Recs - Blog Posts

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . nanami kento doesn’t argue… except this time he does. and he fucks you while he does it.

18+ MDNI, nanami is kind of a meanie :(

nanami kento is a man of undeniable patience and unwavering calm. a think-first, speak-later kind of man—never quick to argue, and always one to listen attentively before offering his own thoughts.

but when you “accidentally” forget to tell him that you’re going out with your friends after work, and spend hours worrying him sick and not answering your phone? now that really pisses him off.

clearly, you had forgotten to follow one of the most important, fundamental rules the two of you had set for each other—always let the other know of your whereabouts. 

seems like nanami had to remind you somehow. and today, his method of choice was fucking it into you. 

“you just can’t” thrust. “do” thrust. “what” thrust. “i tell you” thrust. “huh?” he drives each word into you, his thick cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside—making sure you feel exactly how much he means it.

your face is buried in the sheets of your shared bed, tears staining the pristine white bedsheets. nanami has been at this for hours now, pounding into you—every thrust harder and more punishing than the last.

“ ‘m sorry k-kento please” you sob pathetically into the wet sheets, voice barely audible in your helpless position. a strong hand fists a handful of your hair, pulling your head up closer to his. 

kento leans over, his warm, ragged breath brushing the tip of your ear, staying buried deep in your quivering, tight walls. 

“what was that?” he whispers, keeping a strong—almost painful grip on your hair. 

“i’m s-sorryyy kento i forgot” 

“mmm sweetheart” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky, whisper “that just won’t do.” he finishes, deliberately moving his other hand from your waist up to your sensitive, hardened nipples. you let out a mewl of pleasure as he rolls one between his fingers—the sound quickly turning into a breathy whine when he pinches down.

“please” you barely choke out the plea between sharp sobs. 

“please what? use your words baby” he mutters, hands now kneading the soft flesh of your tits.

“i’m s-sorry” is the only thing you can manage to say—pathetic and ruined in your fucked out state.

kento frees you from his grasp, letting your head fall back down into the mattress. his bruising grip on your waist returns, and he slowly starts moving his hips again. 

“i don’t think you are” is all he says, before quickening his already harsh pace. kento fucks you like this—like he’s trying to make you understand—for the rest of the night.

and you do understand. you understand that you’ll never make nanami mad again.

true love waits

three | gojo's ghost hunting guide

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

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

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

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

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

Three days.

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

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

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

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

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

Those were all just physical.

Things that could be replaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Buy her flowers."

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

Which was often.

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

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

He hoped Geto was right.

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you like them?" Gojo tentatively asked.

He wasn't a virgin. Technically.

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

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

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

You laughed.

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

He felt like he was unravelling with it.

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

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

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

When it actually worked?

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

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

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

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

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

Admiring him.

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

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

He had never wished so badly he could see you.

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

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

And shit, he was sensitive.

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

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

Did ghosts have a gag reflex?

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His cock throbbed, threatening to get hard again.

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

Y-E-S. N-O.

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

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

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

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

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

Another Y-E-S.

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

S-U-R-E.

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

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

"So, uh, do you like me?"

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

taglist: @fati27ma @soraairo @s-guru @shokosbunny @ssetsuka @deathofacupid @kayskow @pillkits @inoluvrr @baepsays @imm0rtalbutterfly @heartcam @littlenutmaestro @mia-can-yap-too @bbatzvil @sugarcoatedsoul @designerpvssy @gravity-valley @stellasloth @dostoevskyzz @aldebrana @lashaemorow @monstersholygrail @mai-505 @itsinherited @gojosprettyprincess @mimiluvzu2 @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @nina-from-317 @beautiful--macabre @gris3o @petalshxwer @oneirataxiaa @onixsky @flowerpot113 @ryuvies @anyx404 @herefor-tojis-tits @takethechai @miizuzu @entr4p3 @nonamebbsblog

How to breakup with your boyfriend ⸻ not a guide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah so that also didn't work out huh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART TWO>>

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

morning, munchkuna! / sukuna fic

part 2 to this! 🍮

*ೃ༄

inf: u forgot how sukuna woke u up when u were still together. ferociously, amazingly good head. || reader gets ate OUT, definite smut, morning sex, sukuna is a softie in the morning, minors go away!😾

You are so cute when you’re asleep.

You’re even cuter when sunlight leaks through your curtains and hits your drooling face, one loud snore erupting from your throat when you turn so your back is to the window. So adorable.

At least, according to Sukuna. All details included in his summary. Not that he wants you back, of course.

Last night was one time only. One.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──———── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

But why do the remnants of last night still stick to your bed, then? The stained, rumpled sheets, your robe and lingerie in heaps on the floor, the gorgeously tattooed, black-haired absolute hunk next to you . . .

Yes, all remaining from the night before. The night you’d tried and failed miserably to convince yourself that you didn’t want your ex-boyfriend back, you wanted the nerd guy — what was his name again?

You mumble something incoherently in your sleep, turn over. Your legs twitch. Something fuzzy is between your thighs. Or furry? What is the difference, even? All you know is you’re dreaming of a bunny between your legs.

Your thighs twitch again. Shake a little. Quiver. What is that?

You almost jolt yourself awake, before your body reminds you. Youre in bed with your ex, who was at one point your boyfriend. And how had your boyfriend woken you up?

Your lashes flutter awake, your fingertips stretch to the sky when you yawn, grumbling sleepy things and then a moan falls from your plush lips —

Oh.

Slowly, your gaze falls to the culprit of that moan. The raven-haired man whose face is in your legs, whose nose is brushing your clit and sending that electric shudder through your thighs.

True, you have a beautiful guy in your bed, his veiny hands propping your thighs apart tenderly.

But he’d also stayed. And that makes your eyes water more than his mouth is.

“Morning, Kuna,” you mumble, letting your hand ruffle his hair.

He barely looks up at you. All his attention is focused on that slick wet pussy of yours. “Mornin’,” is all he grunts, eyes flicking up at you with that familiar look again.

His tongue drags up your cunt, lapping at your clit like a kitten to milk, his fingers plunging in and out of you. Where was your alarm now? “S’kunaaa,” you mewl, thighs shivering like they’re cold, your hand knotted in his hair now. “You stayed.”

“Figured my girl would need me to wake her up like usual,” he says, his breath hot against your pussy. “Guess she did. Gotcha all wet for me, hm?”

His lips pull at your swollen clit, his fingers are probably pruned by now; he moves down to pull with his teeth.

You are yelping and moaning now, thighs twitching and squeezing his head like how he’d squeezed your hips last night.

My girl. He’d called you his.

Without even looking up from your cunt, his nose still nuzzling your clit, his tattooed arm reaches over to your nightstand, opens the drawer, pulls out that pretty baby blue vibrator you kept after you’d kicked him out three months ago.

He eats you out like a man starved, passionately, growls at your pussy and delving his tongue in the places that his fingers aren’t filling.

Per usual, he turns on the toy he’d grabbed with his thumb. Lowers it to the second lowest setting — it is nine in the morning, after all — gently presses it to your clit.

If he’d made you feel good last night, this was even better.

“Suku..,” you moan, your hips bucking into his mouth with the toy buzzing into you on top of his ravenous mouth.

“Missed wakin’ ya up like this,” he grumbles into you. “You missed it too, yeah?”

His fingers curl up into you, hit that spot that has you unraveling. “Yeahh, Suku, missed you,” you murmur, breaking off with a cry as his fingers hit that spot again and again.

You near your climax, taking in the glory before you. Your ex’s face covered in your slick, yet he doesn’t stop eating. His hips rut into the mattress, hes without a doubt hard again. Doesnt matter. You’ll take care of that later.

“Kunaaa.,” you moan louder this time, almost fully awoken. “I’m s’close..” Your hips buck unconsciously, thighs twitching but you just need him closer.

“Yeah?” He grunts. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” Fingertips only just grazing that spot, he removes the slick-covered toy from your cunt, watches you come undone underneath his mouth.

Your legs tremble around his head, cum oozing out of you, your body shaking as your legs roll back. And he laps up all of it, gathering your fluids on his tongue like hes still hungry. “S’kuna, ohhh..,” you groan as you cum, voice drawling, slurring, hips rutting wildly into his mouth like you need more.

Of course, hes doing the same — just more subtlely, pounding into your mattress like how he’d done to you last night. You can tell he’s picturing the soft, creaking bed as your body (don’tcha wish it was?). His groans quieter, nose scrunched up and strong hands gripping your thighs.

“Lemme help you, Suku,”you murmur, coming down from your high, gaze fixed on each thrust he ruts into your bed.

“Just look at me, baby,” he says breathlessly, “s’all I need.”

And it’s true. You’re all he needs for him to come undone, your eyes never leaving his even as he comes, cock twitching, hot cum spurting out and he moves his body to hover over yours,

Cumming all over your body, covers your already wet folds with his spent, your eyes still locked together.

“I love you, Suku. Missed you,” you murmur. Maybe your head is still in the clouds when you say it. He can’t tell, but it affects him all the same.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts, gently taps a towel to your swollen cunt, doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’ll bring you that guy’s head. Don’t think I forgot.”

“What?! Kuna!” You yelp, sitting up and remembering that you’d told him nerd guy’s name in the midst of your haze last night.

But he’s already standing up, pulls on his boxers, waits at your bedroom doorway. “Aint say nothin’,” he grins. “Come on. Made breakfast while you were snoring your pretty little head off.”

And for a moment, as you get up, following him in your enamored trance, you forget why you even broke up with him in the first place. Because you forgot what a gentle giant this man is,

(Even if he is gonna kill the guy you were hooking up with).

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──———── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

a/n : & the crowd goes mild! i actually do love this fic tho. if u didnt catch it, part 1 is here. luv ya baby cakes! 🍮🪽

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation (M and f) back shots, threesomes on set w/ Suguru and Sukuna, cum drinking, weed smoking, drinking, lots of longing, reader is innocent DON'T read if you don't like that, pining, obsessive, he can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru because that's how I NEED HIM, a lot of mentions of sex, cum, etc- it's about porn so lol. A lil bit of angsttt, a lil bit of cuteness, demisexual reader, hoe Satoru what a pair.

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC 10k!

Based on Pornstar Satoru- Playlist- Chapter Two>>>

Chapter One

Satoru Gojo was one of the most famous pornstars there are, and the baddie arched right in front of him, sucking on one of the other most famous stars’ cock - Satoru’s best friend Suguru Geto - shows exactly why he is. When he slams his latex covered cock so deep inside her she screams, squirting all down his cock while she chokes down Suguru…

That’s not just for the camera.

Satoru knows every spot on his co-stars, shouldn’t it be fun for them too? He never would let a single one of them not cum several times, hence the long, long line and insane demand he has. The amount of onlyfans collab requests he gets, along with shoot after shoot, he has to be extremely picky, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t eat up how desired he was.

Even now, he winks right into the camera, knowing how many people were watching this livestream, gripping his costar’s hips and slamming his cock so deep, while Suguru is gripping her face delicately, moaning. Blue eyes and violet eyes meet the camera, dual smirks while they make this girl shatter for them, until they know it’s time for the money shot.

She’s eagerly on her knees, at the most perfect angle in the room they use as a stage, fully lit with pro lighting, and the comments and tips from this livestream are going insane, all while she looks up at both of them. Satoru takes off his condom, while she strokes him, sucking his cock and then Suguru’s, so huge and heavy, though Satoru loves to brag that he’s just a little longer, and Suguru brags he’s thicker.

They love competing, including who cums more, both of them moaning, though Satoru is a little more occupied with how good his abs look in the camera, fuck they’re glistening really, as she starts jerking them off now with practiced hands. Suguru looks at Satoru then, brushing back dark locks.

“I’m gonna cum way more than you this time.” He murmurs, so that the camera’s couldn’t hear, but the girl stroking them giggles a bit, clearly fucked out.

Satoru stretches his arms up, folding them behind his head, as the strokes get faster, as she laps up his milky precum from his perfect pink tip. “Nah, no way, I will this time.”

“So competitive, hmm?” She says, drawing their attention, then she hits that twist just right, and Satoru and Suguru are cumming all over her eager face, her hands, her open mouth, shooting milky ropes and groaning out.

Satoru gets paid to cum on pretty girls faces, and he gets paid a lot, with his best fucking friend - just how do you beat that? He grins as the livestream is popping off, and Suguru is delicate in swiping their cum all over her for one more money shot, Satoru leans over, stroking himself right on camera once more, to the many happy tips and replies of all his fans.

“And that’s a wrap.” Satoru’s cocky voice follows a click, as he takes in just how much they made, whistling. “Goddamn, we should celebrate.”

“Um… guys…” Satoru turns then, as his co-star is covered, and he laughs a bit, rushing to grab soft wet wipes for her.

“I’m sorry, shit!” Him and Suguru carefully clean her up, and now her manager walks in, along with Satoru’s and Suguru’s, a freshly cleaned costar hugs the two of them.

“Thank you for letting me join, my OF is gonna blow up!” Satoru smiles then, while their managers all spread out the cut.

“Of course, you did great.” She beams, hugging Suguru now.

“Amazing, love.”

“You all are the best!” Soon it’s just Satoru and Suguru with their managers, and Satoru is yawning, bored, still not dressed, cock just swinging and still huge on semi hard, much to his manager’s annoyance.

“We have a big shoot tomorrow, don’t be out partying.” He says, avoiding Satoru’s cock in his vision so much Satoru laughs.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Satoru and Suguru absolutely listen…

Not.

They’re smoking a blunt right in the middle of a Hollywood party, lit off their asses, perhaps they partook in a little coke to celebrate, but who’s to say, just a residue of white in their nostrils to really know. They’re surrounded by women, free drinks all over of the highest quality, to celebrate breaking the bank with the star they shot with, why should they turn it down?

Satoru Gojo loves his life, really.

It feels good, it’s always busy, full of pretty women and an insane amount of money and fame, shit he loves to read comments on himself, but he wouldn’t admit it, about how badly everyone wants him. And why wouldn’t they? Satoru finds himself attractive as fuck, first and foremost. But at times, alone in that penthouse when Suguru would leave for days at a time…

Sometimes he got a little lonely, if he was being honest. Hollywood was full of fake and fleeting friends, and even costars wanted his fame, his cock, his money, not really him. But that was something Satoru shoves far, far back, instead returning his mind to the party at hand, a sea of bodies in a huge mansion right on the coast, littered with entangled and dancing bodies.

It all seems perfect, until Satoru sees someone walk in, a pretty girl who just doesn’t fit in, she just sticks out, nervously clutching a teddy bear cased phone, pushing up her tortoiseshell glasses. As Satoru leans forward, and Suguru hands him a blunt, he can’t get his fucking gaze of the girl, her baggie tan sweater, white pleated skirt and converse.

She stands out completely from the half naked women, many blondes with fake bodies, fake asses, fake tits… not that Satoru minded, he loves all tits and asses, silicon or not. But you look natural, your lips don’t have all that filler, the lips you’re biting, but when your teeth release them, they’re still full and fucking gorgeous, just a bit glossy, the low soft lights glinting off them.

The music of the party fades, everything fades, it’s like some stupid nineties rom com where the room parts, and it’s just this girl. A sweet girl with her hair falling over one shoulder, the other bare, and if Satoru could pick a body part that’s oddly turning him on, it’s your bare shoulder, your collarbones, with a pretty necklace that looks like it must be your zodiac sign.

Someone comes up to you then, handing you a glass of champagne, and he watches you shift a bit, looking down shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes traveling up and down your body, dying to know what your outfit is hiding. Your eyes catch his suddenly, a sweet, shy smile that just fucks him up, it’s like you’ve punched him in the fucking chest.

“Satoru… Satoru… earth to fucking Satoru… M’gonna smoke all this blunt myself, then-” Satoru finally realizes Suguru is calling for him, when he waves a hand in front of Satoru’s face, ruining his field of vision. 

“Who is she?” Satoru and Suguru know most of the industry, sex workers and actors alike, and he sure the fuck has never seen you. Suguru eyes you then, his lips quirking up as you look down shyly once more, poking at your phone.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty though.” Satoru scowls, and Suguru leans back on the crushed velvet couch, purple as his eyes, handing Satoru the much smaller blunt than he previously saw.

How long had he been staring?

“Looks like a good girl, don’t corrupt her.” Satoru glares deeper, blue eyes glinting as he snatches up the blunt, wrapping his lips around the tip and inhaling that smoke deep in his lungs, leaning back and blowing the smoke up in a puffy cloud.

“Just curious, looks like she doesn’t belong here.” Suguru shrugs, taking the brown paper tube back, ashing it in a tray along a dark black table, humming a bit to himself.

“We don’t date.”

“And?”

“She doesn’t… she looks like… she dates.”

“Huh, you can tell that?” Satoru raises a thin brow, and Suguru sighs, smirking a bit.

“I know lots of things.”

“Yeah, whatever… I’m talking to her.” Satoru stands up now, brushing his hands down his white dress shirt a bit, taking a breath.

Fuck is he nervous!?

Satoru Gojo, who strokes his dick on the camera, who grins as people comment that they want it in their mouths, their cunts, fuck- their asses, all their holes - filled up with his white cum. Satoru Gojo who is the top .01% of anyone on his OF, who has pro roles in the highest quality porn there was, was not a shy or nervous man, especially with women.

Why are his hands sweating then? His blood rushing through his ears every step he takes closer to you, your eyes lower a bit, so shy and cute and fucking precious, he has to smile a bit at you, drink in his hand, his other in the pocket of his dark armani slacks. He casually leans over a bit, as your eyes meet his, behind dark shades, his grin bright and enigmatic.

“Hey sweetheart, Satoru Gojo.” He expects you to notice maybe, but you just smile, oblivious, holding out your hand, small in his huge grip, and Satoru has some insane urge to kiss it, that he gulps down.

The fuck is this.

This feeling just touching your skin, inhaling your scent, fuck you smell sweet like some cupcake, you have him intoxicated as his eyes dart to those lips, teeth indentations he feels an urge to run his thumb across. Your eyes look up from behind your own glasses, as the two of you just hold hands for a moment, just a moment, and Satoru can hardly describe just what it is drawing him like a magnet.

You give him your name, and he repeats it, making your own heart race just a bit at the tall stranger, when his blue eyes glint as he slides off his shades, snowy lashes lowering over beautiful blue irises, your breath is caught in your chest. Swirling blue storms unlike anything you’ve ever seen, so intense and beautiful it’s almost difficult to look right at.

“Are you new to the area? Or…” You giggle a bit, sipping on the bubbly champagne that tickles your nose just a bit.

“I look that out of place huh?”

“No, you’re cute. Very cute. Pretty.” He’s stuttering damn near, Satoru fucking Gojo, watching the flush that decorates your cheeks, as your lips touch the rim of the glass, and he can’t stop thinking how much he’d like to kiss those little bite marks away.

“Thank you, that’s sweet.”

“Sweet is not what I’m usually called.”

“Oh really? What are you usually called?”

“Daddy.” You nearly snort out your champagne then, covering your face in a fit of laughter, and he pouts now, swirling those shades casually.

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah. They all do, they can’t help it, you know.”

“Mmhmm.” You’re giggling so much you snort, so cute Satoru can’t help but laugh with you, the first genuine one he’s done in a minute, not so forced to always appear so carefree. “I snorted, oh no!”

“It’s cute.” He brushes your hair between two of his fingers, and the both of you pause now, taking a breath, your lids lower just a bit, stepping closer, like Satoru himself is pulling you with his gravity. “What brings you here?”

“My friend invited me! She said seven, so I came a little early… but she’s not even on her way.” You sigh then, and he smirks just a bit.

“LA time is different. Twenty minutes late is on time, and forty minutes late is ‘fashionable’. No one comes early.”

“Shit!” You smack yourself in the forehead, and he takes your hand once more, enveloping your little one in his own.

“I can keep you company, want another drink?”

“Um… sure.”

Soon the two of you are sitting on one of the many couches in the taupe and white decorated mansion, the splashing and screeching of people in the pool mixing in a cacophony with the people dancing and the music inside. Satoru’s enraptured as you begin to talk, soft and thoughtful, while sipping on another glass, his arm just a bit across from you, behind your neck, fingers brushing your soft cashmere.

Every time he does you heat up that much more, you haven’t been with someone you felt this comfortable with in… maybe, ever. The instant feeling that he’s a sweet guy, natural, funny, and you almost wonder why he’s wasting time on you, with all the elegant women in various states of undress. But his eyes don’t even leave yours, his beautiful azure depths.

You can’t be so interesting or beautiful, sure you are very pretty, but more soft and sweet and not the Hollywood babes that were all over. But he’s laughing right with you, he soon starts busting out purple and white fuzzy weed, breaking it up and starting to roll a blunt, and you’ve never thought about being a paper until you watch a wicked pink tongue dart across it, long fingers sealing it.

“What’s wrong, don’t smoke, sweets?” The nicknames make you shift nervously, he’s too charming, too handsome, fuck not even handsome…

Pretty.

He’s too pretty to be real.

“Are you an actor, or model?” You blurt out, you don’t have much… thought before your words. He blinks a bit in surprise, flipping that blunt to smoke it now, lighting it up, you watch the orange and red of the cherry as he inhales.

“Hmm, a bit of both.” He exhales the puff of smoke, leaning closer to you, so close his thigh brushes yours, just that alone has your tummy fluttering.

“What are you in? I’d love to see your work.” Satoru starts coughing now, uncontrollably, eyes wide, as you stare in concern, coming to tap on his back. “Are you okay!?”

“Shit… yeah…” He’s coughing more, covering his mouth before looking away a moment, taking a breath.

Satoru was not ashamed of what he does for a living, and he never fucking will be either, but suddenly he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, am I being nosy?”

“No, no… want a hit?” Clearly trying to avoid the question, you wonder… was he in some flop of a movie or something?

“I’ve never smoked.” You’re looking down again, those converse pointing in as you shift once more, so adorable he really can’t stand it.

“Never?” You shake your head, and he grins, teeth glinting as he leans even closer, holding the blunt up high, the smoke swirling around the two of you, creating an even headier atmosphere, like you could get high off him.

“No…”

“Let me be your first.”

“What now!? You’re teasing me!” You cross your arms as he bursts into laughter, taking another hit.

“You’re too adorable not to.” You can’t help how good that makes you feel, he makes you feel… reckless, this stranger. “I can blow it in your mouth?”

“Blow it in my…” You bite your lip again, Satoru leans forward, thumb releasing it from your row of teeth, and the action makes you both pause.

“You bite it too much.” He murmurs softly, and just touching your soft lips, thumb touching the plush of it, is hotter than cumming on a girl’s face this morning, in fact he’s not done something so sensual.

The man who last night was banging a co-star in a mating press, the night before he had two women, one on his face, one riding his cock. The other day, him and Suguru shared another girl, this time dual penetrating her, fuck they were both in her pussy- she clearly was miraculous to take it. This week alone he’d done six shoots, with the best Hollywood had to offer.

But this girl blushing, who’s never smoked a blunt, is so fucking sexy he barely holds back.

He’s leaking precum from your proximity.

“Will blowing in my mouth get me… um, high?” Your words shake him from his revelry, where he’s still touching your pretty little chin, making him clear his throat, plastering on a cocky smile like your scent alone doesn’t have him throbbing.

“A little, but not as intense as a hit yourself. Call it shotgun, you’ve really never heard of it?”

You shake your head, scooting closer and leaning forward, that tan and brown sweater falling just a little more over your shoulder, as your lips are too close. Any other girl by now Satoru would have on his OF, or have in a bedroom, a bathroom, maybe just here on this couch for everyone. He’d have his fingers on them, have them sucking him off.

But he’s just enjoying barely touching you.

Satoru shakes his head, wondering if he’s so high he’s imagining how intense this must be, but looking back down into your pretty eyes behind your glasses, he can’t shove it down. “Trust me?”

“Should I?” He wiggles his brows, grinning.

“Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe it’s a ploy to kiss you.” You’re giggling again, sighing now, and tilting your chin up, your hand resting on his thigh, while he cups your face.

“I doubt you need to ploy anyone into kissing them.”

“Never have before, no.”

“Then… I trust you.” You lean forward again, eyes fluttering shut, your lashes just barely brushing the glasses, and he pauses, before inhaling the blunt deep into his lungs, tilting your chin up and opening your lips.

“Suck in.” His words carry far too much intent, when he blows his smoke directly into your mouth, and you do just that, sucking in all the smoke you can, as he sighs into your sweet mouth, lips full and plush on your own.

Fuck.

Satoru blows all the smoke, and you’re sucking it in. “Good girl.”

Fuck.

You almost die then, coughing a bit, embarrassingly wet for him, and this is not normal. You’re a girl who has to have a relationship to have sex, you’re a girl who has to really know someone, feel so comfortable, but Satoru Gojo was completely wrecking you now. You let the smoke go, the fog rising, when he leans low once more, one hand pulling you closer.

“Another?” He asks in a whisper, you can’t stop but nodding, watching his plump lips circle that blunt again, and he’s blowing it back in your mouth, pulling you closer, while you inhale it deep. He pulls back a bit now, as you’re holding it, sighing. “Blow it back in my mouth.”

You do as he asks, and soon your tongues touch, sloppy and drippy wet, making you whine out from the back of your throat, the sound making Satoru fucking feral. You kiss fully, your hand slipping up his shirt now, lightheaded from the smoke and his ardent kiss, how he possesses your fucking mouth, and the blood rushes to your ears, your head so light and fuzzy.

“Fuck…” His words come out in a low growl, pulling you even closer, until one of your thighs is over his, and he’s pressing a kiss across your jaw, up to your ear, you’re gripping his soft, expensive shirt like your life depends on it, whimpering so softly only he can hear. “Taste so sweet, do you everywhere?”

