#the latter DOES seem like nanamis imagination

[lavenderjewels]

saw a comment about how Gojo’s afterlife could’ve actually been a product of his imagination that was his acceptance of death—I never even considered it, although now it feels like an obvious option on the table. Haibara mentioning him butting into Nanami’s death is the only thing I can see going against that, but Gojo knows of their past that affected Nanami his entire life, so it doesn’t debunk it. When Jogo was dying, he spoke of reincarnation with Hanami and Dagon, and that too was vague in how real it was (at least for Hanami and Dagon being there), but was likely Jogo himself accepting his and their ends. A surprisingly similar end to Gojo’s. That interpretation does make everything 10 times sadder though.

[neonscandal]

Hi! I have a question, I hope I can explain myself: how would you describe Gojo on a moral level? I see the majority of the fandom (jjk in general, not just the shipping ones) considers him a good person, but I'd argue he's more on the grey side...and not a light grey. See, I can't really wrap my head around the way he blatantly ignores the fact the Suguru was completely fucked up, to the point that in chap 236 he wishes Suguru was with him before fighting Sukuna and imagining him (adult Suguro, the fucked up one) together with the same students he tried to kill in jjk0. How on earth? If I'm not mistaken Gojo never really says "yeah, Suguru was my friend but he used to be completely different, this is not the Suguru I used to be friends with". He never says Suguru was wrong. He just misses him, even though he was surrounded by people who liked him. At least Shoko clearly doesn't feel any affection towards Suguru. And let's not talk about the way he doesn't really seem concerned about the future of his students in chap 236. What do you think? Just to clarify: I do like Gojo. But I don't share the sentiment of the rest of the fandom: he's not a good person. I guess Nanami was right

This is a (somewhat) fair assessment.

Character alignment wise, I think Gojo enters into Jujutsu High as a Chaotic Neutral and transcends into more of a Chaotic Good or maybe Neutral Good? It's hard to say because, if in universe, Gojo is the perceived solution to every problem then why are there still so many problems? Including Geto's 10 year stint running amok?

Morally, Gojo absolutely exists in shades of grey. He uses his power to do the lawful thing but... at the same time, could, on a whim, use his power to do what he or Geto feels to be the right thing. The biggest example being the fact that they were willing to protect Riko Amanai's right to choose whether she wished to merge or not even if the latter would have catastrophic ramifications. Based on the needs of society, Riko needed to merge with Tengen, but Gojo recognized erasure of one girl for the security of others wasn't necessarily right. As an adult, again, he does what needs doing but pushes back on elders that would rather see the likes of Yuta Okkotsu or Yuji Itadori dead.

We have to understand that jujutsu society, with all its rules and hierarchy, isn't a morally upright system to begin with. Gojo, as a Big Three Family heir, is deeply entrenched in that. But he has enough sense to, in his own way, try to correct what he perceives to be travesties.

Suguru Geto is a casualty of this imperfect system and Gojo's initial inability to recognize Geto's struggle was the fatal flaw that put the final nail in his coffin. Discovering the twins was the hand that swung the hammer and he was subsequently radicalized. Gojo wasn't the only person who still kept space for Geto. Nanami and Shoko could also understand that the slaughter of that village was wrong but not find it in their hearts to condemn Geto or hear ill words spoken against him. None of them condemn him because, even if his method was wrong, they understand why he desperately wanted to change the way things are.

Gojo's affection for Geto, in my mind, does not necessarily make him a completely bad person, though. For one, while he doesn't outright condemn what happens in the village, he is clearly dismayed by the murder of Geto's parents. We see that he does in fact understand the wrongness of Geto's transgressions. Bear in mind that, until broken by the system they all served, Geto was a gentle and just person with a noble idea of what was right. So earnestly that Gojo allowed space for Geto to influence his own morality. So this radical change in behavior is a shock to Gojo's system and, even though he was used to deferring to Geto's judgement (like not killing the Time Vessel Association), he very clearly and autonomously recognized Geto's sins. Gojo had an unconditional acceptance or love for Geto which is why, despite everything, he would still find satisfaction in closing the loop, as it were, with Suguru right beside him.

⚠️ Spoiler warning for JJK chapter 236.

The man is dead, what more do you want from him? He knew he was going to die and fought hoping that those who remained could pick up the slack of the weakened opponent. 236 was merely an echo of the same faith he had after he was sealed - that he trusted in the people he left behind. I think Gojo has also come to terms with the fact that all he can do is throw everything he's got at the situation. His failure is unfathomable to most but he's been shown the limits to his power before so perhaps that's why he's overly cavalier. In most situations, he's the first line of defense so if that doesn't cut it... what more can he do?

Bear in mind, what we see of Gojo's afterlife in 236 is more than likely what he hopes for in his heart of hearts. But I'm not really subscribed to the idea that he's Gojover. I could be wrong, especially since Gege Akutami keeps comparing other people to Gojo in his absence to fill in the gaps and explain how they could possibly hope to beat Sukuna. But I think what we saw was an extended version of what Nanami experienced before passing.

You can go left or right - Yuki to Geto about his radical ideals

You can go North to start anew or South to your old self - Mei to Nanami and actualized in his dying moments with an apparition of Haibara

These are choices and the second is as explained to Gojo as if he has the same choice. From his hope that it isn't all in his imagination and the setting therein, it would seem he's leaning toward accepting his fate but I just don't think that's the case. If anything, this prolonged ideation is possible because that brain of his is intact. Gojo even told Toji that he should have cut off his head if he wanted to kill him so, who's to say whether that applies now.

Regarding Nanami being right, I assume you mean the Nanami in chapter 236. In which case:

Hypothesis: The reason we see Gojo surrounded by younger versions of those he lost is because they are attached to the version of himself that died. Gojo will come back as a more enlightened person.

Keep in mind, in a way, Adult Nanami understands Gojo. Every version of Nanami is annoyed by Gojo but there's still a respect that goes both ways, even when their ideals differ. I think Nanami's assessment that "You live for jujutsu. You don't wield it to protect something. You use it solely for the sake of satisfying yourself." is apropos for high school Gojo. But that was before he lost Geto, developed a resolve to take in Megumi and Tsumiki (albeit selfishly), protect Yuta from the elders with his life, and protect Yuji. Empirically, there's a facet of Gojo that uses his power for good and it feels like the versions of Haibara, Nanami, Geto and Yaga that he encounters would be unaware of that. I think that's what makes the fact that Gojo visualizes Adult Geto celebrating him stick out even more. Why the mind games, Gege??

In summation, Gojo continues to exist swathed in shades of grey. He could be better but he could definitely be worse. He is a reflection of a corrupt system that masquerades under the impression of working in service of the greater good but ignores the problematic elements of the likes of Mei Mei, and Naoya Zenin.

[voxofthevoid]

Surprise Rut Wednesday #6—*flops*

I almost didn't post this. I kinda forgot it's Wednesday...because I am once again sick and stuck in a nap-work-nap-work cycle.

Starting to think I'm cursed.

Fic's nearly 45k now, and the outline hasn't mutated any since the last time I touched it. Granted, that could be because I spent a good chunk of December cheating on this fic with a couple of goyuu oneshots.

Onward: This is mostly goyuu and nanago, but fair warning, the latter is still more about goyuu and nanaita than Nanami/Gojou as such.

Gojou’s lying nearly diagonally on the mattress, his sheer size making the bed seem a lot smaller than it is. His hair is still damp, wetting the sheets under his head, but Kento doubts the pink on his face has anything to do with the shower. His mouth is open, ragged pants spilling into the air.

He can’t see much of Itadori, seeing as he’s lifted Gojou by the hips and seems to be trying to suffocate in his ass. Kento still catches a few tantalizing glimpses of thick thighs and broad shoulders, before his gaze invariably returns to what little he can see of Itadori’s pink head. It moves now and then, minute motions that change the angle of his face. The way Gojou’s pitch changes with it is more telling than anything Kento can see.

But his body remembers what it felt like to have Itadori buried between his legs, furiously determined to make him ready, make him wet—

“Come on in.” Gojou’s words snap Kento out of it, but it’s too late, all of him a hot clench. “Don’t be shy now, Nanami.”

Kento makes reluctant eye contact with Gojou, who grins at him with too much teeth.

Seeing it waver and then break around a throaty moan as Itadori does something with his mouth isn’t as satisfying as it should be.

Kento lowers his arm, silently bracing himself for a moment before breathing in. The assault is immediate, but he’s prepared this time. He’s not spared the too-familiar thrum of arousal all through his body, but he doesn’t let it show, quietly shutting the door behind him before stepping further into the room, breathing calmly and steadily.

It’s strange, this mix of scents—different from what it was earlier and not just because these two have nearly drowned out Kento’s own much weaker scent. It’s still there, lurking under the maelstrom of musk and petrichor, as strong as it is probably only because this is the room Kento’s had for years, but there’s something else too, a persistent flavor that’s too sweet, too ripe—

“Gojou-san,” Kento breathes with dawning horror, “your scent. You’re—”

Gojou laughs, breathless and a little mad. “I know. I’m so close to it. Yuuji’s got some potent pheromones. Won’t let it, this time, but imagine—”

Kento doesn’t want to imagine, but Gojou cuts off with a moan, arching further off the bed in an obscene display as he pushes his nether regions right into Itadori’s face, and it’s a little hard like that to not wonder how much worse this man would be in the throes of heat. Kento looks too, eyes snagging on the fingers curved around the side of Gojou’s hips, digging harshly into flesh.

