d find you. if you fought, he’d break you down, drag you back, make you forget why you ever wanted to leave.

his fingers slide into your damp hair, pushing it off your forehead. he tilts your face just enough for his lips to brush your temple.

his breath is soft, warm when he whispers, “thank you, pretty girl.” you don’t know what you’ve done.

+++

you’re drifting. the world is muffled, distant, like sound traveling through water. your limbs don’t work, your mind doesn’t move. you just exist—empty, light, gone.

somewhere, you know choso is holding you. you can feel his warmth at the edge of your consciousness, an anchor you can’t quite reach.

but you’re safe here. his.

his hands shift, adjusting you away from the mess on the bed. you hum—more of a breath than a sound—pliant in his grip.

“baby?”

no response.

his thumb presses lightly into your jaw, trying to coax a reaction, but there’s nothing. your body is slack in his hold, breath coming too slow.

his stomach dips, sharp and visceral. his hands are calm when he cups your face, but his breath isn’t. his heart isn’t.

his fingers press against your wrist, searching for your pulse. still there. slow but steady.

but you don’t move. you don’t even look at him.

“baby, you with me?”

a hum, noncommittal, far away.

it’s not enough.

his throat tightens. his hands shake, just barely.

what if he went too far? what if you don’t come back?

the realization curls like smoke under his ribs.

he smooths your hair, tilting your chin up, a thumb stroking your cheek. “i need you to look at me, pretty girl.”

nothing.

“please.” his voice breaks on the word. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breath shaky, exhaling slow. grounding himself before he grounds you.

“okay,” he murmurs, softer now, steadier. “okay, baby, i got you.”

his lips rest against your temple. he breathes you in.

your breath, shallow and warm against his skin. the quiet rise of your chest against his. your weight, soft in his arms.

his stomach clenches. he shouldn’t love this, not like this, not while you’re gone. but part of him does—how tender you are, how easy you are to hold, how completely you’ve let him have you.

his thumb brushes over your parted lips. something possessive curls inside him, unshakable.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” he kisses the words against your skin, the bruises on your neck, the fading heat where his grip had been. his lips ghost your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

“need to clean you up, baby. can you move?”

nothing. you don’t even try.

you just burrow closer, pressing your face deeper into his chest, a quiet little sound slipping from your throat.

his breath catches. something pulls. twists.

you don’t want to move. you don’t want to leave him.

his fingers splay across your stomach, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath. he strokes a hand up your side, cups the nape of your neck, presses his lips your pulse point.

“you don’t have to.” he exhales. “i’ll take care of you.”

he lifts you, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. the warmth of the room contrasts the cold counter when he sets you down, but you don’t seem to register it.

unease tugs at his ribs, but he tamps it down, turning the faucet and watching steam rise from the bath.

when he settles you into the water, you lean into the warmth lapping at your skin.

something sharp lingers in his chest. he wants you back.

he strokes your hair back. his voice is soft, but there’s something dark beneath it.

“stay with me, pretty girl.”

choso washes you like he’s caring for something fragile. strong hands smooth over your arms, your back, your legs. each touch is a silent plea.

“breathe, baby.”

the words feel distant, like they’re coming through a thick fog, but something in you listens. you inhale, slow and deep.

“just like that. you’re safe.”

the haze clings to you, wrapped around your limbs. but beneath it, you feel him.

“you were so good for me,” he says, almost to himself. “so perfect.”

he wraps a fluffy towel around you, pulling you into his chest. your head tips forward, resting on his shoulder. a small shift, a silent seeking.

his stomach tightens. “i got you,” he says, voice softer now.

he carries you back, setting you on the bed. the world fades in and out, but the weight of your body is returning. the first thing you register fully is him.

he dresses you—clean panties, soft shirt. his touch is attentive, reverent, but his mind is restless.

he needs you back.

his hands are calm as he pulls the fabric over your head, but when your fingers twitch against his bicep, the lightest touch, something in him holds its breath.

“that’s it, baby.” his voice is raw, aching. “come back to me.”

the haze thins, peeling away in pieces. awareness pulls you in slowly, settling, anchoring.

you exhale. stretch.

choso watches, still, silent, breath held.

your lashes flutter. your gaze lifts.

and then you meet his eyes.

his whole body exhales, something releasing inside him.

“there you are.”

it’s quiet, almost a whisper, but his voice is full of something raw and undeniable.

the weight of what just happened settles in his chest.

it’s not regret.

it’s proof.

that you need him. that you trust him. that you belong to him.

you always have.

and when your fingers curl weakly into his shirt, holding him there, he wavers, unsteady.

you’re back. fully. you feel the soft fabric of the shirt against your skin, the scent of clean laundry, the steadiness of your own breath.

and him. always him.

choso watches you, unmoving, like you might disappear if he blinks.

your lips part, about to speak, but you don’t get the chance.

he’s kissing you. slow, deep, and final.

his lips move against yours like he’s sealing something permanent, like he’s branding you. a promise. there’s no hesitation, no question or room for doubt.

he feels it now, how irreversible this is. you were supposed to run. even if you wanted him, even if you eventually let him, you were supposed to pull away just once, just enough for him to know that there were lines between you. but there aren’t. you didn’t. you never even thought about it.

his fingers drift over the marks on you, pressing gently on them like he can make them deeper. “mine.”

you tighten your hold on his shirt, anchoring yourself to him, and when he pulls back, you whisper—”say it again.”

his breath hitches. then, lower, rougher, “you’re fucking mine.”

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, following the words with his mouth, speaking them into your skin like a prayer.

you exhale and nod, soft and small. you don’t even have to say anything. he sees it in your eyes.

you’re his.

something breaks inside him. something desperate, something he’s been holding back for so long that he didn’t even realize it had slipped.

he presses his forehead to yours, breath shaking, and then—

“you’re never leaving me.”

it’s too dark to be sweet, too honest to be a threat.

his eyes sting. and you see it, in the way his hands tighten around you, like he’s holding onto something fragile, something precious. not just you, but the knowledge that he has you now, that he can’t ever lose you. he’s afraid.

you could still ruin this. you could say something else, shift the balance, make it so he has to do something drastic.

but instead, you smooth your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, curling around his neck, grounding him.

“i never wanted to,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

his grip tightens. “you mean that?”

it’s a question. but you both understand that he’s not asking if you mean it.

he’s asking if you understand what happens if you don’t.

[oreo-creampies]

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

Satoru finds out that you like reading gangbang fanfiction. Naturally, he has to do something with this newfound information. With the help of Toji and Suguru.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 21 minutes/6.1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gangbang, double penetration (anal and cunt along with two dicks in one cunt right after), oral, anal with prep, light pain kink, biting, bondage, bdsm, collar and leash. usage of daddy/mama once, heavy praise/light degradation, mindbreak, thumb in ass, some satosugu, light painal for Satoru since suguru sticks a thin vibrating dildo up his ass, suguru edges satoru, teasing, friends w benfits/some type of sugarbaby set up, choking, knife play/no blood, pussy slapping, manhandling, squirting, overstimulation, satoru and toji put their balls on your face, ball sucking, face fucking, hair pulling, manhandling, light size kink, licking suguru's cock with satoru, making out with satoru, biting, bullet vibrator, strap on that gives toji a second cock, plugging cum in your ass, they are all sweet mean, satoru spits cum into your mouth

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 6.1k

oreo: i hope the wait was worth it, thank you for all the love and patience ya'll have given me

Satoru leans next to you, reading off your computer. “Gangbang, knife play, bondage, double penetration ya like it kinky.” You’re too late to close your computer. “He looks like me.”

Your body is burning, jumping out of your chair and whirling around to face Satoru. “Ok and? So what? You already know you’re attractive!” Crossing your arms, glaring into pretty blue eyes. “Is it dumb I would find someone who looks like you hot?!” Satoru’s playful grin spreads into an infuriating cocky smirk.

Satoru slides his fingers through his hair. His black sleeve straining with his bicep flexes. Long snow-white locks fall into his intense, beautiful blue eyes. The silence thickens the air.

Tilting his head to the side, his jawline, thick adam’s apple, his pale neck would be perfect to kiss. “So defensive.” Smirking, “I like the way you’re looking at me.” Stepping forward, closing the small gap forcing you to look up.

Your cunt is getting wet from the height difference. “I’m not looking at you any type of way.” Jabbing his chest with your finger. His pec is hard, “Fuck me!” He leans in, pressing your palm flat on his chest.

Your voice softens, “You barged into my room n’ spied on my computer!” Squeezing his hard pec, swiping your thumb over his nipple. “You’ve gotten so much bigger.” Sliding your hand down feeling his sculpted abs through his shirt.

You accuse, “You’ve been working out with Toji and Suguru too much.” You turn around facing your desk, flipping him off. “Unless you plan to be anything other than a menace I wanna cum whilst reading my fic. Help me cum or leave!” You softly gasp in surprise when Satoru presses you against your desk with his hard, large body.