“I… huh… I… mmm…” You’re dizzy when he nips your ear, a big hand brushing your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he pulls back, eyes so bright, his pupils shrunk to little pinpoints now. “Gojo…”

“Satoru.”

You’re blushing furiously, eyeing your surroundings, when you’re soaked now, it feels so… naughty but exciting, fuck. You have to gather yourself, taking several shaky breaths, as he’s leaning down further, your heat against one of his thighs now. “Satoru um… I need a moment. That was intense.”

“Shit, of course.” He pulls back, taking his own breath, putting out the blunt now, eyeing the glossy redness of your now swollen lips.

He can picture them so perfectly wrapped around the tip of his cock. So innocent, did you do that? Would he have to show you, direct you? The perfect angle of your eyes, the way to open your mouth, how to take him deep down that little throat, one he can imagine seeing his cock bulge out of. All the thoughts are running insane while you lean back a bit, hands loosening their grip on his shirt finally.

“Want a drink, sweets?” You nod now, your eyes are so dilated they look black, glasses just a little fogged from his breath and the smoke.

“Yes, please. You didn’t tell me um, what movies can I find you in?”

“Like looking at me?” He’s cocky, conceited, but you just nod a bit, making him falter now. “Indie films, low budget, obscure.”

“Oh? I love indie flicks!” He grimaces now, a girl who’s never smoked weed and screams inexperienced may not like him if she knew he cums on girls' tits and their faces for money.

He wants to just say it.

But…

“You’ve not heard of ‘em. Let’s get you a drink, hmm pretty?” You nod shyly, standing with his help, and soon the two of you have made it in the center of one of the main party rooms, there are women getting lines done off them, men with several women on them at once, all kissing, grinding, along with those dancing. And now Satoru has your hips in his grip, showing you how to roll them.

You’re not a dancer, a little awkward and off beat, but you’re laughing, a pretty peal of a sound that melts him, and he can’t remember the last time he has had so much fun, as he does working you in a figure eight, kissing your neck teasingly. You’re ticklish, he really notices when his fingertips graze your hips under your sweater, earning your little gasp and look up at him.

“Cute.”

“You keep saying that, like I’m a little kitten!”

“Maybe you are. Or a little bunny.”

“Oh!” You’re giggling though, when you turn and get just a little dizzy, but he captures you, and you finally say it. “Um… why talk to me?”

Satoru frowns now, thin brows together, as the song is slower, and you’re damn near grinding against his thigh, with how he holds you. “What do you mean why?”

“You’re so… there’s so many…”

“Shh.” He puts a fingertip to glossy lips, taking a breath. “I’m enjoying myself, are you sweetheart?”

“Yes but…”

“Want a secret?” You nod and he leans down, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re the prettiest girl here.”

“No way!”

“Mmhmm, and I’d know. Expert.” You tuck your face against his chest, giggling again, as your arms wrap his torso tighter.

“You’re being too nice.”

“No, just saying what I think. But your cheeks turn a really pretty color, don’t they?”

“Shh.” You look back up, eyes glittering, and it takes everything for Satoru not to take you then and there, lap up that heat he can feel emanating from your surely pretty little cunt. You peck a kiss on his neck, earning a little exhale, when Satoru pulls your little body even closer against his, so huge, tall, hard, everywhere. “Satoru…”

Suddenly your friend hits your field of vision, pausing and widening her pretty eyes as she takes in the sight of you two. You clear your throat, tapping Satoru then, whose hands are dangerously close to gripping your ass, your scent overtaking him, the feel of you in his arms driving him insane with need. He blinks a bit, as he then turns where you’re pointing.

“My friend!” You’re grinning then, and Satoru’s heart drops just a bit, when he recognizes her, since he’d been inside her just last week.

Shit.

“Come meet Satoru!” You’re bouncing practically as you drag Satoru by his hand, and your friend smiles just a bit, as Satoru clears his throat, and you’re adorable and oblivious.

“We’ve met.” You blink a bit in surprise at her words, looking at Satoru, who’s put back on his shades, hand that was on the small of your back falling.

“Oh, where? A movie set? She does some acting too!” Your best friend takes your hand then, as Satoru looks away.

“Yeah, a set. Um, can I steal you baby?” She asks, brushing your hair back, you nod with a pretty smile.

“I’ll be back!” Satoru smiles a bit, cursing softly, when Suguru comes walking up to him, sipping on a whiskey, eyeing the two girls.

“Didn’t you…”

“Fuck her friend? Yep.” He answers with a pop of his lips, hand brushing his hair back then, sighing. “Shit I really like her.”

“Like her or want her?”

“Both. More. Shit.” Suguru contemplates his friend, then eyes you and your friend together.

“Her friend is Jenna Juggs?”

Satoru’s lips quirk up a bit. “She is indeed. Fuck I need a drink, I am sure she won’t want to talk to me now.”

“Since when do you care?”

“Shut up.” Satoru’s all pouty, and you frown now, looking up at Jenna, who is tugging you far away.

“What’s going on? You always say I need to try to meet someone!”

“Yes, but…” She sighs now, looking over at him, then back down at you. “You really don’t recognize him?”

“He said he’s in like… indie films?” She snorts just a bit then, shaking her head and sighing.

“Indie films huh. Babe aren’t you on my OF?”

“To support you! I’ve never looked, oh god.” Jenna giggles, sighing.

“I thought you peeked a bit huh?”

“No. I read my porn.”

“So classy.” You both giggle, and you feel blue eyes boring across the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you look over your shoulder.

“I’m not any better than you because you like to watch or… participate. But anyway, what’s OF have to do with it?”

“We… collabed last week.” You watch her shift a bit, eyelashes lowering as she now giggles at the memory, and you feel your tummy clench just a bit, eyes catching Satoru’s again, he’s leaning against a counter, ignoring everyone that comes his way with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Collabed as in…” She nods a little, and you exhale. “Oh.”

“He’s a huge name, like the top porn star there is, him and his friend over there.” You see him now, long dark hair, as tall as Satoru, leaning against the counter right with him, but Satoru still hasn’t peeled his eyes off you. “It was a big deal to get him to join, and he’s really sweet but…”

“But?” You raise a brow now, and your friend brushes her hair back, looking in their direction again.

“He’s amazing in bed, like the best I’ve had.”

“Ah… that good?” You’re clearing your throat nervously, drinking your glass slowly, trying to ignore the odd feelings in your tummy.

Were you really envious right now?

You shouldn’t feel this way, she’s your best friend and you don’t even know him, but also you could never just…

Could you?

“He hasn’t dated a single girl in the eight years he’s done porn, him or his friend, notoriously single even for the industry.”

“Shit are they together?” She laughs a bit then.

“People certainly ship them but…”

“Ship, like characters, are they that famous?”

“Mmhmm. Now if you just want to have fun, he’s amazing but I know you.” She puts one of her hands on your shoulders now, cool thumb running little circles on your bare shoulder. “You’re sweet, innocent and you want love.”

“I’ve done things!”

“With how many people?”

You sigh now, drinking the rest of your drink in a gulp. “Just my ex.”

“That’s what I figured, and that’s fine baby, if you need a connection, or something deep? He’s not it. That’s all, I see how much fun you were having, and I don’t want you hurt if he gets… what he wants and goes. In this industry how you see sex is very different.”

“Ah. I get it, you think he just wants to…” You can’t even say it, fuck you’d been wet, ready, and you were never like that with a stranger, your experience as a demisexual just is limited, where you crave connection, comfort, and meaning behind sex, you can’t just ‘have fun’.

But he’d had you questioning it all, because you felt something in that kiss- was it just his experience?

“He’s walking sex, I can’t blame you one bit. And I support anything you do- shit I highly recommend it. But you…”

“Yeah no, I am not into hooking up. I’m glad you told me but… something about him…” You trail off then, swallowing nervously, as her hands come to your sides, and she hugs you closely.

“I know, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him, but you had to know.” She nibbles on a nail then, lashes lowering. “He gives mean backshots, if you go that route.”

“Jenna!” You’re both giggling, and the party goes on then, the two of you smiling and waving as you keep finding each other around the room, soon Jenna is good and sauced, and you know you need to make sure you both get home okay. But you can’t help but stop by Satoru before you go, nervously fidgeting with your hands in front of you.

“Hey sweets, heading out?” He asks softly, a hand coming to grip your wrist, swallowing it with his long fingers, you eye the connection, feeling yourself heat up at it, trying to remind yourself, it’s him ‘dripping sex’ it’s his job. Maybe he thinks you’re pretty enough not to fuck for a shoot, maybe he’d actually like to know you a bit, but her words hit hard.

“Satoru, do you date?” Your words make him pause. “Not me, just in general.”

“Do I date?” He blinks a bit, lips opening, then shutting. “She told you.”

“I would never judge, my best friend does it, if anything I’m envious that you all can just do that.” Your eyes are glimmering just a bit, now his hand slips up your wrist, thumb brushing the delicate veins there, sighing. “I just wanted to clarify that part.”

“I haven’t dated since like college, no.”

“And you’re…”

“Twenty eight.” You nod a bit now, calculating, a good eight years since he’s dated- since he’s been in the industry. “I was enjoying our time.”

“I was too, very much. Got me high you know.” He grins then, and you can’t help but smile back, heart racing in your chest - and you realize it, Jenna is right. What you’re feeling from one meeting could hurt you. “I’d still like to be friends?”

“Friends, hmm?” You nod as he leans down, his other hand pressing against the nip of your waist, pulling you against him, watching the catch of your breath, the dilation of your pupils. You’re biting that lower lip again, a little soft whine in the back of your throat escaping.

“I’d love to be. I really like you, Satoru.” He melts for you then, at your cute little smile, your hand slipping up his chest. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“So did I. Friends, then, I could use some.” He kisses your lips softly, a mere brush, that’s not what friends should feel from a little kiss, right? That ache between your thighs, your pulse racing, as he can’t stop thinking how good you feel in his arms, thinking he’d like you to stay.

“Me too, maybe you’ll make me a stoner, hmm?”

He laughs then, genuine and charming. It’s hard to think of him ‘giving Jenna backshots’ a mix of sweet and charming, you try to remember just that. “So she didn’t have a bad review for me?”

“Quite the opposite, you’re apparently the best in the industry.” The softness and break in your voice makes him pause, usually he’d be cocky about hearing that, but he doesn’t know just how that makes him feel. “I haven’t watched your kind of work, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t think so. Too obscure.”

“Clearly.” You both laugh softly again, you are leaning back now, taking a breath, trying to remember yourself, but it’s hard when all you can think of is his lips.

“Can I have your number?” Satoru Gojo has never asked for a girl’s number, but he damn near gets giddy when you nod, slipping out your phone, giving it to him then, which he saves under your name.

“I don’t do casual, I’ve never even kissed someone I’m not serious about. Um… but I really had fun.”

That innocent?

He figured close to it but…

“Did I corrupt you so much in one night?”

“Maybe so. I have to get my friend home safe, so I will talk to you sometime?”

“Any time.” He brushes your hair back again, kissing your cheek once more, your eyes shut at how good it feels, sighing.

When you’re gone, Satoru does not like the feeling left.

The rest of the party is dimmed now, he can’t stop thinking about you, about watching you inhale that smoke, about watching your cute, shy little fucking smile, but why would you like him, he fucked your best friend last week. And you’re clearly a good girl, a sweet girl, and that’s what he would do - corrupt you.

But the thoughts of corrupting you start taking over, so intense he can hardly stand it, imagining teaching you everything. How to arch your ass up just right for him, have you cum so hard you’d squirt and drip down his cock, fuck he’d love to watch your eyes roll back in your head, as he hits spots he’s sure no one ever has, cumming so hard you cry pretty tears.

It’s so ridiculous he’s throbbing, and as some of his co-stars come and flirt with him, he can barely give them a little smile, a playful wink, turning down the endless opportunities tonight with one excuse- ‘he’s tired’ - is about all he can come up with. Because what is this!?

What’s the feeling that night when you’re laying in your bed, scrolling through your friend’s OF for the first time, heating up as you scroll, you’ve seen her naked a ton, you’ve taken her pictures, but when you see her bent over, and that sexy white haired man wrapping an arm around her waist? His other hand, wrapped around her throat, and her eyes rolled back?

The scene alone without clicking play is too much, you’re trembling, imagining pressing play, hesitating. You barely know him, but something clicked tonight, you had fun for the first time in forever, but to know that you maybe already developed a crush on someone unattainable seems a cruel joke.

Hopelessly single because you’re so picky, because a lot of time your interests don’t align - how could you like someone who doesn’t think Lord of the Rings is a classic, for example - or if you’re not feeling something. Your friends think you put too much into it, they think you should let go and have fun, and maybe you did, tonight, but that was because of him.

You keep furiously flushing as you go back and forth, thumb hovering over the screen, Jenna wouldn’t care if you saw, and maybe Satoru wouldn’t, but something feels so different to you, so naughty, like inhaling smoke from his mouth tonight. You keep shutting the phone off, then turning it back on, when suddenly you get a text from him.

Satoru - Hope you got home safe, sweets.

He’s sweet, he’s thoughtful, he’s fucking gorgeous and…

He would never date.

It’s a really mean joke someone’s playing on you.

You - Thank you, I did! I hope you did too.

You can’t look at the video! Can you?

Satoru’s laid up in his bed, picturing you, god he can taste your lips on his still, swiping a hand over his face as you send some little emoji, far, far too cute, so cute you make him ache. He wonders then just what is it about you, surely you’re beautiful, but it can’t just be that.

He can’t get you off his mind.

You can’t stop yourself from pressing play.

Your breath catches when you finally do, and you see it, him fucking Jenna, looking right at the fucking camera, a smirk and blue eyes, as he thrusts up inside of her. You don’t enjoy porn, it’s not intimate enough for you- but looking at him makes your cunt throb, you touch it to find it hopelessly drenched, watching him manhandle and flip her like she’s nothing, right on her back.

You watch him put your best fucking friend in a mating press, watch him smack his cock against her tummy, pulling his condom off, cumming on her then. When you get a good look at his pretty pink tip, veiny long cock and ropes of fucking cum, you mindlessly touch your cunt, soaking your sleep shorts, crying out before you catch yourself, cursing.

You shut it off, huffing and yanking the blankets over your face.

It must be… the drinks, the smoke, him, making you act this way. A good book with meaning, a perfect man in your head, that’s what you want, what you need, right? Not whatever he was doing to your mentality, fuck it’s your friend too, how could you ever get wet to that?

“Fuck this.” You grumble, swiping away from your friend’s OF, but the image is firmly burned into your mind, of Satoru moaning with his lips parted, jerking his cock along her in pretty patterns. You pull up your book instead, filling your mind with anything and everything else, when another text pops up.

Satoru - Good night, sweetheart.

You just watched him cum, now you feel horrible, ugh! What is up with you tonight!? He’s probably being friendly and you’re over here touching your sensitive little clit watching him. You struggle to compose yourself, finally having to go wipe up, splashing yourself with cold water in your little bathroom, you dry your hands on a towel, looking at yourself in the mirror for a moment.

You look fucked up.

You finally text him back.

You - Good night, Satoru, sweet dreams.

Satoru can’t stop the dopey smile on his face, cock annoying and throbbing, and instead of letting it get taken care of, he’d just focused on how badly he wanted you, how much he can’t get you off his mind. Fuck just your shampoo and whatever heavenly fucking body spray spritzed on you made him harder to remember, how pretty you’d look in his bed, under him.

‘Friends’, you’d like to be ‘friends’.

Satoru doesn’t think anything in his mind was friend appropriate currently, not when he’s stroking himself, crying out and picturing just peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses, biting you, marking you. Leaving bruises along a perfect neck while you grip his hair, crying out, head falling back. Having your heat he could still feel on his fingers.

As you’re struggling to calm down, Satoru’s giving up, jerking off for the first time maybe in forever alone, sure he does for videos, but he doesn’t have to make himself cum often when everyone was lining up to suck him. But instead he’s stroking a famous cock thinking of a sweet girl with a brown sweater that falls just so, hiding a body he’s dying to know.

As you’re finally asleep, mind racing, he’s cumming ropes into his palm, picturing much better places for this cum- like inside your sweet little cunt - and that’s one thing Satoru Gojo does not do. Trying to come down himself, cleaning up, he looks in the mirror, seeing the pink of his own cheeks, shaking his head then.

He looks fucked up off you.

*****

While you are at work that next monday, sitting at your desk typing away, Satoru Gojo has an entirely different sort of work to accomplish, this time with his costar Sukuna, who he frequently worked with, and the two of them either popped off on each other or competed for who could make the girl squirt the most. Sukuna was currently lapping at the co-star’s cunt with his pierced tongue.

She’s she’s bent over sucking Satoru’s cock with expert suction, and he should be loving it, he’s worked with her before and she is a sweetheart and highly fucking skilled, and this shoot pays extremely well. A win win, even with Sukuna running it, currently at least his mouth was occupied. The director zooms right in, maybe that’s what’s bothering him, the cameras, the bright lighting.

Satoru’s cock is not staying hard, even as she’s choking back moans with the pink haired munch of a man going so intense, her nails gripping Satoru’s thighs so tightly, pressing in. He tries to focus on how it feels, shutting his eyes, but all he can think of is you.

Your lips.

Your eyes.

Those glasses on the bridge of your nose.

How you shift your fucking thighs, heated from desire.

God, he can’t stop thinking of you, what if you saw him on a video? Would it make your surely pretty pussy wet? He’s suddenly hard fully once more, grabbing his co-star’s hair and shoving his cock so deep she’s choking, gasping, but he can’t manage to open those eyes until the director says something then.

“Gojo, the eyes- look at the camera.” He sighs now, they were part of his money, the eyes that no one had, the ones that entranced so many, he manages to open them, eyeing the camera, but instead of his usual smirk there is a pout, and his co-star pulls back, frowning just a bit, as Sukuna pulls away from her cunt, tattooed face glistening.

Amongst the most famous pornstars, Sukuna rivaled Satoru- the alternative, rougher version perhaps to the pretty boy, he slips two fingers in her cunt, and she moans, as he eyes Satoru. “Who’s fucking her first?”

“Me, of course.” Sukuna chuckles, her cunt is so loud it’s squishing and clicking, much to the delight of the director, and Satoru has her on top of him then, as Sukuna guides her onto his cock, slapping her ass loudly. Satoru struggles, gulping as she sinks on him over his condom.

It feels warm and good but…

He can’t even look at her.

She’s bouncing up and down him while Sukuna plays with her from the back, and Satoru forgets he’s even on a set, lips parted in a sigh as he looks away, and realizes he’s gone soft again. “Is something wrong?” She asks softly, he shakes his head now, gripping her hips.

“No, no it’s fine, wanna ride him for me?” She nods, and Satoru then helps her ride Sukuna’s cock, as he kisses down her shoulder, shutting his eyes once more, trying to hide how soft he is and failing.

“Cut.” The director calls, Satoru sighs, as Sukuna moans, yanking her down his length, and her head falls back. “I said cut.”

“We can fuck while we’re waiting for him to get on board.” Sukuna grins up at her as she giggles, and Satoru glares. “Go get a viagra.”

“I don’t need one, fuck it’s just… the lights.”

“Need a break Gojo?” His director asks, and he manages a nod. “Go ahead to the dressing room, we’ll… make sure they are ready to go when you come back.”

“She’ll be fucked out before you get it up.”

“Whatever Sukuna, fuck you.” Sukuna snorts in laughter, Satoru stomps over to the dressing room, cursing then and resting his head against that door, taking several breaths and scowling at his cock. “Work, shit…”

What is this!?

A pretty girl at a party shouldn’t ruin his whole cock, ruin his enjoyment, cloud his goddamn mind, a girl who’s a - friend - what’s his problem!? He’s sitting down on the couch then over a towel, still literally naked, stroking it, once, twice, three times. Nothing helps, the condom hanging just so off his cock, when he grimaces, pulling it off and tossing it in the trash, pulling out his phone, and he pauses at your name.

Satoru - Hey sweets, I don’t have a pic for your caller ID, could you send one?

He tenses as he sees you immediately typing, cock twitching right back to life from three stupid dots wiggling. He bets you’re biting that lip.

You are.

You’re nervous as you look around your quiet workplace, you’re a graphic designer and it’s a little late, so you’re nearly alone, finishing a project, when you see he wrote to you. The man you have not looked back up, but it’s taken every bit of self control not to watch his content, and boy does he have so much, up to and including his own asmr.

That’s dangerous.

He’s dangerous.

Because you could never just enjoy him for who he is, you would want more, fuck you already feel it, the odd sensation knowing he’s likely fucking someone constantly, picturing yourself wildly for a moment with him behind you. Surely you couldn’t be a co-star, you’d flip on camera, too shy, but you keep envisioning it regardless, him choking you as he sinks deep.

Stop that.

You turn in your big black chair, spinning it just a bit, seeing the beautiful soft lighting of the upcoming evening pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, deciding it’s good lighting. Your chest rises and falls with your nerves, you didn’t know how to be sexy in photos, but do you want to?

You do.

Fuck you do.

You’re leaning back and angling the phone just so, glasses off for a moment on your desk, since they’d been giving you a bit of a headache, throwing a peace sign and parting your lips, you don’t know exactly how to pose. You knew what art was, what beauty was, but a little clueless how to angle yourself like your friend Jenna has always been able to.

After peering through a few photos, brows drawn together in concentration, you send one his way, he’s viewed it and he instantly hearts it, making you exhale, relieved that maybe he thinks it’s cute enough. But little do you know, you have him full hard now, thumb brushing his leaky tip, making him whimper, picturing rubbing his cock right on those pretty lips of yours.

God you’re just in a blouse but he can see your nipples pressing from the material, begging for him to pluck them, suck them, and he can’t stand the longing, the need making his body ache. He curses softly, wiping a sticky thumb on his towel, trying to compose himself, he’s acting like some stupid lovesick boy, not the entire star he knows he is.

And your eyes, eyes he didn’t get a good enough look at, so fucking gorgeous, it’s hard to look away, but as he does, he notices more, your bitten lips, the gentle slope of your neck, the way you have little marks from the pads of your glasses on the sides of your pretty nose. God, all of you is delectable.

Satoru - Gorgeous, thank you. Saved.

You - Thank you, Satoru um, can I have one too?

He smirks now, because if he was good at anything - aside from making women cum - it was taking the perfect selfie. He’s lifting the camera high, showing far too much of his strong chest, his rippled, cut abdomen, down to those v cuts and his veins running just above his snowy white pubic hair. Not his cock, of course, but enough for you to get the idea.

He sends it with a smirk, and you open it with a gasp, eyeing a body you saw somewhat in the shoot, but nothing looks quite like what’s in front of you right now on your screen. He’s got his brilliant eyes bright and lidded, tousled white hair, lips parted just so, making your lips tingle at the memory. You touch them longingly as you study his body, glistening with sweat.

Fuck he’s sexy.

You shift in your office chair, sighing, putting back on your glasses for an even deeper inspection- and since when are you so turned on by looks? You’re into who someone is, of course looks are great, but to have your pussy clenching over a picture is insanity.

And for Satoru to have a raging hard cock over a selfie is batshit insane, but here the two of you are, you saving an obscenely sexual photo, and him saving a demure little picture, both smiling at them. But then you frown a bit, taking in the couch, the lighting, realizing it then.

You - Are you on a shoot?

Satoru - Yes.

Why does that make you feel just a little envious of whoever gets to kiss and touch on him?

Why does it make you a little jealous of who gets him on them, his plump lips on their skin?

You shake it off, smiling tremulously as your hands shake, typing a 

I know you’ll kill it, have fun! Got the pic saved thanks. <3

Satoru leans his head back again, before looking at your photo once more, rushing out before his cock decides not to work again, slipping on another condom. When he’s gripping her hips and smiling at the camera as he does, however, he doesn’t know if he can keep it up, luckily he’s so huge she barely notices, while she’s gushing down his latex covered cock.

He’s encouraging her, pressing his thumb against her clit, while she’s sucking on Sukuna, and he tries to remember how amazing his life is, and focus, surely this is something that will pass. Some infatuation, and he’ll get back to normal in no time, he’s sure of it.

Right?

******

Wrong.

After a string of highly unsuccessful shoots that Satoru’s had to push off on Suguru and Sukuna, he’s decided the only hope for it is to give in and jerk his cock to your pictures. That week you’ve sent others, all cute and innocent, but how do you manage to make him so obsessed? Every pretty inch of skin you show he’d litter with bruises.

Not that there was much skin shown, the plush of your thighs over cute knitted knee high socks, and god you’re as hot with your glasses as you were without, he couldn’t figure out what he liked more. Your shoulders are just a little bare, begging for his teeth to sink into them, since when he is so turned on by hints of skin than soaking wet costars?

The first time he jerks it, he cums so much he knows the best solution, to focus on his solo career, at least until whatever the fuck this is - this obsession - could pass. He’s making bank as he does them, actually, and he can’t help but grin as he’s become the top onlyfans creator, stroking his cock for so many of his fans, all while he can prop his phone up and look at what new selfie you’ve sent.

“Hah- I know, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” He’s winking right at that camera, stroking faster and faster, spitting down on his tip, spreading it with a lewd squishing sound as the comments go insane.

Satoru cum for us!

It’s so pretty

Want a taste

Want it in me

What a win-win, making bank for stroking it to you, all while getting his ego filled by all the comments, he’s stroking his ego with his length, smirking as his free hand uses the mouse to scroll down. “Ah, I know, it’s huge, is it sensitive, mmm… a little bit if I do this.”

He’s twisting just so, eliciting a little cry, when he sees a name pop up, pausing his movements- and you’re staring right at Satoru Gojo’s live stream, heart hammering, worried he’d notice you. His little look of shock confirms it, as his hand finally slides back down his shaft, and your eyes follow the movement, so hungry for him you can’t stand it.

