Kitty yuji🐯🤲🏻
YOU ARE THE REASON

Janaina Medeiros

@theartofmadeline
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@7haze
Kitty yuji🐯🤲🏻
you set the knife down and turn to face him fully. “why haven’t i met your mom yet?”
“ah,” he says. just that. ah.
or, satoru doesn’t really want you to meet his mother because of certain reasons.
satoru is sprawled across your couch, all long limbs and relaxation. he’s watching you chop vegetables with an expression that’s soft in a way he only lets you see. and you love him. you love him so much it makes your teeth ache.
but something has been bothering you for weeks now, a splinter under the skin of your relationship that you can’t quite ignore anymore.
“hey,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “can i ask you something?”
“you just did,” he grins boyishly. it’s so charming that you almost drop your knife and stride over to kiss it out off his face.
“satoru.”
something in your tone must shift because his smile fades just a fraction. he sits up a little straighter. “okay. what’s up, baby?”
you set the knife down and turn to face him fully. “why haven’t i met your mom yet?”
the change in his demeanour is immediate; subtle, but you’ve learned to read him. the way his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly and his eyes dart away for half a second before returning to yours and his whole body goes still, like a deer who’s just caught a scent.
“ah,” he says. just that. ah.
“satoru.”
“it’s not— it’s not a big deal,” he says, but the way he says it tells you it’s the exact opposite. “she’s just. busy. you know how it is.”
you don’t know how it is. that’s the thing. in the two years you’ve been together, you’ve met his friends, his colleagues, even his students. you’ve been to the gojo estate twice, but both times his mother was conspicuously absent. you’ve seen photographs— a beautiful woman with satoru’s sharp features and none of his warmth— but never the woman herself.
“she doesn’t like me, does she?”
“what? no.” he says, defensiveness seeping through. “she doesn’t even know you.”
“that’s what i’m saying.” you cross your arms. “why doesn’t she know me? we’ve been together for two years, satoru. i’ve never even spoken to her on the phone.”
he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he tries to hide. “she’s… traditional. uptight. kind of mean, honestly.”
“so you’ve mentioned.”
and he has, in passing. little comments dropped like breadcrumbs. my mother would hate this. my mother would have a heart attack if she saw me like this. my mother thinks i should marry a nice girl from a good family. always said with a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“sato.” you move closer, perch on the edge of the coffee table so you’re at his eye level. “does she even know we’re dating?”
he’s quiet for a long moment before he mumbles, “yes.”
“and?”
“and she has opinions.”
“what kind of opinions?”
he hesitates, and you watch him weigh his words, watching him decide how much truth you can handle. “she thinks you’re… not what she envisioned for me. she’s never met you, but she’s made it clear that she doesn’t need to. she knows your family isn’t…” he trails off.
“isn’t what?”
“old. connected. she knows you don’t come from jujutsu society. she knows you have a normal job and normal friends and a normal life. and to her, that’s not enough.”
you should be angry. maybe you are, a little. but mostly what you feel is a strange, hollow sort of sadness. not for yourself— for him and for the way he says this like he’s reciting a script he’s heard a thousand times.
“i want to meet her,” you say.
“no, sweetheart.”
“satoru—”
“no.” his voice is firmer now, and when he looks at you, there’s something raw in his expression. he looks almost scared which makes you lean closer. “you don’t understand. she’s not like other moms. she won’t welcome you with open arms and bake you cookies. she’ll pick you apart piece by piece and she won’t even try to hide it. she’ll make you feel small, and then she’ll smile like she’s done you a favor.”
“i can handle that!”
“can you?” he stands up suddenly, pacing to the window. his reflection stares back at him, all six feet of power and vulnerability wrapped in a worn hoodie. “because i can’t. i can’t watch her do that to you. i can’t sit there while she tears you down and pretend it doesn’t matter. and i can’t—” his voice cracks. “i can’t lose you.”
the last part comes out quiet, almost a whisper, and it breaks your heart to hear him be so open about it, but also hardens your decision on the spot.
you cross the room and press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. he leans into you immediately, like a flower turning toward the sun.
“you’re not going to lose me,” you say against his shoulder blade. “but i need to do this. i need to meet her. not for her— for me. for us. i can’t keep feeling like there’s this whole part of your life that i’m not allowed to see.”
he doesn’t say anything for a long time. his hand comes up to cover yours where it rests against his stomach, and you can feel his heartbeat, fast and uneven.
“you’ll hate her,” he finally says.
“maybe.”
“she’ll be cruel to you.”
“okay.”
“and you’ll realize that this isn’t worth it. that i’m not worth it.”
you turn him around gently, force him to look at you. his eyes are bright, wet, and you realize with a start that satoru gojo— the strongest, the untouchable, the man who holds the sky in his palms— is terrified.
“you are worth everything,” you tell him. “and i’m not going anywhere. but you have to let me in, satoru. all the way. even the ugly parts.”
he closes his eyes. takes a breath. lets it out slow.
“okay,” he says. “okay. i’ll set it up.”
.
.
.
the day arrives three weeks later, and you spend the entire morning trying not to throw up.
you’ve changed outfits four times. gojo is lounging on the bed, watching you with an expression that’s equal parts amused and grim.
“you look fine,” he says for the fifth time.
“you said to wear something conservative.”