He a fistful of your hair yanking it back, spitting on your face. Smearing it with his large hand, crooning, “But I thought you liked your men big n’ able to throw you around like a doll? Isn’t that what you said?” Smearing his spit with his hand, stuffing two fingers in your mouth.

Satoru smacks your ass, squeezing a handful of your stinging cheek. “I could help you cum.” Sticking his fingers, his cock lightly twitching when you gag. “Want me to read your fanfiction out loud for you?” Dragging his fingers out of your mouth.

He lifts your laptop lid up not caring he is smearing spit on the screen. Reading out loud. “He drags the knife along her inner thigh. She squirms the closer he gets to her soaking.” Sliding your shorts down, roughly smacking your ass

Crying, “What if they hear us?” Satoru pushes your underwear aside, gliding a thick finger between your soft lips. Getting his thick finger wet before nudging it in. His long thick finger filling up your cunt shouldn't feel this good.

Satoru outs them, “Tojj and Suguru would jerk off off to the sounds of me clapping your cheeks. I could cuck them both.” Your cunt squeezes Satoru’s thick finger fucking your cunt sloppy. “Or you can moan their names, they could join us. You can be the slut who lets us run a train on her, or fuck you all at once.”

Satoru slips his finger out roughly slapping your cunt You whine sweet stinging pain cuts through the stinging pleasure. Slowly fucking his thick fingers into you at a steady pace.

Insisting to you, “You can write about it after, call it one girl, three cocks n’ three holes." Three more slips, each harder than the last. "Come on say their names, I wanna see you struggle to take Suguru’s fat cock.”

You whine, “Toooojiii, Suug!!!! Satoru is being mean to meeeee! Cooommmee helpppp!”

Suguru calls from the hallway, “Aw Toru why bother her, she said she wanted to read.” Coming into your bedroom, taking notice of your shorts in the ground. His eyes flicking from those to your sweet soft ass and cunt stuffed with Satoru’s soft fingers.

Satoru’s large body hiding your’s. Till he steps aside letting Suguru watch how your soft wet cunt takes Satoru’s thick fingers. “What’s so mean about this?” Suguru glides his finger in with Satoru’s. “Your cunt is drooling n getting so tight sweetheart.” They pump their fingers in sync.

Suguru squeezes a handful of your ass, his hand larger than Satoru’s. “Fuuuck that feels so good! I love having my cunt played with. Don’t stop please.” You bend over holding onto your desk, cupping Satoru’s hard cock through his sweats.

You stroke Satoru through his sweats moaning, “Satoru you’re big, wanna you to fuck me hard, make me squirt with your long hard cock.” You clench Satoru and Suguru’s thick fingers with your sloppy wet cunt. Whining when Suguru roughly smacks your ass.

Satoru sneers, “Not even able to pay attention long enough to answer.” He pulls out of your grasp, keeping his thick fingers in your soft wet cunt.

Satoru pushing his sweats down his cock pops out. “What’s wrong with how mean I’m being? Answer me n’ you can touch my cock.” He spits in his hand, smearing it over his cock hand. Groaning as he strokes himself.

You glance over your shoulder admiring the beautiful sight of Satoru’s arm flexing as his large hand strokes his long cock. Thick white pre cum dripping from his pale pink head.

Suguru pushes his gym shorts down, kicking them aside. Grabbing your wrist when you try to touch him. You whine, “Nnnnothing’s wrong!” Their fingers graze your sweet spot your body tingles with overwhelming pleasure.

Your thighs are trembling, toes curling into the carpet, slick dripping down your thigh. You confess, “I want you to y'all to help Satoru bully my cunt, make me the house whore, I wanna be the one y'all stuff your cocks in when it gets hard. Please lemme be your pretty cumdump.”

Toji barges into your bedroom, demanding, “Why do I care if he's being mean?!” He slips his large headphones off his head and sets them on your dresser. “Princess,” his scarred smirk looks predatory, “I can show you mean, they are spoiling your sweet little cunt right now. I’d fuck ya like I hate ya, make sure you can’t walk.” Toji wastes no time ripping your underwear off to get a better view of your stuffed cunt. Slowly stuffing two fingers in.

Your jaw drops with a loud moan. You’re naked with your three incredibly hot roommates fucking their thick fingers into you. It's a situation you'd masturbate to.

Satoru strops stroking himself, standing next to your face. Letting out a softly sigh in relief when wrap your lips around him. Groaning dropping his head forward, watching his cock vanish within your mouth.

Suguru tells Toji, “Satoru found out our sweetheart is a smutty fanfic reading pervert, gangbang. N’ now she wants to be the house whore, sounds kinky, I’m down.” He moves next to your head.

Suguru glides his fingers out smearing your slick on his cock. Grabbing your laptop, sliding it over for him to scroll to the warnings reading. “Bondage, squirting, anal, double penetration-one hole/triple penetration, With some face fucking, face slapping, and light knife play? I’ll be right back.” He rushes out of the room.

Satoru glides his fingers out, sticking both in his mouth to lick clean. He roughly grabs your hair fucking your soft wet mouth. With his balls slapping your chin.

Toji pumps his fingers faster. Quickly finding that sweet spot that made your soft cunt quiver. "Can I fuck your ass?" Satoru slips his cock out with a soft pop letting you breathe.

Pleading "Fuck whichever hole you want." Toji spits on your asshole and stuffs his spit in with his thumb. Slowly pumping his thumb letting your soft hole adjust. "Nn it feels weird but good!”

You cup and massage Satoru's balls, kissing and licking his warm cockhead. His cock standing up eager for attention making it easy to suck and kiss without using your hands.

You look up into his beautiful ocean-blue eyes and plea, “Even if I’m asleep I want you to spread my legs and do what you want to my cunt.” Taking his long, pretty cock in your mouth bobbing your head.

Satoru groans, his cheeks flushing a dark pink, “Fuuuuuccck!” He grabs your head holding you still. “You’re a dirty pervert who wants to wake up to Suguru eating you out as Toji and I jerk off onto your face.” He tightens his grip on your hair, slowly fucking your face, testing and getting off on your gag reflex.

Satoru groans, “We could cover you in cum, make your sloppy wet cunt sore.” Fucking your mouth faster, some spit drips down your chin. Smearing onto his balls with each soft smack.

Toji squeezes your cheek whilst tugging on your asshole stretching you out. Steadily stroking your sweet spot getting you so close to cumming. Your thighs tremble, toes curling into the carpet.

Toji groans, "She's dripping." Fingering your tight, sloppy wet cunt faster. Refusing to let up on your sensitive sweet spot. "Are you really cumming for us that quickly?" His thumb glides in your asshole easier.

Satoru glides his cock out of your mouth. "Whatcha thinkin' sweetheart?" Toji's thick fingers in your cunt, and thumb in your ass make it difficult to think. "She's already getting dumber, can't answer a simple question." Satoru softly slaps your cheeks with his hard cock then stuffs your face into his balls.

Without another thought you open your mouth to softly suck Satoru's balls. Suguru comes back in, dumping a bag full of toys onto your bed. "Here are some butt-plugs, dildos. cock rings, ropes, o ring, and for you Toji," He grabs a strap with a thick dildo dangling from it. "You can fuck both holes; the dildo will need to be above your cock."

Toji glides his fingers out of your ass. Whilst Suguru pulls the toy out of his grasp. "Actually, here is disinfectant. We don't want to get our cock sleeve sick and be out of commission." Toji grabs the packet with his cleaner hand. Forcing the lid open and tugging out a wipe.

Suguru drops the strap on. onto the bed leaving Toji to help himself to it when ready. He grabs the knife off the bed, flicks out the blade, and returns to your computer.

Satoru pulls his balls out of your face, tugging you up by your hair. Then Suguru's words hit and you retort, "Commission implies I'm paid and if that's the case I'mma need more than just dick for payment. I'm too broke." Suguru turns around pressing the knife to your throat whilst sweetly grinning down at you.

Suguru insists, "If you wanna be our sugar baby get on your knees and beg for it." Satoru let go of your hair. stepping aside to give you room to kneel.

You don't have the chance to speak before Satoru adds, "If you beg well enough, I could cover your half of the rent." He grabs the collar with its leash off the bed, "I already get your broke-ass food."" He carefully wraps the collar around your neck, fastening the clasp, then tugging on the leash.

Toji decides, "Satoru is rich enough to be your sugar daddy, my cock and cuddles will be payment enough." He grabs a bottle of lube and a small buttplug off the bed.

Suguru tilts your head up with the knife. "Bullshit you'll get her lingerie for her to wear." He glances at Toji, "What about that maid outfit she suggested after bitching about cleaning up after Satoru and You?" He looks down at you, dark thick hair framing his handsome face.

You decide, "They've been cleaner, so I could wear it as a reward. Clean your balls of every last drop of cum. Of course, you get my undivided attention first for always helping keep this place clean." Suguru is beautiful with his broad shoulders, thick pecs, and sculpted abs. His black happy trail leads to short well-trimmed hair and his thick hanging cock.