When Jenna teased Satoru had a live stream - she clearly knows now that you are infatuated with him, god he’s all you can think about, daydreaming at work, in your sleep he’s kissing you everywhere with those plump lips. You couldn’t help but talk to Jenna about him again, and she sighed, smiling at you.

“You never know, people change, maybe you two should at least hang out?” You’d repeated it softly, shaking your head. “No?”

“Why would he want to?”

“Well, I heard he’s had no shoots for a bit, and is doing solo things, maybe you could peek?”

You can’t believe you’re on Satoru Gojo’s onlyfans live.

You can’t believe you fucking subscribed to him, too.

And now it’s like he’s looking right fucking at you.

Shit.

He begins stroking his cock once more, murmuring - “I see a new subscriber here, like what you see?”

He’s so pretentious.

But…

You do love it, his veiny cock, which leaks precum on his flat belly button over tense abs, pale thighs spread, muscled and perfect, god all of him was. But something was a little more than just his looks, which sounds insane, but it wasn’t those looks that made you - fuck, lowkey obsessed!?- with him, it was so much more. His eyes elicit far, far too many feelings.

You take a breath for courage, before leaving a comment.

Do you taste sweet everywhere?

Your comment sends him as he reads it, blinking snowy lashes and pausing, while on the other side you’re covering your mouth, panicking- did you really just say that, shit!? You’re taking several breaths, hand on your mouse, ready to leave the chat, as the comments pop off, going insane, asking the question over and over, but Satoru strokes his pretty cock ever so slowly, leaning forward.

He cums when he starts picturing your cute little embarrassed face, he can’t stop himself, knowing you’re watching has him so sensitive, he’s cumming so much it feels so fucking good. His moans are low and gutteral as his cum starts pouring over his slick fist, and you’re watching avidly, breath caught in your chest, heart fucking hammering, so wet it’s dripping through your panties.

You’re on the edge of your seat when he finally opens those blue eyes, to the endless tips pouring in for him, but he’s thinking of just one viewer-

You.

“Do I taste sweet everywhere?” He’s murmuring your name- you’re so dumb to have it as your real name, shit- but the way he chuckles, his eyes going insane as he lifts his hand off his cock then? “Let’s see.”

He’s bringing a white, sticky coated finger to his mouth now, sucking his own milky seed off them, cheeks hollowing as he does, and you can’t help the soft whine that escapes, grinding against your seat, desperate for some fucking friction. He’s insane, surely, you’ve never even thought of it, a man sucking his cum up, it’s so sexy and just obscene it fucks you mentally.

Just who is this freaky ass porn star!?

He’s chuckling now, like he can somehow see your damn reaction from behind the screen, it’s like it’s just you and him, and not a fucking stream full of people, as the tips go insane. The comments are going so quickly he can’t keep up with them, grinning as he sucks more of his cum off another thick, long finger you’d love buried inside of you.

“Hmm, I do taste sweet.” He watches as you tip hundreds, smirking before you log completely off.

He pauses now, you’d had him so fucked up he went full out, he wonders if he’s scared your innocent ass off, sighing now, ending the stream with a laugh and a friendly little good bye, as he always does. He has made so much money it’s stupid, and surely you encouraging his little stunt helped, but now he can’t help but call you after he’s cleaned up the mess you’ve made of him.

You watch the phone vibrate and ring, jumping damn near, covering your hands with your mouth as you see his name, with his half naked fucking picture. Shit, shit, shit…

You slowly pick it up, eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what- did you like the show?” His voice is so arrogant and cocky, but you hear it then, the vulnerability under his layers. “I liked that you joined.”

“You did?” Your voice is practically a squeak, he chuckles a bit, laying back on his bed now, phone against his face.

“I did. Now, what did you think?”

“You’re… really… this is embarrassing!”

“It’s not, I promise. I’m flattered.” You sigh now, leaning back in your seat, wishing the air overhead would cool your overheated skin. “Answer me, be a good girl.”

“Satoru, god.” He’s chuckling, but your nipples are pressing out, taut and needy, cunt gushing so much it’s embarrassing. “I liked it but I never do these things.”

“Then I’m more flattered. I’m taking all your firsts.”

“Stop it, you're so ridiculous.” You’re laughing with him then, softly, shaking your head. “How’d you notice me with all those fans?”

“You certainly stand out.” His husky admittal makes you feel far too much, and the next thing out of your mouth makes you question everything.

“Satoru this is stupid and reckless-”

“Perfect, sounds fun!”

“Hush.” You sigh as he grows quiet, words stuck in his throat, how he’d do anything just to see how you taste. “I watched some of you with Jenna.”

He pauses, heart hammering. “Shit, yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re really good at it, um, pleasing.”

“I love to have a pussy drooling on my fingers,” he’s murmuring so fucking soft now, you’re struggling to compose yourself. “My mouth, my cock, fuck my whole face soaked, I love it.”

“Oh?”

He’s chuckling again. “Oh. Cute.”

“Shh. Give me a moment, what if you showed me some things? Off camera, please, I could never-”

“Huh!? What!?” You’re panicking again, embarrassed as he can’t believe his fucking ears.

A chance with you?

Fuck.

“Sorry it’s so rude- that’s your job, and I know you don’t date, but I thought maybe since I feel so comfortable-”

“You feel comfortable with me?” His words are softer now, your eyes shut, sucking in a breath.

“Very. Oddly comfortable, and well I’ve only been with one person, I am sitting here waiting for some romance book love I guess? It’s stupid.”

“Why’s it stupid?” He frowns as he leans his head against his mirror now, standing and trying to pull himself together, cock leaking already thinking of you in his bed.

“I don’t know if it’ll happen but, you’re so sweet and gorgeous and… I’m going on too much.”

“Just say what you want, sweetheart.”

“You to show me things.” You’re shutting your eyes again, waiting for the rejection, but he shocks you once more.

“Then I’ll send a car to get you.”

“Now!?”

“It’s LA, it’ll be thirty minutes at least, if you live where you said, over by that coffee shop on Main right?”

“You remember?”

Of course he does.

“You wanna learn, sweetheart? I’ll teach you anything.”

“Like, free?” He’s chuckling again, the sound so genuine it just makes the ache grow, you’re crazy for this, right?

“Yes free, you’re adorable. Okay then send your address and get ready. Eat something, drink something with electrolytes.”

“Wha-!?” He’s smirking as he eyes his shower, surely he has enough time to wash up for you first.

“Gonna need energy, sweetheart. Lots of it.”

When you’re standing there at the door of Satoru Gojo’s penthouse, and he leans down, his hand on the doorway, veins bulging from his bare arm, hair tousled and still damp, you know it then. When he brushes fingers across your damp hair, bringing it to his nostrils and inhaling your scent, you know it more. But especially when he tilts your chin up, and murmurs - come in.

He’s going to hurt you, but you’ll enjoy the pain.

Ahhh I can't believe all the love the hcs got, like that blew me away, I SO hope you love this, and will enjoy where these two go! I always say - oh this will be four parts- but they always go longer so lol. I hope you all enjoyy I'm so excited to hear what you think! Taglist is closed bc it's so long I'm sorryyy

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

pregnancy hormones don't stand a chance around your husband, nanami

"hope that books not more interesting than me," you whisper, propped against the open bedroom door, dressed in nothing but a lacey babydoll lingerie set. your four-month pregnant belly peeks through the lace delicately, and your features are on fire.

kento gives you a little peek. "was wondering what took you so long." he's replying, flicking his book to the next page. you're standing, pouting in his presence.

"hello? i'm horny."

"and you do look very tantalizing in that outfit."

"so come take it off."

he gives you another look, this time lowering the leather-bound book enough to see his face. you pose, crossing your knees and jutting out your hip. you can feel those dark hazels fall over your jutting breasts, then to your widening hips, and finally to your swollen, pregnant belly. his little girl's home.

so, he sits up straight, shoving his book to the side table and ushering you over. "come on, love."

"needy girl..." kento is whispering against the back of your shoulder, pressing kisses there and letting them linger. you're hovering over his lap in reverse cowgirl, tongue pushed from your lips as you focus on staying steady.

"let me have it." you slur, cunt milking obsecnely over his bare lap. he's got a thick fist tight around his erection, making sure you're stable and comfortable before he lets you take him.

"i want you to, but i don't want you to hurt yourself... how about I be on top?"

"—no." you insist, shaking your head violently. he won't let the grip he has on your thighs loose, so all you can taste is the bulbous tip of his familiar, blushing cock.

"why do you insist on being so bratty?"

"I don't want to bottom, baby slides up and into my ribcage and ugh.." you're shivering, and if it wasn't for the abnormal influx of hormones, you'd be turned off just thinking about the pain.

the baby kento pressed into you all those months ago, was an active little girl. she kicked the hell out of you whenever you slept on your back, leading to long nights with little sleep. kento knows this, so why he's telling you to just lie there and take it, is lost on you.

though he's stubborn at times, kento is largely well-trained by you, so he lets you take him like this. his grip starts to loosen, and you can finally feel the stagnancy of his cock start to peek through your sticky folds and into you.

filled to the brim with need, you shiver instantaneously. "oh, please, pleaseplease. all the way—mmgh!!"

he's chuckling behind you—actually breathing a stupid laugh from his nose at your blatancy. "you're shaking already?"

to answer him —you're cumming, and it's a release you've never felt before. his fingers are pressing into your belly, keeping you strong and at his mercy as you cream helplessly all over him. your thighs are shaking, eyes rolling back into your skull as you cry and whine.

it feels like every single one of your nerve endings is being fanned and flamed, driving you absolutely apeshit like you've never been touched a day in your life.

"oh, baby... love."

"sh-shut up."

"that feel good?"

"keep—just keep going." you're begging, drool dripping from your lips as his cock massages that sticky, spongy bunch of nerves at an angle only his cock could hit. he's circling his hips under you, tongue tracing licks across your neck.

your pretty lace panties are ripped and disregarded as the night goes on, and your teddy is busting at the seams, sticking to sweat and dipping off your shoulders. kento's big hand reaches to cradle your swollen breasts, growling in your ear as he fucks you just right... so perfectly and deep that you can feel the slick cervix kisses every time he bottoms out.

you're crazy, and fucked off of five orgasms that night.

thank god for pregnancy hormones—thank god for your husband and all his raw talent. sure, he'll bicker softly just to ignite your needy fires, then he'd give you what you want, exactly how you want, until you're sick with it.

what a thoughtful husband.

STUCK WITH YOU - GOJO SATORU

summary. Gojo Satoru—strongest, cockiest, and, according to him, the hottest man alive—bows to no one. Until you came along and suddenly, he’s on his knees.

word count. 10.6k (i..dont know)

content. mdni fem! reader, zombie apocalypse au, violence, blood, pet names, satoru is a certified tease, cute banter because we love that here, they're so down bad for each other, smut, oral (fem rec.), p in v, loss of virginity (reader), breeding, creampie, soft satoru <3

author's note. i miss my man

The sky had been burning when the world ended.

You were fifteen—just a kid with scraped knees and a heart too big for the horrors it was about to witness. 

Sirens wailed through the streets, helicopters thundered above, and the sharp stench of smoke and decay clung to the air like death itself. One moment, your parents were urging you to run, voices trembling with fear. The next, everything shattered. A scream. Blood. The gurgled breath of something that wasn’t quite human anymore.

You had survived. Somehow. Alone.

But the cost of survival was everything.

-

The woods are silent, save for the crunch of your boots over frostbitten leaves. The moon hangs high above, pale and cold, casting everything in an unforgiving glow. You keep your knife gripped tight in one hand, the other cradling your growling stomach. It’s been three days since you last found anything remotely edible.

Every snap of a branch, every whisper of wind feels like a threat. Years alone have trained you to expect the worst.

Then you pause.

Smoke. Just a wisp of it in the air. You sniff again, slower this time. It's faint, but definitely there.

You move like a shadow, quiet and cautious, weaving through trees toward the scent. And then you see it:

A flickering campfire nestled in a hollow clearing, throwing gold and orange light onto the figures beside it. Two men. Asleep—at least, you hope they are. One is lying flat on the ground, the other propped against a log, limbs long and sprawled, a blindfold covering his eyes.

There’s food by the fire. Real food. Bread. Cans. Water.

You inch closer, heart hammering. It’s been years since you’ve seen other people. You don’t know if that makes this moment safer… or far more dangerous.

You creep into the circle of warmth, fingers itching toward the supplies. Just one thing. That’s all you need.

You barely breathe as you crouch beside the campfire, the heat brushing against your frozen skin like a long-forgotten comfort. Your fingers tremble as you reach for a loaf of bread—real bread—but just as your hand closes around it, your boot nudges something metallic.

CLANG.

The tin can hits the ground, and for a moment, silence swallows everything.

Then—movement.

You whip your head toward the two figures by the fire. One shoots upright in an instant, long-limbed and alarmingly fast. The other groans awake, slower, disoriented. You don’t even have time to run.

"Don't move," the taller one says—voice low, commanding. You meet his gaze and—holy hell.

Snow-white hair, cerulean eyes. He stands like someone who’s fought the world and won. His blindfold hangs around his neck, exposing everything. It's him—the one with the voice that makes your skin prickle and a face that doesn’t belong in this nightmare world.

"Well, well," he drawls, taking a step forward. "And here I thought we were the only pretty faces left."

You swallow, frozen. His companion grabs a weapon, steps forward too, more cautious.

"Who are you?" the second man demands.

The white-haired man’s eyes never leave yours. He smirks.

"She’s hungry. Look at her. Poor thing."

You clench your fists. You’ve survived too long to be pitied.

"Touch me and I swear to god—"

The man raises his hands, mockingly innocent.

"Easy, sweetheart. No one’s touching you… unless you want us to."

You scrunch up your face, disgusted and his grin widens just a little.

You lift your knife. “I don’t want trouble. I just need food.”

“I’d say knocking over our supplies in the middle of the night is kinda trouble,” the dark-haired one says. His hair is tied back, strands falling loose around his face, his grip on his weapon steady. “Who are you?”

You swallow thickly. It’s been so long since anyone’s asked you that. Your voice is hoarse. “Just someone trying to survive.”

The white-haired one takes a lazy step forward, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Chill, Suguru. She’s not here to kill us,” he says, and then turns back to you. “You got a name, mystery girl?”

You eye him warily. “…Why do you care?”

He grins. “Because mine’s Gojo Satoru. And this grumpy one is Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell her our names, dumbass.”

But Gojo—Satoru, apparently—just shrugs, looking far too amused for someone who just woke up to a stranger trying to rob him.

Your fingers tighten on your knife. But something about him… those eyes… that voice…

“You really gonna stab the guy who might be your best chance at staying alive?” he asks, cocking his head. “Come sit. Eat. Or run. Up to you.”

Your stomach growls loudly.

Satoru grins wider. “That’s what I thought.”

You slowly lower your knife, but don’t put it away—not yet. Your eyes stay locked on them as you inch closer to the fire. The warmth should be a comfort, but your muscles are still taut, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Satoru sprawls back onto a log like he’s done this a hundred times. He’s still smiling—lazy, smug, like he’s enjoying this little show. Suguru doesn’t relax. He stays seated, but his eyes follow your every move, knife still held tight in his hand.

You kneel beside the fire, close enough to reach the food, far enough to lunge away if you need to. There’s a dented pot with some kind of stew, still warm, and a few pieces of bread wrapped in cloth.

“Help yourself,” Satoru says, waving a hand like he’s offering a royal feast. “We even warmed it up for you.”

You shoot him a glare but reach out cautiously, taking just a little. You sniff the stew first. Watch them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” Suguru says dryly.

“That’s what someone who poisoned it would say,” you mutter, tearing off a bite of bread.

Satoru snorts. “She’s got a mouth on her. I like her.”

You ignore that. Instead, you eat slowly, eyes flicking between them. They don’t move. Suguru keeps watch. Satoru lounges like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.

“How long have you two been out here?” you ask finally.

“Long enough,” Suguru says, tone clipped.

"Too long," Satoru says, tossing a pebble into the fire like this is just another lazy night for him. "We move around, but we've got a base. Old prison, about twenty miles from here. You?"

You don’t answer right away.

“Alone,” you say after a beat. “I’ve been alone.”

The fire crackles between you.

Suguru’s gaze softens—just for a second. But Satoru’s smile stays.

“Well,” he says, stretching out his long legs, “you’re not alone anymore.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not staying.”

“Didn’t say you had to.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But something tells me you might not leave either.”

He’s not threatening. He’s just… certain.

You’re crouched by the fire, still tense, still not entirely trusting, when Satoru leans back on his hands, head tilted.

“You should come with us,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You’ll be safer.”

Your eyes flick to Suguru—he doesn’t hide the way his jaw clenches.

“She could be a liability,” Suguru mutters. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” Satoru agrees, grinning at you. “But I like her.”

Suguru sighs, deep and disapproving, but you see it—that soft flicker in his eyes that means he’s already given in.

Satoru turns back to you. “We’re heading out at first light. If you’re in, pack whatever you’ve got.”

You nod, hesitant. But, maybe… maybe this is the start of something.

-

A gentle nudge to your shoulder. Then a voice, light and annoyingly cheerful.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Big day today.”

You blink awake to Satoru crouching beside you, white hair a wild halo against the rising sun. He grins.

“You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

“You do. It was cute.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”

“Because I’m charming,” he beams. “Now come on. We've got a long way to go—and Suguru’s already in a mood.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he wouldn’t be if you stopped talking.”

“Ohhh, savage!” he clutches his chest, stumbling back like you just stabbed him. “You wound me, stranger.”

You roll your eyes and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Not a stranger anymore, remember? You practically adopted me last night.”

Satoru grins, falling into step beside you. “True. You’re my problem now.”

“Joy,” you mutter, but your lips twitch despite yourself.

Suguru’s already waiting up ahead, arms crossed, brow arched like he’s already tired of this nonsense. “You two done flirting or should I keep walking?”

You open your mouth to protest, but Satoru gets there first.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Suguru.”

“I will leave you in the woods,” Suguru replies flatly.

“You’d miss me in an hour.”

“You wish.”

You stifle a laugh and glance between the two. “Are you always like this?”

Satoru flashes you a grin. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

-

The trek through the forest had been relatively quiet—birds rustled above, trees whispering overhead, and Satoru talking your ear off. But midway through the journey, something shifts.

Suguru’s head tilts first, eyes narrowing at the faint crunch in the distance. Not a squirrel. Not a rabbit.

You hear it next.

Low. Guttural.

A hiss.

Then another.

They come from the trees. Slow at first—one stumbles into view, then two, then more. Rotting limbs. Glazed-over eyes. That sickening gurgle of hunger.

“Aw, shit,” Satoru grins like it’s a party. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Suguru already has his blade drawn, calm as ever. “Don’t play around, Satoru.”

“No promises.” He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “Time to impress the new girl.”

The first zombie lunges—and Satoru moves. A blur of motion, too fast to follow. The undead’s head twists unnaturally before it even hits the ground.

Suguru moves more fluidly—clean, precise slashes. No theatrics. Just deadly efficiency. His blade slices through two more, not even a drop of blood on him.

But they just keep coming.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Adrenaline surges. You’d been careful to avoid confrontation all these years, but this is different. You're not alone anymore. And you won’t be dead weight.

You draw your blade—sharpened scrap metal turned makeshift machete—and steady your breath.

One charges. You duck, spin, and drive the blade clean through its skull. Another reaches for you. You kick it back hard, burying your weapon in its chest before pulling it free with a grunt.

Satoru whistles low. “Well damn.”

“Focus,” Suguru mutters, cutting another down.

You move together now, three separate forces of destruction.

Satoru’s grinning like a madman, whirling and laughing with every kill. “You seeing this? She’s got bite!”

Suguru flicks blood off his blade. “You could take a lesson from her.”

Zombies litter the ground within minutes. The forest falls silent again—except for your panting breaths.

Satoru walks over, brushing blood off his cheek. “Well, that was fun. You good?”

You nod, chest still heaving. “Peachy.”

“Okay, badass,” he says with a grin, then nudges your shoulder playfully. “I take it back. You’re not just some lost little stray. You’ve got some claws.”

Suguru simply gives you a once-over, silent approval in his gaze.

You sheath your blade. “Told you I could handle myself.”

Satoru grins wider. “Yeah, and it was hot.”

-

The journey's been long, your legs aching from the endless trek, your guard never once lowered—not even with Satoru’s ridiculous jokes or Suguru’s unnervingly sharp eyes on you.

But when the trees begin to thin and the rusted silhouette of a massive abandoned prison looms ahead—walls towering, fences lined with jagged barbed wire, and lookout towers standing tall like watchful sentinels—you feel something you haven't in years:

Hope.

Gojo stretches lazily, like the walk didn’t faze him at all. "Home sweet hellhole," he grins. "Bet you weren’t expecting this kind of palace."

Suguru doesn’t say much, just gestures for you to follow. The guards on the watchtower whistle low when they see the trio approaching, and the gates creak open. Inside, the prison yard is alive—people bustling, fires burning in steel barrels, children laughing (actual children), and survivors moving with purpose.

You're stunned. You didn’t think this kind of order still existed.

A kid runs up to Gojo. “Satoru! You’re back!”

“Obviously,” he winks, tossing his jacket at the kid. “Miss me?”

You stare, wide-eyed.

“You’re like… respected here?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Gojo deadpans. “Stick with me, newbie. I’ll show you the ropes. Maybe even let you survive.”

Suguru glances back, quiet for a moment. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s safe, but it’s not paradise.”

Gojo leans closer to you as you're led through the gates.

“Don’t worry. If anything tries to eat you—aside from me—I’ll kill it.”

Your face burns and he just smirks like he’s got you all figured out.

“Aww, don’t get all shy, now. Where’d all that bite from earlier go?” he teases, voice low and entirely too smug.

You shove him with a scowl, cheeks still flaming. “Shut up, lecher.”

He stumbles back with a dramatic gasp, hand clutching his chest. “Lecher? Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

Suguru sighs ahead of you. “Ignore him. He gets like this when he’s not punched often enough.”

Gojo just throws an arm around your shoulders, unbothered and still grinning. “Admit it, you missed human interaction.”

You glare up at him. “I missed silence.”

“Too bad,” he chirps, “you’re stuck with me now.”

You follow Gojo through the looming gates of the old prison turned fortress, the creak of rusted metal echoing off cold concrete walls. The place is… intimidating, but secure. High fences, makeshift watchtowers, guards with weapons patrolling like hawks. Survivors glance your way—curious, cautious—but no one approaches just yet.

“Well,” Gojo grins, throwing his arms out dramatically, “welcome to paradise, sweetheart.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can answer, a voice calls out.

“Don’t call new recruits that, Gojo.”

A tall woman leans against the infirmary doorway, cigarette dangling between her fingers, lab coat stained with faded blood. She looks you up and down, then flicks ash to the ground with a sigh.

“Ieiri Shoko. I’m the doctor over here,” she says. “You look like hell.”

“…Thanks?”

“She means ‘you’ll fit right in,’” Gojo says brightly, nudging your shoulder. “She’s got a warm heart under all that… nicotine.”

Before you can respond, another figure approaches—sharp, calculating, blond hair swept neatly back and a stern face that reads no nonsense allowed.

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself. “I hope you know how to follow rules.”

You stiffen slightly. “Depends on the rules.”

Gojo chuckles. “Play nice, Nanamin. She’s new.”

“And she’ll stay alive longer if she learns structure.”

You barely have time to absorb that before someone barrels into the conversation like a human golden retriever.

“Gojo-sensei! You’re back!”

A pink-haired young man skids to a stop beside you, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa—new person?! Hi! I’m Itadori Yuji!”

You blink, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of energy.

“Yuji,” Gojo sighs fondly. “Tone it down a little, yeah? She’s been through it.”

Yuji’s smile softens. “Right, sorry. Still—welcome. You hungry? We’ve got canned peaches! They’re not that bad if you hold your breath.”

A scoff cuts through the chaos.

“That’s how you welcome someone? ‘Peaches if you hold your breath’?”

You turn to see a girl with sharp eyes, short auburn hair, and a confident stance stroll up like she owns the place.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” she says, hand on her hip. “Don’t let the dumb smiles fool you—Yuji’s annoying, but he’s not dangerous. Usually.”

Yuji pouts. “Rude.”

And last, from the shadows near the barracks, a low voice.

“Don’t overwhelm her.”

A tall boy steps forward, dark hair, brooding expression. Cold eyes meet yours briefly before shifting away like he’s already bored of this interaction.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

You blink. “Nice to meet you… all.”

“You’ll get used to the chaos,” Nobara says. “Eventually.”

Gojo’s grin widens, like a proud dad watching his weird little family.

“See? Told you you’d like it here.”

You’re not sure yet. But for the first time in years, you’re not alone.

-

The base is a repurposed prison, all concrete walls and rusted bars, but the way Gojo walks its halls, it might as well be a palace.

“Welcome to paradise,” he grins, pushing open a barred door that creaks like it’s complaining. “Don’t let the charming décor fool you. The rats love it here.”

You roll your eyes but follow him in. He gestures with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Your very own cell—er, suite.”

The room is small, but clean. A bed shoved into one corner, a patched-up mattress, and even a chipped mirror on the wall. You nod, impressed despite yourself.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I gave you the one with a window. You can thank me later.”

You smirk and step back out into the hallway. “Trying to impress me, Gojo?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m a peacock in the apocalypse, baby.”

You laugh under your breath and follow him down a narrow hall. There’s a dip in the concrete, a crack in the floor you don’t notice until your boot catches—your heart jumps as you pitch forward, but Gojo’s arms are immediately around you.

Strong. Steady. Warm.

“Careful now,” he murmurs, voice all silk and smugness. “You fell for me already?”

You’re pressed against his chest, your breath caught in your throat, face heating up. He doesn’t move right away—his hands settle on your waist, casual and intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You shove him off with a flustered glare. “Shut up, lecher.”

He grins, wide and infuriating. “That’s more like it.”