The bruises still littering his own hips seem to pulse in response.

There’s more to see, details Kento was deliberately avoiding the last time but can’t turn away from this time: the hard cock bobbing in the air with every roll of Gojou’s body, the effortless ease with which Itadori is holding Gojou up to lick into, the pale hands fisted tightly in the nest made up of Kento’s clothes—

Gojou moans again, higher and louder, and—

Wet, he thinks, the word echoing in his skull like revelation and damnation both. Itadori’s whole face is a mess, feverishly flushed and dripping with spit and slick. His eyes are half-lidded, dark and heavy with satisfaction.

They still spear through Kento, a long, lingering stare pinning him in place.

Then Itadori’s moving, surging into Gojou like a storm, and Kento stares helplessly at that tangle of violent, hungry limbs that resolve into something less tangled but no less hungry, and the first thrust shoves Gojou a good few inches along the bed, till his head is pushed past the edge of the mattress.

“Yuuji,” he gasps, voice a thing of pure, furious delight, and Itadori answers the call with a guttural noise and a powerful snap of the hips that makes Kento ache all the way across the room.

Gojou yowls like an alley cat.

And Kento’s abruptly reminded of just what he came here for.

“Gojou-san,” he says tightly, trying and mostly failing to ignore the resounding sounds of flesh on flesh, “please control yourself.”

There’s no response.

Itadori’s expression is ferocious, eyes fixed on where he’s slamming into Gojou with enough speed and force to shatter a normal person’s bones, and Kento knows from experience that very little currently matters to him outside the tight hole he’s buried in. Gojou wasn’t wrong about that earlier, only abominably crass.

Gojou has no such excuse, but he continues caterwauling without an ounce of shame.

“Gojou-san!” Kento snaps. “Keep it down! This isn’t the campus. I have neighbors.”

“Fuck your neighbors,” Gojou says succinctly, and his voice is breathy and strained, but there’s a calm quality to it that makes Kento wonder just how much of this is a show. “If you want to shut me up, come do it yourself.”

Kento crosses the room in a blind rage, snapping back to his senses a second too late, and by then, his palm is flush to Gojou’s open mouth, muffling the tight noises that slap against it with hot huffs of breath.

Bright blue eyes simmer on him, narrowed in blatant amusement.

But that’s not the gaze that’s making Kento’s forehead burn and skin tingle.

He pries his eyes away from Gojou, who’s still moaning with every thrust that rocks his body, and runs headfirst into Itadori, whose eyes are now more black than brown. They bore into Kento, and there’s hunger there, ever-present, and Kento tries to see past it to garner Itadori’s actual reaction to Kento touching the omega he’s fucking. He’s heard his share of stories—some horrifying, some oddly endearing—of alphas’ possessiveness during ruts, and he’s experienced some of it himself, both from that old lover and Itadori himself, but no matter how hard he stares, he can’t see anything but a hungry boy slaking his need in a willing, writhing body while staring at Kento like he can see all the way into his soul.

An invisible force slams into his hand, shoving it away from Gojou’s face violently enough that Kento stumbles, nearly toppling forward into the bed—and the man splayed on the bed, leering up at him with a sharp, toothy mouth.

Gojou still looks amused, but now, there’s an edge to it that makes the back of Kento’s neck prickle.

A long hand curls around his hip, digging into his flesh hard enough to hurt even through the thick towel.

“Don’t be boring, Nanami,” Gojou croons, and his voice is perfectly steady despite his body moving ceaselessly with Itadori’s cock. “Do it properly.”

The towel is torn away before Kento can act.

“Don’t—”

Gojou shoves himself up on his forearms to press his mouth to the tip of Kento’s cock, a soft pressure that twists all too soon into wet heat, Gojou’s tongue darting out to lap at the slit. And the true horror is that Kento is hard, his cock even less immune to the heady blend of scents here than his mind.

“Not bad,” comes the verdict, every syllable reaching Kento through a layer of white noise. “I like Yuuji better, but you’ll do.”

Gojou takes him into his mouth.

[nanami-luvr]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

featuring: incubus!gojo x reader x priest!nanami

warnings: sacrilege, tail-fucking (from gojo), corruption kink, degradation, humiliation, coercion, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of female masturbation, hints of a threesome towards the end, very little smut tbh.

sypnosis: you call a priest over in hopes that the demon disturbing you goes away. what happens when he does something else instead?

tagging: @suget @rindough

ᝰ KINKMAS 2021.

were you afraid? were you aroused? there was no way you could possibly pinpoint how you were feeling at the moment. what made your possible fear or arousal worse was the fact that there were two big men with you in your room, one standing before you while the other sat behind you as he held your legs wide open.

well, the latter wasn’t technically a man. he would’ve looked like one if it weren’t for the tail that was inserted deep into your hole.

embarrassment wasn’t even the proper word to describe the position you were held in. it was worse, much worse than that. you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear, shutting yourself out from society for as long as you possibly could.

as if having a tail thrusting in and out of your cunt wasn’t enough, the man in front of you was visibly turned on, despite the fact that he had a rosemary in his hand and seemed to be chanting some sort of prayer.

what was the point in calling a priest over if all he did was stare at you while you got fucked by a demon?

“why are you just standing by, Father? you shouldn’t miss out on the fun things in life.” there’s a hint of mischief in his voice, like he’s goading nanami into making the situation at hand worse than it already is. even without looking, you could already tell that there was a smug look on his face, knowing fully well how tense and suspenseful the atmosphere is. you couldn’t help but squirm around from how deep the tail was buried inside you.

it’s unfair how you had no choice but to accept things from happening, especially since you thought that things would get better the moment you invited the priest in. there was no response from the man standing in front of you. he stood there silently as he tried his very best to look away from the situation that was happening in front of him. if possible, he wanted to run and never look back. sure, he’s had his fair share of coming into contact with sexual demons, but none of them were as provoking as the one holding you captive.

“you’re such a prude Father. it’s okay to let loose once in a while,” he tightens his grip on you as he makes eye contact with Nanami. a squeal escapes your lips while your legs spread further than they originally were, forcing nanami to turn to look at you out of concern.

you’re mortified the moment nanami faces you. he was getting a full view of what was happening in front of him. there’s no denying that you’re turned on, mostly from the way his tail hits that sweet spot inside you that makes you want to cum all over until it drips out of you. you’re trying your best to hold off from cumming too fast but gojo’s tail goes faster whenever he notices you holding your moans in from how good you feel.

“look! she’s a beautiful thing isn’t she? funny story. i was just creeping around the neighbourhood, doing my usual thing, until i heard her sweet little voice crying out for someone to help her.” gojo sounds entertained, even though he knows what exactly happened to you that night.

“at first, i didn’t really care, but curiosity got the best of me. can you imagine my surprise when i saw this little angel here playing with her pussy? naturally, the kindness in my heart took over and i decided to help her out. i think she passed out after cumming once. must’ve been a hell of an orgasm huh?”

it's amusing to him, watching you feel flustered from how he basically exposed you to such a holy man, who was apparently still staring at your pussy. nanami can’t lie. at least he tries not to. he knows he’s turned on, he can’t deny it. but the sight of your glistening cunt under the moonlight is what nearly breaks him. gojo sees the way nanami clenches fist, like he’s resisting the urge to fuck you right then and there, and that’s when he knows that he’s won this game. a plan forms in his head, one that’d make nanami give in to his urges and join him in this sinful act. a smirk plays across his face, deciding to put his plan into action..

“can you cum for me? show him what you can really do, yeah?” he loosens his hold on you slightly as he drags his tail out of your drenched hole. the sound of squelching from your pussy only riles nanami even further as he imagines the things he can do to your pussy if he had the chance. you’re nodding your head frantically, especially since your orgasm feels so near yet so far away. a little more, you think. all you need is a little push off the edge and you’ll feel better.

without notice, he rams his tail back inside you, ensuring that it slams against every sensitive spot. it feels good, too good for you. you’re barely conscious when you begin to cum all over his tail and onto the bedsheet. your eyes roll to the back of your head while your toes curl from the intensity of your orgasm, back arching away from gojo’s chest.

his tail slithers out of you, a thin sheen of your juices covering a small portion of his tail. it shines despite the lack of light, and it makes you bury your face into your hands out of sheer humiliation. you’ve never climaxed this good, even when gojo was with you in the wee hours of the night. perhaps it was the fact that there was someone else there, someone who should not have witnessed what you had just gone through.

your head is throbbing from how hard your orgasm hit you, yet you can feel a warm pair of hands grabbing onto your legs and pushing them upwards onto your chest. your vision is blurry and you can’t make out the figure in front of you, but the shades of blonde strands in front of you gives you a clue as to who it is.

“there you go nanami. she’s all yours.”

[wri0thesley]

Please could I get poly Nanami and Gojo working together to overstimulation their fem s/o? Thank you nat!!! 🥵

do not look at me

teamwork - nanami x fem reader x gojo (5.4k)

it’s not surprising that satoru gojo wants to turn everything into a competition. even this. still - you’re not exactly complaining. 

(warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, use of toys, deep-throating, threesome, coming inside)

Every time you end up with either one of these men, you wonder how it happened. But this time . . . with both of them beside you, hungrily eyeing you, your bedroom feeling very small and warm . . . this time, you decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Gojo’s fingers brush across your cheek, turning your face so you can’t look anywhere but into his crystalline blue eyes. You know what they look like under his blindfold, of course – but every time you see them feels like a surprise, like the wind is being knocked out of your sails. He’s too handsome for his own good, and the worst part about it is that he absolutely knows that.

From the other side of you on the bed is a long-suffering, world-weary sigh.

“It’s not a fair competition if you monopolise her,” comes Nanami’s voice.

“Aww,” Gojo complains, not breaking the eye contact with you. “Come on. You’re around way more often than I am, you get more of a chance to monopolise--”

“If we had to see even more of you,” Nanami says drily, “I’m not sure we’d survive.”

“C-competition?” You breathe, even as you feel Nanami’s hand feather light on your leg. “I didn’t realise that was what happening--”

Maybe you had been too breathlessly caught off-guard by the suggestion that the two sorcerers take you home. Too distracted by how handsome they both were when they had kissed you in turn, by how you’d opened the door and tumbled into your bedroom.

You’ve only ever had them one at a time before, their schedules never quite lining up, their various duties calling them away and depositing them back in your bed at a whim. Having both of them on your bed, touching you, looking at you – that feels like a novelty, despite how long these trysts have been going on.

“Satoru’s nature makes him want to turn everything into a competition,” Nanami murmurs, leaning in – you start as you feel his lips on your calf, gently drawing a path higher and higher, feather-light and reverent.

Gojo huffs out a laugh.

“I just know I’ll win,” he tells you. His face comes very close to yours and you feel like you could drown in the starlight of his eyes, his lips curving into a smirk. “Nanamin’s acting like this because he knows it, too--”

He kisses you even as Nanami snorts against the back of your knee. Gojo’s lips press against yours hungrily, as good at kissing as he is at everything else – suckling your lower lip into his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth, a taste that’s unmistakably sugary sweet flooding your senses. You’ve learnt from much experience that Gojo always tastes like sweets. The hand on your cheek strokes across your face to grip your hair, tugging it hard enough that a gasp escapes from your mouth to be caught in Gojo’s in turn. Nanami’s kisses have not stopped a moment, higher and higher, on the soft flesh of your inner thigh now--

Gojo pauses to pull back, drinking in your widened eyes and the swollen jut of your lower lip. He’s far too pleased with himself. You manage to put some of your thoughts in order, as strong fingers stroke up the thigh that isn’t being lavished with Nanami’s kisses, to say;

“W-what’s the competition?”

“Aww,” Gojo’s hands are at your shirt, pulling the fabric up over your breasts. He whistles when he sees them; it’s been so many times, and you’re still not over Satoru Gojo being impressed by the way you look. Your cheeks flame at the appreciation raw in his gaze. “It’s way more fun if you don’t know, princess.”

You’ve almost forgotten Nanami is there until you feel lips firmly press against the fabric of your underwear, hot breath obvious even through the cotton. You whimper, your back arching up to seek out more sensation and friction. Gojo sighs, tugging off the fabric of your shirt and throwing it off the bed (possibly to never be seen again).

“You’re wet,” Nanami murmurs, through a mouthful of fabric, at once sinfully close to your slit and too far away from it. Gojo raises his eyebrows.

“Of course she is,” he says, “hot guy like me here, and everything--”

Yes. Too handsome for his own good, and far, far too smug about it--

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Nanami asks, raising one eyebrow, pulling back from between your thighs. You make a soft mewl of displeasure at the movement, and he turns his stern gaze to you. “Be good, sweetheart. I had to take these off, didn’t I?” Big, calloused fingers slide under the waistband of your underwear to tug them down your legs. For a moment, the cloth clings uncomfortably to the slickness of your folds – and then, you’re bare to Nanami’s hungry eyes (and Gojo’s, though he seems far more interested in your upper half right now. You guess Nanami is having his turn at whatever this competition is first--).

“Look at you,” he murmurs, soft and low, admiring. He’s not the kind of man who throws out compliments willy-nilly, but you can still hear it in his tone, and it makes you go all over hot and needy.

“You’re gorgeous,” Gojo says, not to be outdone – and there’s a man who does throw out compliments. Nanami is right in that he really doesn’t shut up; but when the things spilling out of his mouth are about how good you are around him, how nice you feel, how pretty your face looks when you’re about to come – you’re much less bothered by Gojo’s habit of running his mouth. “I’m going to make you feel so good – you’re not going to be able to walk for a week after I’m done with you, doll--”

“We’re going to,” Nanami corrects. His hands land on your inner thigh, thumbs gently teasing the outer lips of your sex apart so that the slick folds are exposed to the cool air and the eyes of the two men in your bedroom. You shift, both uncomfortable and aroused by being so open and revealed to them – but both of them are looking at you hungrily, like two predators who are about to pounce.

You forget how dangerous they are, sometimes. You are so used to them as colleagues and friends – Gojo’s occasional childish whims, his laughter, his schemes, and Nanami’s sternness, the surprisingly caring heart beneath all of it – that you forget that their bodies are all raw power, their minds sharply trained weapons.

“Is that a promise?” You breathe, and for that you win a bright laugh from Gojo and a tilt of the lips from Nanami, a huff that would pass as laughter in a court of law.

The latter settles himself between your legs and you can’t help the rush of electricity that goes through you seeing him there, a fizzling spark that settles low in your stomach. His shirtsleeves are pushed up to reveal corded muscle in his forearm, his tired eyes still hungry as they drink in every inch of you like you’re a meal that he’s about to very much enjoy.

(Coincidentally, you’ve seen Nanami before he tucks into a meal he’s looking forward to, and it’s very much the same appreciative air – you, food, a piece of art . . . his gaze is equally appreciative).

“You’re very slow,” Gojo says, a lilt of laughter in the back of his voice. Nanami doesn’t rise to the bait as his face comes very close to your sex – you twitch under the gaze, the hot wash of his breath over your sensitive folds.

When Nanami’s tongue darts out to taste you, it sends a spiralling shock wave that you feel from your shoulders to the tips of your toes. You exhale softly – and, clearly spurred on by the soft little noise, Nanami’s tongue darts out again for a longer lick.

Gojo sighs, but when your unfocused eyes stray to him, his own gaze is locked upon where Nanami is bent with his mouth against your sex.

The tip of the latter’s tongue flickers over your clit and you mewl, heart skipping a beat. He’s being so slow – teasing you, making you incredibly aware of every wash of his breath and slight flick of his tongue. Your stomach ties itself into knots at just how good it feels – Nanami is always good at this, but having Gojo watching is clearly making him want to impress even more. This is far slower and more teasing that he usually is with you.

It’s not bad, by any stretch of the imagination – you’d argue it’s better than usual – but that doesn’t absolve the fact that you want more. You move your thighs so they’re over Nanami’s shoulder, intending to try and pull him against you – but big strong hands come to rest on them, Nanami’s grip stopping you from doing anything so rash.

He pulls back from between your legs for a moment, the glimmer of your slick on his lips, as he says;

“I told you to be good. Let me be in charge.”

There’s authority in his words that you can’t argue with – so instead, you let out a frustrated little moan. Nanami’s smirk is obvious as he presses a kiss to your clit.

He teases you for a few minutes, his tongue slowly lapping at you with nowhere near enough pressure for you to be satisfied, until you’re flushed and squirming under every brief twitch of his tongue. Only then does he pull you in a little closer and let the broad flat of his tongue slide across your sex entirely, making your toes curl and your thighs twitch and your eyes flutter closed at just how good it feels to finally have his full attention.

You’re surprised that Gojo isn’t complaining more about having nothing to do – from your experience with the man, he likes to always have himself occupied. He’s not usually prone to sitting still – at least, not without much complaint. When you do manage to look at him through the hazy veil of ‘oh, fuck, Nanami’s mouth feels amazing’, though, he’s watching Nanami with eyes of a hawk.

Right.

They’re having some kind of competition, and you know that Gojo hates to lose--

Nanami does something with his tongue, a flourish over your clit like he’s painting calligraphy, and your eyes snap shut as your hips stroke up to meet him and you come for the first time, a pleasant wash of heat and snapping pressure making your entire being feel light and floaty for a moment.

Nanami’s mouth does not stop for an instant. You know he must feel the wetness coat his chin and the twitch and flutter of your sex, but your peak does not stop him – his tongue just moves lower, pushing inside of your quivering entrance--

“Fuck,” you whimper aloud. Your toes are curling. Your hands fly up to Nanami’s hair, twisting within the strands, dishevelling him. “K-Kento, I’m-- I already--”

He pulls his tongue out of your channel only long enough to murmur;

“I know,” and then he is continuing the onslaught, the tip of his tongue imitating the action that you wish his cock were taking, thrusting in and out of your sex. Your walls try and tighten around it to suck him further in, but his tongue does not act in the same way as a cock and it’s not enough--

He alternates between the two, moving from clit to entrance to clit again, flickering his tongue and thrusting it until you’re wondering how he can even manage to keep moving it, he must be aching . . . Occasionally, he wraps his lips about your clit and sucks and you just about lose your damn mind from how it feels.