Suguru glides the sharp knife's tip up your chin to your bottom lip. "I want to see you in that see-through underwear with the maid outfit." He glides the knife along your lip, dragging it up your cheek.

Satoru glances at Suguru, "How do you know she has something like that?"

You take Suguru's cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head. His warm pre-cum is sweet and thick coating your tongue. There is so much pre-cum you can't help but suck harder, licking his small dripping slit.

Suguru groans, "I wash everyone's clothes that means her's too." Gliding the knife to the side of your head. You are slowly gliding Suguru deeper into your mouth with a loud moan.

Toji states, "Pineapple is the safe word to start aftercare." Lubbing up the butt-plug

Suguru sets the knife on the desk behind him. He holds your head still with a tight grasp on your hair. He stuffs his cock deep into your throat holding your head down and suffocating you.

Suguru suggests "Lift her ass up and stick it in her then." Satoru hands Toji the leash, watching Toji wrap his arm around your waist helping you partly stand up into a bent-over position.

Satoru suggests, "Why not go ahead n' tie our pretty slut up in a mating press. We can tug her around on the bed by the leash." He stands next to you spreading your cheeks apart for Toji.

Toji smirks, "We could do that." Tugging on the leash and Suguru's firm grasp on your hair keeps you from budging. The thick leather collar presses into your cock stuffed throat. Suguru groans, shallowly pumping his hips fucking your mouth slowly.

Toji lines the tip of the plug up with your asshole gliding it in. Smearing lube with each swirl and pump. Your cunt clenches around nothing from the pleasure of your ass stretching for the toy.

Suguru bottoms out giving you seconds to breathe. Before stuffing his cock back in to quickly fuck throat. He grabs the knife off the desk lightly dragging it across your back. You can't help but squirm, the air in your lungs escaping in a cry Suguru muffles with his cock.

Toji pushes the butt plug in, "Let's tie our new slut up." Satoru lets go of your cheeks. Whilst Toji moves to the other side of your bed dragging you with him.

.Suguru turns towards your laptop picking it up, setting the knife down. He scrolls through the fic skimming it.

Toji straddles your head his balls resting on your forehead and eyes. His thick cock nudging your lips smearing bitter pre-cum. You open your mouth groaning when he rocks his hips forwards.

He brings the laptop over, sitting on the bed next to you. "Do you want Satoru and I to act out the making out part while we are inside you?" He glances from the laptop down at you. Where Satoru is binding your legs together with the dark red rope.

Satoru taunts, "You don't have to use the fanfic as a reason to kiss me again." Making kissy faces at Suguru who rolls his eyes and grabs his friend by the neck pulling him closer.

Suguru nudges Satoru's mouth open with his thumb and spits. Satoru swallows, grabbing Suguru's cock and swirling his fist as he strokes him. Suguru groans, "I know." He leans in biting down on Satoru's bottom lip. The needy cry he makes your cunt clench.

Suguru pulls away, "Finish tying her up and let Toji have fun with her mouth." He stuffs his thumb into Satoru's mouth for him to suck on. "Then I want you to shove your pretty face into her beautiful cunt so you can put that annoying ass mouth to good use." He lets Satoru go.

He glides his thumb over Suguru's fat cockhead smearing pre-cum. He sticks his thumb in his mouth groaning from tasting Suguru's pre- cum.

Suguru sets the laptop down on top of a pillow, scrolling through the fic. "Cum spitting? Satoru when we cum in her you can eat it out and share it with her."

Satoru is quick tying at you in a mating press. "Are you gonna let me eat our creampie out of your cunt?." He slaps your cunt four times, pinching your clit. Your trembling, eyes stinging with tears.

Satoru grabs a vibrator turns it on and holds it to your clit. Slowly swirling it, stoking your soft sensitive nub. He stuffs his face into your cunt Suguru orders him "Keep your ass in the air."

He shifts keeping his face in your sloppy wet cunt putting his ass in the air. Satoru is giving Suguru a perfect view of his cock and balls. Suguru grabs a thin dildo with lube which he pours onto the tip before setting the lube aside.

Suguru lines the thin dildo up with Satoru's ass. Smacking his cheek. your sloppy wet cunt muffling Satoru's whine. Suguru nudges the head in, spitting in his hand and grabbing Satoru's cock.

Satoru lifts his head, "You arennnnnnn!" He moans when Suguru stuffs the thin dildo deep into Satoru's ass. Turning it on, leaving it on the highest setting, keeping it still, it's head pulsing against Satoru's g spot. "Fuck!" Suguru stuffs Satoru's head into your cunt.

Toji glides his cock out before he cums in your mouth. Pinching your nipple to hear your breathy whines get louder. He tugs on the leash, moving his hand to let you get a view of Satoru being a moaning mess between your legs with Suguru stuffing his ass.

Suguru looks at you and smirks, "Why not show him what it's like living with him? A pain in the fucking ass." Satoru bites your thigh in between the rope. Stopping when you cry. He licks the bite mark then stuffs his face into your soaking-wet cunt.

Satoru glides his tongue through your lips. Stroking your clit with the toy faster. Your cunt clenching his tongue. Satoru grabs the plug quickly fucking your asshole with it.

Toji orders, "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out." Slapping his cock on your tongue. Stuffing his thick fat into your mouth with a groan. Your eyes sting with tears as you choke on him.

He pinches, twists, and tugs on your soft nipple. "Fuck her soft wet mouth feels so good on my cock." You pull Satoru's hair, struggling to reflexively arch your back, feebly twisting your hips away from Satoru. He rubs your clit faster with the toy, sending you over the edge.

Your gushing into Satoru's mouth, your body trembles with your toes curling. Toji's thick cock muffles your moans. Toji groans, "Look at that our slut can squirt." Satoru sets the toy aside still vibrating.

Suguru grabs Satoru's hair making you let Satoru's hair go. You watch as Suguru lifts Satoru up out of your cunt by his hair. Fucking the dildo faster into Satoru's ass. Suguru lets his hair go spitting into his palm and grabbing Satoru's cock swirling his fist.

Suguru croons, "Are you getting close? You wanna cum on her pretty cunt then stuff it in with your sensitive cock?" Satoru whines unable to answer until Suguru is pulling the toy out of him.

Satoru cries, "Why did you stop?" His cock throbbing from the lack of stimulation. Missing the feeling of being full of getting his g-spot fucked.

Suguru quickly retorts, "Why won't you stop waking me up when you crawl into my bed?"

You grab Toji's thick muscular thigh digging your nails in. He glides his cock out of your mouth, slipping off the bed. He yanks you upright by the leash, causing the leather collar to dig into your sore throat.

You grab the leather prying it away from your throat. Toji leans down, "What's your color beautiful?" Twisting you around and laying you on your back with your butt dangling off the edge of the bed.

You plea, "Green please I wanna cock in my cunt or ass!" Toji cups your cheek hanging off the edge of the bed. Softly messaging your cheek then roughly slapping your ass. The force of the thrust makes you lightly bounce.

He unwinds the leash, asking you, "What about both?" He hands the leash to Suguru who shoves a pout Satoru aside. He dramatically face plants into the pillow that Toji rips out from underneath him.

He sits up and points at both Suguru and Toji, "Yall are both assholes, why she wants your dick in her is beyond me. Fucking hell, not letting me cum, shoving me to the side, and stealing a pillow out from under me."

You chime in with, "Don't cry on my other pillows either." His eyes widen, his fingers lower and his bottom lip trembles.

Satoru's voice cracks "Et tu?"

"Call me brutus."

Toji grumbles, "Suguru stuff her mouth these two are killing it mentioning some random ass dude's name and speaking gibberish." Suguru tugs you closer to the middle of the bed. Where Toji grabs your ass and lifts you up stuffing the pillow underneath you.

Satoru crawls over and lays down next to you. You grab his cock, still wet with Suguru's spit. He softly kisses your cheek ignoring Suguru's cock dangling close by. He turns your head by your chin to steal a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

"Annoying ass thief I'm glad I didn't let you cum yet." Swirling your hand along Satoru's cock. His moans are beautiful, breathy, and needy. You could touch yourself listening to him moan.

Toji dips his head into your cunt licking up the sweet mess with loud groans. His nose occasionally nudges your soft, sensitive clit. He grabs the plug and tugs it out, setting it on your bed without giving a fuck. Softly biting your cunt's lips when you start to complain.

You break the kiss leaving Satoru's mouth at Suguru's mercy. Lifting your head looking down at Toji asking, "Did you bite me?" He slaps your cunt as Suguru nudges Satoru's lips with his cock.

You look to see Suguru grabbing Satoru's neck causing the chain leash to dig in. His thick cock glides past Satoru's glossy lips. His balls hit the top of Satoru's head. He’s so beautiful getting face fucked.

Toji grabs the male strap-on, steps into it, and sets the dildo above his own cock. He tightens the straps making sure it's comfortable and secure. He climbs onto the bed, holding both and lining himself up.