The rest of the tour is quieter. You pass rooms where others sleep, the mess hall, the infirmary where Shoko’s set up shop. You even glimpse Yuji hauling supplies with Nobara snapping at him in the distance.

But then Gojo stops in front of a heavy iron door—no windows, no markings. His face changes. The joking fades.

“Whatever you do,” he says, voice low, “don’t go into the commissary. Not alone. Not ever.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His blue eyes sharpen beneath his snowy lashes.

“Because even monsters like us keep our secrets somewhere,” he says softly. “And some doors are locked for a reason.”

You stare at him, heart knocking against your ribs.

Gojo Satoru, unshakable, untouchable… looking haunted?

Your skin prickles.

But he flashes you that lazy grin again, like nothing happened. “Now come on. You haven’t seen the courtyard. Yuji likes to wrestle people out there—it’s horrible. You’ll love it.”

And just like that, the moment passes… but the warning stays.

-

The rooftop’s quiet late at night.

The chaos of the base fades into a hush, just the distant hum of wind brushing over cracked cement and rusted fences. You lie back against the cool surface, arms behind your head, eyes fixed on the sky above. For once, it’s clear. A spatter of stars gleam like glass shards across a velvet sky.

You let yourself breathe.

No infected. No screaming. No fear.

Just the stars.

Footsteps approach—light, familiar, cocky.

“I knew you were a stargazer,” Gojo says, easing himself down beside you with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got that dreamy, melancholic look. So poetic.”

You don’t look at him. “You’ve got that annoying, uninvited energy. So parasitic.”

He barks out a laugh. “Ow. You wound me, sweetheart.”

A beat passes. Then another.

You can feel him watching you, but for once, he doesn’t speak.

And somehow, that’s more unsettling.

“…You alright?” you ask, finally glancing his way.

He’s leaning back on his elbows, white hair messy from the wind, blue eyes locked on the stars—but they’re distant. Quiet. A far cry from their usual teasing glint.

“I’m heading out tomorrow,” he says casually. “Scouting mission. Few days tops.”

You blink. “Oh.”

Something flickers in your chest. It shouldn’t. Not like this.

“Oh,” you repeat, softer. “Right.”

A part of you wants to ask why he’s going. Another part wants to pretend it doesn’t matter. You settle for neither, chewing your lip, trying to ignore the weight settling in your gut.

Satoru glances at you then, his smirk lazy but his voice just a touch softer.

“Try not to miss me, yeah?”

You scoff. “I’ll throw a party the second you leave.”

“That’s what they all say,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Then they realize how boring life is without me.”

His smile is all mischief—but behind it, there’s something warmer. Something real.

And for once… you don’t fire back. You just look at him.

Maybe you’ll miss him a little. Just a little.

-

You don’t expect his absence to linger. But it does.

You feel it in the small silences—the way the mess hall feels quieter without his dumb jokes echoing through it, how sparring sessions feel colder without him barging in with some smug, offhanded comment about your form.

At night, you find yourself back on the rooftop. The stars are still there, but they don’t sparkle like they used to. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, because what kind of person starts depending on a man like that?

He’s loud. He’s infuriating. He teases you relentlessly.

But… he saw you. When you thought no one ever would again.

Shoko notices the way you’ve been spacing out more. She doesn’t say anything until the third night.

“You okay?”

You nod. Too quickly. “Fine.”

She squints at you. “You’re not fine. You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

She clicks her tongue. “Acting like someone’s girlfriend.”

You nearly knock your cup over. “I’m not—!”

But you don’t finish that sentence. Because the words feel too close to something you’ve been avoiding.

You try to bury it—tell yourself it’s just concern. You’re just… grateful. It’s not like that. You don’t miss his stupid smirk or the way he always stands too close just to fluster you. You don’t care about how his hair always looks so damn soft, or how his voice drops a little when he’s serious with you.

You don’t.

You don’t.

Then the whispers start.

“No signal from the scouting team.”

“They were supposed to be back by now.”

A cold chill snakes down your spine.

You start going to the gate more. Just to check. You pretend it’s coincidence.

It’s not.

You catch yourself gripping the straps of your bag harder than usual. You’ve never hated waiting so much in your life.

Until one evening—

The gates finally creak open.

Your breath catches in your throat as the guards call out a name. Several figures walk through the archway, dust and blood clinging to their clothes.

And there he is.

White hair, blue eyes. One sleeve ripped off, a gash on his collarbone, dried blood staining his neck—but he’s alive.

“Satoru,” you whisper, already walking forward.

His eyes find yours instantly. That grin pulls at his lips like it never left.

“Aww, did you miss me?”

You don’t answer. You just hit his shoulder. “Idiot.”

But then your hands linger, and before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffens, just for a second. Then his arms slide around you, strong and warm.

“Try not to cry too hard,” he mutters, voice light—but there’s something tight beneath it.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Sure you do,” he chuckles, and when you pull back, his smile softens.

You don’t know what this feeling is. Or maybe you do. You just don’t want to name it yet.

But you know this: You’re glad he came back.

And for now, that’s enough.

-

You wander the halls of the prison alone, the hum of fluorescent lights above your head flickering inconsistently. Satoru had taken the kids out back for training, and with nothing to do and no one to bother you, you figured you’d finally explore the rest of the base.

The place was massive—too massive. Each cell block looked like the next, corridors looping endlessly into each other until your curiosity outweighs your sense of direction. One door, rusted and slightly ajar, catches your eye.

You should’ve turned around.

You push it open.

Inside is dark, dusty. Shelves line the walls, broken crates and old rations tossed everywhere. You wander deeper, hesitant but unaware. That is…until it hits.

The smell.

Rotting flesh, stagnant air, the thick, unmistakable stench of death.

And then—movement.

Shuffling. A low groan. Shadows twitch. A hand smacks against a shelf and knocks it over with a crash.

They're here.

Your eyes snap wide and panic sets in instantly. There are so many.

You run.

You shove a metal shelf in their path, throw an old stool, anything you can get your hands on to slow them down. Your breaths are shallow, desperate. But just as you near the exit—

Your ankle gives out.

A sick snap, searing pain, and you crash to the floor with a cry. You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the wall, using your good leg to kick anything that comes close.

This is it. This is it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding.

Gunshots.

The sound like thunder crashing right next to your ear.

You blink up, barely processing the white blur tearing through the undead like paper.

“I told you not to go in here!” he shouts, voice slicing through the chaos.

“Satoru—!”

The zombies turn just in time for Satoru to drive his fist into the nearest one’s chest, cracking bone and sending it flying back into the others like bowling pins.

“Seriously?” he growls, stepping in front of you, his broad back shielding your crumpled form. “I leave you alone for five minutes.”

One lunges from the side. Gojo ducks effortlessly, grabs it by the throat, and slams it into the ground so hard its skull splits open on impact. Another claws at his shoulder, but he just grabs its wrist, twists, and kicks out its knee in one brutal motion. It collapses, and he doesn’t even look as he drives a sharp piece of wood through its head.

And then—you're in his arms. Just like that.

Lifted effortlessly, pressed against his chest as he strides out of the hellhole.

You cling to him, trembling.

“I didn’t know it was the commissary,” you whisper between sobs. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I just—God, I’m so sorry, Gojo, I—”

His voice is low, firm, but gentle. “Hey. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look up at him, lip quivering. “I—I made you worry…”

“Yeah, you did,” he says with a wry little smirk, but his eyes are too soft, too relieved to match it. “Don’t ever do that again, got it?”

You nod.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. “Because if I lost you... I’d have to kill the rest of the world just for pissing me off.”

Your breath hitches.

You stare up at him, heart pounding, face flushed from more than just the sprint for your life.

“W-What kind of psycho logic is that?” you mutter, trying to deflect, your voice barely steady.

Satoru smirks down at you, still holding you effortlessly in his arms like you weigh nothing. “C’mon, don’t act so surprised. I’m dramatic, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, trying not to combust under his gaze.

“And you’re blushing,” he points out smugly, nose nearly brushing yours. “Kinda cute, actually.”

You twist in his hold, hiding your face against his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumble, voice muffled.

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Can’t. Teasing you is the only thing keeping me sane these days.”

You can feel the tension slipping away, replaced by something heavier, warmer. He lowers you gently onto a nearby bench just outside the danger zone, kneeling before you like it’s second nature, hands skimming your calves as he examines your ankle again.

When he looks up this time, his expression is different. Less playful. More raw.

“I meant it, you know,” he says quietly. “You scared the hell out of me in there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he cuts in, hand brushing yours. “But next time, brat, wait for me. No solo adventures.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re calling me a brat now?”

“Borrowing the title. Think I earned it after saving your ass.”

You huff a laugh, cheeks still warm. “…Thanks.”

His grin softens. “Anytime.”

And just like that, you both sit there—his fingers still wrapped gently around your hand, his thumb rubbing absent circles over your knuckles—as the adrenaline fades and something else takes its place. Something quieter. Heavier. Charged.

-

Satoru insists on carrying you the whole way to the infirmary, ignoring your every protest.

“This is unnecessary,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder to avoid every curious glance.

“You twisted your ankle and almost got mauled. Humor me,” he says, smug but gentle, like the two can coexist in him with ease.

He kicks open the infirmary door with his foot.

“Delivery for one idiot who wandered into a no-go zone,” he calls out casually.

Shoko looks up from her desk, raising a brow at the sight of you both. “Well, well. If it isn’t the base’s golden boy and his damsel in distress.”

“I wasn’t distressed,” you blurt out instantly, wiggling in Gojo’s hold.

“Oh?” she hums, amused. “You sure? Because I could’ve sworn I heard ‘Gojo! Help!’ from all the way down the hall.”

You splutter. “That’s not— I mean—”

“Loudly,” she adds with a pointed smirk.

Satoru just laughs and sets you down on one of the cots, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary on your back before stepping aside.

“She’s fine. Just the ankle,” he says. “But maybe check if she sprained anything else. She fell pretty hard.”

Shoko moves closer, completely ignoring the medical part for now, because she’s too focused on watching the both of you squirm.

“Ohhh,” she teases, eyes sparkling. “Look at the two of you. Cute. Almost like a couple.”

You and Satoru freeze at the exact same time.

“Nope!”

“Not a couple!”

“Definitely not!”

You shoot each other a panicked glance and then immediately look away, flustered messes in stereo.

Shoko snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You glare. “Can we just focus on my ankle now?”

“Fine, fine,” she drawls, clearly enjoying herself. “Just sayin’. Wouldn’t be the worst match. You get saved, he gets to play hero. Very fairytale.”

“I hate all of this,” you mutter under your breath, while Satoru just smiles to himself, unbothered but definitely pleased.

When Shoko starts wrapping your ankle, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching.

And you swear you see it—that tiny, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he wants her to say it again.

Because maybe, just maybe… he doesn’t mind the idea.

-

It’s later that night when there’s a knock at your door. You’ve barely had time to settle in, still awkwardly hobbling around on one foot with your bandaged ankle.

“Who is it?” you call.

“It’s your favorite,” comes the unmistakable voice from the other side.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know Nanami suddenly got chatty.”

A muffled chuckle. “Ha. Hilarious. Open up.”

You limp to the door and unlock it. Satoru is standing there, a little disheveled, hands full.

“Brought you dinner,” he says casually, holding out a tray with two mismatched bowls, steam still curling from the soup. “Figured you might be tired of Shoko’s painkillers and snark.”

You blink, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says dramatically, stepping in without being invited. “That’s what makes me so noble.”

You laugh despite yourself, and he grins like that was the goal all along. He sets the tray down on your little desk, then gestures toward your bed.

“Come on, sit. Can’t have you falling over again. One near-death experience per day is my limit.”

You sit, trying not to look too charmed when he settles next to you—close, but not too close—just enough for your knees to brush.

“I still feel terrible about earlier,” you say after a moment, poking at the edge of your bowl. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You didn’t worry me,” he says too quickly, too nonchalantly.

You glance up. “Liar.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Fine. Maybe I panicked a little. Sue me.”

A silence lingers, not uncomfortable. Just… warm.

Then, softer: “Don’t do that again, okay?”

You look at him, really look at him—the shadows under his eyes, the slight dip in his brow, the way his voice softens when it’s just you and him.

And something in your chest stirs. Something that’s been creeping in, slow and steady, ever since he offered you food by a fire that first night.

You nod. “I won’t.”

He glances over, catches your gaze—and doesn’t look away this time.

There’s something unspoken passing between you. Familiar. Intense. Safe.

“You’re really something, y’know that?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Depends. You gonna fall harder for me if it is?”

You flush instantly. “Satoru—”

He laughs and nudges your bowl toward you. “Eat before it gets cold, princess.”

You grumble under your breath but dig in.

And Satoru?

He watches you with that same lopsided grin, heart doing something stupid in his chest.

Because yeah—maybe you fell.

But maybe he’s been falling, too.

-

It’s past midnight when you stir.

The pain in your ankle has dulled to a throb, but it isn’t what wakes you. It’s… something else. A presence. Warm. Close.

You blink against the low glow of the hallway light seeping under your door, and when your eyes adjust—

You see him.

Satoru.

Slouched in the chair by your bed, long legs awkwardly folded, head tipped to the side, snowy hair falling across his face in soft, messy tufts. His mouth is slightly parted, breathing slow and even. His arms are crossed, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

Like he was just keeping watch.

Just in case.

Your heart does a little flip.

You shift quietly, trying not to make a sound. But even with all your care, the mattress creaks—barely. His eyes snap open immediately, hand twitching toward a weapon that isn’t there. Pure instinct.

Then he sees you. And relaxes.

“Oh,” he breathes, voice gravelly with sleep. “You’re awake.”

You sit up slowly. “Were you… here all night?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not all night. Just since… y’know. Evening.”

You squint at him. “Satoru.”

He sighs. “Fine. Yeah. All night.”

You stare at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t wander off again and get yourself eaten.”

You frown. “You should’ve slept in your room.”

He smirks. “What, and miss out on babysitting you?”

You chuck a pillow at him.

He catches it easily and grins. But when he sees you holding his gaze, that grin softens.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admits, quieter now.

Something gentle settles in your chest. You pull your blanket up and scoot slightly to the side.

“…There’s space. If you’re tired.”

He blinks at you. “Are you asking me to cuddle, orrrr…”

You glare. “I’m offering you a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He slides in beside you carefully, so carefully, like you’ll break if he jostles you too much. And then you feel the warmth of him next to you, his presence steady and solid and safe.

“…This okay?” he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dark.

You nod.

And slowly, slowly, you feel his fingers brush yours under the blanket. He doesn't hold your hand—not yet. Just touches.

Testing the waters.

You don’t pull away.

And in the silence that follows, you hear his breathing even out again.

But yours?

Yours is all over the place.

-

Morning sunlight filters through the barred window, casting soft stripes across your face.

You're warm. So warm.

Your cheek is pressed against something solid. Something that rises and falls gently beneath you. And there’s a hand resting at the small of your back, pulling you closer, keeping you there.

Your heart skips.

Your eyes blink open—and there he is.

Gojo Satoru. Asleep. Face relaxed and serene, messy white hair haloed in gold light. His other arm is curled under your pillow, supporting your head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And you're lying on top of him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You should move. You need to move.

But just as you're about to untangle yourself—

Click.

The door creaks open.

You freeze.

“Oh my god,” comes Shoko’s voice, casual, amused, and way too smug. “Well, well—what do we have here?”

You nearly leap out of bed, scrambling to sit up—only for your body to protest painfully, and you wince with a hiss.

Satoru wakes with a start, blinking up at Shoko in confusion before slowly realizing the position you're in.

“Oh,” he says blankly. “Morning, doc.”

You swat his shoulder. “Say something useful?!”

Shoko just leans against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning like she’s discovered the world’s juiciest secret. “No no, don’t let me interrupt. I was just checking on the patient, but clearly, she’s in very good hands.”

You’re burning. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Shoko raises a brow. “Oh, so you weren’t cuddled up like two lovebirds all night? Should I tell Nanami you’ve finally found someone willing to put up with your nonsense, Satoru?”

He stretches lazily and pulls the blanket back over himself with a smirk. “Actually, yeah. Tell him. Maybe then he’ll finally stop lecturing me about responsibility.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Shoko chuckles, walking away. “Nope. I’m telling everyone.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Silence.

You glare at Satoru through your fingers. “This is your fault.”

He grins. “You offered me a spot on the bed, your majesty.”

You shove a pillow at him. He catches it—again.

And then he smiles, soft and teasing, voice still a little raspy from sleep.

“...So. Want me to sleep over again tonight?”

“Get out.”

-

The first few days are rough.

You try to walk without limping. Try to reach for things on your own. Try not to feel like a burden.

But then there’s him.

You wake up to warm food at your bedside, Satoru leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. “Brought you breakfast in bed, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it—I’m not always this nice.”

He very much is.

He offers his arm without asking when you need support. Doesn’t mention it when you wince or grit your teeth. Just lets you lean on him, like you’ve always belonged there.

You try to carry something heavy across the hall—he appears out of nowhere, snatching it from your hands. “Tsk. You trying to die or what?”

You try to help in the kitchen. He catches you wobbling and swoops in with a hand around your waist. “Whoa there, Bambi. What happened to ‘taking it easy’?”

You try to sneak off to explore the base again. He corners you in the hallway with a look that says absolutely not. “You’re still healing, brat. Unless you want me to carry you everywhere again?”

Cue your entire face combusting.

He’s annoying. Cocky. Ridiculously persistent.

But…

He adjusts your blanket when you’re asleep on the couch. Tucks a water bottle by your side without saying anything. Teaches you how to balance properly on one foot so your ankle can recover without straining the other.

And at night, when you think everyone’s asleep, you catch him checking on you—quietly, carefully. Making sure you’re okay.

You pretend not to notice.

But your heart notices. It notices everything.

-

You stand in the middle of your room, shifting your weight onto your healed ankle, then back again. No pain. No tightness. Just a deep breath and the quiet realization:

You’re better. Finally.

The door creaks open without warning—because Satoru never knocks—and in he strolls with his usual swagger and two mugs in hand. “Morning, sweetheart. Brought you—"

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing. Not limping. Not clutching the edge of the bed for balance.

Just… standing.

He squints, slowly lowering one mug. “...Why aren’t you in bed?”

You raise a brow. “Because I’m not dying?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” He sets the mugs down and points a very offended finger at you. “You don’t just get to get better without warning me. I was emotionally invested in this arc.”

You laugh. “Sorry to ruin your Florence Nightingale fantasy.”

“Ruin? Excuse you, I was thriving. Who’s gonna let me spoon-feed you now?”

You roll your eyes, limping toward him just to mess with him. “I could pretend, if it makes you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He walks over before you can say anything else—his hands hover, cautious at first, then one slides to your waist. “You really okay?”

You nod. “I’m good. Really.”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he grins. “Alright. Guess that means I can stop being your personal nurse and go back to being your favorite nuisance.”

You’re smiling. He’s back to teasing. But there’s a softness in his eyes that lingers a little too long, a thumb that brushes your hip before falling away.

He missed taking care of you.

And maybe, just maybe, you kind of miss being taken care of.

-

You’re jogging laps around the edge of the prison yard, the early morning chill nipping at your cheeks. It’s peaceful—quiet enough that your footsteps and the rhythmic beat of your breath are the only sounds you hear.

Until a familiar voice breaks through the silence.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brat, back in action.”

You slow down, a smirk tugging at your lips as you turn toward the voice—and promptly choke on air.

Satoru.

Stretching.

Shirtless.

His snowy hair tousled from whatever ungodly workout he’s been doing, sweat gleaming on the hard lines of his chest and abs like the universe conspired to craft a Renaissance painting just to spite you. His sweats hang low on his hips, revealing that infuriating V-line that should not be legal in a post-apocalyptic society.

You blink. Once. Twice.

He grins, catching the way your eyes are very not subtly stuck on him.

“Like what you see?”

You scowl, instantly turning your gaze to a very fascinating patch of dirt on the ground. “Please. I’ve seen better.”

“Mmhm.” He takes a deliberate step forward, arms crossing over his annoyingly perfect chest. “Name one.”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.”

You huff and start jogging again, forcing your eyes to stay forward. But then he jogs up beside you—shirtless and smug, of course—and easily matches your pace.

“You sure you’re fully healed? What if you, I dunno… trip and fall again?” he says, tone mockingly sweet. “Need me to catch you, princess?”

“I’d rather faceplant into a zombie.”

He laughs, low and lazy. “I dunno, that sounds painful. Better to land on something soft. Like me.”

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he nudges you playfully with his elbow, “you’re still jogging next to me. Who’s really winning here?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck. But deep down, you know.

He’s definitely winning.

-

After the jog, Satoru insists you “cool down” with some light sparring. You roll your eyes, but follow him to the training mats anyway. He’s already bouncing on his heels when you step in front of him, still shirtless, still smug.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he teases. “Wouldn’t want to break you again.”

“I’m more worried about bruising your ego,” you shoot back, taking your stance.

He whistles low. “Feisty. I like it.”

The sparring begins—light jabs, easy dodges. You’re nimble, focused, but he is... effortless. Every time you swipe at him, he ducks with a grin. When you go in for a kick, he sidesteps and lets out an exaggerated yawn.

“You done yet, sweetheart?” he asks, still dancing around you. “At this rate, I could do this blindfolded.”

“Shut up and hold still!” you lunge at him again—this time faster, bolder—but he grabs your wrist mid-swing and spins you around so fast the world tilts. Before you know it—

You’re pinned.

Back hits the wall. His hand holds your wrists above your head, other arm braced beside you. His body is dangerously close, breath fanning your cheek. His tone shifts, deeper. Rougher.

“You keep mouthing off like that,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming, “I might start thinking you want me to put you in your place.”

Your breath catches. “I—”

“Hmm?” he leans in, lips ghosting your jaw. “No witty comeback now?”

You try to move, but his grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that this isn’t a game anymore.

“I could kiss you right now,” he whispers, “and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “You wouldn’t.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“Wanna bet?”

Your breathing is shallow, heat rising to your cheeks. You’re acutely aware of how close he is, the way his chest brushes against yours with every breath, the sharp glint in his eye, the smirk that’s far too smug for your sanity.

And then—

His lips graze your neck. Barely there. A soft brush of heat against your skin. You flinch—not out of fear, but from the jolt that shoots down your spine. Goosebumps bloom instantly. His breath tickles your skin.

“Sensitive,” he hums, lips ghosting up toward your jaw, “...cute.”

“Satoru—” you whisper, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze drops to your lips, heavy and unblinking. And he leans in, slower this time, like he wants you to feel the anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat—

And then—

“AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?”

You both jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

Satoru spins around with a groan, still caging you against the wall. “Shoko. Seriously?”

She stands a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow cocked and a wicked smirk playing at her lips. “Wow. Could cut the tension with a scalpel. Should I come back later or just pass you a condom now?”

“Shoko,” you squeak, face on fire, squirming to escape Gojo’s hold.

He lets you go reluctantly, chuckling under his breath. “You wish you caught the good part.”

“I did catch the part where your face was buried in her neck like a starving vampire,” Shoko deadpans.

You bury your face in your hands.

Satoru just laughs. “You jealous?”

“Please. I'd rather not watch my coworkers dry hump in public,” she says, already turning on her heel. “Anyway. You two lovebirds done? I need one of you to help with supplies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waves her off. Then he glances back at you, still all flushed and flustered, and leans down one last time to whisper in your ear:

“To be continued, princess.”

And just like that, he strolls off like nothing happened.

You're left against the wall, heart pounding, neck tingling, completely and utterly undone.

-

It’s quiet for once.

Most of the clan is out on a supply run or patrolling the perimeter. You’d offered to stay behind, helping Shoko reorganize her medical supplies before wandering off with a basket of laundry—warm clothes folded under your arm as you pace the empty corridors of the prison, barefoot, relaxed.

You finally set the basket down in the communal quarters, humming under your breath while sorting through what belongs to who. It’s… peaceful. The late afternoon sun slants in through the high windows, bathing everything in warm light.

Until—

“Picking up where we left off?”

You jolt, nearly dropping the shirt in your hands.

Gojo.

Leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever, sleeves pushed up, hair a bit messy like he just woke from a nap. His eyes are glinting beneath the lazy droop of his lashes, and that smirk—that godforsaken smirk—is unmistakable.

He saunters in before you can get a word in.

“Geez, you sneak up on people like a damn ghost,” you mumble, cheeks already burning as you turn back to the laundry.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” he teases, coming closer. “You weren’t so shy when I had you pinned against the wall.”

You stiffen. “You got interrupted. Big difference.”

“Oh? So you wanted me to kiss you?”

You glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already behind you, arms slipping around your waist—loosely at first, giving you a chance to push him away.

You don’t.

“I was thinking about you,” he murmurs against your ear. “All damn day. Thought I’d come see how you were holding up without me.”

“I was fine,” you huff, but it’s so breathless it betrays you instantly.

He chuckles. “That right?”

His hands glide up your sides, slow and sure, fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just admit it—you missed me.”

You turn in his arms, glaring—but it’s weak at best. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he leans in, forehead brushing yours, voice dropping, “but I still remember how fast your heart was beating last time.”

You swallow.

And this time? There’s no Shoko to walk in. No patrols due back. No reason to stop.

You hesitate for a beat.

And then you pull him in by the collar.

The kiss is feral. All teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. Weeks—months—of tension snapping all at once. His hands find your waist, gripping tight as he hoists you up like you weigh nothing.

“Fuck—” he groans against your lips. “You’ve been killing me, y’know that?”

You wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer. “Good.”

He pulls back, grinning. “Oh, you wanna play it like that?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before he’s kissing down your jaw, your neck, dragging that maddening tongue of his down your collarbone. His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, your thighs, sliding under your shirt like he owns you.

Which, at this point, maybe he does.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants, hovering over your lips again. “Tell me now, and I will.”