“i did. and you look conservative. painfully so. you look like you’re going to a funeral.”
you glare at him. “whose?”
he doesn’t answer. he just stands up, straightens his own dark sweater, and offers you his hand. “ready?”
no. “yes.”
satoru is quiet on the drive to the gojo estate, which is unusual enough to make your stomach clench tighter. he keeps glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to change your mind, and you keep squeezing his hand to tell him you won’t.
she’s sitting on a low sofa with her back ramrod straight, a cup of tea untouched in front of her. she looks exactly like her photographs, but the photographs didn’t capture the weight of her gaze. the way her eyes sweep over you like she’s cataloging every flaw.
gojo satoko is beautiful. you could see where satoru got his looks— the same sharp cheekbones, the same pale hair, though hers was pinned up in an elegant twist. she smiles when she sees him, a genuine smile that softens her whole face, and he walks up to her and lets her pull him down so she can kiss his cheek.
“my son,” she says. “you look thin. are you eating?”
“i'm fine, mom.” he then gives you a an unsure look and tugs you forward.
“mother,” satoru says, his voice suddenly flatter and more formal. “this is my partner.”
“so i see.” she doesn’t stand. doesn’t offer her hand. just looks at you with an expression that isn’t quite a frown but isn’t anything close to a smile. “you’re later than expected.”
“traffic,” you say, because satoru seems to have forgotten how to speak. “it’s lovely to finally meet you, gojo-san. satoru has told me so much about you.”
one perfect eyebrow lifts. “has he.”
it’s not a question.
the next hour is the longest of your life.
she is everything satoru warned you about and worse. she asks about your family, your education, your job, and finds something wrong with every answer. your parents are divorced? how unfortunate. you went to a public university? how… practical. you work in marketing? how quaint.
she smiles when she says these things, a thin, sharp smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. and she’s so polite about it, so exquisitely mannered, that you can’t even call her out without looking like the one in the wrong.
satoru sits beside you, rigid and silent, and you can feel him vibrating with tension. he tries to deflect, tries to change the subject, but his mother steamrolls over him with the ease of someone who’s been doing it his whole life.
“and children,” she says, setting down her teacup with a delicate clink. “have you discussed children?”
“we’ve talked about it,” you say carefully. “we’re not in a rush.”
“i see.” another thin smile. “i suppose that’s wise, given your… circumstances. satoru’s line is very important, you understand. the gojo clan has certain expectations. certain standards.”
the implication hangs in the air like smoke.
you don’t meet them.
you swallow hard and keep your voice steady. “i understand.”
“do you?” she leans forward slightly, and her eyes are so much like satoru’s it hurts. the same impossible blues, but where his are warm and full of light, hers are cold as winter sky. “because i’m not sure you do. my son is the strongest sorcerer in a century. he carries the future of jujutsu society on his shoulders. and you— forgive me— are a marketing associate from a broken home with no cursed energy to speak of.”
“mother. what are you—” satoru’s voice is tight.
“i’m simply being honest, satoru. someone has to be.” she turns back to you, and her smile never wavers. “i’m sure you’re a lovely person. but lovely isn’t enough. not for him. not for this family.”
you feel the tears coming before you can stop them. hot and humiliating, pricking at the corners of your eyes. you’ve been holding them back for an hour, smiling through every jab and veiled insult, but something about the way she says lovely breaks something inside you.
“i love him,” you say, your voice wobbling despite your best efforts. “isn’t that enough?”
for a moment, something flickers across her face. surprise, maybe. or annoyance. you can’t tell.
“love,” she repeats. the word sounds ugly in her mouth. “love doesn’t protect him. love doesn’t strengthen the clan. love doesn’t—”
“stop.”
satoru’s voice cuts through the room like a blade.
he’s standing. you don’t remember him standing, but he’s on his feet now. his hands are shaking and his eyes are blazing with an anger you’ve never seen before.
“stop,” he says again, and his voice cracks on the word. “you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to sit there and tear apart the person i love like she’s not even in the room.”
“satoru, i’m simply—”
“you’re not simply anything.” he steps forward, positioning himself between you and his mother like a shield. “you’ve been cruel to her since she walked through the door. and for what? because she don’t have the right bloodline? because she’s not a ‘proper match’? look at her, mother. look.”
his mother’s eyes flick to you, and you quickly wipe your cheeks, but it’s too late. the damage is done.
“she’s crying,” satoru says, his own voice unsteady. “you made her cry. the person i love most in this world, and you made her cry within an hour of meeting them. is that who you want to be? is that what you want to be remembered for?”
“i am your mother,” she says. for the first time, her composure slips, just a little. “everything i do is for your benefit.”
“no.” his voice is quiet now, but no less fierce. “no, it’s not. you do it for the clan. for tradition. for the memory of a family that was never as perfect as you pretend it was. you do it because it’s easier to control me than it is to love me.”
she flinches— actually flinches, like he’s struck her. her face contorts in visible hurt before settling back into passive aggression and confusion.
“i love you,” he continues, and there are tears on his cheeks now too, though you don’t know when they started falling. “i do. you’re my mother. but i will not let you destroy the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i won’t.”
he turns to you then, his hands cupping your face with a gentleness that makes your heart ache. his thumbs brush away your tears, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers. “i’m so sorry. i should have done this sooner. i should have protected you.”