He nudges your ass with his warm, thick cock head. Swiping the cool dildo between your cunt's soft wet lips. Smearing your slick down it and gliding his cock head in. You reach down flattening your hand on Toji's hard abs.

There is a sweet pleasurable pain from Toji splitting your ass open. "Nnfuck your cock is going in! Put the other one! Please! Please! Pleeease!" Moaning when he gives you just the tip of your dildo. Stretching your wet cunt out alongside your lubed-up.

Suguru slips his cock out of Satoru's mouth. Satoru grabs your chin and roughly kisses you. And all you can taste is Suguru when Satoru's tongue rubs your's. You moan into his mouth when Toji's hips hit yours, roughly and quickly filling you up with both cocks.

He strokes your clit with his thumb, slowly rocking his hips, keeping a slow steady pace. He groans, "Fuck I don't think I can last long the dildo in her pretty cunt is pushing against my cock. Her ass is so soft n' tight, she's gonna make me bust too quickly."

Suguru grabs the bottle of lube off your side table handing it to Toji. He pulls out till the tips of the dildo and his cock are tugging both sloppy wet holes. He carefully pours a line of lube on his cock, then gives the bottle back.

Toji grabs a part of the rope binging your thigh by your side. "Stupid little slut keeping my cock hard walking around the house looking so damn fuckable." He uses that to pull you towards him as he slams into you. The dildo brushes your sweet spot with the perfect pressure to make you lose your mind.

Suguru sets the bottle aside, spitting in his hand and stroking his cock. Admiring Satoru and You making on the bed, your soft hand stroking Satoru's pretty cock. Smearing his thick white pre-cum down his cock with swipes of your thumb.

Your soft moans sound so beautiful alongside Satoru's needy whines. Suguru groans "I can't wait to feel the both of you."

Toji roughly fucks both cocks into you without mercy. Stroking your soft clit with his rough thumb, the bed rocking, your body would be harshly bouncing away if not for his grasp on the rope. The course rope rubs and presses more into your thigh.

Toji decides, "This house slut thing works whenever my cock gets hard I'll come to you." Fucking you harder, adding more pressure to your sensitive clit. Each quick stroke of your sweet spot has your mind going blank.

You can't focus enough to stroke Satoru's cock. He grabs your hand and sloppily fucks your hips. Suguru sticks his cock in between Satoru and You. You lick and kiss one side with Satoru sucking and licking the other. Your tongue brushing Satoru's.

You clench Toji with your ass and his massive beautiful muscular body trembles. He hunches over biting your chest, flicking your nipple with his tongue. His pace becoming sloppy. He lets you go and grunts, "Nn fuuuuck I don't wanna cum in ya yet mama wanna keep feeling you."

"Please cum, wanna feel your thick warm cum in my ass." Toji picks his pace keep, franticly fucking his cock into your soft warm ass. The sound of skin smacking skin joins the grunts, groans, and creaking of your bed. "Please daddy!" Toji busts instantly his thick warm cum shooting in your ass with a force you can feel.

Suguru pulls away and Satoru lets your hand go. He gets on his knees and grabs Suguru's hand pulling him in for a rough kiss. Leaving you all to Toji. He leans over, keeping enough space between to play with your soft sensitive clit.

His thick hard pecs into your face. You wrap your arms around him clawing his backside up with one hand. Burying your face into his chest, tugging on his hair. You can't help but bite down hard. The way Toji whines is getting you off.

He stops with his cock and dildo deep in you, keeping his cum from spilling out. "I couldn't stop cumming." He sits up out of your grasp, looking for another buttplug. "There's so much that I fucked deep into your ass." Snagging the biggest one, its thickest point is still thinner than Toji's cock.

Slowly pulling his cock and dildo out, slipping the plug in. He croons, "Can't let it drip out while Satoru and Suguru are fucking both their cocks into your messy slutty cunt." He kisses your forehead. "Ya did good for me, took my cock so well. How does your ass feel?"

You smile up at him, "Sore but good." He softly kisses you, keeping it short and quick. Pulling away Toji is quick to get out of the strap-on.

"I'll leave you at these two's mercy n' I'll be back for aftercare." He smirks, "Good luck you already look like a tired whore." He slaps your cunt then leaves you at Satoru and Suguru's mercy.

You look to see Suguru and Satoru sloppy kissing each other. Suguru has his large hand around both cocks, holding them together. Satoru slowly grinds his hips, rubbing their cocks together.

You suggest, "Why not rub your dicks together in me?"

Suguru breaks away from Satoru and drops the leash. "And here Toji was wishing her luck." He grabs his knife off the desk. "After all that she is already ready for more." Suguru lifts you up by your throat. His fingers are beneath the leather collar.

You feel so perfectly helpless and vulnerable tied up, held in the air by your throat. With two big guys about to sandwich in between their hard chest. You're about to feel their cocks rubbing together inside you after watching them make out.

Suguru and Satoru line their cocks up. Suguru lightly nudges past your lips. Satoru is rubbing down your slit, groaning when he feels Suguru's cock head brush his. Then gliding his wet head to your clit, stroking you.

You can't shift your hips to sink yourself down on Suguru's cock. Satoru remembers, "Weren't you about to show us how a whore begs to be a sugar baby?" You're clenching nothing, aching to feel them both.

Suguru grabs your hip, and Satoru squeezes your other hip. He presses the knife to your neck whilst glides his head in. Teasing you with his tip before pulling out. He swirls his cockhead in small circles o your clit.

Satoru taunts, "Before we double stuff your messy little cunt tell us what you are?" He loves the sight of your soft pretty nub touching his pale pink cock head.

You confess, "I'm a needy cock loving pervert who spends too much time reading smut and playing with her cunt. Please fuck me into a mindless mess then pamper me afterwards." Satoru lines himself up, with their strength they can stuff their cocks in together.

You loudly cry from the overwhelming sweet pain. Digging your nails into Satoru's hard pec whilst reaching behind you. Grabbing a handful of Suguru's hair. You are desperate to ground yourself, but they don't give you a chance.

Their pace is uneven causing their cocks to stroke each other's. Satoru grabs your hair. "Pretty little slut you gonna eat the creampie Suguru and I make if I spit it into your mouth?"

You can't think of a response. It's impossible to think with their cocks stirring your guts up and the cool metal of the knife against your neck.

Suguru croons, "We just stuck our cocks in, are you really this easy to break?" His pace is harder but slower than Satoru's. His cockhead reaches just beneath Suguru's but he's thicker pressing Satoru against your g-spot with intense pressure.

Satoru points out with a cocky smirk, "Our slut only had enough energy to beg for more cock." He slips his finger underneath the collar tugging on it. "We should get her one just for her. What do you want your collar to say? Should it say brat, house slut, or cock sleeve?" You're so full, their cocks reaching so deep.

Suguru looks down into your eyes and groans, "She's such a pretty whore taking both our cocks in her soft wet cunt." Satoru's pace falters, his cock lightly twitching, veins pulsing. "You close already? With her tight cunt pressing our cocks together I feel the pulsing of your cock."

Satoru whines "Can't help it I was so close earlier n' I really wanna cum." He leans down softly kissing you, cupping your cheek. Gently cradling your face like he isn't bullying your sore, sensitive soaking-wet cunt with his cock.

Suguru slips his hand in between Satoru and You, flicking your nipple with the knife. There is an exciting fear that he could cut you at any moment. Part of you hope he does when he glides the knife lightly across your thigh in between the ropes.

Satoru whines, his pace falters, slowly down and getting harder. Satoru moans as thick warm cum trickles from his cock in short quick bursts. He grabs your bound thigh and digs his nails into your skin between the tight rope.

Suguru groans picking his pace up chasing his high. Fucking Satoru's thick cum deeper into you getting you off. Satoru breaks the sloppy, rough kiss and whines, "Fuck her soft cunt, your soft yet hard cock both is too much. I wanna do this again later, please I wanna cock warm with both of our cocks in her."

Your soft cunt squeezing their cocks is becoming too much for Satoru. He pulls out, getting on his elbow and licking where Suguru and You connect. Your trembling, eyes rolling back, tears trickling down your face.

"Look me in the eyes and lemme see you crying." Suguru wraps his large hand around your neck tilting your head up. He stares into your eyes, fighting to keep his pace steady. Satoru groans, "Cum in her, lemme taste you both." Suguru falters, stopping with his cock balls deep in your sloppy cunt.

His thick warm cum steadily pours into you from his fat head. "You're both beautiful filthy cum loving perverts." Satoru gets on his knees grabbing you by the rope. He bounces you on Suguru's thick cock making him tremble.

Slowly Satoru lifts you off Suguru's cock. Softly laying out down, slowly pulling out the buttplug, and carefully undoing the rope, checking over for any burns.

Suguru accuses, "That was a bitch move." Carefully unfastening your collar and lightly massaging your sore neck. Their actions are a wonderful gentle contrast to how they were manhandled and fucked you a moment prior.