You look him dead in the eyes, tug his shirt over his head, and whisper:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your back hits the nearest wall with a muffled gasp, Satoru’s mouth already on yours, hungry and hot. His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing it with touch alone, fingers tugging at fabric with a frustrated groan.

“Off,” he growls into the kiss, already pulling your shirt over your head like it's offended him. He sets you down to pull your pants down along with your panties. And the moment you’re bare before him, he stands back, breath catching in his throat. His eyes—icy blue and blown wide with lust—roam your figure, landing on your chest like he’s just been given the meaning of life.

“…Can I motorboat your tits?”

You blink.

You laugh, startled and breathless. “Are you—are you serious right now?”

His lips curve into a wolfish grin, and he’s already surging forward to kiss you again. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles between kisses. “I don’t think I can wait to taste you now.”

You arch a brow, teasing, breath catching when he trails his mouth down your jaw. “Next time?”

He chuckles, low and dark. “You think I’m letting you off the hook after this?” His hands slide down your waist, thumbs stroking your hips. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he sinks to his knees.

The grin fades into something hungrier, more reverent as he kisses the inside of your thigh, dragging his teeth gently across soft skin. “Spread ‘em for me,” he says, voice a whisper but firm. And when you do, he groans like he’s just tasted something forbidden.

You cry out the second his tongue touches you, hands flying to grip his hair. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t want to. It’s slow, torturous—his pace deliberate as he works you open, devouring like a man starved. His moans vibrate against your skin, and when your legs tremble, he just pins them open wider, groaning, “That’s it… let me hear you, baby.”

Your back arches as Satoru licks another slow, devastating stripe up your core, tongue curling at your entrance before he moves to suck gently on your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head—but his arms loop under your knees, spreading you wider, holding you open like he owns you.

“You're not going anywhere,” he mutters, eyes flicking up, glazed over with lust and something dangerous. “Told you. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he’s back at it—slower this time, tongue flattening against you, then circling, dragging soft groans out of you as the tension coils tight in your belly. He eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, savoring every movement, every moan he draws. He alternates between deep, dragging strokes and sharp, teasing flicks, lips closing around your clit to suck just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

You cry out, hips bucking up into his mouth, and he growls—low and throaty—as if turned on by how wrecked you already are.

"Fuck—so sweet," he groans, voice muffled against you. “Could stay down here all night.”

And he means it. He shifts slightly, tongue plunging into you now, slow and shallow, nose nudging your clit as he drinks in every sound you make like it fuels him. Every little tremble, every whimper—he devours it.

He doesn’t stop. Not when you start trembling, not when you whine his name in warning. He keeps going, lips slick and relentless, until—

Your vision whites out. Your body tightens, back bowing, mouth falling open on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, pleasure shattering through you like a storm.

Only then does he pull back, lips and chin glistening. He breathes hard, eyes dark and blown, grinning like he just won a war.

“That’s the sound I wanted to hear.”

He stands up again to pick you up, carrying you to the nearby table, settling you on it, completely bare under the low light, legs parted slightly, chest heaving. You’re flushed, trembling—not from fear, but anticipation. Nerves. Heat. It’s all crashing together in your head, and he sees it.

His hands move to his waistband, fingers curling beneath the fabric of his pants. He tugs them down with practiced ease, freeing himself—and your breath catches.

Your eyes drift down instinctively, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him. He’s big. Thick, flushed, already hard and aching.

Your pulse stutters, nerves flickering to the surface. “Oh…”

“Hey,” he says gently, fingers brushing your cheek. “You okay?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

Satoru freezes for a moment. His expression doesn’t shift much—but his eyes, bright and blue, soften in an instant.

“…You haven’t?” he asks quietly, tone a stark contrast to the sinful smirk he wore earlier. You shake your head.

He exhales slowly, like he’s grounding himself. Then he leans in and kisses you—slow, patient, loving.

“Well, fuck,” he murmurs against your lips. “Now I really have to behave.”

You blink up at him. “You? Behave?”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lower lip. “Okay, maybe not completely. But I’ll go slow. Make it good for you. You trust me, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” His voice drops a little. “Then let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s gentle—so gentle it almost breaks you. His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He pauses there, kissing over your breasts, fingers caressing your sides as though you might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Gonna remember this forever.”

When he finally lines himself up, he doesn’t rush. He keeps kissing you, whispering into your skin.

“Breathe with me,” he says. “Nice and easy, baby. Just relax.”

The stretch burns, but his voice never leaves you. His hands never stop moving—stroking your sides, brushing your hair from your face, thumbing away the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs. “So tight, fuck—squeezing me like you were made for me.”

Your breath catches, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly, “I wanna see your face.”

You meet his eyes—blown wide with emotion, affection, reverence. And that’s when he starts to move. Slowly, so slowly you can feel everything. Every drag, every pull.

“Feels good?” he asks, and when you nod, he smiles like you’ve just handed him the universe.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, picking up pace just a little. “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. My pretty girl, lettin’ me be her first.”

You moan—part embarrassment, part bliss—and he kisses the sound from your mouth.

“Can’t believe no one’s touched you like this before,” he mutters against your skin. “But I’m glad. Glad it’s me. Glad I get to show you.”

He starts rolling his hips deeper, each thrust slow and purposeful, coaxing pleasure out of you bit by bit.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re already gasping—your body burning, overstimulated from the build-up and the way he moves inside you. Every drag of him is a stretch, a delicious ache, and you’re trying so hard to keep up, to breathe, to hold yourself together—but it’s too much.

And then it hits.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave—louder, sharper, more intense than the last—and your body tightens instinctively, your walls fluttering around him like they don’t want to let him go.

“Fuck—” Satoru’s voice breaks, a guttural groan tumbling from his throat as he stills, trembling above you. “You’re gonna ruin me, baby…”

His grip tightens on your waist, jaw clenched as he tries to hold back—but you’re squeezing him so tight, so perfect, and his restraint shatters.

“You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, starting to move again—deeper, slower, more intentional—but there’s an edge of desperation now. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “Feels so good—fuck, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You shake your head, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, barely able to form the words. “Please…”

He kisses you hard—like he can’t help himself, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. So, so good…”

“‘Toru-” you whimper.

That breaks him.

He groans, slamming into you harder, mouth finding your neck as he nips and kisses down to your collarbone. “Fuck. Say it again.”

You whimper again, brain hazy. “‘Toru…”

He kisses you slow then, deeper. Rough pace never faltering, but his hands gentler now—one wrapping around your waist, the other brushing the hair from your face.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

You nod desperately, legs locking around his hips. “Yours.”

“Damn right,” he grits, driving into you harder, chasing both your highs with everything he has.

The overstimulation has tears stinging your eyes, your legs trembling, voice catching on every moan. And when that next orgasm builds too fast, too hard—it snaps through you like a live wire. Your body arches off the table, clamping down around him again—

—and Satoru snaps.

“Shit—take it, baby. Let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna make you mine, fuck, you already are—look at you...” he chokes out, thrusting deep one last time before he comes, spilling into you with a long, breathless groan. His arms wrap around you as if to anchor himself, holding you so close, like he needs to feel every inch of you, inside and out.

“Look at you,” he murmurs between pants, pressing kisses across your face. “Takin’ me so well… You’re mine now, yeah? All mine.”

You nod, dazed and boneless, wrapped in his warmth.

And he stays like that, inside you, forehead resting against yours as he murmurs soft, reverent praises—like this wasn’t just your first time.

Like it was everything.

Your body’s still trembling—nerves fried, skin flushed, heart thudding against your chest as if it’s trying to burst free. You’re barely aware of anything except the warm, strong arms pulling you into a careful embrace, the kiss he presses to your temple like it’s the most sacred thing he could ever do.

“Hey…” Satoru murmurs, voice all honey and rasp, rough around the edges but impossibly gentle. “You okay?”

You nod, chest rising and falling against his, cheeks still hot, but there’s a smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just… wow.”

He laughs softly, the sound low and breathy as his fingers brush along your spine in lazy, soothing strokes. “You were incredible,” he says, and he means it. Every word. “So good for me. So perfect.”

Your face scrunches with a flustered noise, burying it into his shoulder. “Stop…”

“Never,” he grins, nosing into your hair. “You don’t get to be all pretty and sweet and make those sounds and expect me to stay quiet about it.”

You groan. “Satoru—”

“Shhh.” 

His palm rests on your back as he holds you close, thumb drawing lazy circles. You can still feel the dull, pleasant ache of him inside you, the heat he left behind. His breath is warm against your cheek. Safe. Comforting.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs again, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “First time and you still managed to rock my fucking world.”

Your heart stutters. “Wasn’t just the sex,” you say quietly.

He stills for half a second—and then he smiles, soft and genuine.

“I know,” he whispers.

You’re still breathless, body flushed and boneless in his arms when Satoru gathers you close, lips pressed gently to your temple. The air between you is warm, quiet save for the distant hum of life around the base. He shifts a little, glancing down at the table beneath you both, and you catch that flicker in his eyes—guilt, soft and creeping.

“I should’ve…” he starts, voice low, almost sheepish. “Shit, I should’ve taken you somewhere better. A bed, a blanket, something that wasn’t a hardass table. It was your first time and I just—” He pauses, brows pinching like the regret’s eating at him now. “I got selfish.”

You lift your hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” you whisper, leaning in until your lips ghost over his, shutting him up with a kiss so soft, so full of emotion it makes his heart stutter.

When you pull back, your smile is small but sure. “It was more than okay. Because it was with you.”

Satoru blinks, breath caught in his throat. And for once, the man with a mouth like a wildfire doesn’t have anything to say.

Until he pulls you tighter into his chest and mutters, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You just grin into his skin. “Guess we’ll go down together then.”

Then silence. Not awkward, not tense—just full of warmth. Full of everything. His arms around you. Your fingers laced with his.

You don’t say it. Not yet. But maybe one day soon.

For now, the way he holds you like you’re something to be cherished?

It’s more than enough.

author's note. finally have time to post consistently! last month or two were BUSY so couldn't do much </3 i'm proud of how this one turned out ^^ also, shoko is such a baddie i love her

There's overprotective, and there's Suguru Geto.

"Ah- you'll hurt your eyes, baby, let me handle it"

You're just about to start dicing your onion when Suguru comes up from behind you –fully enveloping you in his warmth– and gently rests his palm on the back of your clenches hand before prying the knife away.

"And this" He runs one long finger along the edge of the blade, from heel to tip "is too sharp for you"

..That damn tone.

Suguru only speaks to you this way when he's about to succumb to the voices, the ones that tell him to scoop you up to hold you in his palm forever, to lock you inside his rib cage and keep you warm, to hold you in his arms and never loosen his grip. You know your faith is set when he begins to rub his cheek against yours, a mother lioness and her little cub.

Smothering.

You have reason to believe that Suguru seriously considers baby proofing the house in its entirety.

"Suguru..." Your disappointed expression only gives him more fuel and now he's audibly cooing at you. How sweet, the precious little baby kitten in his palm, pouting so sweetly, how can you have the nerve to go around being so adorable and acting all bothered when he finally gets his hands on you?

"I'll handle the rest, you should take a rest, baby"

He'll handle the rest? Seriously??

"Suguru, i haven't even started anything yet" you whine, and it's enough to make him run a hand through your hair before pushing you against his chest with one large hand on the back of your head.

Bastard, he knows what he's doing.

Your world shifted the day Suguru learned that his chest can also be a tranquilizer.

Your tense figure immediately relaxes, the rumbling laughter you feel run through his chest tells you all you need to know, and it being that you have once again, lost.

"There you go.." comes an almost taunting coo "isn't this so much better? I like you best this way" And it really, really does, it feels amazing, it feels wonderful being fussed over this much, cared for like this, coddled like a fragile little baby.

"I got here just in time, what if you got hurt, hm? I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if my baby was harmed and i wasn't there to stop it" the whispering voice of a siren, how you managed to stand your ground this long is a mystery to you, Suguru is a force to be reckoned with.

So you put up with it, and let him have his fun, let him play the role of the sweet doting overprotective husbans, because like this, everyone wins and everyone is happy, he gets to care for you, you get to be cared for, perfect.

Aren't you both just a match made in heaven?

Toji’s behind you again. He always is for some reason. One second you’re grabbing something from the top shelf, the next you feel his big hands on your waist, his hips flush against your ass like he owns you or something.

“Still walking around in those little shorts, huh?” he mutters, dragging his fingers down your sides. His voice is low, rough and practically dripping with want. “Y’know, what that does to me, baby”

You gasp when he rocks into you— slowly but roughly. You can feel how hard his cock is through his sweatpants. His hands are already slipping under your shirt and he’s mouthing along your neck now, all needy and fucking shameless.

“Five minutes,” he breathes warm against your skin. “Just lemme bend you over real quick— right here”.

You’re about to respond— half breathless and laughing because of how needy he is when a door creaks open down the hall.

“Dad, have you seen—”.

Megumi’s voice cuts through the kitchen. Silence.

Toji’s hands freeze on your waist. You freeze too, staring wide-eyed at the floor, blood rushing to your cheeks.

Megumi stands there, holding an empty water bottle, staring like he just walked into the worst possible timeline. His expression is absolutely horrified like he’s seen a ghost.

“Dude. Seriously?” he groans, immediately rolling his eyes and turning around. “In the kitchen?”.

Toji doesn’t miss a beat. One hand casually drops from your waist, and the other scratches the back of his neck, completely unbothered.

“What? You knocked?”

“I live here!”

“Then get used to seeing a man in love,” Toji shrugs, already leaning back into you like nothing happened.

You try to wriggle away, completely mortified, but Toji just pulls you in tighter, grinning against your cheek.

“He’ll get over it”.

Deceiving Dreams

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji woke up sweating, a foul feeling in his chest after what he just dreamt. You were the star and your co-star was not him, but some random dude who was way too comfortable with touching you. His hands would brush over your shoulders and your thighs like he was familiar with your body, but what was absolutely stomach churning, was the way he kissed you softly and slowly. You didn't even push him away, instead you reciprocated the gesture. You did the sweet things that you only do with him, like smiling at this man in that way that makes wonder brim your eyes. You kissed the corner of this stranger's lips, on the same side that Toji's scar is on, coincidentally, and you wrapped your arms around this stranger with that same amount of hesitance you show Toji, as if this person you've known for mere minutes summed up the butterflies and electric feelings your lover makes you feel in that short span of time.

Toji hasn't been this unsettled by something regarding you since the time you cried during an argument that spiraled out of his jealousy. Things got out of hand, but since then, he's learned that he can't do things that way with you. He can't shut you out, and he can't snap at you or you will crumble to the ground.

Patience is a hard thing to learn, and though being with you has taught Toji how to be more careful with his words and to be understanding of your struggles to communicate certain things, at the end of the day, he's still learning. How does anyone deal with this kind of thing in a gentle and unassuming manner? He can't just spring such a question on you without it rubbing you wrong. "Are you cheating on me?" No. That is a recipe for disaster and just asking for unwanted distance. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows it, but that dream... It just seemed so real.

Hey, ma. You awake?

It's two in the morning, and you probably won't answer, but as Toji lies there in his bed, waiting for a response from you, he realizes he can't wait to hear from you, so he does the next best thing—he calls you.

The line rings a couple times, and by the third time, he's ready to end the call before he gets sent to voicemail, deeming his reason for pulling you out of sleep so early in the morning to be ridiculous. It was a dream. You're not cheating on him. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows this, yet, here he is, trying to sleep in your bed with you, like a child who woke up from a nightmare, tiptoeing over to their parents' bedroom.

"Hi, Toji," you answer, your voice quiet and slightly raspy with sleep. "Toji?" You call, again, when you get nothing from him. "Are you okay?"

He feels somewhat embarrassed for having woken you up for this, but if the deed has already been done, then he needs to make the most of it.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm doing just fine. Everything's fine. Listen, would it be alright if I came over?" He asks, already sitting up and getting out of bed.

"It's a little late, isn't it? It's..." you hum as you quickly check your phone, "...two seventeen," you respond, trying your hardest not to nod off as you lie comfortably on your side, your phone placed between your ear and your pillow, again.

"I know. I'm sorry. You don't have to wait up for me, though. I can let myself in. You gave me your spare, remember?"

You blink, tiredly, and remain silent for a few seconds until Toji calls for you. "Yeah, okay, then. Drive safe. It's raining really hard."

"Will do, mama. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you," you mumble, before hanging up the phone. You went right back to sleep, afterwards. The sound of the rain pouring outside was soothing and the coldness that came with the weather made the perfect contrast to the warmth of the blanket you bundled yourself in.

Toji got to your place twenty-something minutes later. His hoodie was heavily spotted with the raindrops it caught during the walk to your front door from his car. He fishes out his keys from his pocket and looks for a shiny, bronze key on his keyring. Once he has it, getting into your warm home goes smoothly. From taking off his shoes and setting them beside yours, to removing his hoodie so that the wetness doesn't touch you, he moves quickly. He doesn't stray from his path to finding you, not even to grab a snack from your kitchen cabinets like he normally does, no matter the time—he just goes straight to your room.

When he opens the door, Toji is met with nothing more than the adorable sight of you curled up in bed, like a puppy sleeping peacefully under a heap of toasty blankets. He shuts the door behind him, quietly, and moves swiftly, but carefully, so that he doesn't wake you up before he even starts crawling into bed with you. He gently lifts the blanket off the vacant side of your bed, and slides into his place beside you. Instantly greeted by the warmth you generated, he feels the urge to pull you into his arms and just hold you all night.

"Sorry, baby. I know i'm cold," he says, softly, when you stir at the iciness of his fingers dragging up and down the side of your neck.

You blink your heavy eyes open and take in the sight of Toji right in front of you. Him calling you wasn't part of a hyper realistic dream, he's actually in bed with you.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned for his reason for wanting to be there in the early hours of the morning, rather than just waiting until later on in the day. You had plans to meet, anyway. What is so important that he couldn't wait until then?

"It's nothing to worry about. Just wanted to be here with you," he responds, not totally lying, but also not telling the whole truth.

"Remember what I told you when we first met?" You mumble, not satisfied with the vagueness of his response. There seems to be more that he isn't telling you.

"You said a lot of things to me that day," he responds, with a low chuckle.

"I did," you agree, smiling softly at the memory. "I also told you something important that day, didn't I?"

You watch the contemplative expression on his face, the outward appearance of his brain whirring. It's cute, even in his handsomeness. "Do you want a hint?" You ask, though when you see his eyes widen a little, you know he won't need it.

"You're better at listening than you are at talking," he recites, with a smirk, like he's patting himself on the back for being able to remember.

"Right. So, if there's something wrong, I want to know about it. I know i'm not the best conversationalist, but you know that I always try for you."

Now that you're more awake, Toji doesn't feel so heartless for handling you like you're merely a teddy bear, so that you're lying on top of him. He wants you close to him all the time, but when you say things like that, he instantly feels the need to bring you closer. It's pure instinct by now.

"You ever get tired of me just scooping you up out of nowhere?" He asks, lips curled in amusement as he watches and feels you wiggling around, trying to make yourself comfortable. Finally, you rest your head on the upper part of his chest and let your arms go limp beside him.

"Never," you respond, simply, smiling when a low chuckle rumbles out of Toji's chest.

His arms tighten around you a little more when the room goes silent, and then he remembers why he's here. He can't lose this. Your warmth, your careful affection, the way you constantly look at him like he's the reason the moon and the stars shine at night. He never wants you to look at him another way. There's absolutely nothing hard about loving you, and if you can't believe it on your own, he'll prove it to you.

"You know how much I love you, don't you, doll?" He asks, his palms finally warm enough to work as heating pads for your back.

"I do," you assure. Maybe this is his concern—that he's not showing you enough love. No, that can't be it. If that was it, he would've waited until later on in the day to see you and talk about it.

"And how much I need you? Do you know that, too?" To that, he doesn't get a response from you. He knows you aren't sleeping, because he can feel your legs shifting against his every once in a while.

"Doll?" He calls.

You let out a soft breath, before responding with your truth.

"I don't know if you need me, Toji. When you tell me you love me, I believe it, because I feel it and I know it, but I don't think you need me."

"Don't..." he sighs, not expecting this as a response from you. "...don't say that. Don't you dare say that. What does that even mean? Because I don't fucking get it. I really don't, ma."

Your heart rate picks up a little, but you try to keep yourself as calm as possible. You understand that this isn't something he wants to hear, as the one who's helped you through so much, but you can't help but share how things feel on your end.

"Don't you ever think about how much better it would be for you to love someone who makes things easier on you rather than overcomplicating them? Someone who tells you what they want straight up, instead of having you basically pry the words from them?"

Toji stays quiet this time, not because he agrees, but because he's figuring out how to say things without it being explosive. He knows that those few seconds of relief will be followed up by a tidal wave of regret. It's not worth it. You're his little sunshine and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason for why your light died out.

"I love you, Toji, but I think about that a lot. I want you to know that if you ever get tired of me-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he cuts. "I don't wanna hear it."

There's no playfulness or warmth to his tone. Nothing but the weight of his words. Your heart feels a little heavier, but you brush it off and utter a phrase that you're all too familiar with.

"Sorry."

You feel nervous, and not in the "good" way. Not in the way that makes your cheeks heat up and your stomach swarm with butterflies, but instead the way that makes your chest feel strange, and like there's a knot forming in your throat.

"I don't wanna hear that either, doll," Toji says in response, his tone softer, now, his thoughts collected. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. You know I love you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs the center of your back in soothing motions. The silence that returns makes your heart beat even faster. You wonder if Toji can hear it through the lack of sound in the room.

"I had a really stupid dream," Toji finally confesses, a low, humorless chuckle vibrating against his chest. "I mean, really stupid. Can I tell you about it?"

"You don't have to ask, baby," you respond. Your cheeks go warm at your use of the pet name, but it felt right in the moment. Maybe this is what's been lodged in his mind this whole time. You want him to feel as comfortable as possible as he recounts it to you.

Toji smiles softly at the term of endearment you used for him. Somehow, the way you said the word made it sound softer and even more cushioned than it already is.

His arms readjust around you, tightening the perfect amount so that you're secure against him and he can feel more of your body's warmth on his. He peppers a few more kisses on the top of your head before going on to tell you about his dream.

"So, I kind of just spawned into a room where you and some random guy were sitting on a bench, and he was getting really touchy with you. His hands were rubbing your thighs and your shoulders and..." He pauses. This is his least favorite part. He didn't like any part of it, but this part took the cake, because no one kisses your lips but him.

"It's okay," you say, encouragingly. You rub his side a few times and endure a squeeze of his arms—the equivalence of a rush of emotional support in a gesture.

"Well, you and him started locking lips, and it looked like you were really enjoying it. Your eyes were sparkly and you were smiling at him all pretty." He sighs, bothered anew, the same way he was when he first woke up. "See, I told you it was stupid," he grumbles, mildly embarrassed. "Obviously not stupid enough for me to sleep in my own bed for the night. It's fucking ridiculous. Sorry, doll."

You utter another phrase you're all too familiar with—not one you say often, but one you hear from Toji plenty.

"Don't apologize," you murmur. A few seconds pass, and you know just what to say. "Toji?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

You say it like it's as easy as breathing, because it is. There's nothing hard about loving Toji. He's good to you. It's a love you've never experienced with another, and you do your damn best for him, which is why him showing up at two a.m. isn't a problem. Him crawling into your bed, and reaching for you with hands that are cold as ice isn't a problem. He needs comfort this time, and all you can do is hope that the way you console him is enough.

"Only you, and that's how it'll always be. Your brain thought it would be funny to trick you, but it grayed on the fact that I suck at talking to people."

That made him snicker. It wasn't a reaction meant to ridicule you, rather one of immediate relief, due to the confirmation you gave him about his place as your only love.

"Not that i'm interested in pursuing others, but how am I gonna go for someone else, when I can barely talk to you?"

Now that made him full on chuckle, and you just lay there on him, withstanding the crushing sensation of his arms squeezing you impossibly tighter. You fear he might break you, but you would endure that momentary loss of breath any day if it means his heart remains whole.

"God, I love you so damn much," he murmurs, low against the top of your head. "I love you," he says, pressing yet another affectionate kiss to the area. "And I need you. I want you to understand that by... now. I need you to understand it, right now, baby."

"I don't think that's how it works," you say, humming out a soft laugh.

"Well, we're gonna make it work. Alright? You're gonna understand how much I need you."

"Okay," you say, resigned to his perseverance.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Yeah," you confirm, lips curling, amusedly.

"Yeah?" He copies once more, knowing it'll grant him one of his favorite little sounds from you.

You giggle. "Yes, Toji."

With that, he's flipping you over, his position expressively dominant, now. It's dark in your room, so you can't really see much, but you can make out most of his handsome features, and you can feel his body heat embracing you, just as much as it did a few seconds ago. His hands are planted right beside your head and he's peering down at you, smirking at the way you look at him, like you haven't caught up with how he handled you so delicately yet efficiently to switch positions.

"You always look so pretty under me," he murmurs, leaning in closer. You in so that you see nothing but him. His hands ball up the sheets beneath them, carelessly wrinkling them as he remains merely inches above you. You slowly release the breath you've been holding in. "You mad at me, baby?"

"No," you answer, trying to remain calm, despite the heat that is beginning to seep into your face. "You've done nothing for me to be mad about, so why would I be mad at you?"

His lips press against the lower part of your cheek—a deep kiss right above your jaw. "'Cause i'm kinda dumb and do shit like this. I woke you up, and now you're losing sleep," he murmurs, against your skin.

"It's okay, Toji," you gently reassure. "I understand and I'm not mad at you." Your hands come up to his back, tentatively, feeling the body warmth that seeps through his shirt.

"No?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss closer to the corner of your lips. "You promise?"

As if trying to further comfort the giant hovering over you, you rub his back in gentle motions.