“satoru—”
“no, listen.” his forehead presses against yours, and his breath is warm on your lips. “you are enough. you are more than enough. you’re everything. and if she can’t see that, that’s her loss. not mine. not yours.”
behind him, his mother is silent. you can feel her watching, feel the weight of her gaze, but it doesn’t matter anymore. all that matters is the man in front of you, trembling and fierce and so full of love it spills out of him like light.
“let’s go home, baby,” you whisper.
he nods. takes your hand. leads you toward the door.
“satoru,” his mother calls out. there’s something different in her voice now. something almost fragile. “satoru, wait.”
he pauses. doesn’t turn around.
“i… i didn’t mean…”
but she doesn’t finish the sentence. maybe she can’t. maybe she doesn’t know how.
satoru squeezes your hand and keeps walking.
the drive home is quiet. satoru doesn’t let go of your hand the whole time, even when he has to shift gears, even when you hit a red light and he has to brake.
when you finally pull into your driveway, he kills the engine and just sits there for a moment, staring at the steering wheel.
“i meant what i said,” he says quietly. “you’re everything.”
you lean over and press a kiss to his knuckles. “i know.”
“and i’m sorry. for making you do that. for not standing up to her sooner. for every time i let her words live in my head instead of yours.”
“satoru.” you wait until he looks at you. he does, reluctantly so, looking like a sad puppy. “thank you for defending me.”
he closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath. “don’t thank me for doing what i should have done from the start.”
you lean in to press another kiss to his cheek, going on until he smiles which doesn’t take too long.
“i love you, baby,” he says.
“i love you too.”
and when he pulls you into his arms right there in the front seat, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, you hold him back just as tight.
[ an. after writing this i realised this could have been a part of a multi part fic about satoru and you overcoming his very judgmental family before marrying and stuff but eh maybe i’ll write it in the future ]
🏷️ taglist: @ethezreal @astutetwilight @unforgivemn @sunnydayqq @lalawlrd @koral-pink @secretsofchance @raendarkfaerie @kingraspberry12-blog @xznyana @leftrightgn @indom-itus @ihatemynewbangs
size difference in front of the mirror with toji
toji fushiguro, was huge in every way that counted. tall, insane muscles, hands that engulfed yours whenever he held them.
so it wasn't a surprise that you were dangling in his arms whenever he fucked you in front of the mirror.
toji's chest was pressed firmly against your back. one of his large hands gripped your jaw, forcing you to watch as every inch of him sank into your greedy cunt. his other hand wrapped around you so tight, forcing you to stay in place, forcing you to feel all of him with no escape.
"look at you.. i'm practically splittin' you in half with how big my cock is," toji said in your ear, his voice thick with desire.
"see how tiny this pretty pussy is? i'm stretching you out reallll good right now.." his cock was stretching your poor pussy out more then you could handle. it was so overwhelming, but it felt so good.
toji wasn't moving yet, slowly easing himself into you so that you wouldn't run away immediately.
"f-fuck… 'ji! i-i- can't" you whimpered, your back arching when he rubs against that spot inside of you so good. "'s too much!" you continued babbling, but toji forced his thumb inside of your mouth, forcing it open so that you couldn't talk anymore.
"shhhh… just take it for me, yeah?" he mumbled against your skin, licking your ear. then, in one long and deeeep thurst, he bottomed out inside of you. he pulled all the way back up from the tip, and thrusted right back in. over, and over with a bruising pace that left you shaking in his arms.
you couldn't even tell him to stop because all you could do was drool all over his hand like a slut.
"look at how well you're taking me… like she's made for me." he groans as your syrupy, clenching, wet walls begin to tighten around him already.
toji's hand forces you to look in the mirror, and gods, you're so intoxicated by the sight of him envoloping you. a broken moan tears of your throat his time when you buck your hips against him. his hand around your jaw leaves, and instead? he crushes your face with his bicep, headlocking you in place. his free hand slides down and his calloused fingers rub slow circles on your clit.
its too much, but still not enough.
toji's pace is brutual now, hips snapping faster then you can process, the fat of your ass squishing against him as your cunt drools all over him, his precum mixing with your slick and it all drips down between your thighs.
your finger nails dig into his bicep, trying to find any purchase, anything to take the pleasure out on.
"'ji..! please— i can't!" you moaned against his bicep.
"don't care— you're taking every inch." toji's voice was gruff now, strained from fucking you like crazy. his fat tip was hitting your cervix, making you see stars with every bruising thurst.
"i'm gonna—" you whined against him, scratching at his bicep now. toji's fingers rubbed harder now, the pleasure coiling in your stomach was read to snap.
"cum for me, pretty girl," his voice was hoarse, his own hips stuttering as your orgasm washed over you, waves so intense that your jaw goes slack and you drool on his arm. toji holds you up effortlessly, his own release coming moments later as he buries himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.
you're still shaking in his arms when you see that stupid smirk of his in the mirror.
"can you do another round? for me, doll." he asks, his cock already hardening inside of you again, the shaft throbbing inside you, and you knew you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.
© quwuluv-do not repost my works, use my work without permission, translate or feed into ai.