Satoru retorts, "So was edging me." He flips Suguru off who rolls his eyes.

Satoru softly peppers kisses along the sore indention of the rope's pattern in your thighs. "There is no rope burn, but I don't want you to try and walk anywhere. Get one of us to carry you if need be." He dips his tongue into your sloppy cunt getting a thick mix of cum in his mouth.

Kissing you softly spitting the cum into your mouth. Then pulling away, softly encouraging you, "Swallow, good, that's it. Such a good slut."

Toji comes back into the room, "I got a bubble bath going in Suguru's bathroom along with some candles. I'm not getting in but one of you can." He checks his phone. "In an hour the food I put on Satoru's card will be here."

Satoru stretches your legs out, softly massaging your thighs. "I feel too good right now to care how you got that information." He slips off the bed, leans over to pick you up, cradling you to his chest. "I'll take a bath while Suguru can do the laundry he prides himself on doing."

Suguru suggests, "We should flip a coin to see who gets to bathe with her and who washes the bedding."

[mechsangel]

best friends forever!

synopsis: suguru, satoru & you are best friends… or more, who knows

warnings: gojo bullying, gn!reader, all three of you are into each other but dont wanna admit it, random texts between you guys, no timeline for this one cause idk when this is going down tbh, part one this will be continued (maybe)

<3 — tags: @krispywhisperswhispers @not-aya @jinxiewritings @rllyobsessedgirlie @p1nkfl0wers

[annoyance-for-u]

Thank you, as one of the members of the Nanami yapper girlies

nanami kento and his certified yapper of a girlfriend, whom he loves very dearly <33

nanami has perfected the art of the “hm.” it’s his go-to response when you’re on one of your enthusiastic tangents. but don’t be fooled—there are different versions of his “hm.” there’s the supportive hm (when he agrees with you), the tired but still listening hm (when he’s too drained to fully engage but doesn’t want to ignore you), and the you’re absolutely ridiculous but I love you hm (his most common one).

he may seem like he zones out, but he retains the important things. you could talk for ten minutes straight about which nail color you should get, and he won’t remember a word. but if you offhandedly mention that you really love those matcha cookies from that one bakery, guess what’s waiting for you the next day?

he’s the only person who can actually get you to shut up—for a moment. whether it’s pulling you into a sudden kiss, placing a warm hand over your mouth, or just giving you that look, he has his ways. you’ll still continue after the interruption, though. always.

sometimes he just lets you talk because he enjoys how animated you get. you’re waving your hands, switching between different tones, going off on dramatic tangents—he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t cute. sometimes he just sits back and watches you, letting the sound of your voice fill the space around him. and you’re so absorbed in your own storytelling that you completely miss his lovesick gaze and his warm smile.

he has definitely fallen asleep to the sound of your voice. you don’t even take offense anymore. it happens often enough that you’ve just accepted your voice as a lullaby for him. sometimes, he’ll wake up to you continuing your story, completely unbothered by the fact that he passed out halfway through.

when he’s in a bad mood, you’re the only person who can make him laugh. sometimes, all it takes is a well-timed, ridiculous comment. other times, it’s just your sheer determination to get a reaction out of him. if he tries to stay grumpy, you’ll narrate his emotions out loud, complete with a fake dramatic voice: “behold! the great and brooding nanami kento, burdened by the weight of existence. will he ever smile again? will he ever—oh wait! there it is! a smirk! ladies and gentlemen, we got him.”

he gets oddly worried when you’re quiet. if you go more than twenty minutes without saying something, he immediately assumes something’s wrong. “are you okay?” “yes, why?” “you’re quiet.” “…so?” “so, it’s suspicious.” if you get quiet for too long, he’ll gently nudge you. not because he doesn’t enjoy silence, but because he knows something might be wrong. “what’s on your mind?” he’ll ask, and when you start rambling again, he knows things are back to normal.

he absolutely refuses to take you grocery shopping anymore. the last time he did, you spent fifteen minutes analyzing which brand of rice was superior, picked up random items purely because they “had cute packaging,” and got distracted by the tiny honey jars again. now, he just goes alone and comes back with everything he knows you like. (or he relents to your endless begging and tells you to not give promises you won’t be able to keep— like you sticking to his side and not prolonging the trip.)

he loves your voice, even if he pretends it exhausts him. he may act like you talk too much (which, to be fair, you do), but if you ever go away for a few days, or if he has a long, quiet work trip, he finds himself missing the constant sound of your chatter. the first thing he does when he comes back? sit down and listen to you ramble about everything he missed.

he’ll never admit it, but he secretly finds your endless talking comforting. it makes the world feel less heavy. it reminds him that, no matter how chaotic things get, you’ll always be right there, filling the silence with something only you would say.

he’s developed a high tolerance for your rapid-fire conversation shifts. most people would struggle to keep up, but nanami has learned to expect the unexpected. you could be talking about your dinner plans one second and then suddenly ask, “do you think sharks are self-aware?” without missing a beat. he doesn’t even flinch anymore—just calmly responds, “if they were, they’d probably be very concerned about their reputation.”

he has a hidden soft spot for your random facts. sure, he’ll sigh when you start a sentence with, “did you know—” but deep down, he’s actually listening. later, he’ll casually use one of your weird facts in conversation, and when you catch him, he’ll just adjust his tie like it never happened.

he’s learned to predict the exact moment you’ll start talking during movies. without fail, right when an important scene starts, you will have a thought. every time. and somehow, nanami just knows when it’s coming. he’ll pause the movie right before you open your mouth, giving you an expectant look. “go ahead.” and you’ll happily share your insight before he presses play again.

nanami secretly finds your over-explaining adorable. sometimes, you’ll start explaining something completely unnecessary—like why a certain restaurant’s menu design is superior to another’s—and he’ll just watch you, arms crossed, pretending to be unimpressed. but inside? he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

he loves when you talk about your day, even if it’s just the small stuff. you could spend twenty minutes telling him about how the barista at the café made your drink slightly different than usual, and he’ll still sit there, listening, occasionally nodding and asking questions. because no matter what you’re talking about, it’s you, and that’s enough.

he will not—under any circumstances—let gojo encourage you. if gojo hypes you up for talking even more, nanami is done. he’ll literally drag you away before you and gojo can start bouncing off each other with endless nonsense.

he may sigh, roll his eyes, and pretend to be exhausted by your constant talking, but if anyone else ever told you to “be quiet,” they’d get a very cold stare from nanami. no one—no one—gets to dull your spark except for him, and even he doesn’t really mean it.

[lymtw]

Movie Night

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Friday night is unofficially movie night for you and Toji. You always go back and forth on what you should do and options are tossed out, like a nice dinner or trying food from someplace new or going to a view and sitting in the trunk of his car with blankets and some snacks. Most of the time, all of those options are thrown out the window and you just end up sitting in your bed or his bed and watching movies together. It doesn't matter what you do, it's always good, and the sleep overs make it even better.

A knock on your door signals Toji's arrival. Though you haven't had any caffeine since the coffee you treated yourself to earlier in the afternoon, you feel jittery. You grab the surprise you have for him and walk over to answer the door. As soon as you pull the door open, there he is, looking handsome as always, even when he's donning a simple t-shirt and some sweatpants. He gives you that smirk of his—the one that makes your chest feel all warm and fuzzy, and wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. He has a bag in his hand, filled with the snacks he promised to bring.

"Aren't you gonna say hi? Did you even miss me?" He teases, loving the way you gently nod as he speaks, like you're ready to prove that you did in fact miss him.

"Hi, Toji," you say, a smile spreading on your lips when you become overly aware of his focus on you. "I missed you. Come in." You move aside and let him into your cozy home, a place he's all too familiar with. He steps out of his slides and leaves them behind next to a pair of your shoes, his gaze never leaving you as he waits for you to lock the door after you shut it.

"What's that, doll?" Toji asks, when you approach him with full hands. There's a soft smile on your lips and your eyes shine like the stars that speckle the sky, as you extend the neatly folded pair of pajamas towards him. You have the most precious look on your face, as if you're showing him one of your most prized possessions—something you're proud of.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to. I still have the receipt. I just thought it would be nice to wear matching pj's."

You're not asking for much. Toji knows this. This is nothing—you're not asking him for anything. All he can think as he takes in the adorable look on your face, is that it would be an absolutely disgusting, heinous crime, to deny you of something so simple, something that would make you so damn happy. He can't bring himself to destroy you like that. In doing that, he would be chipping his own heart.

"What are you talking about? Let me see them," he says, laying his hands out for you to place the clothes on. You carefully place them in his hands and watch as he unfolds the articles. You don't know what he's thinking as he inspects the shirt, but the hum he lets out is nerve wracking. The shirt's design is minimalistic. It's a black t-shirt with three little stars on the left side of the chest and a small crescent moon on the back, a few inches beneath the collar, and then the bottoms are in the same plaid style as yours, just dark green instead of red.