You lose track of how many times you come, weakly pulsing around him. The glide of Nanami’s face against your sex is so wet that you think it will be a miracle if you don’t have to change your sheets after this. You must be a puddle between them, every flicker of his tongue and puff of his breath against your overstimulated slit making you whine and whimper and moan.

Tears bead in the corner of your eyes as Nanami finally – finally – surfaces for air. His face is soaking wet, the aftermath of your various orgasms also staining the collar of his shirt dark with damp. You don’t know if Nanami is really done, even then – but Gojo takes the opportunity to bounce, unrestrained energy, and push Nanami away so your thighs fall from his shoulders.

“Come on,” Gojo urges. “It’s my turn--”

“Satoru,” you say, weakly. “I’m—I need a minute-- I don’t think I can--”

But his fingers are already on you. He swipes them through the mess of your sex (half with Nanami’s saliva, half with your own slick, both of them so mixed together you can’t tell what’s you and what’s not), delighting in the way your form twitches under the onslaught of sensation.

“Sure you can,” he says. “You’re so good for us--”

His fingers are cool against your heated skin. The hand that isn’t resting over your sex moves over your breast, squeezing the curve of your skin – you sigh, arching into the touch, letting him pinch your nipple between thumb and forefinger at the same time as he gently slides one of his fingers inside you.

It’s still not enough. He fits inside you without a single ounce of resistance, knuckle deep – more solid than Nanami’s tongue, reaching further and deeper, but still not filling you up as much as you want to be filled. You thrust your hips to make sure that he’s buried in as deep as he can go and he chuckles, giving the pinched nipple a good-natured tug that sends an electric surge to the pit of your stomach where another orgasm is already building.

You didn’t know you could come again. You thought that Nanami had pulled every ounce of pleasure you were capable of from your body already, but here is Gojo Satoru to prove you wrong once again--

“You want another?” He murmurs. “I thought you couldn’t . . .?”

The last words are said mocking and smug, and if you didn’t want even more of his fingers inside of you you would slap him. Instead, you simply moan and hope that he takes it as the permission that it is. Gojo knows you too well to misunderstand, and can see that you’re enjoying yourself too much to withhold (not to mention Nanami, watching him – he can’t help but want to assert his dominance even more when the junior sorcerer is around), so with the next thrust of his fingers he scissors you open with a second.

You whimper, but your body greedily welcomes them inside of you. They’re long and good, rubbing against all of the patches of your inner walls that have you seeing stars. You’re incapable of real thought right now, with Gojo’s fingers buried so deep inside of you. All you can think of is the stretch of him, the feel of him, his knuckles. With every thrust of his fingers your sex makes wet, slick noises that would be shaming if you weren’t so far gone.

You’re not ashamed of how good you feel right now. You’re not ashamed of the rocking of your hips as you help him along, fucking yourself on his fingers just as much as he’s fucking you with them. He bends his head and wraps his lips about your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive little bud, at the same time as his thumb strokes across the swollen pearl of your clit and the string inside of you snaps.

You don’t know what number orgasm this is, but it feels like the first one all over again as you cry out Gojo’s name into the ceiling. His lips leave your nipple with an audible pop, turning to where Nanami is sitting on the bed. At some point, he lost his ruined shirt, and your eyes blearily fixate on the scars on his side and the muscles in his shoulders. God, it’s unfair that he hides his body like that--

“She never said your name,” Gojo says, smugly. You want to reprimand him, but you can’t speak – your throat feels dry and sore, your heart beating loudly in your ears. Gojo must be able to feel it, too, where he’s still deep inside you; the heartbeat feels like it’s reverberating all through you until you can’t think of anything else. Gojo lets you ride out the final pulses of your orgasm with his fingers buried inside you.

If you think that he’s going to pull his fingers out of you, though, you’re deeply mistaken. He lets your body stop weakly pulsating around him, and then his thumb is back to drawing circles around your clit. He knows better than to touch it straight off – but the feeling is still half-good and half-ache, more than you can handle so soon after coming so hard. Your hips wriggle beneath him, your breath coming in short gasps. He slides his fingers half-out, and then pushes them back in, already halfway to establishing a rhythm.

Oh, oh, oh. It’s so much. Gojo leans his head to kiss your neck, teeth scraping across the sensitive hollows of your throat, spending a moment to suck a lovebite into your skin that you know you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. Three fingers are inside you, and Gojo is just getting faster.

His thumb stops being so delicate and drags across your clit, leaving a trail of fiery hot pleasure. Tension coils in your gut all over again.

Too much, it’s too much, all of your body is on fire – you can’t, you can’t, you can’t--

You want him to stop. You don’t want him to stop? You’re trembling all over like a tautly pulled violin string, ready to snap. How is he going so fast? How are you taking it? Three fingers stuffed inside you and you’re ready to fall into pieces--

Nanami moves, pulling your head onto his knee as Gojo continues to fuck you open with every pump of his hand.

“C-can’t,” you whimper, arching up into Gojo’s fingers. You’re soaking wet everywhere – your brow is beading with sweat, your sex so slick that it’s a wonder those fingers don’t slip out of you with every hungry flex of Gojo’s hand. “I can’t come again, Satoru, please--”

You don’t want him to stop despite the protestation, hips still hopelessly pumping up in greedy search of friction. His thumb has not ceased the assault over your swollen clit, every brush of the digit sending shocks throughout your body. Your mouth is open to take great hungry, gasping breaths – it’s a wonder you managed to form any syllables. Nanami is bent over you with a hand stroking your hair, but there’s a hungry frustration in his gaze as he watches Gojo fuck you with his fingers.

You know that the other man wants another turn – but you’re honestly not sure if you can take it.

“Aww, don’t be like that!” Gojo chirps, and his hand gets faster, which you didn’t even realise was possible. Your fingers fist into the bedsheets below you throwing your head back, panting. “Of course you can come again, princess! You’re just about to, actually--”

You hate him for being right. The ball of tension in your stomach is so tight it’s almost painful, pulling at you from all angles ready to unravel once more. One little mean grind of Gojo’s thumb against your clit has you falling again, slick walls of your sex clamping about the three fingers buried inside you, a gush of wetness soaking him even further and making Gojo exclaim in delight.

Your chest heaves with effort. Gojo pulls his fingers out of you with a weak pop, followed by a little pour of your slick that he was plugging inside you. The white-haired man brings his fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you – he tilts his head back, savouring the taste.

“Sweet,” he tells you, with a grin. “I could get drunk on you.” He turns to Nanami with a challenge in his face. “Did I win?”

As competitive as Nanami can be sometimes, you also know that he’s willing to admit when he’s beaten. You’re expecting the younger sorcerer to sigh but ultimately agree with Gojo’s words – you’re not expecting, above you, Nanami’s face to become something that’s all fervent ruthlessness.

Nanami moves to your bedside drawer and opens the second one down. Your face grows heated. He knows what’s in there, because you’ve experimented with using them in the bedroom before – but still! Having him go in there of your own accord!

Despite the panting and the sweating and the fact that you feel like you’ve been pushed to your limit already, seeing Nanami holding the bulbous headed magic wand toy sends a jolt of arousal right to your poor swollen sex.

“That’s cheating,” Gojo says hotly, pouting as Nanami gently pushes him out of the way to settle between your thighs instead. “I win by default!”

“If you want,” Nanami says, measured. You gasp as he presses the smooth head against your clit without turning it on, the cool, smooth sensation making you squirm even without the vibrations that you know are coming. “Perhaps it would be more fun if we worked together.”

A flash goes over Gojo’s face, as he tips his head to one side in consideration.

Nanami moves the toy again, still turned off – sliding it along the wet slit of your sex, to where your opening is pulsing and fluttering to be filled by something more substantial than Gojo or Nanami’s fingers and tongues. You shudder at the bolts of heat that it sends all through you. You’ve come – what, four times? Five? Almost too many to count – but you still feel so achingly empty, you still feel as though you need to be properly held down and fucked. You’re at once overstimulated and nowhere near stimulated enough, and your hips jerk with every slow measured rub of the toy against your slit.

“You admitted it,” Gojo crows, but he watches Nanami’s slow teasing of your heated body nonetheless. “I’ll remember that. But . . . if you really think we should work together . . .”

“Alright,” Nanami says agreeably, far more entranced by you and unwilling to be pulled into Gojo’s games.

Gojo moves onto the bed, over your head. You watch him undo his pants with hazy, unfocused eyes – still too far gone to make sense of anything that’s happening around you except how good the cool head of the wand feels on all of your slick, hot folds and how your entire body is still fizzling with pleasure.

When he pulls out his cock, it’s clear to see that you’ve had an effect on him – the swollen head, all pink and slick, the pulsing shaft.

“Is that for me?” You ask, and Gojo laughs at just how out of it you still sound. He supposes that the best way to describe it is ‘cockdrunk, only you haven’t taken any cock yet’ – pleasure soaked, unreal, all satisfaction and greedy arousal.

“Do you want it?” He asks, teasingly. “I’d like to give you it, but I’ll wait until you use your words, pretty girl--”

You open your mouth to speak at the same time as Nanami flicks the switch on the toy, and whatever affirmation is about to spill out of your slack mouth is lost in the wail.