EVERYTHANG REAL BIG
──── SORCERER SLUT ₎ა ˙˖
♡ 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ੭
⌗ satoru :: sukuna :: suguru :: choso :: hiromi :: satoshi x reader
the jujutsu world needs you! yes you, to be its next pretty little pocket pussy.
sorcerers are some of the most stressed people on the planet. so jujutsu society has devised a plan that also creates ample job opportunities. with a revolutionary invention created with enough cursed energy and whoremones, portal pleasure was born. what's that, you ask? simple: a portal's created between your darling hole and a needy customer's appendage. fingers? tongue? cock? whatever they please. don't worry, your identity's never revealed to your client! can't say the same vice versa, though. . .
the pay's amazing. the pleasure's ample. how bad could it be? well, apart from being woken up in the middle of the night to the feeling of being stuffed full of cock cause the strongest came back from a midnight mission. or needing to hold yourself together on a train cause the king of curses had a bad day and is taking it out on the poor portal pussy.
even worse when you have to face clients on the daily who have no idea that you know exactly what their dick feels like. whoops.
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. so much fucking smut :: sex worker!reader :: glory hole ( I guess? ) :: p in v :: fingering :: rough sex :: f.oral :: dirty talk :: teacher!sukuna :: teacher!suguru :: sorcerer!choso :: sorcerer!higuruma :: guard!satoshi
˖ ࣪ ꒰ episode 01 ꒱ ˙˖ ˖ ࣪ ꒰ episode 02 ꒱ ˙˖
˖ ࣪ ꒰ episode 03 ꒱ ˙˖ ˖ ࣪ ꒰ episode 04 ꒱ ˙˖
˖ ࣪ ꒰ episode 05 ꒱ ˙˖ ˖ ࣪ ꒰ episode 06 ꒱ ˙˖
© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/pixopix . art cred: @/_teaforgods
─── comment to be added to the taglist ₎ა ˙˖
like????? this concept is so hot
︵ ೀ mdni. nanami eating you out in your sleep
nanami wakes before dawn, the room still dark except for the faint silver leaking through the curtains. you’re curled on your side, breathing slow and deep, one leg hooked over the sheet, the thin cotton of your sleep shirt ridden up to bare the curve of your hip and the soft swell between your thighs.
he watches for a long moment—always careful, always measuring—then shifts down the mattress without sound.
the first touch is his breath, warm against your inner thigh. you don’t stir. he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss there, then another higher, until his lips brush the seam where leg meets core. your scent is sleep-soft, faintly sweet; it makes his mouth water.
his tongue parts you gently, flat and broad, one long lick from entrance to clit. you twitch, a small sound caught in your throat, still dreaming. he does it again—slower—circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, then dipping lower to taste deeper.
your hips shift, instinctive, seeking.
he eases one finger inside while his mouth stays latched—slow, patient, letting your body yield around the intrusion. you’re warm, slick already from whatever dream held you. he curls the digit, stroking that spot he knows by heart, while his tongue flicks steady circles over your clit.
a sleepy whimper escapes you. your hand finds his hair, pulling slightly. “kento…?” voice thick, slurred with sleep.
he hums against you, the vibration pulling another soft sound from your chest. a second finger joins the first, stretching you open with the same deliberate care he gives everything. he licks harder now, sucking gently, coaxing you higher while his fingers pump in slow, deep strokes.
your thighs tremble, breath hitching. he doesn’t rush. he never does. when you come it’s quiet—back arching off the pillow, a broken moan muffled into your own arm, walls fluttering around his knuckles as slick coats his tongue.
after, he kisses your mound once, then crawls back up to pull you against his chest. “good morning,” he murmurs into your hair. you’re still half-asleep, smiling against his collarbone.
beeing needy for nanami <3 (smut, thigh riding, masturbation, praise)
you were curled into kento’s side on the couch, your legs tangled with his, your cheek pressed to the firm plane of his chest. you could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady, a rhythm you’d memorized months ago. his hand was in your hair, fingers tracing idle patterns against your scalp, and it should have been soothing. it was soothing. but there was a restless heat building under your skin, a familiar ache that had been coiling low in your belly all evening.
you’d been clingy all night. draping yourself over his back while he made tea, hooking your chin over his shoulder to watch him read, sighing dramatically until he’d looked up with that patient, knowing little smile. he’d indulged you, pulled you into his lap, let you nuzzle into his neck. but the need hadn’t settled. it had only grown, sharpened, until every brush of his thumb against your hip felt like a spark on dry tinder.
you shifted, pressing closer, letting your thigh slide over his. your mouth found the hinge of his jaw, a soft, open-mouthed kiss that was more breath than pressure. he hummed, a low sound in his chest, but didn’t stop the slow petting of your hair.
“kento,” you whispered against his skin, the word barely audible over the sound of rain outside of the window.
“mm?” his voice was a low rumble, sleepy almost.
you bit your lip, then let your teeth graze the tendon in his neck, a small nip. not enough to hurt, just enough to feel the fine tremor that ran through him. his hand paused for a fraction of a second before continuing its path.
“something you need?” he asked, his tone mild, but you you could hear the thread of something darker underneath, something carefully leashed.
you whined, a small, frustrated sound, and pushed up onto your elbow to look at him. his glasses had been discarded an hour ago, and his brown eyes were soft in the dim light, watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. his hair was a little mussed from your hands, falling across his forehead. he looked so good, so solid and unshakeable, even as you were coming apart just from wanting him.