"Is this why you asked for my clothing sizes a couple days ago?" He asks, pulling down his pants out of nowhere. You can't even try to hold back your laugh as you look away after getting a glimpse of his boxers, the sound just slips out. "What are you laughing at? Nothing you haven't seen before," he says, grinning amusedly at your giggles.

He unfolds the comfy pair of pants and slides them on. Immediately after, his shirt comes off, and it's as if he wants you to notice—to ogle him—because he takes his sweet time getting the new shirt on. He catches your eyes trailing down his torso, and then, he hears it, the flustered giggle that tumbles off your lips, the sweet sound he was waiting on. He smirks as he puts the new shirt on, and once again waits for your reaction. The shirt is a thicker material and fits perfectly, so do the pants. You're now matching, just like you wanted.

"How do I look?" Toji asks, doing a simple hands in his pockets pose.

"Handsome and comfy," you respond, warmth reaching your face as you take in the sight.

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks as he picks up his previous outfit and drops it on the arm of your couch. He hears your affirmative hum and catches your little nod as he steps towards you.

"Hey, where's my kiss?" He asks, a sly little smirk curling his lips. His hands rest on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "I've been waiting hours and hours," he murmurs, green eyes absorbing the pretty smile that begins to form on your lips. "I want my reward."

You know that it won't be just a quick kiss with Toji, but still, you stand on your tippy toes and tilt your head upwards, waiting for Toji to meet you. He leans down, holding eye contact with you, as his lips come closer and closer. Once his nose is right next to yours and you feel his lips ghosting yours, he stops. He just loves the way you can't hide your fluster and how whenever you can't take it anymore, you resort to something you should have some sort of award for, by now—giggling.

"You're precious, ma," he says, his voice low. Dark eyes scan and re-memorize, for the nth time, every inch of your joyful expression, before finally he leans in the rest of the way, closing the distance between you and him.

His hands grip the back of your shirt as he feeds off your soft lips. Kiss after kiss, each one gentle and patient, demonstrating how much he truly longed for you. You feel butterflies in your stomach when you focus on the warmth of his body pressed against you and the way his lips chase yours for another kiss when you think he's finally going to pull away. His hands dip beneath your shirt to feel the bare, soft, and warm skin of your back. The simple touch is enough to spread goosebumps all over you.

The final kiss is long. Your lips lock, but Toji stops there, not going with the usual synchronized flow of the previous kisses, and when you don't expect it, he lets out deep hum and releases your lips with a more audible smack. He gives you a dumb grin in response to the stars that returned to your eyes.

"Do the thing, baby," he says, rubbing your back while he waits for you to snap out of your minor daze. He stays in the same slightly leaned position and waits for the softness of your lips to meet his skin. You press a kiss onto the smooth scar on the corner of his lips for an equal amount of time as the long kiss you shared before and smile softly when you pull away, your feet flat on the ground, again.

His hands come out of your shirt and he grins at how bashful you've become, despite the amount of times you've done this. You wouldn't immediately know what "do the thing" means, if you weren't so accustomed to doing it.

"Got your favorites," he says, nodding towards the bag he set down on your couch. "Did you keep up with your end of the deal?" He jokes, expecting a proud nod from you, because you've never let him down.

"Lemon-lime or Cool Blue Gatorade, right?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"That's right, doll," he confirms, following behind you.

After the wine incident, he chooses to stay sober with you. It's not that he doesn't want to experience drinking with you and see you be more laid back and playful, it's the fact that he knows that that version of you is altered by alcohol. Sober you isn't that way, and while he loves every version of you, your natural way of being is his favorite.

He could spend hours flustering and teasing you, watching the way you coil in on yourself when he stares at you for too long. Feeling the way your body melts against his when he holds you is one of his favorite things. He likes being able to coax you into voicing your thoughts, wants, and needs. Maybe you're a little more honest about deeper matters when you're inebriated, but Toji is smart enough to know that it's practically involuntary. It's like your secrets are being spilled without your permission and while he's glad to know these things in the moment, he would rather hear them from you when you aren't drunk.

"I got you both. I didn't know which you liked more, so I just got both of them," you say, grabbing them off one of the shelves in your fridge. You turn and hand the cold drinks to Toji before going back to grab the one you got for yourself. You step back and shut the fridge door, smiling at him when he just stares at you.

"What?" You question.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Just silently observes you standing in your small kitchen, in comfy, baggy pajamas that match his own. You're shifting on your feet, under his gaze, waiting for a response, but the response that he has in mind is a little too much for the lightness of the night. Something about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, something about coming home to you every day, something about putting a shiny rock on your finger. Something big, because his feelings for you are big.

"Nothing, ma," he says, tucking both juice bottles between his forearm and his side, so that he can rest his hand on the back of your neck as you walk back out to the living room. You grab the bag of snacks off the couch and head to your bedroom together.

You set the bag of snacks on the bed and sit down on your side. Toji has a designated side on your bed, which is, of course, the other side.

"Light on or off?" Toji asks, shutting the door.

"Off?" You say, with a questioning tone, leaving room for him to object. Shortly after, the room goes dark. Only your TV, which sits idly on its home screen, creates light that illuminates the walls. Toji walks around your bed and settles into his side.

"What are we watching, this time?" He asks, reaching for the pack of sour gummy bears.

"It's your turn to choose," you say, offering the remote to him. "Last time we watched a bunch of Disney movies. I don't know if you wanna do that again," you say, smiling sheepishly.

"You doubt your taste in things too much, ma. Those Toy Story movies were pretty good. Show me another one of your favorites."

"Alright," you say, in compliance. You go to the Disney+ application and search for another favorite. Nothing too sing song-y, because you feel like you're on thin ice already in playing these animated movies for him. You got away with Jessie singing "When She Loved Me" in Toy Story 2, because even he thought the poor cowgirl got a rough deal when she was abandoned.

"Ratatouille?" He reads. "What's that about?"

"We're about to watch it," you say, briefly turning over and smiling.

He hums as he looks over the caption beneath the title that explains the synopsis of the movie.

"The rat's gonna cook? This should be interesting."

Lo and behold, he's hooked. Neither of you has made a peep and you're both mindlessly snacking on candy and chips, sipping on Gatorade, while watching the crazy things in this rat's life unfold. Him and his brother survived being struck by lightning and being shot at by an old lady with a shotgun. That part seemed to amuse Toji plenty.

Towards the end of the movie, Toji turns to you with sour sugar unknowingly speckled on his lips from the candy he's been feasting on, and leans in to press kisses to your temple and cheek.

"Watch," you say, smiling at the softness that meets your skin.

"I'm watching," he murmurs, continuing on with his sticky kisses.

"Look, they're stealing food from the kitchen," you explain, shocked despite already knowing what's going to happen.

"Mm," Toji hums, seemingly interested, but continuing on with his affectionate, sugary pecks.

"Look, you're gonna miss it," you say, giggling as you gently push his face away. It completely backfires on you, because he just grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand down to continue on with his kisses.

"Come here," he says, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you so that you're sitting right beside him, your thigh touching his and your shoulder pressed into his side. With a few more pecks to your cheek and a couple to the top of your head, he faces forward and continues watching the movie.

"Damn, they got shut down?" He says, in disbelief.

"Mhm," you hum in response, unable to answer verbally due to the chips in your mouth.

"Oh shit, they're back," Toji says, taking in the remainder of the movie. "And Remy cooks without controlling Spaghetti?"

"Linguini," you correct, with a laugh. "But yeah. Linguini's a waiter, now, and Remy's a chef."

The artistic end credits begin to appear and you turn to look at Toji.

"So... what did you think?" You ask.

"That had more action than The Terminator," he jokes. "The old lady with the shotgun was trying take out Remy and his brother and then she tried to hit the entire colony of rats with gas."

You giggle as he goes in depth of what he remembers, as if to prove to you that he was watching.

"I liked that one too," he says, with a smirk. "Would definitely watch it, again."

"Good," you chirp, internally proud that you were able to show him something good. "Your turn," you say, offering him the remote.

"You go again," he says, grabbing another sour gummy to dodge the remote.

"Toji," you mumble. "You should choose something you like. I wouldn't mind watching something new, too."

In truth, Toji doesn't want to watch explosive, gore infested, action movies when he's with you. It's the only genre he's thoroughly explored apart from some comedy, so he leaves you to do the choosing of the movies and shows you watch together. It's a great way for him to give new things a chance, because even though it seems like he's always the one showing you how and loosening the tight grip you have on the shell that obscures you, he's constantly learning from you, as well.

"How 'bout this, baby... If you choose the next one, i'll choose the next three," he offers, squeezing the plush of your thigh.

"You promise?" You say, eyes darting from where his enormous hand rests on your leg, to his face.

"'Course. I don't lie to you," he says.

"Okay, then," you say, moving onto a different platform to find another movie.

"While I wait..." he mumbles, a soft smile curling on his lips. His hand moves from your thigh to your waist as he wraps his arm around you. He goes back to kissing the side of your face, soft, wet little smooches planted along your cheek and your jaw.