It’s too fast, too soon, against your poor clit that’s had enough stimulation for a year – and you can feel your orgasm hovering at the edge of your vision in moments. You try to clamp your legs shut to stop it being so overwhelming, but Nanami is too settled in between them.

Gojo uses the open-mouthed moan to slide the head of his cock into your open mouth, groaning as if in relief when your lips seal around it. Anything to distract you from the persistent buzzing of the toy between your thighs. Anything to stop you coming again, embarrassingly quickly--

Gojo’s hand strokes through your hair tenderly as he murmurs softly;

“Good, fuck, you feel amazing--”

Your body and heart do a flip at the praise. From the glint in Gojo’s eye, he’s remembered how well you respond to praise – and your sex clenches hungrily around nothing in response. You drag your eyes from Gojo to look at Nanami, still between your legs, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he studies your sex and how it’s clenching and pulsing and dripping even with the toy pressed against your clit.

You can see the thick outline of his cock pressing against his slacks – but Nanami is far more focussed on your pleasure than his own right now. He’s always been better at holding himself off than Gojo is.

“Hey,” Gojo says. “Keep your eyes on me, let him do whatever he wants . . . I deserve that, for winning, huh?”

You drag your eyes back to Gojo as you keep sucking at his cock. You whine around it – and there’s Nanami again, flicking up the intensity the barest notch. You whine around the shaft, making his cock vibrate with your hums, your tongue sloppily sliding along the salty slit. “Oh, fuck – you’re gonna come again? Ha-a, guess both of us is . . . a bit much--”

You do. You come again, your back arching – Nanami grabs your waist with one hand to keep you anchored against the bed, your thighs still unable to close as a pleasure-painful orgasm is wrung out of you. You’re not going to be able to walk for a week, Gojo was right.

Somehow, there is still enough liquid in your body to soak the bed beneath you again, though you feel like after the amount that the two have brought forth from your body you ought to be a dry husk where you lay.

“Good girl,” Nanami purrs, and you’re helpless under the onslaught of him turning the toy up one more time. You can’t come again, you can’t you can’t you can’t--

And moments after the last orgasm you do, your legs shaking wildly. Nanami has the sense to pull the toy off you this time and he’s treated to the full view of your empty hole clenching around nothing. The scream of pleasure is lost to Gojo’s cock – his hips thrusting against you, the head bumping against your throat. You wish you could concentrate on anything but the fire between your legs. You’re in pieces, feeling like you’re floating through stars, not properly anchored down anywhere--

Maybe you pass out for a moment, but your tongue is still moving against the meat of Gojo’s shaft and your heart is still beating a frantic rhythm and aftershocks are still ricocheting through you when your eyes manage to refocus and you remember where you are.

“I need to--” Nanami murmurs softly, and you hear the zipper and button of his trousers. He’s almost apologetic as his cock rests at your entrance. You make a soft noise of encouragement around Gojo’s cock and Nanami seizes upon it with relief, your entrance welcoming him inside its wet, tight embrace without a fraction of resistance.

You’re still utterly overwhelmed in the best possible way, sore from coming over and over again, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to leave the two of them high and dry. You redouble your efforts on Gojo’s cock, tongue tracing line where his cock head and shaft meet and winning a groan from him. You hollow your cheeks and suck as Nanami begins to establish an even pace, the slick glide of his cock inside of you sending pleasant shivers all through your body.

Gojo’s hips chase every suck, his breath beginning to sound unsteady in his chest. His mouth is moving and you know he must be talking to you, but all you can hear is the slick wet sound of Nanami’s cock driving in and out of you and the pound of your own heart in your ears.

Gojo’s cock twitches in your mouth as the only warning before he’s coming, thick spurts down your throat. You swallow reflexively, practically sucking him dry and making Gojo groan and whisper your name like a prayer. Part of you feels smug about the heated way his voice sounds as you suck the very final shivers of his orgasm out of him, wondering if he feels even half as drunk on it as you did after all the times he’s made you come tonight.

He pulls out of your mouth in time for Nanami to grab your face and kiss you, seemingly uncaring about the fact you must still taste like Gojo. Nanami always likes to have his mouth pressed somewhere against you when he comes, almost as if he’s embarrassed of the breathy groans he makes as you push him over the edge. His hips stutter, his even strokes turning into ragged plunges of his cock into you, and you use your energy to give his lip a nip as you feel him come inside of you with weak pulses. The way that his pelvis grinds against your clit with his final thrust is enough to push you over the edge one last time, your channel throbbing feebly against his as the final, quieter orgasm washes over you like waves lapping at a seashore.

He stays there for a moment, gasping against your lips. You suppose he did wait longer than Gojo did to finally be touched, even after touching you first, and you wonder just how much he was aching to be inside of you by the time he finally got there.

You’d be willing to let him lay there forever, if he wanted to – unfortunately, that feeling is not mutual on the part of everyone in the bedroom.

Gojo clicks his tongue.

“You can’t stay there forever.” He says. “I want to cuddle.”

Of course he does. Nanami groans as he rolls off you, his softening cock popping out of you with a wet noise. You should clean up – the bed beneath you is already soaking wet, your thighs soaking and uncomfortably sticky, Nanami’s come oozing from your hole as press your thighs together. But . . . if you do stand up, you think you will just fall over. And Nanami’s chest looks inviting, perfectly positioned for you to just shift an inch or two and rest upon it . . .

Cleaning up can wait. You stifle a yawn, the bed dipping as Gojo chases the way you move towards Nanami, as if he cannot bear for there to be space between any of you.

“Do I get to decide who won?” You ask, sleepily, resting your head on Nanami’s chest as he sighs and allows it, running his fingers through your hair. Gojo grumbles, locking his arms about your waist and pressing his cheek against your bare back despite the fact you know you must be sticky with sweat. Despite the sigh, Nanami’s hand is fond, his posture all relaxed, a quiet kind of satisfaction in every line of his body.

“You’re probably the best judge,” he says.

“I thought we already decided,” Gojo whines. “Nanamin cheated--”

“I think,” you say, ignoring what Gojo is saying (which you have long learned is one of the best ways to deal with him when he gets prideful and arrogant). “You both won. Teamwork was definitely superior.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

Gojo shifts, hugging you tighter, his body pressed as close to you as is humanly possible. Your bed isn’t really comfortable for all three of you to embrace like this, but in between them you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Say whatever you want to make yourself feel better,” he says, all dignity. “I definitely won.”

[sukunarii]

HIIIII!!! im so glad ur writing again!! 😭😭 (i’ve been rereading ur fics haha) can i have shinsen with the word “abditory”? (n. a place in which you can disappear; a hiding place) if possible- can it be a part 2 for “plaque”?? thank you and welcome back!! lol 😂

Pairing: Sukuna x (Vessel!) Reader || (Slight)

Synopsis: A continuous of Like Summer where Sukuna tried to protect the little bit of your presence left in his innate domain. This takes place in the arc w/ Mahito and Junpei!

A/N: Hi thanks so much for waiting! I'm so glad to hear you enjoy my work 💕💕 Here is your loooong awaited request lol. Hope you like it :)

The first time Mahito intruded Sukuna's innate domain was when he tried to use Idle Transfiguration on Yuuji.

"You dare attempt to touch my soul?"

This short yet cold question left Mahito stunned in spot. It was a warning. Mahito knew that Sukuna wasn't going to greet him with open arms, he knew very well that he was the King of Curses. But Mahito was no coward. He was strong, he knew that himself and well, how much did he have to fear?

Yet here standing in front of Sukuna was completely different. Nowhere in his wildest imagination did he think that Sukuna's presence alone could be this intimidating.

Sukuna sat alone, atop his throne of buffalo skulls. The bottom of this innate domain is a pool of crimson blood that stretches into infinity. An eerie and ominous atmosphere. However, the curious part was that in the pool of blood, there were water lilies floating, pink and white, untainted by the red blood. Even on the skulls, there seems to be some type of plant or vegetation that grew on top of the otherwise lifeless skulls covering them with refreshing green. However, none of them made this place any warmer. Their presence was futile as it was impossible to erase the cold and sinister feeling this place embodied.

In fact, it felt like even breathing in here alone was a crime worthy of being slaughtered.

Sukuna raised his voice, "We shared a laugh at the brat's expense, so I'll forgive you just this one time. Never pollute my innate domain with your presence again."

Then Sukuna cocked his head upwards, "Know your place fool."

With that, Mahito did not even get a chance to react and was immediately ejected from the innate domain where he came face to face with Yuuji.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I'm not gonna change, I'm gonna kill you!" Yuuji shouted and bashed his head into Mahito causing the latter to spit out blood.

The second time Mahito saw Sukuna's innate domain was when Yuuji broke into Mahito's Domain Expansion. This time, Sukuna was not forgiving at all.

He was furious.

"I thought I told you..there wouldn't be a second time," Sukuna stated. His voice was deep and the warning tone was gone, there was only pure hatred. Rage.

The innate domain is a canvas. It is the mind of the user, a world that they can create to their likings. It is an extension of the user.

For this exact reason, Mahito should have never intruded the King of Curse's innate domain. It was like peering into his mind, Sukuna's world. A throne of skull, a pool of blood, the flowers that were floating atop has now wilted and turned into ugly crumples soaked with the same ominous red. The greeneries on the skulls, dead, shriveled and decayed. Instead, what looks like Red Sider Lily are perching on top of the skulls. Red Spider Lilies, the flowers of death.