“kento,” you tried again, this time your voice cracking a little, raw with it. you kissed him, then, properly. not the sweet pecks you’d been peppering him with all evening, but deeper, hungrier, your tongue sliding against his lower lip, asking, and he let you in with a sigh that turned into a groan when you immediately bit down on his lip, just hard enough to sting.
his hand tightened in your hair, anchoring you to him. when you finally pulled back, his eyes were darker, his lips parted and a little swollen.
“what is it?” he murmured with exasperated fondness that made you want to climb inside his skin.
“please,” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. you just knew you needed more.
he looked at you for a long moment, his analytical gaze sweeping over your flushed face, the way you were panting, the way your hips had started to make small, unconscious circles against his thigh. then his expression shifted; he was making a decision.
“you don’t have to beg,” he said quietly. “come here.”
he guided you, hands firm on your hips, until you were straddling one of his powerful thighs. the position spread your legs wide, the seam of your soft shorts pressing right where you ached. you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance.
“like this,” he said, his voice low and steady, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your heart. his hands stayed on your hips, thumbs pressing into the softness. “you want to feel good, don’t you? go ahead. use my thigh.”
your brain short-circuited. the permission, the instruction, the utter control in his voice— it washed over you like a wave of heat. you swallowed, nodding, and hesitantly rolled your hips.
the friction was immediate, electric, even through the layers of your shorts and his trousers. a choked sound fell from your lips, and your grip on his shoulders tightened. you did it again, a slow, experimental grind, and saw his jaw clench.
“that’s it,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving your face. “just like that.”
you found a rhythm, messy and desperate, chasing the pressure. your head fell forward, your forehead pressing to his. you could smell him, clean soap and something warm and uniquely him. the rain faded to static, the world shrinking to the heat between your legs and the solid, unmoving strength of his thigh beneath you.
you watched through half-lidded eyes as he unbuttoned his trousers, pushed aside the fabric of his boxers, and took himself in hand. he was already hard, the sight of it sending a fresh pulse of need through you. he started to stroke, slowly, matching the rhythm of your hips.
“kento— ah—” you whimpered, the sound punched out of you. the intimacy of it, the two of you chasing pleasure together, connected by nothing but the air between you and the desperate sounds you were making, was overwhelming.
you leaned in and kissed him again, sloppier this time, all teeth and tongue. you bit his lower lip, tugged, soothed the sting with a lick. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking up into his fist, and the sound went straight between your legs. one of your hands slid down, set on touching his cock and pleasuring him yourself but he slapped your hand away, tutting at you.
“no,” he mumbled into your mouth, kissing you again. “focus on your pleasure.”
you broke the kiss to latch onto his neck. you sucked a bruise there, right over his pulse point, feeling it hammer under your lips, then you bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to leave the imprint of your teeth. he hissed, a sharp intake of breath, and his hand faltered on his cock for just a second before resuming its pace, faster now.
“oh darling,” he breathed, the single word rough and frayed around the edges. his composure was cracking, and the sight of it made you ravenous.
you moved lower, biting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sucking marks into the pale skin you found there. you dragged your teeth along his collarbone, bit down on the muscle where his neck met his shoulder, felt him shudder beneath you. your hips never stopped moving, grinding down on his thigh, the wet heat between your legs spreading, making the fabric of your shorts cling.
he was watching you. you could feel his gaze like a brand on your skin. when you looked up, his eyes were blown wide, dark with want, his lips parted as he panted. his hand was moving faster on his cock, the slick sound of it obscene in the quiet room.
“my sweet,” he said, his voice wrecked, completely, utterly wrecked for you. “look at you. so desperate for it.”
a sob of pleasure caught in your throat. you bit your own lip, hard, trying to ground yourself, but you were too far gone. the pressure was building, a tight coil in your belly that threatened to snap at any moment.
you surged forward and kissed him again, all-consuming. you bit his tongue, gentle, a playful nip that made him growl into your mouth. he kissed you back just as fiercely, one hand still working his cock, the other gripping your hip so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. the thought made you moan.
you broke away to breathe, to gasp, to babble against his mouth. “kento, please, i’m so close, please, don’t stop, please—”
“i won’t,” he promised, his voice a low rasp. his hand on your hip guided you, pushed you down harder onto his thigh, increased the pressure until you were seeing stars. “let go. i want to feel you come.”
his words, the command in them, the raw need in his eyes. the coil snapped, and you came with a cry that was half his name, half a sob. your body shook, your hips jerking against his thigh as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave of it, leaving you boneless and trembling.
he tollowed a second later, a low, guttural groan was pulled from his chest as he spilled over his own hand, his body going rigid beneath you, his head falling back against the couch. you watched the pulse hammer in his throat, the way his jaw went slack, and felt a surge of fierce, possessive love.
for a long moment, there was only the sound of the rain and your mingled, ragged breathing. then his arms came around you, pulling you up so you were sprawled across his chest, his softening body cradling yours. he didn’t seem to care about the mess so you tried not to either. he just held you, one hand stroking slowly up and down your spine.
you nuzzled into his neck, pressing soft, fluttery kisses to the marks you’d left. he shivered.
“sorry, baby,” you whispered against his skin, not meaning it at all.
you felt his chest move with a quiet laugh. his lips pressed to the top of your head.
“no, you’re not,” he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “needy thing.”
you grinned into his neck and bit him again.