"Gorgeous girl," he hums, his voice a soft breath against your skin. "I'm dying to kiss those pretty lips."

Your lips curl as you continue skimming through the section of recommended movies. You can feel his eyes on you, tracing over the features of your face.

"Just a quick one and then i'll stop bugging you," he requests. "Please? You're teasing me without even trying."

"But I'm not even doing anything," you argue, with a small laugh.

"That's what i'm saying," he says, in agreement. "You're not even trying. You're just pretty like that. Makes me wanna kiss you 'til you can't breathe."

"What? You said a quick one, just a few seconds ago," you remind, your smile widening at the way he changed his mind about wanting the minimum of your affection.

"Yeah, but you know how greedy I am about you, mama. I want more and more of you, all the time." His gaze flits between your coy smile and the softness that lingers in your eyes. You haven't paused your skimming of the movies, but he knows you're staring at the screen, mindlessly, feeling his attention. "You want me to beg?"

"No," you instantly respond. It's the one thing you never allow him to do. He's too good to you, for you to make him beg. "You don't have to do that."

"So, kiss me, sweetheart," he says, shifting positions so that he's lying down on his side. He pats the pillow that cushions your lower back, signaling for you to lie down. Like the obedient thing you are for him, you click play on the random movie you landed on and set the remote aside, before lying down on your side, facing Toji.

"What movie did you decide on?" He asks, dragging his knuckles tenderly over your cheek.

"I didn't look at the name," you answer, softly.

"We can skip the intro, right?" He murmurs, smirking when he feels the warmth that reaches your face beneath his palm. His thumb strokes the skin of your cheek, back and forth as he keeps up with your gaze, even when it derails from his due to the tension in the moment.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Come here," he instructs, his voice low, almost a whisper. His leg goes between your legs, just sitting there to achieve more physical contact with you. It doesn't go further than the desire to be innocently caught up in you and feel you pressed against him.

The first kisses—if they can even be called that—are tentative and teasing. Lips merely ghosting each other, barely grasping contact. It's enough to have your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. You hear a warm, rumbled chuckle coming from Toji.

"Closer," Toji hums, his hand splaying on your back and pushing you forward into him.

Finally, your lips connect. The feeling is warm, like you're being held, securely, without any intention of being released. The sound of the movie in the background is a mere whir, unheard through the imaginary force field created around you and Toji. It's just you and him, close as can be, living like nothing else matters as long as you have this love. Through gentle caresses, one unsteady heartbeat and an even unsteadier one, things are good.

Toji swears he will never feel this content and at peace anywhere else. You have a way of making him feel like he is everything. The way your eyes twinkle when you see him, the way you bare your soul to him every time you smile—it's love. It's pure, unadulterated love. He's your friend, your lover, your confidant, and he will never settle for being anything less than those things.

With one more brush of your lips, you both put the kissing on hold and lay there, just a little bit breathless. His hand rests on your lower back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"I love you so fucking much, doll. You know that?" He murmurs, his attention bouncing between your lips that won't stop calling for him to kiss them and the warmth in your eyes. "Fridays aren't just another day, anymore. Same for every day I get to see you or even just talk to you on the phone if we can't be together." A soft sigh escapes his nose, followed by a very brief pause. "You just know how to make things better, and I wish you would believe it because you feel that way too, not just because i'm telling you."

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"No. I don't want that, baby. Tell me something else."

"I love you, Toji," you say, ensuring that you speak clearly so that he gets the important words you need him to hear. "I like being around you. You'll never know just how safe you make me feel, but I do want you to know that it goes past the physical aspect."

He smiles, the expression soft, not telling of the giddiness that just spread throughout his body. A soft hum, followed by a somewhat frustrated sounding groan, precedes you being pulled into his tight embrace. You can't help the giggles that eventually evolve into laughter that just spills from you when he bombards your face with kisses. His lips press against your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips before he actually leaves a rapid barrage of pecks on your lips. Deep chuckles slip through his affectionate assault when you plant your hand on his chest, weakly pushing at him through the joyous sound of your laugh.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your entire body shaking through your nonstop laughter. Despite it being nighttime, Toji feels like he's kissing and cuddling with the sun. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much.

With one final, elongated kiss to your forehead, he relents and lets you catch your breath. Soft giggles continue to flow past your lips as you work on composing yourself.

"You drive me crazy, doll," he says, grinning at how your chest still slightly heaves. He could do this every night with you, in a shared bed, that is in your shared bedroom, in your shared home.

"Alright, let's see what this movie's about," he mutters, flipping onto his back. "Come here." By now, the two words are a staple to Toji's conversations with you, because he always wants you attached to him. He outstretches his arm, and waits for you to scooch over and lay your head on his chest. Once you settle in, his arm wraps around you, tightly.

As you both try to catch up on what is going on in the movie, you realize none of it is making sense. You think it might be futile to try and understand what is happening when it may have been explained during the intro, but neither you nor Toji mind it, and just continue watching through the confusion, because the intro to this movie was never going to be as good as the moment you shared during it.

[ryuucam]

C U GIRL!

⋆｡𖦹°‧ desperate men as exes who want u back ^_^ including toji && nanami

contains open ending (me personally i’d fold) (don’t do this irl), suggestive, drinking (toji) emotional unavailability, poor communication, brief non sexual nudity (nanami) you’re the one breaking up with them!!

notes everybody say thank u to my ex bc he wont stop dming me on ig and inspired me to do this (leave me alone)

TOJI FUSHIGURO

breaking up with him was not an easy choice. not because you were in a long term relationship - it was more like occasional hook ups and stay at home dates - but because toji can get clingy, angry, irrational. you’re not afraid of him, but alas, he is a bomb waiting to explode, and you really don’t want to tick him off. when you do break up with him, you do it over text, immediately blocking his number after. you keep telling yourself it’s the best choice. he’s no good for you, and you’re just protecting your peace. you don’t hear from him again, and in a few weeks you already put this all behind you.

toji is devastated. he wants to scream (he did that), to punch a hole in the wall out of sheer frustration and anger (he did that, too) - he’s not angry at you though, of course not. how could he? you’re so sweet, always caring for him, despite him only ever seeing you for occasional sex and cheap beer. he should’ve seen it coming: you deserve better than this. so really, toji can’t bring himself to hate you. instead, he drinks himself half to death, much to shiu’s dismain, spending most of his time cooped up in a small bar, scrolling through the blurry, messy pics of you on his phone.

while you’re healing (you’re not: you miss him just as much, but your pride is too big to handle), toji downs beer after beer, hoping to numb whatever feelings he still has for you (shame: he’s ashamed of himself. that’s why he hasn’t shaven his stubble, hasn’t trimmed his hair, hasn’t taken up any more jobs). a month, maybe two, after your break up, shiu can’t take it anymore. he’s losing clients, and he sure as hell isn’t going to be babysitting a grown man any longer. so, he shows up to toji’s small apartment (he isn’t used to staying there. your place is much comfier), and gives him a pep talk, telling him to just get his shit together, for fuck’s sake, toji just lays on his couch, barely registering his friend’s words, but he really is sick of moping around, doing nothing. something awakens in him (maybe it’s just a sense of responsibility, ever heard of that?), motivating him to clean himself up, look for his last 20, 30 bucks and getting out of the house for what feels like the first time in ages.

meanwhile, you’re at home, unaware that you’re mirroring toji’s behavior. sprawled on your couch, scrolling through your past texts and photos, chewing on your lower lip. this is all for the best, you remind yourself. so why are you sobbing your eyes out over a man who hasn’t even reached out to you? sure, you’ve blocked him, but it’s not like you would’ve minded seeing him under your balcony, asking for an explanation. it is toji you’re talking about, though. you should’ve never lead him on like that, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten so hurt over a bare-minimum kind of dude.

your train of thought gets interrupted by the ring of your doorbell. you groggily get up - it’s probably just a delivery guy. you don’t bother fixing up your appearance in the mirror (you’d just be met with a more hollow version of you, hair messy and eyes swollen). when you open the door, however, you’re met with toji’s sturdy chest standing right in your face. wait, toji? you look up, only to find his grey eyes staring right back at you, a frown on his face. he’s holding a bouquet of tulips (by the looks of it, way out of his budget), and he can’t seem to still himself.

“‘m sorry.” his voice breaks the silence. “for not comin’ here sooner. and for treatin’ you like shit.”

it’s not much, but this is the first time you’ve ever heard toji mutter an apology - a sincere one at that. your heartstrings are tugging at your chest, screaming at you to do something. you can’t do anything, vision blurred with tears you barely notice. toji is still: too afraid to move, too afraid to scare you off again. he doesn’t have to move though, because you throw yourself in his arms a few seconds later.

“you’re an asshole.” “i know, ya don’t have to forgive me, i-“ “leave me alone for now.”

so toji leaves, and comes back the day after, a new bouquet in hand. you kick him out again, and he shows up again. relentlessly. he knows he looks like an idiot, but he’s willing to stay as one if it means getting to see you. how longer can you stay mad at him?