Sukuna gave Mahito one last dirty look before he lifted his fingers up and made a cutting motion. Immediately, Mahito felt his shoulders rip apart, blood coming out of the freshly created wounds. As quickly as Mahito was brought into here, he was ejected a second time but this time with a critical wound.

He learned a lesson the hard way never step into Sukuna's innate domain again.

Sukuna noticed that the water lilies and the green plants that he tried so hard to recreate were gone. He could feel the anger rise up again to his head.

Those little touches that (Name) added to his innate domain when she was his vessel, he has tried to hard to recreate them. Yet no matter what he does, they always felt like an imitation. Inorganic. Out of place. And would soon revert back to its original form. The withered flowers, the spider lilies— Warmness could not be recreated with the cold.

And that was all Sukuna possessed, coldness.

But this was his abditory, it was his canvas, it was his paradise and he will recreate everything that felt familiar about (Name). And he won’t let anyone whether it’s a lowlife curse or an annoying brat pollute this place with their presence.

He had no concern for anyone but himself. He existed for leisure. For Ryomen Sukuna, whether Nanami or Mahito survives doesn't matter at all. There was only one person that holds his interest. (Name). His vessel from long ago, the same girl who brought a bit of warmness into his life. Sometimes you only learn to appreciate something when it's gone. This lesson applies even for the King of Curses.

And other than her, he truly doesn't care about anyone else.

[vventure]

Played - Atsumu Miya Must Die, Ch. 3

Series Mini Mlist: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Drama

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: cheating

Summary: Atsumu Miya is a player; dating three girls from three different friend groups so they don’t find out. What happens when they do, though? And how does [Y/N] play into their plan for ultimate revenge?

A/N: Alright, this chapter really finally gets into the drama. I know it’s longer than the other chapters but it had to be this length in order to fit everything I wanted into it! I hope you guys enjoy it, and I can’t wait to share all the scheming to come with you all. <3

Taglist: @for-ests​ @miyuswriting​ @babyboytsutomu​ @captain-shittykawa​ @writeiolite​ @lunarknox​ @heccingdead​ @yams046​ @infamouswhitepawsies​ @hideewrites​ @lilolpotato @burnthoneymint​ @bb-noya​ - let me know if you’d like to be added (or taken off)!!

Last Time: 

Chika laid down the facts: Atsumu was dating three different girls from three different friend groups. It was a secret to everyone but he and Chika, and now you, that he was doing this. Atsumu would only come to Onigiri Miya when Osamu wasn’t working. He was somewhat of an idiot in that respect, and Osamu had caught him with different girls at the establishment before, but the bleached twin had played it off as him seeing different girls every week; something that wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for the player.

Chika went on to explain that while Atsumu used to work at the onigiri shop for his brother, he had taken time off in order to focus on university and his club volleyball team at the school. He was arrogant and self-centered, and often lied to his brother even about small things. The picture Chika painted was far from flattering.

You sat looking at her during her spiel, your jaw basically on the floor. 

“So, yeah,” she finished. “He’s kind of a mess and a jackass.”

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll try to avoid him.”

“About that,” her smile strained as she spoke her next words: “He’s moving into the same dorm as you tomorrow.”

The day rose in a blaze of sun, the perfect weather for a barbecue on the quad at your new university. It was too hot for wearing anything other than a tank top and shorts since there was no way you were going to make it through the two-hour long event with no shade if you wore anything else.

A cacophony of laughter and raucous excitement reached your ears as you stepped onto the lush green of the expansive quad, taking in the plethora of grills and the several volleyball and badminton nets set-up to enjoy with fellow students. Clusters of students from every year were scattered about the lawn, drinking from plastic cups and munching on snacks while trying to find the courage to jump into an activity and break free of their timidity.

It should have come as no surprise, but Atsumu Miya had no issues with running head first into a new adventure. He was playing 2-on-2 volleyball at one of the nets, showing off just how high he could jump to slam the ball down on the grass on the opposite side of the net. His athleticism shined here, clearly leaps and bounds beyond the others he was volleying with who looked like they were about to pass-out from heat stroke while desperately trying to match his pace.

It would have been almost comical, the difference in skill between someone who was obviously well-versed in volleyball and someone who had never touched a ball in their life, except that Atsumu looked so smug every time he scored a point for his team. It was hardly a competition and even from this distance you could tell he was letting it get to his head.

Turning your attention away, you nearly collided with another person as you moved to grab a drink from one of the coolers. The person you were now face-to-face with wore a black t-shirt with “RA” in white lettering across the place a breast pocket would be.

“I’m so sorry!” You blurted out, backing up slightly and raising your hands. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Don’t worry about it!” They replied, a genial smile splitting their face in response to your sudden panic. “You look familiar. I think you moved onto my floor yesterday! Yeah, [Y/n], right?”

“Guilty,” you quipped, looking at them closely. It clicked into place once you noticed their black bangs pinned back with their high pigtails. “You’re the resident assistant on my floor...Nanami, right?”

“Yep,” she replied, giving you a thumbs up. Her cheerfulness seemed a bit forced, but you smiled back at her regardless. “It’s actually good ya bumped into me ‘cause I was looking to round up the girls to play some volleyball. You in?”

“Um, sure, I don’t really have anything else to do.”

--

That’s how you found yourself entangled in a lot more than you’d bargained for: an icebreaker activity with Atsumu’s three girlfriends.

“Let’s say our names and then a fun fact about us,” Nanami said once the small group of girls she could find was rounded into a seated circle. “I’ll go first. My name’s Nanami and I love going to concerts!”

Dead silence befell the group as they all looked at her, expressionless. It was hot and she was making you all sit in the sun and tell a fun fact about yourselves? Weren’t you supposed to be playing volleyball?

“Cool,” said the girl clad in sports attire, repping the school’s colors. “I’m Sara, I play for the soccer team here and love kick-boxing.”

Sara used her thumb to point to the girl on her right, taking charge of the situation so they could all get it over with.

“I’m Izumi,” came the soft voice of a girl with her eyes turned shyly downward. “I work in the library in my spare time.”

Could this be any more dull? So much for a fun barbecue. 

The next girl down the line stated her name and a fact about herself that slipped through your mind like water until it was Atsumu’s final girlfriend’s turn. 

“My name’s Aiko, and I play the violin,” she said, flicking her long hair over her shoulder and fiddling with the hem of her pure white blouse. 

Once again, this elicited no response and all eyes now rested on you as they waited for your name and riveting factoid.

“I’m [Y/n] and I work at an onigiri shop off-campus and just moved here from Miyagi.”

A pregnant pause followed your statement as the small group merely blinked in acknowledgement of each other’s existence before Nanami’s voice cut through the heavy air: “Let’s play volleyball!”

The group stood, returning shredded grass particles to the ground and moved like cattle to the volleyball nets.

“I’m gonna ditch, my boyfriend wants to get boba,” the girl whose name you couldn’t remember whispered into your ear before skipping away from the group now composed of only you, Sara, Aiko, Izumi, and Nanami. 

Just perfect, you were going to be playing volleyball with three girls dating the same guy and the person who would be watching every move you made in the dorms for the year, what could be more ideal? You almost wished Osamu had put you on the schedule today, but he’d given you the first week of classes off to acclimate to the new university. 

It was done now, so you’d make the most of the situation and maybe get a new friend out of it. Izumi seemed really sweet and down-to-earth, so you’d give chatting with her a shot. Walking up beside her, you opened your mouth to say something before the realization that you knew a dirty secret she didn’t about the guy she was seeing hit you. You snapped your mouth closed and walked the remainder of the expanse of green to the free volleyball net.

A collective gasp sounded from the group as you approached the net, causing you to look up from the ground you’d been examining in order to avoid tripping. When you saw where their heads were turned, you sighed internally. 

Of course, every single one of them had their eyes locked on Atsumu finishing up his game on the make-shift volleyball court next to the one you’d soon be playing on. He had sweat pouring down his face from what you could imagine was the heat and exertion, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he lifted his shirt to wipe at his face exposing the glistening muscles of his abdomen. 

What was this, a teen movie? No one looked that hot after playing a taxing sport and it was highly unfair that someone so vile could look so good.

“Okay, girls,” Nanami said, clapping her hands together yet again. “I’m gonna ref, so choose your teams.”

Aiko immediately flocked to Sara, likely taking in the fact that the latter was a college athlete and would be better poised to win the game. Izumi didn’t look particularly thrilled to be stuck with you as her teammate, but she’d have to deal for the short amount of time you’d be playing. 

Sara served first, landing a solid ace across the net that punted against the grass that neither you nor Izumi received, giving your opponents the first point. Aiko and Izumi looked at each other through the net, their eyes suddenly serious. You furrowed your brow, watching how Sara was now in a fighting stance, until the sound of Atsumu’s voice reached your ears.

“So, yer the RA for the boys’ and girls’ floor, eh?” He said, leaning toward Nanami who looked less than pleased to be conversing with him at the current moment.

“That I am,” she replied stiffly, trying to keep her eye on the ball. “I’m kind of busy right now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I’m sure ya don’t mind if I stay and watch a little bit?”