"There's nothing to be mad about. You've done nothing wrong and you're always welcome here, love." You smile when he continues planting little kisses on your cheek while you keep talking. "You have my spare key, because I trust you and I have nothing to hide from you. If giving you that key means you show up here in the early hours of the morning, because you don't want to be alone, that's okay, too. So, yes, I promise i'm not mad."

A low hum comes from Toji as his kisses inch towards your lips. A few land on the corner of your lips, then he's just a little bit off, and then finally, his lips center on yours. You feel butterflies begin to flutter around your stomach as he collects kiss after kiss from you.

"You tired, pretty baby?" He asks, his voice only audible between you and him. Not even the thin walls of your room can take away the intimacy.

"I wanna be awake with you," you respond, your voice matching the low volume of his.

"You sure?" He asks, and you do your best to convince him that you are. Your hands pull away from where they once rested on his back and you raise them to cup his cheeks with slightly shaky hands. Your touch is gentle, maybe even a little hesitant, as you begin to slowly stroke the softness of his skin. This is one of the very rare times when Toji accepts your actions in place of your words.

Your thumb brushes over the scar on his lips, and before you can even process it, his lips are on yours, again. You can feel the flourishing warmth of his face beneath your palms as he kisses you with an unexpected amount of fervor. You hear soft panting from him, as a result of him hungrily chasing kiss after kiss from you. He challenges your lungs, letting them feel a slight burn when he doesn't pull away after you've reached your limit. It's not until you're breathing heavily that he lets you go, and begins to scatter soft kisses along the side of your neck.

"Baby," he hums against your neck, leaving another kiss behind. "My sweet, pretty baby. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, smiling as he continues to let his lips feed off the warmth and softness of your skin.

"How do always manage to keep things so peaceful?" He responds. His heart beats slightly faster when you release a precious laugh at the question. "Things are just... so damn simple with you," he says, softly, as he goes lower down your body. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and begin to slowly roll it above your stomach. He instantly takes note of the goosebumps that rise when his palms graze your bare skin.

"I know how much you try for me, and fuck, i'm not dismissing your effort, but I also want you to understand that it's not hard to treat you right." His hands grip your waist, loosely, and he leans in to place a kiss on your stomach.

"There's nothing hard about being with you..." he murmurs beneath your ribs, "...and waiting for you. You aren't difficult like you think you are, sweet girl."

"You promise, Toji?" You ask, glancing down at him as he continues leaving kisses on your skin.

"I promise," he assures, meeting your gaze as he presses another kiss right beneath your chest. "You want me to stop?" He asks, aware of the lack of coverage for your chest under your shirt.

"You can keep going," you respond, willing yourself to relax under his touch. He doesn't waste any time, and immediately buries his face in your bare chest. For a moment, there's no major movement coming from him, just his breathing. You think maybe he's just savoring the warmth that you've accumulated after spending hours under your blanket, but he full on melts into your body. His arms go beneath you, allowing him to wrap around you tightly once more, and he releases an audibly heavy sigh.

"It's okay," you say, softly. You keep one hand on his upper back, while the other gently plays with his hair.

He's not sure if he deserves the tenderness your touch holds for him. He tries to be as gentle and careful with you as he can, but he's so scared that one day you'll shatter and it'll be his fault. You'll walk away from him with no intention of ever coming back and something that was so good to him will be gone. You deserve to be happy—always. He knows this, but he doesn't want to picture somebody else making you happy like he does. He can't accept that. You're his girl.

"Toji?" You call. You know your little place isn't the most high end of them all, but you also know that it's not falling apart. There's no way for the rain to reach your skin if there's no hole in your roof.

"Toji?" You call once more when he doesn't answer. Your hands still on him when you feel his shoulders stutter. You have your own glum cloud resting on top of you. You feel something wet land on your chest—it's starting to rain a little.

"It's okay," you whisper, resuming the gentle motions on his back and the back of his head. "It's okay." You feel him begin to leave languid, spaced out, featherlight kisses on your chest, and you want to freeze. You want to express how impactful the gestures are, and how they animate the butterflies that reside in your stomach, but you can't. You can't and you won't do it, because it's your turn to prove that you'll take care of him when he's not at one hundred percent.

"It's... it's gonna be okay. I have you," you assure, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers as you repeatedly thread them through, and the movement of his back beneath your other hand as he breathes. "And you will always have me, and I love you with all my heart, Toji. I need you to understand that, right now," you tease, lightheartedly, echoing his earlier words back to him in an attempt to make him feel better. You hear a congested sound, something between a laugh and a hitch in his breathing.

Not another sound is made for the next few minutes, no words spoken. Your skin catches a few more of Toji's tears as he continues to brush his lips against the entirety of your chest, reveling in the warmth of your skin. Toji can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest—the way it always is whenever he's around you. Normally, he teases you about it. 'Your heart's gonna explode if you don't calm down.' 'We don't even have to do cardio to get your heart going.' Sometimes, he just holds his fingers against the pulse point on your neck and laughs at the rapid thrumming against his fingertips. He finds it endearing, but right now, it's a comfort.

You don't mind the occasional slight pinch of his lips—the more physical proof of his appreciative affection. You simply remain focused on soothing him and reassuring him of how strong your love for him is and will always be.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, ma," he mumbles, his cheek resting on your chest. He could fall asleep so easily to the sound of your heartbeat in his ears, the feeling of you playing with his hair, and the way you slowly rub his back, but he's torn between staying where he is and coming back up to hold you close through the rest of the early morning.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," you assure, wholeheartedly.

With that response, Toji makes his choice. He pulls his arms out from beneath you and sits on his knees, between your legs for the quick second it takes him to fix your shirt. After, he lifts the blanket and reclaims his rightful spot beside you.

"Come here," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms without an ounce of struggle. He waits for you to settle, back against his chest, before fully enveloping you in his warm embrace.

"It sounds like pebbles hitting the roof instead of raindrops."

"Mhm," he hums, into your neck, letting his hand slide beneath the front of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your abdomen. "If your roof starts leaking, you're coming to stay with me." It's not a question or an offer.

You laugh. "The rain isn't that bad."

"Mm..." His lips home to your shoulder, a gentle peck placed on the concealed area. "Love seeing your pretty face first thing in the morning. You stay with me if your ceiling ever caves. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, through a giggle. "You'll be my first call."

"Good," he murmurs.

"I'll make you breakfast later, when we wake up."

And though Toji responds with, "Sounds good, ma," all he can think about is how you're going to struggle so hard to get out of bed because he's going to make it nearly impossible for you to do so. The gears are already turning in his head. He'll pin you down, he'll strengthen his hold around you, he'll roll on top of you "in his sleep". You're too polite for your own good, you most likely won't try to wake him up. He'll swaddle you in the blanket, he'll tie your shirts together in a tight knot-

"Goodnight, Toji," you mumble, feeling your tiredness return as he continues drawing little lines and shapes on your stomach.

"'Night, baby," he murmurs, feeling much more content and at peace with the idea of sleeping knowing that you're in his arms, not in anyone else's.

“my fuckin’ pussy” simon says as he’s pounding you in a mating press. your heel-clad feet are hung over his burly shoulders, flopping with every thrust.

“mmmn, yer fuckin” pussy” you slurred back.

“oh my, we’ve gotta talker, doing a little repeat after me? fuckin’ simon says, huh?”

he’s such a tease.

dogs out. zenin toji

fluff ‐ parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed 2yo daughter, megumi is four, and tsumiki is six. preschool teacher!nanami cameo ♡

little sunshines au

"moooooom! the baby took her shoes off again!"

tsumiki's voice has you peeking your head from the kitchen, trying to catch sight of your little girl. you're about to call your husband's name when he walks into the living room and picks your daughter up from the floor.

"dont like 'em?" he smirks, holding her tiny foot up and inspecting it.

she grins cheekily at her dad, proudly wiggling her little toes and showing off the sparkly nail polish on them.

"spaw-cle!"

finally done with the dishes, you join them and see her crocs discarded by the couch.

"again?"

"let her be, ma." toji has her foot against her cheek, both of them giggling at the silliness of it.

"she has to get used to them, toji."

he finally meets your eyes and sees the stern look in them. slowly, he puts your daughter down while she looks at him in confusion. toji doesn't have the heart to force his youngest to do stuff she doesn't like. but after three kids and years of marriage with you, he knows this is a battle he won't win.

"sorry, kiddo."

—

two days later, he's standing by the gates of the kids' school, waiting for them, when he notices something odd.

his face quickly switches from boredom to concern once he spots nanami holding his baby girl in his arms, her face visibly blotched from crying.

"she wouldn't stop taking her shoes off during class. I'm afraid we had to take... drastic measures." the blond man hands her over, visibly tense at toji's reaction. tsumiki and megumi stand next to him with matching frowns, having seen (and heard) their baby sister's cries. "school's policy."

"daddy!" she's bursting into tears as soon as she's in his arms, her watery eyes set on his concerned ones. "want 'em off!"

toji looks down at her feet and sees the brown tape around her pink sneakers, clashing horribly against it and causing him to sigh in defeat.

"baby, you can't keep taking your shoes off." he's patting her back in comfort, letting her sob against his shoulder while he turns to nanami again. "any advice? my wife and I have been struggling for weeks."

having seen this before, nanami recalls a piece of advice given from a couple who struggled with this, too. "try to find a pair that she likes. they don't have to be sneakers—the school isn't strict with that."

and suddenly, toji has a brilliant idea.

—

"princess, c'mere."

both you and your husband enter your daughter's room, sitting on the floor, and she comes closer with her plushie hanging from her hand.

toji places a box in front of her, your demeanor slightly anxious as you wait for her reaction. for a two-year-old, you're aware that she can be the toughest crowd sometimes.

her eyes are fixed in front of her, watching her dad opening the boring, brown box until pink and glitter are all her brain can process.

"woah..." she's clearly in awe, her little hands quickly grabbing the tiny pink heels and slipping them on her feet. "mommy shoes!"

the heels clack loudly against the floor, her steps uncoordinated and clumsy, but she can't stop giggling happily, walking back and forth.

"what did i tell you, ma?" toji's grin is smug, his arms wrapping around you while you play it off with a roll of your eyes. the sigh of relief is obvious from you two. "problem fixed."

he hasn't even finished gloating when you spot megumi standing by the door with his hands covering his ears, glaring ominously at toji.

"don't be so sure, honey."

✧ cn: fluff, marriage, husband toji, suggestive

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toji isn’t the kind of man who says “I love you” often. Not because he doesn’t feel it—but because words have never been his thing.

But when he sees you now, sitting on the floor with Megumi, trying to explain how to fit little wooden shapes into the right holes so he can learn geometry—something Toji knows damn well he’d never have the patience for, something hits him.

Fuck. This is what loving someone looks like.

It’s not just that you look cute when you smile, or how gently you stroke Megumi’s hair when he gets frustrated. It’s not even just how sweet your voice gets when you say, “That’s the triangle, baby. Good job.”

It’s that you’re beautiful. So beautiful it actually pisses him off a little.

Those damn shorts he always says make your ass look bigger—rolled up slightly, your hair tied back in that way that’s both innocent and deadly. From one angle, you look like the softest woman he’s ever seen. From another… like the kind he wants to bend over the couch and fuck until you're gasping his name, gripping the cushion while he pulls your hair and keeps your back pressed to his chest like you’re not going anywhere—

But that’s not what matters right now.

His heart beats a little harder just sitting there, slouched on the couch, legs spread, exhausted after a mission. And still… it’s you he’s watching.

“Hey,” he calls out.

You don’t look up, too focused on Megumi, but your voice comes out sweet, without thinking.

“Hmm? Yes, love?”

He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out quite right. The pause is too long, so you finally turn to look at him.

His eyes meet yours—intense, unreadable.

“Something wrong, baby?”

He hesitates. It comes out awkward, maybe even stupid. But it’s real.

“If you ever need anything from me… tell me.”

You blink, confused for a second, brows knitting.

“Toji, I’m completely happy with what i have. With you and Me—”

“Promise me.”

A beat.

“Yes, Toji. I promise.”

He nods, looking away, voice low—half to himself.

“I’d give you anything you want from me.”

୨୧ — "Tooojiii~", you chime, skipping up to him before wrapping your arms around one of his massive biceps. The sheer size difference making you look even smaller.

He arches an eyebrow, that smirk you adore so much playing at his lips, "what're you plotting?"

"Nothing at all," you say sweetly, your finger tracing the defined muscles of his arm, "Juuuust taking in the view~."

He snorts, but there's amusement in those sharp Zenin eyes, "The view, huh? Sure it's not just an excuse to cop a feel?"

"M’nope! I was just admiring how the sunrise today makes you look extra dangerous~"

"Dangerous, huh?" The big bad Toji Zenin grins, amused by how you can make even that sound like a compliment, "Most people don't say that while grinning like they've found a puppy."

"Well, I'm not most people," you giggle while pressing your cheek against the warmth of his arm, "And your arms are way better than any puppy. Now up, please ~!" you can’t stop the dumb grin on your face when he flexes his bicep deliberately under your grip.

"Tch. You're worse than a kid." He grumbles as he effortlessly hoists you up with his arm, your feet dangling. Toji huffs, but there's no hiding the flush creeping up his neck, "And flattery will get you nowhere."

Despite his gruff demeanor, you know he secretly loves how you get all stary eyed at his strength.

You grin cheekily, "i dunno, I think it’s gotten me pretty fa-."

"Papa! UP!" A tiny voice suddenly demands. You both look down to see little Megumi- the very proof of how far your flattery has gotten you with Toji Zenin. Your sons arms were stretched high above his head in a perfect mirror of your earlier pose.

Toji's expression softens gradually as he looks at his son. Without putting you down, he easily scoops up Megumi with his free arm, holding both of you aloft like you weigh nothing.

"Great… now I've got two clingy brats," he complains, but his eyes are warm as Megumi squeals in delight, tiny hands patting his father's muscled shoulder.

"Strong papa!" Megumi declares proudly, making Toji's ears turn slightly pink.

You catch this and grin, "That’s right sweetie, daddy’s the strongest," you agree, pressing a kiss to his bicep that makes him roll his eyes.

"And you’re my biggest brat," he mutters, but he doesn't put either of you down, secretly basking in the adoration from his two favorite people.

GAG ON IT .ᐟ — N. KENTO ୨‧₊˚✩

about. the only thing you want more than anything in the world is to get your boyfriend off but… you don't know how. luckily, nanami kento is a great teacher.

pairing. nanami kento x f!reader (non-sorcerer au)

wc. 2.6k

cw. dom!nanami, sub!virgin reader, (messy) oral (m. receiving), humiliation kink (if you squint), reader has a heavy praise kink, f!masturbation, pet names, face f!cking + deepthroating, head-pusher nanamin <3, slight angst (again, if you squint), reader is kinda insecure about lack of experience, lots of praise and validation ♡

kit’s note. hi, i'm (sorta) new here so pls forgive my writing and any mistakes... i haven't written in, like, 84 years and this really wasn’t supposed to be as long as it is. nonetheless, i hope u enjoy my very first jjk fic — kit ୨ৎ

nanami kento was one sexually experienced man. 

you knew this. from the very first glance, it was undeniable. something in the way he carried himself, the gravity of his presence, told you—no, assured you—that he would unravel you, reshape you, and leave his mark in ways you couldn’t yet comprehend.

and, of course, you were correct.

you, however, were his perfect contradiction, a stark contrast that bled into everything you had built together, evident in every moment, every choice, every collision of your worlds.

nanami was your first boyfriend, and while school had offered its version of ‘sex education’ and the internet had no shortage of explicit material, none of it had ever translated into real experience—well, until him.

you’ve been turned on before, no doubt about it. you’ve given yourself a few weak orgasms with an amazon vibrator, sure. but the carnal desire you got when nanami was around was a feeling you’d never experienced before. how could a man be so hot and sweet and turn you on without even trying? he was perfect. beyond perfect. 

and he was respectful. always so respectful. he wanted your first time to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because he knows that’s what everyone deserves– it’s what you, above all, deserve. that’s why he decided to take it slow regardless of his personal desires. 

it started with soft pecks. the teeny tiny ones that had you aching for more. those slowly led to real kisses, his tongue seeking solace in your mouth, roaming and exploring the new territory. then came the make out sessions, him leaving love bites on your neck while you rocked yourself against him subconsciously. which finally verged on him eating you out with his thick, long fingers fucking in and out of your cunt. 

he was amazing– so mind-boggling that you couldn’t make sense of it. while you knew that he knew what he was doing, it had you appalled. he could make you cum one, two, three times in one sitting and you’ve never even heard of anything like this in your friends’ sex lives. 

there was one miniscule problem with nanami, though. when you would ask if he needed help with the big… issue in his pants, he’d brush you off with a “don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” like the gentleman he is.

the more and more he refused your helping hand, the worse you felt. why should you be the only one that gets to feel good? especially when it’s at the hand of someone as compassionate and caring as nanami. 

the insecurities had been festering within you for a while now. all you wanted was for him to feel good. you wanted him to have the same toe-curling experiences that he gives you. you wanted him to cum for you, because of you.

you’d hoped that one day, he might ask you for help to get him off, yet that day never came. 

it’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands, asking him to come over to your apartment and dropping to your knees the second he entered your home. you gave him the biggest doe eyes and pout you could muster. 

he was stunned, mouth ajar and eyes widened. you’re not usually so bold with him, which was fine. admittedly, he always thought your aversion to talking about sexual things was kinda cute. 

still awestruck after a minute, he breathily asks, “sweetheart, wh-what are you…” 

“well, ken, i’ve been thinking about you and me a lot lately and i realized… you’re always so giving… ‘n you’re always taking such good care of me.” you shyly trail off him as your hands itched to touch him… to take his cock into your hands– into your mouth. “i wanna take care of you now, if you’d let me?”

“you don’t have to do that, my love. i do those things because i want to, not because i have to. you should know that.” he says, airly. a voice that you’ve only ever heard a handful of times. one that makes your cunt pulse. 

“i know. i jus’ want you to use my mouth, ken. you’re… you’re always making me feel good,” you beg with your eyes. “wanna make you feel good, too.”

“oh, baby,” he smiles softly at you, hand cupping your cheek while his finger brushes over the pout on your lips. “but you always make me feel good.” 

you slightly open your mouth allowing his thumb to enter. your lips wrap around his finger, eyes fluttering close and a broken, needy moan sounding in your throat. you suck the way you’d actually suck him off, hand coming to wrap around his wrist while your tongue swirls around him.

nanami holds back his moan at the sight of you crazed and depraved. he’s seen you needy before but never to this degree. never so eager to please.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva over your lips. he pulls your bottom lip down, “you want it that bad, princess?”

 you nodded, “please— so bad, kento.” 

and he could never say no to you. especially not when you’re giving him teary eyes and that voice. 

so he nods, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. the sound alone excites you, yet you can’t help but feel the apprehension of being face to face with his cock. 

nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you. while you’d felt him through his pants during your messy makeout sessions, his intimidating size exceeded your expectations by a mile. you accepted the challenge, nonetheless. 

and now, here you were struggling to take his cock down your throat. and while he’d been praising you like crazy, you knew good and well he wasn’t getting off anytime soon. it’s when he suggested eating you out instead, you knew that your attempts were futile.

“you wanna try again, baby?” nanami coos softly as he strokes the top of your head. “we can stop if you wanna… i can eat that pretty pussy instead, i don’t mind at all.” the suggestion makes your heat throb but you shake your head incessantly. you can do this.

you look up at him through your wet lashes and he twitches in your dainty hand. “i wanna make you cum for once.” the words tumble out of your swollen lips in a mutter. 

he frowns, hands coming back to your cheeks, only this time, the pads of his thumbs meet the wet, heated skin, brushing away the remainder of your tears.

you might be too good for him. you don’t even know how many times the thought of you alone has gotten nanami off. you don’t know how many cold showers he’s had to take, how much self-control it takes to be around you.

he sighs, squishing your face and forces you to look up at him. “alright, sweetheart, open wide for me, yeah? i’ll guide you.” his hands force you to nod. your heart skips a beat and the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. 

you oblige almost immediately, parting your lips, ready to (try and) take him again. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go slow. remember to breathe through your nose– and no teeth.” he instructs and you’re nodding, wrapping your pretty lips around his gorgeous length. “i’ll let you lead, you can move your head down a little more when you’re ready, yeah?”

nanami sharply exhales when he feels the warmth of your mouth. heat spreads through his toned body like a wildfire– you drive him crazy. 

even more crazy when you suddenly remember what you’ve seen in the pornos your friends forced you to watch. you look up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue swipe against the slit of his cock. “fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. use that tongue.”

you don’t know why, but the whispered curse that slips from his plump lips– lips that are raw from the way he can’t stop gnawing at them– has you arching into him. your cunt is begging for friction, so much so that it has you weeping. your eyes and your pussy. 

his praise spurs you on and you push your head down some more. it makes you gag, yes, but you remember what he said, breathing heavily through your nose. you’re already crying and looking back up to see his face contorted in pleasure has you taking him deeper and deeper. you need more of these reactions– you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more, but that could be the need to please clouding your judgment. 

nanami can’t resist the urge to fuck your cute little face when you look at him like that. the tears… the big, wide eyes trying to keep contact with his eyes… the way you look like a complete, utter mess all for him. 

he moves his hands to dig into your hair before pushing you some more. the tip of his cock gets lodged in your tight throat and he loses it when he feels you attempting to swallow around him.

he throws his head back and lets out an echoing moan. “you’re suuuch a good girl. take my cock so well, pretty. ‘m so p-proud of you.” he praises. “so good f’me, aren’t you?” 

you choke, letting the tears fall without an ounce of shame, but you nod with your mouth full of cock. you could care less about the way he’s actively bruising your throat, you’re making him feel good… and that makes you feel good. so good that you’re subtly fucking the air in hopes your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

“yeaaah, you are…” he hums, looking back down at you, taking him like the good girl you are. of course he notices you, he has a keen eye for these things. “aw, look at you. so needy… ‘s sucking me off getting you hot ‘n bothered?”

you whine in agreement, vibrating him to his core. you choke at the words, spluttering all over his cock creating bubbles of saliva at the base. his hands tug on your hair, pulling you off and it leaves you heaving, soft sobs ripping from your throat. 

“tell me, sweetheart. i wanna make sure my girl is always satisfied.” he demands in a somewhat authoritative tone.

“k-ken, don’t care ‘bout that– i-i wan’ you to cum,” you practically beg to have him back in your mouth, but his hands in your hair hold you still. 

he shakes his head, “uh-uh, none of that. go ahead and play with yourself for me, just like i taught you. you remember that, don’t you, my love?” 

he makes your head nod again, his cock throbbing at the sight of your drool covering the entirety of your chin. 

you let out a shaky breath as your hand moves from his muscular thigh to the waistband of your shorts. as you slip inside, your fingers find your desperate clit, rubbing it in circles the way he taught you. “k-ken, pl-please,” you moan.

he shudders, stomach flipping and cock twitching eagerly like he’s some teenager who’s never been touched. “please what, pretty girl?” he asks, his attempts to mask his neediness were vain and it was starting to show. 

“please, fuck my face, kento. ple–” your words are muffled by nanami shoving his cock back into your mouth. 

he lets his composure fly out the window, the guttural groan he’s been keeping down comes out loud– loud enough to make your eyes widen. “g-god, sweetheart– you’re… you’re gonna drive me–” he pushes your head down, squeezing his eyes shut as you swallow around him again. “insane. fuck, you’re so good, so good for me– fuck, baby, you’re making me feel so good.” 

nanami knows he’ll probably regret rambling like this later, but, unbeknownst to him, it has you rubbing your clit like your life depends on it. messy circles over the unduly sensitive bud while he thrusts into your mouth with just as much vigor. 

you gag and gag and the only thing it does is make nanami whine. he will definitely hate himself later for losing his self control, but right now? he’s madly in love with you and he’s showing it by giving you exactly what you want. pounding his cock into your mouth, using your face just like you asked. 

your eyes roll and brows furrow in ecstasy, the now-familiar knot in your tummy forms with zeal. 

“sweetheart– ugh, forgive me.” he moans, voice cracking handsomely. “fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum– y-you’re making it so hard to hold back.” 

why would you want him to? that’s the exact opposite of what you want. you try to relay that by snaking your free hand to the back of his thigh and pulling him towards you. 

he hears your actions loud and clear and, before you know it, you feel the ribbons of seed painting your throat as his cock twitches uncontrollably. 

the groans that leave his mouth are sinful. you’ve never heard him sound like this in the entirety of your time together— so unhinged and feral. you find that what’s coming out of his mouth might be your favorite sound ever and it’s definitely become your favorite side of him. the side of nanami where he’s the complete opposite of his otherworldly, chivalrous self. the gentleman you’ve grown to know and love is a hungry, filthy, masked freak and you fear that you’ve just released a beast upon you. not that you mind in the slightest. the thought only excites you further.

“god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “so pretty and perfect, all for me. my good girl.” 

your fingers work faster at the praise and your muffled whimpers grow louder. all the while, your mouth overflows with his heavy load and you feel it beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. 

once nanami notices, he pulls himself out of your mouth and you cough, choking over the exorbitant amounts of cum in attempts to swallow all of it. 

“k-ken,” you heave, your voice hoarse. your fingers are still rubbing at your clit, uncoordinated, yet it’s getting the job done. “did i do okay?” 

nanami’s still coming down from his mind blowing orgasm, chest huffing and puffing, but when he hears you seeking validation, he’s on his knees before you in an instant. 

his hand slips in your panties and finds yours, your nimble fingers toying with your bud. 