🏷️ taglist: @ethezreal @astutetwilight @unforgivemn @sunnydayqq @lalawlrd @koral-pink @secretsofchance @raendarkfaerie @kingraspberry12-blog @xznyana @leftrightgn @indom-itus
[ an. no one understands how much i need this NO ONE ]
pls one nanami would genuinely heal me
I doodled this based on a dream my friend had of toji playing behind my setup (he's tryna figure out where the rest of the stars are at to get to a 100% completion on the ratatouille game)
I'm your secretary...!
A timid young woman starts working for a strict lawyer.
"Do you really want to be my secretary?" Higurumas voice was smooth, slow and deep. Dark, downturned eyes making direct contact with yours, as if asking you to make the biggest decision of your life.
"Yes, i do." The words slipped out of your mouth, like you had been waiting to say them to him ever since reading that job listing in the newspaper.
After that, you felt like you had always been working here, for him. Only for him.
It started off small, he would ask you to round his desk and lean down to speak to him while giving reports.
Hiromi would call your line, speaking in such a tone that would make you want to run to him, without him even asking you to.
His eyes grew bolder, words picked out to make you feel like he wanted to touch you.
You couldn't help yourself. You started doing it back. Bent over on a chair as you tried to reach for something on a higher shelf. For him to watch as your pencil skirt strained, your blouse lifting higher and higher...
While he made important calls, you'd linger around his office. Pick up an envelope and slide a signed paper in for him, bringing the seal up to your lips and licking it. Your eyes never leaving his.
He punished you for teasing him.
He had you bring in a report on your hands and knees. He sat behind his desk, gaze never leaving the documents you held in your mouth while slowly crawling across the wood flooring.
You were timid. He made you take calls for him sometimes. You spoke quietly, unsure of yourself, as if not wanting to mess up in front of him.
Higuruma didn't approve.
"You're a big girl. You can get a much bigger voice out of that tiny throat of yours."
It made you want to moan his name.
One day he snapped, bending you over his desk. But he didn't touch you, no. You faced forward, towards the door of his office. You could hear his belt unbuckling and fabric shifting.
Then lecherous, wet sounds came behind you. Oh my... was he jerking off?
You didn't dare turn your head, biting your lower lip as you stayed still, pretending to look over the documents on his desk.
His breathing got deeper, harsher very quickly. The sounds sped up, you could hear him swallowing thick saliva. Until he stepped back, the sound of something dripping to the floor. He took a shallow breath.
"Clean it up."
You two were a match made in heaven.
You'd do anything for him, you liked it when he controlled what you did, what you saw, what you felt.
He liked it even more.
He'd feed you a mint from his palm.
Ask you to stay at his desk for hours on end.
He found ways to make you feel things you hadn't before. Seen. Taken care of. Fulfilled.
Loved.
You found yourself bent over his desk again a different time, reading out a letter you wrote.
A letter you wrote with typos. On purpose. To get disciplined.
''Dear Mr. Garvey, I'm grateful to you for referring...''
Smack!
''Continue.''
''Um...''
"Read."
''For referring me to your case.''
Slap!
''The subject of animal captivity has been of interest to me for quite a while. And my secretary has prepared research material...''
Smacck!!
''That I think you'll find illuminating. If you would be so kind...''
Smack!
''As to send me the June 5th letter of which we spoke, my associates and I will review it immediately.''
Slap!!
''Please feel free to call me at your earliest convenience. Yours sincerely, H...''
Smack!
"H..Higuruma Hiromi.." you managed to breathlessly get out.
''Read it again.''
You hesitate, but start reading again. Your stinging skin behind your skirt and stockings starting to feel hot.
''Dear Mr. Garvey... ''
It progressed as far as you visiting and staying at his house after work.
Only god can tell what he did with you in the forest surrounding his home. Or the bedroom, his study, the patio, the balcony.
Only for certain is one.
You were ending up in a white wedding gown, held in his arms.
Yoon's notes: bro if uve ever watched secretary 2002 U KNOONWWW BALL ITS LITELTLTY HIROMI Reupload from my old account @/yoonsucksalot ! but redone hihihihi HUGE MEGA DRIPPING WET THANKS TO @liliklei @yorikae !!!
Art: hunnismoker on ig
masterlist
Tags: @s0me1n3w @liliklei @blu-goingdark @tojiscreampie @venusins @darlingbambii @whispers-of-aurora @xqce @cactusvolumes @deartoru @sxno0 @yeschefcarm @peachygelic @puppyrawpawz @sxpernova666 @dustypepsi @izeizebaby @Imbetter111 @stellarixe @deftoneslut @cherrys-wrld @itstotallynotbrina @mimiiis @yorikae @astutetwilight @peachifying
©yoonsucks
all work belongs to @yoonsucks , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!
૮ ․ ․ ྀིა In which Toji’s pretty fucking clingy
It starts with his early morning routine — whether he’s waking up before the sun for a “job” or heading out for a run, he peppers kisses all over your face along the way. A kiss the moment his eyes open, before he’s even turned his alarm off. A kiss when he gets back from the bathroom. A kiss after he’s gotten changed. A kiss before he leaves for work. Then another when he returns a second later because he feels like he didn’t give you a strong enough one to wish himself good luck.
“Mm, Toji, you’re gonna be late,” you groan groggily.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replies, rough hands brushing your hair back. “Made coffee and breakfast. Make sure you eat...Alright, one last kiss...No, kiss me like you actually love me, woman...Yeah, that’s a good one. Give me another, ma....Don’t be a pain in the ass. Might die out there. Want me to bleed out without a proper goodbye kiss? Yeah, thought so...Thanks, doll. Always so good to me.”