Nanami shrugged, turning her attention completely away from him. He didn’t appear to care, and didn’t press her any further. 

Atsumu was watching the game, that’s why these three were acting like their lives depended on winning a casual volleyball game on the quad. This asshole knew exactly what his presence would do to these girls and was eating it up like a Korean drama.

Whatever, he wasn’t your focus and would never be your focus, so you returned your attention to the game. Your heart clenched in your chest as you watched Aiko look over at Atsumu, sending him a salacious wink just to receive a smirk in return. In the time that your eyes left Sara’s serving form, hoping that no one had noticed the exchange, the volleyball was colliding with your head and sending you reeling. 

“[Y/n]!” You could hear Nanami call before her knees were thudding onto the earth next to you, her black pigtails dangling over your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you responded, sitting up to notice that Atsumu had departed with his hand on the upper back of another tall male walking away. A feeling of impending doom flowed over you as you looked at the girls standing near the net, their faces directed at each other expressing confusion and mounting anger. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the quad for the barbecue, do you have a concussion? What year is it?” The RA asked, clearly not anticipating this at the event.

“I’m fine! What about them?”

“Why were you winking at my boyfriend?” Izumi seethed, her kind and calm demeanor slipping away easily to reveal a nasty underside. 

“I was winking at my boyfriend,” Aiko replied, stepping closer to Izumi but remaining on her side of the net. “Atsumu Miya.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Sara bellowed while stomping towards the two already in the throws of their disagreement. “Who’d you say your boyfriend was?”

Izumi and Aiko replied in unison: “Atsumu Miya.”

--

The trio of Atsumu’s lovers sat a safe 6-feet from each other in the grass, ice packs pressed against the bruises they’d given each other during the scuffle that eventually had to be broken up by the University Police. You’d also tried to pry them apart, which only earned you a split lip and a disciplinary mark on your record for the trouble. 

“So, I get the pleasure of explaining what your punishment is,” Nanami said, sitting down on the grass with exaggerated annoyance, producing a map and setting it in the space between everyone. “The resident director thinks it would be a good idea for you guys to clean up around town. So you’ll be tackling the areas I’ve marked every other day and clearing them of all the litter you can see.”

��How long?” You asked, pressing the ice pack to your lip in an attempt to get it to stop stinging so horribly.

“Ten hours, which is pretty lenient,” she explained. “Since you guys don’t have any other infractions she didn’t think it was worth more than that. And she wants you to do it together to learn some cooperation and teamwork.”

The tension in the air was suffocating at this news and not a single girl could look the other in the eye, opting to stare at their feet while nursing their wounds. 

“This is all your fault, Aiko,” Sara spat.

“How is it--” Aiko began before you cut her off.

“I don’t know,” you spoke up, raising your hand in defense as Aiko shot you a glare, her white blouse sullied with dirt. “Seems like you all got played, right? He told you all that he had to keep his relationship with you secret, right?”

A grumble rose around the small area between the 5 of you. 

“Okay, so he was lying to you so he could mess around with other people, so who’s fault is it really?”

You had no idea the trouble your logical mind had gotten you into.

[shoujothoughts]

*spoilers for UtaPri seasons 1 and season 4, ep 8*

They of the first time I ever distinctly looked at a pair of anime men and thought, “I can see why people ship that,” this post is in honor of some of my favorite idol boys, Jinguji Ren and Hijirikawa Masato.

Long ago, when I was but an otaku fledgling stretching her wings into the wide world of shoujo (read: like two years ago), I first watched Uta no Prince Sama Maji Love 1000%*.

Upon watching—and I remember that it was DISTINCTLY around the time of the now infamous Ren-taking-a-shower-is-pointless-but-for-fanservice scene**—it hit me that I felt some of the weirdest psudo-romantic tension between our two boys. And it KNOCKED ME FOR A LOOP. They’re both, at the series inception, competing for Nanami’s heart, and yet…

“Am… am I imagining this? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS, BRAIN?” -me, circa 2016

Did their rivalry make them all the hotter to a female audience?? (answer: “yes.”)

Now, I don’t actively ship it, never have, and never will (REN BELONGS WITH NANAMI, YOU MASAxREN SHIPPING SWINE!! DON’T SINK MY SHIPS!!!) but the mere notion that I even noticed it speaks volumes regarding the type of relationship that these men share.***

It is the competitive, oddly supportive, nearly sexually tense relationship to make all others seem false. It is the deep and abiding “we-are-best-friends-but-also-low-key-until-it-is-suddenly-high-key enemies” relationship to end those of so-called “frenemies” that seem completely shallow in comparison.

These are my ultimate idol bros. Welcome to the Masa—

…

…

Frick.  

Why, YouTube, must my search provide MasaxRen doujinshi?

AND NOW IT’S UTAPRI WITH ONLY MASATO.

AND THE LATTER IS RAPIDLY DEVOLVING INTO FANGIRLING WITHOUT HOPE OF REDEMPTION OR COHERENCY.

HOW can I ship this many people with Nanami at ONCE????

It’s not fair how much I love my Utapri, and I haven’t seen  it in so long, and I forgot how wonderful it is, and now…

*crying*

HELP.

I HAVE to go rewatch season 1 before I finish this post. BRB.

Back now!

I’m basically hyperventilating because I forgot that the first words they say to each other are naught but to call each other a “flirt” and “stiff.” Two boys from rival financial conglomerates both attend the Academy for vastly different reasons. A youngest son and an eldest son, one sent at behest of his family and the other in spite—there resentment created by envy over each other’s circumstances is palpable.

image from NanaSchiffer

These boys have known each other since childhood. Both exist under the burden of expectation, yet each envies the other’s position, creating an interesting dichotomy of disdain and mutual respect. And yet, no matter how many times they nearly come to blows between their clashing personalities or (in the early seasons) their synonymous romantic interest in Nanami, the two share an abiding concern (deeper than that they share with the other boys) and are there for the other when necessary. While many things change over the years (seasons) of UtaPri, this aspect does not.

Illustrative of this point is episode 8 of season 4, Uta no Prince-Sama Legend Star. While Ren was sent to the idol academy at the behest of his elder brother, Masato—as his family’s eldest son—is expected to give up foolish dreams and ultimately take over the profitable family business.

Masato’s father promised him a guarenteed year of schooling before he was exected to return home, and the young man has spent his time as a member of STARISH with this in mind. By the third season, Masato’s time at the academy is anything but assured when he hears that his father has collapsed. He will have to travel home for the first time since his academy deadline has expired. Ren takes it upon himself to reach out and express his concern, both over Masato’s emotional state regarding his father and the fear that he may be forced to take over the family business. Masato insists that he’s not the same man he used to be, but Ren—who has, again, known him since childhood—is understandably unconvinced…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Ren even shows up at Masato’s house to support him in standing up to his father during the social gathering intended to present him as the corporate heir. During conversation with Kira, he has a realization that perhaps what Masato needs is to be reminded of the bonds shared between them and the group in order to stand up to his father. He and Kira (who also understand the pressures of family business) arrive. When asked about it, Ren simply says that he’s there as his brother’s representative, but Masato knows better.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Even though it is Kira that sings with Masato as he proclaims his independence, Ren is the one who has known him longest and who, throughout the episode, expresses the most concern. How very well they know each other is clear.

In the end, wherever season 5 and the movie take us, I am confident that this relationship will never diminish, and of that I am glad.

How do you feel about the relationships in UtaPri? Let me know in the comments below!

Love, Peace, Geese,

Shoujo

  P.S.

I’m sorry I called you swine, RenxMasa shippers. You’re not swine. I was kidding. The ship just doesn’t make any sense after season 1, you know?

*This title makes me feel like I’m a 14 year old girl (which people HAVE mistaken me for) and also makes me want to laugh hysterically when I get to mention it to Husband.

**It is well worth noting that this is still some of the most obviously sexual female-oriented fanservice that I have ever scene, hence the reason it stuck with me, but I digress. (And one of the YouTube comments has me basically crying: “Is it weird that I watched this 14 times?” lololololol)

***Check my commentary on the finishing number of season 4 if you wonder why I’m referring to these idol boys as men.

“I can see why people ship that.” (OR, “A Dichotomy of Disdain and Mutual Respect” — a short post in honor of UtaPri’s business boys, Ren and Masato) *spoilers for UtaPri seasons 1 and season 4, ep 8* They of the first time I ever distinctly looked at a pair of anime men and thought, "I can see why people ship that," this post is in honor of some of my favorite idol boys, …

[wri0thesley]

it’s my blog and i get to write the self indulgent nanami scenarios <3

business before pleasure; nanami x fem reader, not sfw - guilty pining/masturbation (2.25k)

nanami’s brain always seems to be wired differently when you’re around.

It’s not that Nanami turns his brain off when he’s working. His line of work means staying sharp, of predicting the moves of any opponents before they can make them – either you do that, or you risk dying where you stand. Much the one he wields with his fist clenched and his eyes narrowed, his mind is a finely honed blade.

No. His brain doesn’t turn off. It just . . . grows used to a certain kind of pattern, he supposes. It works out his ratios, it helps him strike, it makes both ordinary plans and contingency plans in the blink of an eye; and it does it all as if automated. It works on known variables. He knows a curse will attack, he knows he will have to harness his technique, he knows that he will have to arc his arm and slice--

You are not programmed into his method.