“so well. now c’mere,” he mutters. his fingers guide yours— he’s simply moving yours for you— and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. hungry for a taste, he slams his lips against yours, tongue invading your mouth despite the fact that he just came in it. 

his fingers move yours faster and faster and you don’t even realize he’s pushing yours aside to take over. 

you’re so weak when it comes to him. with him tonguing your mouth and his fingers working you, it’s no wonder you're coming undone in less than a minute.

you moan a mantra of his name into his, your body going taut as the knot in your tummy unravels. 

he lets you ride it out, playing with your cunt till your shaky hands wrap around his wrist and you pull his hand away. 

he moves his lips to your cheek, trailing wet pecks all the way to your ear. he whispers in your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“i might be addicted to your pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

★ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : TODAY IS YOUR FIRST DAY OF WORK AT POUNDTOWN !

wait. you did read the contract, right? if you did then please go ahead

you groan as the alarm on your phone jolts you awake, great 6:20am, you had to be at the studio at 8:30, and well, you did not live that far from it, perhaps 20 or 30 minutes max if there was not too much traffic and the bus arrived on time.

two hours to get ready, hm...

get up

press snooze

ride or die

sylus [秦彻] + female reader

synopsis. you're a simple girl: you see your boyfriend win a street race, it makes you want to jump his bones.

genre. 18+! MDNI! street racer!sylus, smut, pwp, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation, reader is a cowgirl yeehaw!, sweat, quickie in a car, biting, dirty talk, jealousy, established relationship. (i don't know anything about cars so excuse my bsing lol) wc; 1.5k

author's note. your honor, i plead the fifth. you read the tags... this is pure filth. nasty, disgusting self indulgence. enjoyyyyyy <3

Tucked away on the outskirts of Linkon, where the stars shine brighter, there’s a hum of engines.

The night is electric, the excited whispers of bystanders mixing with the crackle of the bonfire that was burning brightly. Its smoke served as a signal to those who wished to find a distraction from the sleeping city. There’s a remnant of heat from the summer sun, though it’s been long since it dipped into the horizon.

Everyone’s attention was pointed towards the two brightly painted vehicles in the middle of the crowd. The red and yellow colors reflect the fire burning behind.

You stood in between them, watching the red sports car intensely. Though the windows are tinted too dark for you to see through, it’s impossible to ignore the feeling that you’re being watched.

With a kittenish smile, you lift the flag in your right hand, pausing for a moment before it comes back down.

Before you can even blink, the two cars speed past you, leaving nothing but the smell of fumes behind.

Without hesitation, you turn, barely catching your boyfriend’s car disappearing down the road. The cacophony of cheering is overwhelming. There are worried looks and nail biting as the possibility of losing a bet weighed heavy on people’s minds.

But, you, you were anything but worried.

All your money was on Sylus.

And it’s not long before the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s muffler comes back into earshot. He stops abruptly, past the finish line.

Not even close.

The crowd rushes past you, wanting to congratulate the tall figure emerging from the car. A few straggle behind, frustration evident on their face as they watch the other racer arrive. 

They really should have known better.

You drop the flag you’re still holding, pushing past the crowd ready to run your victor’s arms, until you see the group of girls gathering around him.

Girls who were arching their backs a little too hard, tugging their already low-cut tops even lower, batting their eyelashes.

And although you were used to the attention Sylus got from women, tonight it made your hands clench into fists. Your eyes twitch, scowl scrunching your features.

Maybe it was something in the air tonight, because you march up to him, all but shoving the girls away from him and ignoring their dirty looks.

Sylus, who had already spotted you through the crowd, drops his tense shoulders as you stop in front of him. 

“Hey– mmph!”

You plant your lips onto his, not waiting for him to react before slipping your tongue into his mouth. His surprise does not linger as he reciprocates with ease, hand coming up to the small of your back to push you further into him.

As your tongues clash passionately, the girls gawk at you before leaving with a roll of their eyes. You pull away, unable to help the satisfied look on your face. Your hands come up around his neck.

Sylus tilts his head, eyes alight with a fire. He smirks.

“Kitty has claws.”

You were only slightly embarrassed at the wetness pooling in your panties already. Though you knew it didn’t take much for him to get you going.

His face was glistening, a thin layer of sweat from the humidity of the abnormal hot night. The black shirt he was wearing was entirely too tight for your liking, taut chest and broad shoulders on full display. 

He might as well just take it off.

You bit your lip softly, looking at his lips. Not shying away from your blatant eye-fucking, Sylus’ hand trails lower down your back, slipping into the pocket of your denim shorts that left little to the imagination.

Maybe you both were trying to drive each other crazy tonight.

“Sy…” you breathe, unable to contain the desire dripping from your words. “I need you.”

You don’t care if you sound whiny. You needed him inside, badly.

Sylus groans lowly as you tug at his strands slightly. He lets go of you, not before slapping your ass. “Get in.”

You should be ashamed at how quickly you run around the car to the passenger side. Everyone surely saw your display of affection, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You were way too needy right now.

Sylus reaches over to buckle your seatbelt, wasting no time in driving away as soon as he hears it click in place. You watch as the speedometer on his dash rises to the triple digits and it only makes your cunt throb harder. You sigh, frustrated at the lack of attention.

You kick off your kitten heels, sliding your shorts down your legs.

“Kitten…” it's a warning. Sylus glances in your direction, eyes stern.

“I just,” you slip your finger under your lace panties. “I can’t wait.”

His hand grips the gear shift.

You slip a finger into yourself, gasping at just how soaked you were. Without hesitating, you slip another in. The sound of your fingers deftly working your wet cunt was enough to earn another groan from Sylus.

“Sy…” a soft moan, “please.” another finger, but it was just not enough. 

“I need you, now.”

He’s sloppy, clearly affected by your words as he swerves, haphazardly parking on the empty field that surrounds the road. Reaching over, Sylus unbuckles your seat belt and pulls you on top of him with such speed it leaves you dizzy.

His lips are on yours before you can process it, tongue swirling in your mouth. His kiss was burning with desire, unrelenting, his hand holding your head in place even as you struggle to breathe. You bring your hands to his neck, unable to let your instincts kick in.. You wished to devour him whole.

Sylus is the one to pull away, teeth softly biting into the swollen flesh of your bottom lip.

“What’s gotten into my sweet girl…” he ponders as you attack his neck, fingers now pulling his shirt up to feel the heat of his skin. Your tongue comes down to lick the sweat from his skin. You feel rabid, sucking down until you see the purple marks bloom just above his shirt.

Enough for everyone to know he’s yours.

You pull back, biting your lip with barely contained delight. 

It makes him look so pretty, you think.

Sylus catches the way your eyes twinkle at your work. It almost makes him laugh.

Like a woman entranced, you quickly make work of his pants, pulling out his thick, hard length. You don’t even try to stop the soft moan that leaves your lips at the sight of his wet tip. You wonder if you’d ever stop being surprised at how big it was in your hand.

“Are you trying to tease me?” he questions roughly as you slowly slide your hand up and down his length.

“Can’t I just appreciate my boyfriend for a minute?” you bite back, and it earns you a hard slap onto your ass.

“But, you were so eager just a few minutes ago. Be a good girl and take my cock already.”

You knew better than to argue.

Sylus slides your panties to the side, helping you as you align your dripping pussy with his tip. You slowly slide down his length, feeling every. single. inch. until you’re completely full. You whine, back arching as you let his cock spread you deliciously. 

He groans, hips coming up to meet yours impatiently. He leans back, hand on your hips as he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Now ride it, kitten.”

His words make you lift your hips, slamming back down as soon as his tip is at your entrance. 

Your breaths mingle, clouding the car’s windows. You continue to bounce on his cock, moaning sweetly with every move of your hips. His nails dig into your ass, guiding you to make sure he doesn’t slip out of your tight cunt.

“Oh, Sy!” 

Sylus comes up, pressing his chest against you. His head is heavy on your shoulder, and you feel his teeth sink into your skin.

You’re not even sure if you’re still the one controlling your movements. Sylus’ hands come to your waist, using his absurd strength to keep sliding your slick against him. You're impossibly close, skin to skin, nails clawing at his back.

You were getting so close.

He knew.

The seat comes down and you squeal, falling onto his chest. Before you can question him, Sylus is slamming his hips up into you, deeper than before. 

“C’mon, kitten. I wanna see you cum for me,” he’s breathless at the sight of you, mouth open and eyes rolled back. “Cum all over this cock, you know it’s all yours.” his words coax more honeyed moans out of your swollen lips.

He was making a fucking mess out of you.

And he was enjoying every second of it.

The euphoria is sudden, your orgasm making every limb in your body spasm against him. Sylus can feel your tight pussy creaming on his length, almost enough to send him over the edge. But—

“Can I—”

“Yes,” you whimper, still on cloud nine. “I want you to fill me up, Sy, please.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

You feel his hot spurts of cum inside you, doing just as you asked.

Legs numb, you stay on top of him, struggling to catch your breath. Sylus brings his hand to cup your face, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. When he pulls back, he has that infuriating smirk on his face again.

“All because of some girls?”

Your face is warm, and you try to blame it on the suffocating heat in the car.

“Shut up.” you drop your forehead onto his chest.

It makes his smirk wider, but his gaze softens. He brings his finger up to the window, using the condensation as an easel. You turn to watch him as he draws a tiny heart with your initials.

“You’re always going to be the only one for me, kitten.”

thank you for reading <3

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the ryomen sukuna has never in his thousand years of living apologised to any living being. so why does he feel the need to make it up to you after (unintentionally) hurting you?

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort), suggestive. sukuna is an asshole but also not i guess. reader gets called ‘brat, woman’. not proofread. wc: 1.8k

sukuna has never felt the need to apologize. he’s never in the wrong if you ask him. apologising to someone he deems ‘lesser’ would be a sign of weakness.

yet the king of curses always has this secret need to make his favorite concubine feel better after (unintentionally) hurting her. you’ve got this hold on him that he will never acknowledge. although there are moments where he will indirectly show you that he regrets upsetting you.

it’s a quiet saturday evening and you’re relaxing in your bedchambers after eating your dinner. you didn’t go to the dining hall to eat with sukuna and the others. no, you made sure your head lady-in-waiting brought your food to your room.

sukuna and you got into a ‘little’ argument yesterday. you both spent the entire day and night alone instead of in each other’s presence, which is the norm. even the people around you have noticed the growing tension whenever sukuna and you would cross paths.

of course, the other concubines seized the opporunity to vie for sukuna’s attention now that his favored little concubine was no longer by his side. yet, their efforts proved in vain. sukuna had grown more irritable over the past twenty-four hours, his mind relentlessly preoccupied with thoughts of you—a fact that only frustrated him further. you weren't in the mood to speak with him again, so why did that bother him so much? It should have made him scoff, made him see you as weak and driven him to demand that you speak to him once more.

but all the king of curses can think about is how to get you to cling to him once more. as much as he says that it’s exhausting to have a needy 'brat' at his side all the time, your abscence makes him realise he secretly enjoys having you around.

snapping back into your own thoughts, you realise you’ve been staring at your cup of tea for the longest time. you sigh and get up from the table, your feet dragging over the tatami flooring. however a sudden knock on your doors causes you to stop in your tracks.

“come in,” you murmur, thinking it is one of your ladies-in-waiting with your dessert. but the silence that follows afterwards is nearly ominous.

you frown and sigh before going over to the shoji. you slide the screens aside, only to be met by a wall of muscles you know way too well. you tilt your head back and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of the one man you stubbornly refused to talk to.

sukuna looms over you, his massive frame dwarfing your smaller one. he invites himself inside, not waiting on a response from you. he steps into your room and turns around to face you. his dark red eyes narrow as he tries to decipher the emotions playing on your face.

you don’t say a thing. you don’t look at him. you don’t smile at him. you don’t move a muscle. no acknowledgment at all. sukuna hates it—it’s unusual for you to be so cold. your eyes dart to the floor and your bottom lip subtly forms a defiant pout.

sukuna scoffs. he’s made the decision to break the silence between you two first, coming all the way to your bedchambers to talk. he would never have done such a thing for anyone else—would have waited for them to grovel before him and beg for his forgiveness. and yet here he is, standing in front of his concubine, ready to confront the issues between them.

he feels pathetic and it angers him from within. he desires to command you to get on your knees and apologise to him, to obey him and forget what happened. however an annoying voice in the back of his head tells him to be patient with you.

“tch, what’s with the face?” sukuna's deep and commanding voice fills the spacious room. he doesn't go about it the gentle way—he’s still him after all. “y’re still sulking about that little thing? i thought i told ya to stop thinkin’ about it.”

hearing sukuna say the latter makes your heart ache and your eyes water from frustration. everything seems like it’s not a big deal to him—even when you’re clearly upset.

“that was not just a little thing, my lord!” you raise your voice just a little, surprising yourself as the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. you swallow thickly and bite your lip. you've done it now, the thought echoes inside your head.

sukuna’s eyebrows raise in surprise at your outburst, not used to you raising your voice to him like that. although in an instant, his eyes flash with something dangerous. you may be his favorite and he may let you get away with a lot of things, yet there are boundaries. rules that even you must obey.

the king of curses would probably find it amusing to see you snap back at him, thinking you will achieve something with that, but today is not one of those days. the shimmering tension between you two has lead to him being more agitated than ever.

sukuna closes the distance between you two and reaches out to grab you by our jaw. his fingers curl tightly beneath your chin and force your head to turn, making you face him.

“you dare raise your voice at me, woman?” sukuna growls, his face mere inches from yours. his grip borders on painful and you wince at the ache in your jaw. he doesn’t let go and instead tightens his hold, “i don't have time for this fuckin' nonsense.”

sukuna releases you with a light shove. he takes a deep breath to try and calm down, to remind himself that he came her to clear things up. but it’s difficult because he’s never had to do this before. never had to listen to someone else, always expecting them to simply endure and move on whenever he caused harm.

you stumble a bit, rubbing at the your chin. you don’t get it; is sukuna here to make it worse for you? to rub it in? to remind you again of what he said to upset you? to make fun of you for being upset about it?

it certainly does hurt. you replay that moment again in your head. the moment when sukuna told you he could replace you with someone else whenever he desires. it is a fact. sukuna can do that whenever he pleases. but it stung to hear him say it so explicitly. to hear him say it to your face, as if that doesn't already keep you awake at night.

little did you know, sukuna didn’t mean to hurt you too much with that comment. he didn’t expect you to ignore him, to avoid him, all because of what he said. he simply said it because he was struggling with his own emotions—denying that he feels anything for you. he said it to remind himself that he isn’t getting attached to a human.

but that failed terribly. seeing you like this—your teary eyes glaring up at him with fear, hurt and betrayal made him feel an uncomfortable pang in his chest. something that resembled guilt.

“have a good night then, my lord,” you dismiss sukuna and turn away, your voice strained with emotion. you don’t want to start another argument with him.

the king of curses grits his teeth. there it goes again. ‘my lord’ — yes, it’s what most others call him, but not you. you always called him by nicknames he deemed foolish. ‘kuna, ryo or even dear. he strangely longs to hear your voice call him as such again.

sukuna stands there, trying to reign in his anger and other overwhelming emotions. he grabs your wrist and tugs you back to him, making you stumble and catch yourself against his chiseled chest.

he doesn’t know what to say—doesn’t trust himself to speak. he knows he’ll make it worse by speaking, knows he’ll rile you up even more. thus he chooses not to utter a word for a moment.

your eyes meet and you’re surprised when sukuna leans down to catch your lips in a kiss. your hands fist into the collar of his kimono, your mind telling you to back off. this man is dangerous—playing with your emotions like this.

telling you one thing, but contradicting himself with his actions. it’s extremely confusing yet also exhilarating.

you close your eyes and respond to his kiss with equal fervor. the pink-haired man groans against your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip before biting on it. a habit of his.

sukuna’s large hands roam over your body as he presses you as close to him as possible. it’s like he’s reassuring you with his touch—melting away all your worries. it’s a manipulative tactic that somehow always gets you. or perhaps it’s just his way of apologising.

which of the two it is, will always be vague and unknown.

eventually, he pulls away, leaving you both breathless. you stare up at him with a huff before glancing the other way. you’re still sulking, still pouting.

sukuna rolls his eyes and easily lifts your body up into his arms. two of his hands settle on the back of your thighs, the other two grazing the side of your breast and waist. he carries you over to your bed and sits on the edge with you on his lap.

“y’re a fool,” sukuna clicks his tongue. his fingers slither up the exposed skin of your arm and against your cheek to flick your forehead. he gains a whimper from you which urges him to do it again.

you frown and rub at the tingly skin on your head. your eyes are still watery, lashes clumped together due to your tears. it’s almost cute. almost. “and you look pathetic,” the man in front of you adds with a condescending smirk.

you weakly smack sukuna’s chest, making his grin widen. there you go—there is the woman he knows, slowly making a comeback. slowly warming up to him again. slowly being playful with him once more.

sukuna sighs. to you, it may seem like a tired sigh, but in reality it’s a sigh of relief. he may not have solved this issue between you two in a normal, healthy way, but it worked out anyway.

“you’re mean,” your comment breaks the moment of silence. your bottom lip trembles and you look like you might just cry it all out. the frustration, the fear, the hurt, the relief—it’s overwhelming.

sukuna inhales briefly. he doesn’t respond to your little remark, instead, he holds the back of your head and presses your face into his chest. he holds your body against him, nestled warmly between his muscular arms.

you don’t protest at all. you close your eyes and breathe in his familiar scent, nuzzling your nose into his pecs. you know this is his way of making you feel betted so you will not complain.

an apology will never leave the prideful man's lips and you’ve come to accept it. this way of reassuring you counts as something at the very least.

it doesn’t matter who or what gets between you two, at the end of the day, you’ll find each other again. one way or another.

and that's all you need.

roommate!sukuna who is having a really hard time with you his new roommate. he thinks he should be offended at this rate. did you think he was gay? what other reasoning could there be for the way you act and dress infront of him. he knew for a fact that when you left the house this morning you had on a cardigan buttoned right to the top. and yet you walked into his room on your way in to show him your new nails and all that covered you was a tiny pair of shorts and a thin tank top with the lace of your bra peeking through.

“kuna looooook i got polka dots and a new shape, do you like them?”

how was he supposed to focus on your nails when your tits were practically in his face, pushed together due to the way you were positioned.

‘yeah brat they’re nice, and it’s cold put some clothes on.’

‘i’m not colddd’ you sing songed on your way out.

and this may not sound so bad, but there was also the time you had gotten your shirt mixed up with his in the wash. and when he had asked you if that was his shirt you were wearing you simply said Oops! and proceeded to take it off then and there infront of him. and only when he saw the bottom of your breasts did he realize you weren’t wearing a bra. he had managed to turn around in time and was perplexed at why you would strip infront of him with the biggest smile on your face. you weren’t even trying to be seductive you were just you. and he was beginning to be offended. why weren’t you attracted to him. he was insanely attracted to you. everytime you plopped down next to him on the couch for your movie nights in your tiny shorts or just plain underwear he’d have to cover his lap with a cushion at the immediate semi. everytime you mouthed off to him he had to convince himself not to put you over his knee. and when you napped in his bed instead of yours and sprawled your legs out as if you owned the place with one of your stupid plushies brought along with you and his pillow shoved between your thighs. that, he wasn’t so mad about however, sometimes it still smelt like you when he was touching himself at night with the thought of your soft body fresh in his mind.

you were frankly becoming a pain in the ass and he was ready to sort it out.

a/n: not proofread sorry but i shall make part 2 soon, also starting my jjk men as roommates drabbles :)

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

Satoru was lazily sitting on the couch in a manspread, head tilted to the side as he drifts in and out a sleep. Due to his crazy work schedule he barely even sleeps, you come out from the kitchen just getting done putting the chocolate chip cookies in the oven like Satoru requested.

You enter the living room finding his sleep deprived state on the couch. You walk up to him going in between his long legs, your hands find his larger ones untangling them from each other holding onto them. Satoru lifts his head up slowly, his blue half lidded with dark circles underneath them looking at you.

“cmon…let’s get you in bed..” you softy say, your thumbs gently caressing the tops of his hands. Satoru just nods lazily as a weary sigh escapes his soft lips, you take a small step back as he stands up from the couch.

Leading him up the stairs, your arm wrapped around his muscular bicep leading him up the stairs to your shared room. You open the large white door guiding him over to his side of the bed pulling back the covers and tucking him in.

“there we go,” you whisper with a small smile, your hands gently going to his face cupping his cheeks. “now you get some rest.” you firmly but softly say, Satoru nods lazily against the pillow. His eyes still fixated on yours not even bothering to argue with you since he knew fully well to just how much he needed sleep.

You lean over brushing some of his white hair out of his forehead before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Leaning back up your hand gently cradling the side of his face looking down at his already asleep state.

You smile lovingly down at him before walking out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen to finish on the cookies, so when he wakes up he can honor his sweet tooth while watching cheesy rom coms with you on the couch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

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

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

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

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

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

CUTE CAMGIRL GETS NAILED BY NERDY ROOMMATE?

lights, camera, action!

starring: roommate!Gojo x camgirl!Reader

content: mdni, modern au, gojo is obsessed but sweet, instant crush, falling in love, masturbation, jealousy, Sukuna cameo, teasing, making out, back shots, doggy style, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare

art by @chu-cho + divider by @bronzewasp

roommate!Gojo whose been obsessed with you before you even moved in - he just didn't know it

roommate!Gojo who didn't really need a roommate when he doesn't even pay rent for the penthouse he already owned, but after so many lonely nights with no one to talk to (and considering pets were out of the question since he can't even keep a plant alive) he was more than a little taken by the idea of having someone to come home to who was stuck with him for a twelve month lease

roommate!Gojo who plasters ads online, exchanging emails with strangers until he lands on sweet little you, asking you to meet him for brunch the next weekend, despite Suguru being convinced you had to be a catfish hoping for cheap rent

roommate!Gojo who thinks you're an angel when you slide in the seat across from him - even if you laugh in his face when he calls you one

roommate!Gojo who listens leaning halfway across the table with his chin propped up by his hand, enraptured by every word that leaves your mouth, the way you giggle at his lame jokes and roll your eyes at his lamer flirtations, only getting serious when you awkwardly admit you have an unconventional job that meant you'd be home most of the time, although something about your voice is familiar, like maybe he heard it before, bumped into you somewhere

roommate!Gojo who pulls out the lease for you to sign then and there, cheeks already heating up at the thought of you walking around his apartment in tiny shorts and thin tank tops, or even better, your figure drowned in one of his t-shirts, padding into the kitchen barefoot and bending over to grab a drink from the fridge, well, actually, he's imagining what a cute story this would make to tell your future children someday but even he could admit that was probably a little much

roommate!Gojo who figures out what your unconventional job is one week into this new living arrangement after helping you get your new room all set up, scrolling on his phone in his own bed and debating on asking you on a late night ice cream run when he hears your voice through the wall, all cute and chirpy, and yeah, he shouldn't snoop, but perhaps he just-so-happened to press his ear against the wall to listen in when all the pieces clicked together

roommate!Gojo who has never typed faster in his life than when he's searching up his favorite faceless camgirl, pulling up the stream just to confirm his suspections - and thank the fucking stars he somehow got this lucky, listening to your laugh through the wall and on his phone

roommate!Gojo who ends up fucking his fist by the end of the show, because even if you never showed above your shoulders on stream, he's picturing what pretty faces you were making now that he knew it was you, barely able to keep his moans to himself as he strokes himself in rough, harsh thrusts, bucking his hips up and wishing it was your palm wrapped around him instead, or fuck, the pretty little cunt you had on display on screen

roommate!Gojo who blushes wildly the next morning he sees you, and you just giggle, giving him a quick wink, like maybe it wasn't just his imagination your little show had been louder than usual, your gasps and whimpers meant to be heard through the wall you shared

roommate!Gojo who thinks you're the perfect girl roommate - you listen to all his ramblings and rants, curl up next to him on the couch for movie (and Digimon) marathons, ask to bake sweets together when you're bored or let him drag you around some afternoons to shop and eat, casually holding his hand in public, resting your head against him and letting him throw an arm around your shoulders, and yeah, okay, you always pay rent on time (although his generous donations probably make up half of it)

roommate!Gojo who is, of course, devastated to have to spend even just a few hours apart and leave you alone in the penthouse to attend a stupid work party with Suguru, ignoring his friend's teasing about his crush, but a cup of spiked punch later, he's wondering why he hasn't just made a move yet, asked you to be his, when he gets the notification you're live again

roommate!Gojo who almost pukes when he clicks on it and realizes you're not alone, some asshole with too many muscles and even more tattoos manhandling you into a mating press on your soft mattress, faces carefully concealed out of shot as usual while you get speared open on his obscene length

roommate!Gojo who excuses himself from the party, an emergency at home, which really meant he needed to get there and throw that fucking prick out and show you anything that guy could do, he could do better, but by the time he made it through the front door, the jerk was gone, only finding you sleepily sprawled out on the couch watching some reality show

roommate!Gojo who just blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat when you yawn and sit up as soon as you notice him, stretching your arms and letting your shirt ride up to expose a thin strip of skin, while you just tilt your head to the side as if to ask if he was going to say anything - as if you knew he knew about your guest star

roommate!Gojo who bridges the distance in a few short strides, getting down on his knees in front of the couch to cup your face and capture your lips in a starving kiss, hard enough you almost fall back onto the couch cushions, but you're giggling in-between kisses at the way his glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, fingers tangling back in his hair, tugging him in closer so your canines can nip at his bottom lip

roommate!Gojo who's the one throwing you onto your bed half an hour later, his cock throbbing painfully in the too-tight confines of his boxers, aching for your warmth after barely being able to stop himself from cumming in his pants ten times just from making out, but the sight of your glistening cunt in person when he peels your blue lace panties down your thighs almost does him in again

roommate!Gojo who thinks he must've got into a car crash and died on the way home, because he must be in heaven when he finally slides the first few inches of his thick cock inside, groaning as he forces his way past the first ring of resistance, his grip on your hips nearly bruising as he grinds in deeper, overwhelmed by the pretty arch of your back and you on your hands and knees, whining and ready to take him, your soft ass squirming while your walls grip and suck him in so sinfully

roommate!Gojo who fucks you like you're still on camera, pounding into you until you're crying out his name loud enough for half the building to hear, his hips probably leaving marks on your ass and the lewd smacks of skin-on-skin and your pretty wet slick dripping down your thighs only encouraging to go faster, harder, give you more until there was nothing left of him to give

roommate!Gojo who knows what spots to hit to make you shudder, you thighs trembling as you whine and mewl, making soft, sweet promises of something he can't even fully process, too focused on making you cum harder than you ever have before, his grip on your hip the only thing holding your body up as he reaches his other hand around to play with your surely needy clit, his new favorite toy, massaging precise patterns and calculating just the right amount of pressure to have you unravelling into putty in his palm

roommate!Gojo who can't help cumming inside you when your body shivers and you break into what feels like a billion pieces for him to put back together with searing kisses scattered across your back, grunting your name and mumbling something half-incoherent about how long he waited for this, for you

roommate!Gojo who carries you to the bath afterward, still pressing kisses everywhere while he cleans you up, washing your hair and scrubbing both of you clean, leaning back against the porcelain with you on his chest when you glance up at him to fix his crooked glasses with a grin, pressing a peck to his jaw and asking if he wants to do it again - with an audience

a/n: this was based on an anon ask I accidentally deleted sorry >.<

♡dilf!nanami♡

warnings: baby fever, mating press, unprotected sex, cumming inside

art creds to @hercaptain and @narutoss.ramen

dilf!nanami who is the girl dad ever.

in fact, when dilf!nanami heard you were expecting girl twins, he was already ordering the matching pink strollers and cribs and little newborn baby onesies.

dilf!nanami who throughout your entire pregnancy, was plastered to your side, making sure your every need was meet, and constantly with a hand on your tummy, feeling for the little baby kicks.

dilf!nanami who when the babies were first born, was with you every step of the way, getting up out of bed at three in the morning if it meant his tired wife could get a few extra hours of sleep, feeding bottles to both of them if your breasts were too sore, rocking them in his big beefy arms and whispering how “daddy’s here”, and even strapping them to his chest in baby slings while he ran errands.

dilf!nanami who you can find cooing at your baby girls, making them giggle as he bounces them on his lap, blowing raspberries on their tummies and tickling them as he keeps them entertained for you.

and not only is dilf!nanami the best father, but he’s also the best husband.

dilf!nanami who after tucking in the babies to bed, tiptoes away to your bedroom.

because while he has to make sure the babies are tended to, he also needs to tend to his baby.

dilf!nanami who takes quick strides to your shared bedroom, wasting no time in sprawling his buff frame over you, pinning you easily down as he huffs hoarsely in your ear, “kids are asleep” while his bulge presses into your soft tummy.

dilf!nanami who is already half-hard at just seeing your chubbed belly and plush hips, your post-pregnancy body was just so tantalizing to him.

dilf!nanami whose hands roam your body with a desperate kind of need, squeezing and kneading tenderly as he places kisses all along your neck and jaw.

dilf!nanami who grunts lowly as your grabby hands reach for his cock, hastily pulling down his boxers until his length slaps against his stomach, spilling pearlescent beads of oozing precum across himself.

dilf!nanami who is huuung, swollen balls and thickened base all leading up to a perfectly symmetrical cock, the tip flushed an angry red and twitching wildly at your gaze.

dilf!nanami who quickly hooks a finger into your panties, shoving them aside before lining himself up, so heavy between your legs you can't help the small moan of anticipation you let out, wriggling your hips up impatiently.

dilf!nanami who only chuckles at his wife's eagerness, too quick to oblige as he begins to push in, past that first tight ring of muscle while you suck him in deeper.

dilf!nanami who groans at the greediness of your slobbering pussy, already trying to milk him for all he's worth as you clamp on tight around him.