He always has his hands on you. Besides the possessive, sexual ways, he plays with your lips as you rest your head on his chest, feels the sharpness of your teeth, pokes your belly button for warmth, traces lines from freckle to freckle or mark to mark along your back, or even curls your damn pubes as you watch a movie.
Toji doesn’t even realise what his hands are doing. Not until you bring it up. He genuinely doesn’t know why he does any of it. “Oh,” he says, blinking. “Weird.”
Does he take his hand away from your bush?
No. Of course not.
It’s like he can’t sleep or rest or focus on what you’re watching if he’s not touching you.
He also follows you to the bathroom like a kid or a puppy. If you’re doing your makeup or brushing your teeth, his big self takes up most of the reflection in the mirror. Toji simply leans against the doorway and nods along to whatever gossip you’re sharing. And if you’re showering, he’ll sit on the toilet lid and watch. “Yeah? Why d’you think she does that? Childhood trauma, maybe?” he suggests, voice rough with sleep.
“Dunno. Some people are just born like that, I think,” you reply. With a groan, you make known how you can’t reach a spot on your back with your washcloth. He’s opening the shower door a second later.
Toji takes over, making sure to scrub you even better than you would yourself, uncaring of the water splashing all over him. He grunts. “I blame her parents for not loving her enough. That’s why she needs all that attention.” A pause. “Trust me — I know.”
And he does all of this whilst pretending you’re the clingy one. As you’re laying on him, he’ll huff and complain, “Fuck, it’s warm. D’ya have to be clinging to me like some kinda koala? Can’t you go back to your side of the bed?”
Already used to his bullshit, you mumble between his meaty pecs, “You dragged me on top of you, Fushiguro. Every time I move back, I always find myself back here, so quit your yapping.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, dismissing you with a frown.
You begin rolling off his chest. Only to be halted by heavy arms which tighten around your body. Heavy silence passes.
Beneath you, Toji grumbles:
“Don’t say a word.”
Wario and Toji give off the same vibe to me... rip my taste in men
yeah need my man attached to me ngl
satoru’s retroactive jealousy. 18+
a jealousy that gnaws at the meat of the heart, puncturing the chambers with it’s honed tusks. a vortex of some crude and ludicrous envy had been bisecting your boyfriend’s soul.
satoru has had girls before: impish one nights with colleagues, strangers who wanted a taste, temporary relations solely based on coital desires. yet, he was tormented by the mere ghost of your ex boyfriend—from high school.
the phantom had been harrowing him. a guy before him. an ex lover at that. you had off-handedly snorted about how your ex had gotten married. that was all but enough for an inquisition by satoru. “no, i did not have sex with him. only made out and..” “and what?” “got ate out once.”
heaven and hell must have conjoined to give you a boyfriend like him because the fleeting mention of an ex had satoru gravitate you to the edge of a searing orgasm.
“he ate you out, yeah?” he uttered with pure vex, inching his fingers close to your wet panties. his three fingers rubbed slow circles on your sticky clothed mound, tracing your protruding outline. a deep groan escaped from the crevices of his teeth, a lick on his canines and a slow tug from the hem of your panties. there it was, the raw cunt with it’s slobbering folds. “what’s got you so wet huh? me or that highschool fucker?” oh, he was so jealous.
“god—please. only you ’toru” you pleaded, wanting the feel of his tongue on your sweetness. but right now, his ego was debased. and you were to suffer for it.
“he touched you like this?” his slender fingers glided up and down your dampness, the middle and ring fingers caressing the puffed folds. the pace was too leisurely. a stupendous restraint for a man who was known to be chaotic. your breath hitched when you felt the melding of the two together—swiping, spreading your secretion everywhere. truly vile, more than anything before.
“spread you like this?” another question eliciting nothing but a futile whimper. you opened your eyes—only to be graced by his ones. the coldness of the arctic encapsulated within those mist blue ones. “no? must’ve been a shitty boyfriend then, right baby?”
he lowered himself to your heat, face inches away from the smear of your sweet juice. your pussy lips palpating for his kiss. a yearner for his tongue. “he ate you out yeah?” not a question really. need not an answer. “fuck, i wonder how?”
“did he start with some licks like this”, satoru’s tongue darted out. curled from it’s core, the pinkish tip made kitty-like licks at the center. a stride from the hole to the clit. following it was a soft kiss on your it.
“mhm—wonder what this pussy tasted like to him” his licks fastened. your stomach coiled in pleasure. and so you tried to close your thighs, albeit, that was redundant because he held it in place. “nuh-uh, don’t even dare” a warning.
his blues desaturated in to grey, a beastly hunger taking over. he had flattened his tongue, pressing it on the whole of your pussy and taking in long tastes of the sweetness.
“hm, fuck, he ate you out. sure”. sarcasm pertinent as he was lapping at your folds. each plush getting kissed and smothered by his tongue. a single drop on water ran from your cunt down to the meat of your ass, a stained trail. he was quite literally salivating on you. drooling on your pussy.
tongue swirled in your inner folds, a delirious pace having your back arching away from the bedsheets only to be halted by him, a firm push down on your pelvis. his hand slithered from your hips to your thighs, spreading you out even more, knees pressed on to the pruned sheets.