He has his work brain, and his respite brain – his leisure time brain, if you will. He does not mix the two. He watched others at his office get tangled with one another, and saw how it would leak through into their work – how, when things inevitably came to a messy conclusion, the people involved seem to wilt into pieces and lose their resolve. They got messy.

Jujutsu sorcery is already messy enough, he thinks. He does not need to tempt fate.

So he sticks to the rules he made for himself. He does not mix business with pleasure. He does not allow a conflict of interest. He does not date colleagues. The latter was occasionally directed, not unkindly, at people in the office who would notice his sharp cheekbones and the lines of muscle underneath his well-pressed suit. They would approach him hopefully, asking if he would like to get lunch together, or asking about new restaurants having heard he was something of a connoisseur in that regard - and he would let them down gently.

Until you came onto the scene, he had never even thought about it in regards to jujutsu sorcery. The pool was too small for it to ever seem even an option to be ignored.

But then . . .there you were. Occasionally paired up with him because the higher-ups were considering promoting you to the next grade, always with a smile for him and a polite greeting.

That would be fine. He can handle working with other people; he’s a professional, after all.

What he can’t handle is the rest of you.

The way you look at him. Your ability to shift, in moments, from dangerous to dutiful. The way you remember little things he says, how you do things just because you can. Little kindnesses like remembering his favourite bakery and picking something up for him as well as for you. A gentle nature when there are civilians too close to where you need to be and you urge them to go somewhere else.

Most jujutsu sorcerers, he has found, have something about them that is simply too much. Whether they enjoy violence too much, or they do not think of other people, or they are Gojo Satoru – who is too much of more things than Nanami can count – he has never wanted to mix with them outside of work.

But you . . .

It’s not enough that you are sweet-natured, that you are kind, that you are hard-working and good at your job - that you are clever and hold up your end of conversations, when Nanami has time to snatch them with you. But his eyes cannot help but be drawn to the curve of your body underneath your clothes, the set of your mouth, the colour of your eyes. He cannot help but think of you sun-dappled in a morning, lazy-eyed and tired in an evening.

He cannot help but think of you beneath those fabrics, bared to his hungry gaze.

And – especially nights like tonight, when he has worked late, when you have barely bid him goodbye – he cannot always stop himself.

He shouldn’t.

He is enough in control of himself to feel like it’s a gross disservice to you, to reduce you to nothing more than fantasy fodder in his brain. But as he sits on his bed and loosens his tie, sighing, he cannot shake the feel of your body against him when he’d pushed you out of the way of a curse’s attack. Nor can he make the scent of your shampoo and conditioner leave his thoughts, the little gasp of surprise when you’d felt him make contact with your body.

He wonders if you would make similar noises, if he were to unbutton your clothes. If he were to press his nose against the junction of your shoulder and throat and breathe in the scent of you.

His slacks are getting uncomfortable. He takes off his glasses, tilting his head back, his sigh chest-deep.

He loves the way you say his name. Perhaps he has gotten too used to being called cute names by other people, that basic manners have become attractive to him – but your voice, softly caressing the syllables, always just a little hesitant as if you don’t want to bother him too much . . . Would you call him something else, if he kissed you? He doesn’t know if he’d mind you calling him Nanamin, if it were soft against his ear when his hands touched bare skin and he pulled you in closer.

He swallows as he folds his tie neatly. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. He shouldn’t be imagining skin beneath his fingertips and shuddering breaths. He shouldn’t imagine that it’s your hands, unbuttoning his shirt. He can see you in his mind’s eye nevertheless, lip caught between your teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. Hands soft against him, meticulous and careful--

His shirt is shed. He doesn’t bother to neatly fold it, to place in his laundry basket, though he’ll regret not doing it tomorrow. His mind is racing. He’s far too busy thinking about whether you would straddle him to kiss him, imagining your warm weight on top of him.

No. That’s a pleasant fantasy, he thinks, but for the first time he thinks he would like to be in charge of you. Sit you down on your knees and tip your chin up as he undoes the button and zipper of his slacks.

He palms himself through his underwear to the thought of your pretty eyes widening when you saw what was between his thighs. He’s not, as a whole, a conceited man – but no partners have ever complained before, and he doesn’t think you would be any different.

He imagines the soft gasp of his name, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you inched forward, shyly. He imagines how hot your cheeks would be underneath his fingertips if he caressed them, holding you tenderly. Telling you he knows you will do a good job.

It’s well-known that Nanami does not give out praise easily or often. Once, after an exorcism, he had thrown out some compliment to you – time muddies the thought of what you’ve done, but it doesn’t muddy your reaction, seared onto his brain. The widening of your eyes and the swallow, the brief stammer as you’d thanked him. It had haunted him for nights, imagining what you might do if he patted your cheek and told you how well you were doing.

He lets himself imagine it now.

One of his hands fists into the bedsheets behind him whilst the other encircles his shaft, a shaky breath escaping his parted lips as he imagines your mouth opening, your tongue darting out to taste him. His throat feels too dry as he imagines how warm and wet you would feel, how cute you would look as you gently eased your mouth further and further onto his cock.

He imagines petting your hair and growling low in his throat how good you feel, how it would send a spark of bravery through you – how you’d take more of him into your mouth, too full, swallowing down as much of his cock as you could. He would perhaps be more liberal with his praise, for you.

He has been doing this too often. You have no idea, when you smile and greet him and say you’re glad to be working with him again, that he’s spent so many nights with his fist pumping his cock imagining your voice pitching and breaking. That’s all it is, he tells himself, sternly. Fantasy.

Fantasies that he can’t stop himself from having. He groans as he relaxes back onto the bed, thumb swiping across the slit of his cock where he’s already beading pre-come. He imagines you pulling back from his cock, shifting uncomfortably where you’re knelt on the floor--

He throws one arm over his eyes, his breathing getting heavier and heavier with every beat of his heart and filthy thought that crosses his mind. Where would he want you, next? He thinks you would easily let yourself be overpowered, beneath all six foot of him.

There. Underneath him. He can almost feel the softness of your body pressing against where he is carefully maintained muscle. Can imagine your soft fingertips trailing over his skin, your lips leaving heated little kisses-come-pleas against his body.

His hand is getting faster.

Though common sense tells him that you are probably not a virgin, in Nanami’s mind, you always are. You’re always unsure, trembling – surprised by how good his hands feel all over you. Eyes rolling back when he lets his tongue lathe over the swollen points of your nipples, heart jumping when one of his big hands delves between your thighs to the slick valley of your sex.

In his mind, you always cling to him. You always make soft panting noises, whimpering, as he works you open with his fingers – you’re always aching hot, so tight around him that he thinks for a moment you might break. He imagines your fingers raking through his hair, dishevelling the careful styling. He thinks about you whispering his name like a prayer, over and over again, keening and pitching and breaking.

He is all over heat, helplessly bucking up even as he fucks into his hand and imagines it’s the warm, soft confines of your sex. He’s groaning, breath catching in his throat. He imagines you, hot and tight and wet – your legs clamping about his hips, your thighs in his hand. Your body rocking against his.

He imagines ‘please, please, please--’ in your voice, all breathy pleading and begging. He imagines you blinking up at him with your eyes all dark and needy – your godforsaken eyes, when so many other jujutsu sorcerers keep them covered--

If you didn’t look at him like that, maybe he wouldn’t be rutting into his own hand like a teenager. Maybe they wouldn’t haunt him, imagining what they’d look like when he was hilted deep inside you, or when they were looking up at him from his parted knees, or when he made you come with just his fingers--

The slick noise of his hand jerking erratically backwards and forwards on his cock seems to echo around the room, intermingling with his own heavy breathing. He wonders, sometimes, if you ever imagine him like this – rumpled and messy. If you did, maybe he’d feel better about how he just can’t stop objectifying you in his mind.

He knows you don’t, though. You’re professional and careful and unfailingly polite. And he does not think himself someone who is fantasised about.

The tight thread of tension within him seems to snap and he groans your name aloud, releasing it like a charm into the sacrosanctity of his bedroom. A white-hot bolt of pleasure followed by duller jolts and pulses, as he comes over his stomach to the thought of your face all needy and pretty and fucked out.

That image flutters in his mind longer than it has any right to. He misses when he could do this just to work out tension, without having your smile and your body and how you would react floating to the forefront of his mind. If you ever knew--

Those familiar pinpricks of shame begin to needle all over him, as his come cools and uncomfortable stickiness takes the place of heated desire. Nanami heaves a sigh as he reaches into his bedside table for a tissue to clean up.

No mixing of business and pleasure, he reminds himself. A recipe for disaster. He has to stop doing this.

But the next morning, he meets you outside of the location you’ve been called to and you press a steaming hot coffee into his hand.

“It’s cold,” you say. “I got myself one, and thought I should get you one too.”

He swallows before thanking you as you give him an earnest, hopeful smile. He knows that later on, he’ll recall that smile – imagine it before he imagines you kissing him, or before he imagines you enveloping his cock in your mouth or before he imagines you asking him to fuck you so hard you forget who you are.

Who is he kidding? He’s not going to stop doing it. Not when everything about you calls to him like a fucking siren call. He takes a sip of his coffee and tries to pretend that everything’s fine.