NANAMI KENTO

after a year or so of dating nanami, he started getting comfortable with you - which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, given that he’s rather stiff most of the time, but makes him go back to his usual ways. he doesn’t hurry to get back home, doesn’t stop to get you “just because” flowers and gifts, doesn’t cuddle up with you on the couch anymore. he’s irritable, closed off, but maybe that’s just how he truly is. of course, he never raises his voice at you, but he never stops for idle conversations and such. so, after countless nights spent crying in your friend’s arms, you decide to take her advice, and just break up with him.

you do it after he’s had a long week at work, after he came back home at midnight again, barely caring enough to send you a quick text of notice (he doesn’t see anything wrong with this: you should’ve known his habits by now). you’re waiting on the couch, legs crossed and fidgeting with your hands. he takes off his shoes (he doesn’t even call out for you anymore), and makes his way in the living room. nanami asks you why you’re still up (he still cares about you), and you just look at him. “i want to break up”. he doesn’t fight - how could he?, and he just nods. he sleeps in the guest room, cold and empty, while you toss and turn in the main bedroom.

by the next day, you’re gone, and so is all the warmth left in your shared home. nanami keeps showing up at work in pristine condition, suit ironed to perfection and a neat lunchbox prepared, working full hours almost every day of the week. on his days off, when yaga literally kicks him out of the school, he doesn’t know what to do. nanami sits at the dinner table in his kitchen, arms crossed and staring into the void, not knowing what to do. a few months ago, he’d spend his days off at home with you, watching movie after movie, with you in his arms kissing him all over his face, room filled with giggles and hushed “i love you”s.

it’s over now though, and nanami isn’t a man too keen on reminiscing his past. maybe it’s time to change his habits. he knows they’re the reason you left him, and he’s very well aware that he isn’t perfect. he sighs, tangling his hands in his hair (just a few weeks ago, you’d do the same thing when you showered together. saving water, you said, but he knew better: he still humored you). his phone lights up, and he jolts out of his seat to grab it, even if the rational part of him knows you won’t do that. you have no reason to do so. he’s right, of course, but the way the threw himself at his phone made him hyper aware of how pathetic he truly is.

meanwhile, you’re in your old apartment, tearing the whole place apart. it’s a saturday evening (nanami and you used to go out for dinner on saturdays), and you’ve been waiting the whole week to do a self care night. all your products are sitting patiently on your bathroom sink, all except for that damn clay mask you bought yourself a few months ago, used once, and then forgot about it. after emptying all of your cupboards, drawers, pouches, it’s still nowhere to be found. suddenly, you feel an imaginary light bulb lightning up. you can’t actually have left that at kento’s place (your old home), right? when you left, you triple checked everywhere for your belongings. but still, you’re not going to waste money on an overpriced face mask. so you swallow your pride and drive over to his house.

it’s not like he’ll tell you no (he didn’t say that even when you broke up with him). you knock on his front door, suddenly feeling embarrassed about being here. when nanami opens the door, he feels like fainting (did he manifest you? no, he doesn’t believe in those things). “oh, hi”, you both say at the same time. your eyes are wide open, and he feels his heart rate quickening by the second. as you mutter about the reason of your visit, you can’t help but notice your face heating up, and the way he’s just so docile, so attentive while he accompanies you to the bathroom to look for.. well, whatever’s that you need. you don’t remember.

when you’re about to leave, nanami speaks up. “i’m sorry for spending so much time at the office. i know it’s my fault for the break up. but i can’t deny that i still love you. please, let me try to win you back.”

you turn around, taking in how soft his expression looks, how deep his eye bags run, how in love he looks. will you let him back in your heart? he swears he’s a changed man.

[ohmy-gojo]

"rise and shine! its a good day to be alive! as this sunny day brings new opportunities and hopes for us-"

"girl, shut up." megumi grumbles, throwing a pillow at you

you caught the pillow and snickered at your sleepy boyfie—who fell asleep again by the way. you couldnt have that. it was the weekend and you both were supposed to be hanging out but look at him sleeping like a log! you almost wanted to draw in his face with a marker out of spite but then remembered what happened last time...

so alternatively you decided to bother him until he has no choice but to wake up. you snatched his blanket, turned on the lights, played stray kidz music at full volume and what not

"wake uppppuhhh"

"argh! stop it woman— im up!"

"yay!"

he grumbled some more but ultimately woke and sat up. you pressed a kiss on his cheek in appreciation

"good morning!"

he rolled his eyes "g'morning."

you got up from the bed and drew the curtains of his balcony aside, the rays of sunshine lit up the room. you pointed outside

"see?? such a beautiful weather today! calling for us to hang out and you are sleeping like a baby here,"

he rolled his eyes once again, although not bothered at all. you were trying to enter his balcony while continuing your speech but you didnt realize the sliding glass door was still closed and walked right through (well tried to). which caused you to hit your forehead and fall back on your butt.

"ouch.."

you didnt know if you should rub your forehead first or your butt. thats when you heard a foreign sound— as if someone was laughing. but there was only you and megumi here? was there an intruder here??

you turned your head around to find your boyfriend clamping his mouth, chuckles slipping out. you immediately connected the two dots

"you..you laughed?!?!"

"w-what! no-" he tried to protest without laughing

"yes! yes you did— oh my god!!" you sprung to your feet, tackling him in a hug. "this is the first time i heard your laughter— do it again! or should i fall again??"

"no need for that." he sweatdropped

you proceeded to attack him with flurry of kisses. how could you help yourself when your boyfriend finally decided to bless you with the sound of his laughter?

"if this is the treatment i get, then i should laugh more from now on," he mused and held you closer to him and you ended up cuddling. you gave him a bright smile before realizing something and pulling away

"oh no! i shouldve recorded!"

"girl, shut up." he said fondly this time and pulled you closer

[tootiecakes234]

I would take SO MANY PICTURES OF THEM😭😭😭 so adorbs!

Based off of THIS ADORABLE VIDEO OMG—

As soon as you walk into your daughter’s room, the first thing you notice is her empty bed. The Bluey blankets that were once warmly protecting her are now thrown to the floor haphazardly, and her Bingo plushie is long forgotten about on the floor. An immediate feeling of worry washes over you, so the first place you go is your and your husband’s shared bedroom.

“My love, where is—“

Your words cut off as soon as you spot two heads of fluffy white hair in your bed, a feeling of relief washing over you; at least you know where your daughter is now…

“Toru,” you lean over the bed, careful not to wake your little angle who’s sleeping cuddled against her dad’s chest, “Toru wake up.”

Satoru’s crystal eyes shoot open as soon as he feels your hand brush against the arm he’s using to hold your daughter against his chest. “Hm?” He hums sleepily, looking around as if he’d just taken a century long nap.

“My love,” you say, trying not to giggle, “we need to put her to bed.”

It takes a moment for Satoru to process your words, but once he does, a frown immediately appears on his face. “Nooo, we’re sleeping,” he mumbles, lying his head back down on his pillow.

“Baby, she needs to sleep in her own bed, remember?”

“Who made that rule?”

“We did,” you can’t help but laugh.

Satoru’s sleepy eyes look between you and the sleeping toddler in his arms, his expression resembling that of a man making the hardest decision he’s ever had to make.

“But she looks so precious…let her sleep,” he begs you.

You cock your head to the side, exhaling a huff of amusement. “I know she does, but she needs to sleep in her own—“

“Her own bed, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he meekly waves you off, “but she’s safe here. I’ll put her back tomorrow…”

“Toru, you’re not even making sense anymore,” you sigh, slipping under the covers to cuddle up to them, “just go to sleep, dork.”

[solaceseven]

your heart is breaking in real-time. you can feel it—splintering apart, piece by piece, with every second that passes between you and sukuna in this dimly lit room.

neither of you says it out loud, but you both know this is the end. the weight of it sits between you, heavy, suffocating.

sukuna exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop to his side. his eyes flick over you, unreadable, yet somehow still so familiar. even now, even here, he still looks at you like you’re something worth keeping.

but you can’t stay.

you open your mouth to say something—anything to fill the silence, to make sense of the wreckage between you—but all that comes out is a shaky breath.

sukuna steps closer. not enough to trap you, not enough to change your mind. just enough that you can smell the faint traces of his cologne, the scent that’s woven into your skin after all this time.

“let me kiss you,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, rough around the edges. “one last time.”

you shouldn’t.

but when he reaches for you, fingers curling against your jaw, you don’t pull away.

the kiss is slow, aching, like he’s trying to make you remember. like he’s trying to tell you all the things he never said—the things he never will. his hands are firm on your waist, grounding you, but there’s no force behind them. no desperation. just him.

you kiss him back just as softly, just as painfully, as if you can press all your love into this one moment before it disappears forever.

when you pull away, his lips linger against yours for a second longer, like he doesn’t want to break the connection. then, finally, his hands slip from your body.

he doesn’t say anything when you step back.

and this time, neither of you stop it from ending.