"f-fuck, m'.. hah.. gonna cum if you don't stop sucking me in like that sweetie."

dilf!nanami who begins to roll his hips forward, filling you up inch by inch as your moans slur together, tongue lolling out dumbly.

he was just so big, you couldn't help it if you were already cock-drunk!

dilf!nanami who watches as your eyes roll back in your head when he starts up a mean pace, hips snapping into yours ferally while your spit-glossed lips hang open helplessly.

dilf!nanami whose hand comes down between your legs to stroke your twitching clit, the cool metal of his silver wedding band making you jolt with pleasure as you squirm under him.

dilf!nanami's baritone rumble of your name brings you back, as he suddenly throws your legs over his broad-framed shoulders, candied pink lips crashing onto yours in a craze as he folds you into a nasty mating press.

"wan' .. hah.. make ya a pretty mama again.."

"what?" you're gasping for breath, eyelashes fluttering as a familiar coiling heat begins to pool low in your tummy, winding closer with every harsh smack! of his hips into yours.

"can you do that f'me, my love?" dilf!nanami's words have begun to slur, eyes glossy as his throat bobs, pushing your legs up higher 'n higher. "have my babies again?"

drool has begun to seep out of the corners of your lips and with a mindless nod, you find dilf!nanami's hips bucking sloppily as he gets closer.

"say it."

you feel your tummy knotting achingly tight and with a hoarse cry you practically scream out, "k-ken' make me a mommy again! please!" before you're cumming, and cumming hard, creaming all over his cock until it's forming a little ring at his base.

dilf!nanami who is cumming seconds after you, your filthy words sending him over the edge with a soft groan as ribbons 'n' ribbons of hot, milky cum are shooting into you, filling you endlessly up until you're clawing at his back and crying with how stuffed you feel.

dilf!nanami who shudders and jerks over you, whispering small praises as the last wispy remnants of his seed empty into you, fingers coming to stuff the glossy dredges beginning to seep out of your ruined pussy back in.

you hiccup softly, whilst dilf!nanami shushes and coos at you to take it all, lovingly stroking your cheek and placing small kisses on your face while you recover.

dilf!nanami who after giving you a couple more orgasms and tiring you out, hears the babies begin to wail from the other room, tucking you in snugly before whispering “i’ll do it, you get some rest my pretty mama..”

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

tagslist: @stickyyyv4mp @iluvgogurt445

nanami's daughter went through an identity crisis at the age of four.

you were teaching her how to write her own name. she happily exclaimed that she can do it herself, after all papa taught her all the alphabets. she clumsily jot down her supposed name and showed it to you, looking very much proud

suethart nanami

you were confused but told her this was not her name. she looked up at you with confused big doe eyes, the color the same as your husband's

"but thats what papa calls me?"

you chuckled behind your hand and explained to her what her actual name was and how it wasnt sweetheart. she looked so devastated that you almost wanted to rename her.

"no, its sweetheart!"

later that evening, before nanami could even announce he was home and put out his shoes, his daughter went to him running

"papa! whats my name??" she asked very firmly, with arms crossed and brows furrowed

he raised his eyebrow at you to see if it was another tiktok prank where he was supposed to call her 'my princess' (hed gladly do that). you just shrugged your shoulders at him, looking very much done. he fondly huffed, things are always so chaotic with you two, but he wouldnt have it any other way. he smiled softly and patted his baby's fluffy haired head

"sweetheart, at least let me put out my shoes first-"

she cheered happily and threw herself in nanamis arms. out of instinct, he held her, with all the gentleness in the world.

"see mama?? i told you my name was sweetheart!!" she then proceeded to give you a 'i told you so' look

nanami, still very much confused and not out of his shoes looked at you, asking for help. you just sighed heavily

later during dinner time, you and nanami both taught your baby about real names and pet names. she got so pouty after she learnt that her name was neither sweetheart nor baby nor honey, it was taking nanami a lot of willpower to not her rename her sweetheart and bring back her sunny smile. but you reassured her that to you guys she will forever be 'sweetheart'. she lit up at your words and proceeded to happily munch her food

nanami blinked. well that was easy.

tho she had another breakdown when she found out that your name wasnt actually 'my love'.

edit : i have a papa geto work too! pls check it out on my profile!! ty :))

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

COLLEGE BULLIES ♡ // HEADCANONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

This long-distance relationship just wasn’t working for Sukuna anymore.

He can’t see you. Can’t touch you. Can’t put you in a headlock, smack your ass, bite you, or flick your forehead. At this point, are you two even together, or is this just an overpriced pen-pal situation?

He calls you clingy, but let’s be real—anyone with half a brain cell and a functioning set of eyes can see that he’s the real problem here. And the worst part? He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just doesn’t care. He does not want to be saved.

This man is glued to his phone every single minute, refreshing your messages like his life depends on it. And if you don’t answer fast enough? He turns into a grumpy, overgrown toddler, making everyone around him suffer.

At this point, it’s not just him begging you to visit—it’s his friends, his brother, maybe even some strangers off the street. They’re exhausted. They have had enough. Somebody, please, for the love of all things holy, put this man out of his misery and just go see him before they all lose their minds.

After two months, you finally decided to just surprise Sukuna. It was early in the morning, and you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming. Not even his friends— they would’ve blown your cover out of sheer relief. You missed him too, sure… just not as much as he missed you.

You let yourself in with your key, slipping inside like a thief in the night (except this was your man and your house, so..?). He was still asleep, sprawled out on the bed in nothing but black boxers and a tight black T-shirt that was clinging to him a little too well.

And this? This right here is where you questioned everything.

How did you pull this man? Seriously. What divine force was on your side that day? He looked so damn good, it was criminal. His tattoos. The way that shirt stretched over his muscles. The black boxers. The absolute mess that was his pink hair. It was all too much.

You wanted to jump his bones on sight, but you contained yourself. Barely.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you gently rub his back, whispering softly, "Sukuna… baby, wake up." He doesn’t move a muscle. When he’s asleep, he’s as still as stone, completely unreachable—unless, of course, the air shifts in the room just right. Then, he’s up in an instant, sharp and alert, like a predator on the prowl. But right now? Nothing. Not a twitch.

You try again, your voice softer this time, "Love... baby... Suku... wake up... mm, I'm here..."

At the sound of your voice, he stirs. A low grunt escapes his throat, and his eyes flutter open, but the confusion on his face is enough to make your heart melt. He blinks, disoriented, as if trying to process what’s real. And in that moment, you can’t help but smile. He’s so adorable, even in his most groggy, unguarded state.

The fact that you—just you—can see him like this, can call him any type of names and still think he's the cutest thing alive, fills you with a warmth you didn’t know you needed.

He groggily shifts, trying to register what’s going on. But when his eyes finally meet yours, that familiar spark of recognition flickers in them. It’s like everything else fades away.

“Y/N?”

His voice is always deep, but in the morning, it’s something else entirely—low and rough, the kind that you can feel vibrating in your chest.

“Did you miss me?” you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For a good thirty seconds, he just stares at you, blinking slowly, his red eyes still heavy with sleep. And then—without a word—he grabs you, pulling you down onto the bed with him.

The hug alone could’ve crushed you. His arms lock around you like a vice, his grip unrelenting, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. His face remains serious, unreadable—but inside? Oh, inside, he’s jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning.

He is this close to giggling, to kicking his legs like a teenage girl with a hopeless crush.

But he won’t. Absolutely not.

Instead, he just holds you tighter, burying his face in your neck, pretending like he’s not about to combust from how happy he is.

You can feel the way his breathing evens out against your skin, like he’s grounding himself with your presence. His nose brushes along your neck, slow and almost lazy, but there's a little tremble in the way he exhales, like he still can’t believe you're actually here.

“I thought I was dreaming,” he mutters, voice muffled into your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp the way he likes. “You always say that when I show up.”

“Because I never think I deserve it,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

Your heart clenches.

You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are still heavy-lidded, lashes fanning over flushed cheeks, but there's something softer in them now—something he only shows you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whisper, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’ve been acting like a feral cat in a thunderstorm for two months straight. I was afraid your friends were gonna start sending me ransom letters.”

That earns the tiniest twitch of a smile. Barely there. But you caught it.

“I wasn’t that bad,” he grumbles.

“Oh, you were worse,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Suddenly, he pulled back—and in one swift motion, yanked his shirt off and tossed it somewhere across the room.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He smirked like the devil himself. “Now that you’re here,” he said, voice dropping, “let’s get down to business, woman.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Business? I just got here.”

“And I’ve been waiting months,” he said, already reaching for you again. “You think I’ve been sitting here practicing patience and self-control? No, sweetheart. I’ve been suffering.”

“Suffering?” you scoffed, though your cheeks were already warm.

“Agonizing,” he corrected, deadly serious. “Like a man dying in the desert. And you—” he pointed at you dramatically, “—are the only oasis that can quench my thirst.”

You stared at him.

He stared back, completely unapologetic.

And then you burst out laughing. “You’ve been watching those trashy romance dramas again, haven’t you?”

“Shut up and take your clothes off,” he growled, yanking you back into his chest.

--

Well, he put you through it.

The second things started, he didn’t let up—wouldn’t even let you move. Like he was trying to make up for all the time apart in one night. No breaks, no mercy. Just Sukuna, with that feral look in his eyes, making it very, very clear just how much he’d missed you.

When it comes to sex with him, there’s no such thing as “taking it slow.” He’s intense. Greedy sadistic bastard.

By the end of it, you were completely spent—legs shaking, voice hoarse, body humming with overstimulation—and he? He came so hard he passed out on top of you. Just collapsed like a full-grown jungle cat that wore itself out hunting. Arms wrapped around you, dead weight pressing you into the mattress, and a low satisfied grunt rumbling in his chest.

So yeah. He missed you. A lot.

You laid there for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, hair a mess, skin sticky and flushed, heart still racing. His head was tucked into your neck, breathing deep and slow, already asleep.

You shifted a little beneath him, tapping at his back.

“Sukuna. Hey—get off, you’re heavy.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

“Suku. Babe. You’re crushing my lungs.”

A beat of silence. Then, a soft, almost childish grumble: “Mine…”

You blinked. “What?”

He nuzzled deeper into your neck, voice sleepy and muffled. “Mine. Stay still.”

“You’re literally crushing me—”

“Die then. Still mine.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh, even as he wrapped one of his massive arms tighter around your waist like a damn seat belt. It was useless. You were trapped. Claimed. Claimed by a half-conscious, overgrown menace of a man with not enough self-control.

“…Fine,” you sighed, brushing his hair back from his face. “But if you drool on me again, I swear to god—”

Extra:

3 hours later...

You were still drifting between sleep and reality, body aching in all the right places. Sukuna was no better—completely sprawled beside you, arm draped over your waist like you were his favorite plushie. His breathing was slow, warm against your shoulder. He hadn’t even moved yet.

Eventually, he lifted his head groggily from your skin, eyes heavy-lidded, hair wild like he lost a fight with a thunderstorm. Lips red and swollen, scratch marks visible on his chest and neck. He looked wrecked.

In the best possible way.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him.

“Why are you laughing?” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep and pure bass.

You were about to answer, still giggling like a fool under the covers, when—

BANG.

His bedroom door slammed open.

“Oh my god, it’s too early for this—Sukuna, please, stop moping—” “Bro, we brought you breakfast ‘cause you haven’t eaten in like, two days—” “IF YOU’RE GONNA DIE OF HEARTBREAK, DO IT QUIETLY—”

The room exploded with voices as Uraume, Gojo, Geto, and Toji stormed in like a damn intervention squad, expecting to find Sukuna in his usual spiral: half-dead, face-down in takeout, and angrily listening to toxic love songs.

What they didn't expect… was you.

Or him. Completely naked. Tangled up with you in the aftermath of what could only be described as biblical levels of destruction.

They all froze.

Eyes wide. Mouths open. Silence like a slap.

Sukuna sat up, completely bare-assed and utterly unfazed. He looked over his shoulder at them slowly—murder in his eyes, sleep still in his bones.

You scrambled, yanking the blanket up to cover your very exposed self, cheeks flaming.

He didn’t care. Not a blink of shame.

“Get the fuck out,” Sukuna grunted, dragging the comforter up higher over you—only you. His back muscles flexed like they were doing it on purpose. “You can scream later. She just got here. And I’m not done.”

Geto immediately spun on his heel. “Nope. Nope. I saw ass. I’m out.”

Gojo gagged dramatically, covering his eyes. “I think I just went blind. Why is your whole spine flexing like that?!?”

Toji just whistled low, grinning. “Damn. No wonder he’s been out of commission.”

Uraume didn’t even flinch, deadpan as always. “Do you want me to bring water or a priest?”

“DOOR.” Sukuna roared.

It slammed shut behind them.

You lay back down, breathless with laughter, still hidden under the blanket. Sukuna rolled over, eyes half-lidded, grin spreading across his stupidly handsome face.

<><>

an: i had a plot and I lost it so.....

finna sit it on his grill like a bbq .. plug!sukuna was known for his shiny gold grills that matched his pink hair gorgeously. and you just needed to experience putting your pussy on his face while he had thousands worth of dollars on his teeth. “oh sukkk” clapping your ass together, your back arched popping your pussy up and down his face feeding him your juices- to which he slurped up like a starving man. sukuna’s veiny hand pumped his curved pink cock while groaning into you.

his fat tounge slowly slid in your dripping hole, tip pulsing out globs of pre cum from your sweet taste. “shit” he mumbled sending vibrations throughout your body that had you shaking above him. his hands fisted his cock making more cum leak out of him like a faucet. you bounced on his warm wet muscle that stretched you slightly but gave you a feeling in your tummy. sukuna was good with his tounge, moving it to lick through your brown lips and suck on your clit making it sore and a brighter pink, cream dripping out of you and down his chin. “that’s it” he mumbled continuing his assult with licks and slurping your clit. his teeth slightly bit down on your pussy lip as his fingers fucked into you. “n-no more!” tears poured from your pretty eyes, hands gripping the duvet treating to rip it.

at this point sukuna was drunk off of you. his cock getting pumped quick and fast, his mouth working aimlessly licking and slurping just needing more of you. just when you began to lose your mind, sukuna moved his three fingers and sucked on your hole like a suction making you scream moving from his face as you squirted everywhere. sukuna closed his eyes, face wet and cock bobbing in his hand as he grunted our your name letting his ropes out onto his stomach. his mind yelled for him to go back to eating your cunt but his body wouldn’t move. your dazed mind, and shaky body, with a pussy that still dripped onto the covers - allowed you to watch as each time he licked his lips his cock let out more and more cum.

plug!sukuna was a true eater— especially with his grills on!

toji x f!reader

you were never able to understand how people could cheat on their spouses or significant others. the pathetic excuses people made up to justify their cheating? you called it bullshit and found the act of infidelity to be absolutely despicable.

well, at least that’s how you used to feel about the act. until you met him.

being a housewife, you usually spent your days lounging around in the million dollar house your husband let you pick out a few years ago. anytime if you weren’t busy taking care of the house or sitting around looking pretty, you could be found at your bi-weekly hair or nail appointment and if not one of them, then you were out and about in your cute little convertible meeting your friends for brunch, attending your pilates class, shopping, or doing whatever your heart desired.

there’s not a better life you could ask for, you get to live the life that so many women can only dream of. yet, as thankful as you were for the lifestyle your husband was able to provide you with, the long hours he spent at the office meant that his work-life balance was greatly affected and sadly, your sex life wasn’t spared.

the countless evenings that were spent sitting at the large, glossy wood-finished dining room table eating alone and laying in bed using one of your silicone dildos to masturbate with because you were getting the real thing were beginning to grow tiresome and the need for physical intimate was getting harder and harder to ignore.

despite that, you still loved your husband and never blamed him for any of it. you were still wholeheartedly loyal and devoted to him. he’s only doing what he has to do to provide for his family, right? and it’s not like he ever mistreated you. there was no other man for you, at least that’s what you assumed. but that assumption went out the window the day that handyman!toji showed up at your front door in a tight, short sleeve compression top and some worn jeans to fix some leaky pipes.

truthfully, it was simply the case of one thing that led to another. for some reason, you felt comfortable enough to open up to a complete stranger about your frustrations and instead of turning down toji’s advances when he came onto you, you welcomed them. the first time was a complete mistake, that’s what you told yourself.

you and toji having a quickie on top of the kitchen table, was just because you needed to release the pent up sexual energy that had built up over time. right? because no matter how good toji’s bulging muscles looked as he subtly flexed them as he kept your legs spread for him while his eyes stayed glued to how well your pussy took his girthy dick, you could not let it happen again.

was it possible that you jinxed yourself by saying you would never sleep with him again? ..possibly. because a week later you’re bouncing up and down in toji’s lap as you two fucked on the couch, with his head stuffed between your pretty titties as he called you every type of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ for riding another man’s dick while your husband was hard at work to keep up that lifestyle you adored so much. the taunting tone of his voice replayed more times in your head that you would’ve liked as guilt ate at you from the aftermath of your actions, especially at night as you laid in bed next to your loving husband.

did that stop you though? no.

this affair with the handyman has been going on for months now and you don’t see any sign of it slowing down or coming to an end anytime soon. it’s gotten to the point where toji parks his car a few blocks away and meets you around the back entrance of your house, void of the nosey eyes of neighbors. and although you would never admit it out loud, toji fucks you so better than your husband ever could. not to mention, it’s like the man has a gold medal winning mouth when it comes to eating pussy. you never even knew you were capable of squirting until you started seeing toji.

tonight was supposed to be the same as usual, it’s a friday night and one of the days toji now routinely comes over to give you some good loving. except today your husband is uncharacteristically home early from work which makes you both worried and excited. though your worries are put aside as you converse with your husband while cooking, sharing laughs and smiles with each other as if you’re not having an extramarital affair. sitting across from him as you clink your wine glasses together, a little before the clock strikes nine o’clock on a weekday feels foreign to you, it’s been literal months since you can remember having anything close to this.

that warm, fuzzy feeling that fills your body as you and your husband sit and chat over dinner feels so nice that you almost tell toji not to come over tonight— almost.

it’s close to midnight, and your spouse is upstairs passed out on the bed from an alcohol-induced sleep while you’re unlocking the back patio door for toji to come in. he’s a man that doesn’t waste time, he gets down to business and within a couple minutes, he’s got you stripped down and naked, driving that fat dick into your pussy that’s seemingly become accustomed to his dick.

the sound of skin on skin echo through the expanse of the large kitchen as toji fucks you from behind, his broad-shouldered frame and big, bulky arms completely covering you and caging you between him and the quartzite countertop.

one of his large, calloused hands goes to your thigh and props it on top of the counter to fuck you deeper. your hands grip the cool stone harder as a strained moan rips from your throat at the new position and angle, feeling toji hit different spots makes your pussy react accordingly, clamping ever so tightly around his length that it makes him hiss.

toji’s not a particularly noisy man during sex, usually just a few groans and grunts here and there, but he’s changed it up tonight. you’ve never heard him make so much noise before and if you didn’t know any better, you might just assume that he’s getting off to the possibility of your husband waking up and finding you.

“oh baby,” he whispers in your ear, his voice holding a hint of mockery as he smirks. “what would you do if your husband woke up? what would he think if he saw his perfect wife getting her pussy pounded like a slut by another man?” he runs a hand through the silky strands of your colored wig, tugging your head back slightly.

your face scrunches up distastefully at the image and you frown, making a small noise to show you don’t take too kindly to his words, to which toji just chuckles a little louder than necessary. “aw, you don’t like what i said? feeling a little guilty all of a sudden?” he coos, a sadistic expression crossing his face.

his hips start to make contact with yours at an increased speed, balls smacking your sensitive clit each time so hard that it makes you yelp. the pants leaving toji’s mouth turn into full on grunts as his balls empty into your greedy pussy. slowly, toji pulls out and watches as your pussy pulsates and you push out his cum, the liquid leaking onto the stone floor beneath.

toji drops to his knees and starts stroking his dick back to life, letting his tongue dart out and lick at your swollen clit. some of his milky cum drips onto his face and he moves to suck his cum out of your hole, moaning against your sweet cunt. “how many times you think i gotta make you cum before you’re screaming so loud that it wakes up your hubby, pretty?”

sukuna gets yelled at by his wife pt 2 🫶🏻 (pt 1)

“honey? will you take the chicken out of the freezer?”

“mhm”

he doesn’t take it out of the freezer. in fact, he wasn’t even listening to you in the first place. as much as you love coming home to the kitchen being spotless, not a speck of dust in sight, there should be a fully thawed package of chicken thighs laying around somewhere.

“sukuna?”

“what is it now?” he grumbles, still not completely paying attention to you.

“where’s the chicken?”

“oh i uh—“ he makes some weird hand gesture at the fridge. “forgot i guess. who cares, let’s get takeout.”

“… but i asked you.. nicely.”

he lets out long sigh. “i know I forgot, its not a big deal. we can order from you fa—“

“i will STARVE YOU SUKUNA— DO YOU FUCKING WANT THAT???”

“the fuck? no?!” he takes a step back from the sudden outburst. “if it’s that big of deal ill just take it out right n—”

“for WHAT? so we can eat at 3 AM?!”

“I OFFERED TAKE OUT DIDN’T I??!”

“wow this is just great— not only are you USELESS BUT NOW YOU’RE YELLING AT ME im gonna cry” your voice breaks into a whine and sukuna looks even more mortified.

“no don’t— don’t cry,” he slightly panics. “there’s no need to cry, i can just—“

“you can just what, sukuna?” you sniffle. “thaw out the chicken?? it’s fucking FROZEN”

“i know that,” he watches his tone. “lemme just.. ill go to the store right now and grab a new pack so we won’t have to wait.”

“you’d do that?” you look up at him with glossy eyes, his pants slightly tighten.

“of course,” he swears. “of course i would.”

“c-could you get ice cream too?” you drag out the tears. maybe if you continue acting depressed for the rest of the night he’ll buy you a new bag or something.

he nods rather frantically, “mhm, chocolate right?”