“please. please. please. gojo—please” an incessant rambling had him lift up from your pussy. a string of spit connected and a smirk on his face. “you cryin’?” he didn’t turn his eyes away. not at all, instead, continued his brute act. his tongue rubbing back and forth on your needy cunt.
with a few more strokes, he had gotten up. the snow in his eyes gleamed an avalanche. his chin wet with your squirt. he had no intention of wiping it away, no, because it was a showcase of your pleasure caused by him only.
“so, he ever finger you?”
𝜗𝜚 being choso’s girlfriend means never getting a break and always being full . . .
( mdni. cw: praise kink/light degradation, clingy!choso, multiple orgasms, light mommy kink, overstim, oral (f. rec), creampie )
“y-you’re still—? choso, i can’t—”
“yes you can,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against yours, breath hot and trembling. “please. jus’ a little more. wanna feel you again. need it, baby- need you.”
you don’t know how many times you’ve cum. four? five? more? everything’s wet, flushed, aching. his dick’s still hard inside you, twitching like it hasn’t already ruined you. and he won’t stop kissing you. won’t stop whispering your name like it’s the only word he knows.
your thighs are sore. your stomach’s in knots. your cunt’s so puffy and swollen you swear he’s ruined something inside you. and choso?
he’s still going.
still rolling his hips into yours with that slow, dizzy rhythm, like he doesn’t know what enough means. he’s drunk off your pussy. completely addicted. muttering, “so good, baby. you feel sooo good, fuck- can’t stop. don’t wanna stop.”
he’s always like this. everytime you let him get too deep in his feelings, everytime you kiss his throat or scratch his back or let him hold you just a little too long— he turns into this. soft. desperate. dick stupid. and soso clingy.
i really wish i had a free bag of chips..
emo bf!choso taking care of his sleepy girl ᶻ𝗓 𐰁
゛⸝⸝ ⋆ req ; fluff , suggestive , lots of kissies
the dorm hallway is quiet except for the muffled thump of bass from someone’s room down the hall. choso pushes the door open with his shoulder, the beginnings of the rain outside still clinging to the shoulders of his black hoodie, earbuds dangling around his neck. his hair is damp from the drops melting into the dark strands, and he smells faintly like cold air and the smoke that lingers around the skatepark he was just at.
he expects the room to be empty when he clicks the light on.
instead he finds you sprawled across his bed.
i wish choso was real
more quick redraws from recent eps feat. megumi Head Injury fushiguro
NEEEEEEEEED
18+ mdni ✰ .ᐟ offering nanami your mouth as stress relief
muffled voices sound through the door that’s been shut for almost the entire weekend.
nanami has been swamped with work. back to back conference calls and presentations being the only things he’s had time for these past few days.
he’s been living like a hermit, stowed away in his office, only emerging for the occasional meal or bathroom break. and each time you see him, his dark circles look deeper than the last.
you’re supportive of his work, of course, but you worry about him— your sweet, overworked husband.
you huff, chin resting in your hand as you sit alone in the kitchen, pushing the food you cooked for dinner around your plate. nanami does so much for you, and you wish you could just take all his stress away.
brows furrowed in concentration, you rack your brain for some kind of answer. and within a minute you’re rummaging through your closet until you find a little babydoll top and a matching pair of panties.
nanami hasn't seen these before. you bought them as a surprise for your upcoming anniversary, but you figure now is as good a time as any to show him.
you gingerly reach for the door to the office, turning the knob slowly and pushing it open just enough to peek around it before slipping inside.
a cluster of voices are still coming from the computer as nanami’s eyes shoot up to you making your way over to him.
“everything…” he trails off as his gaze scans your outfit, eyes lingering on your chest where your pretty tits are all pushed up on display for him. “everything alright, princess?”
“mhmm, just miss you, kento.” you push his chair back to make room for you to slot yourself between his legs. “haven’t been able to see you all weekend,” you pout, sinking to your knees.
ughhhh i need
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ hit me up!
modern!choso x fem!reader
synopsis: your best friend's older brother finally added you on instagram. what's a little harm in flirting with him through instagram notes?
inspired by the ig notes au trend on tiktok!
a/n: been highkey wanting to make one of these aus for a while and it took fucking foreverrrr also guys I'm in my flop era so if this flops again I might quit writing <3
that last note seemed to do it huh😋😋
➽─────── choso who needs sex 101 ───────❥
access the verse here!
this is very silly lol. hope u like it<3
choso stands there.
hand still half-raised from where he’d waved goodbye, lips faintly tingling from your kiss, brain completely unplugged. his ears are red. his neck is red.
“…she kissed you,” gojo says from the couch.
choso doesn’t move. “yes.”
“on purpose,” geto adds.
“…yes.”
toji leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. “and you’re just gonna let her leave like that?”
choso blinks, slow. “…what does that mean.”
“it means,” gojo says, sitting up, “what the hell are you doing.”
“i walked her to the door,” choso says, defensive now. “we watched anime. we—” he hesitates, quieter, “we had a good time.”
the three of them stare at him.
“…and?” geto prompts.
“…and she went home.”
toji exhales through his nose. gojo drags a hand down his face and geto just looks tired.
“you didn’t fuck?” gojo asks, flat.
choso chokes. “what—no!”
“you didn’t even try?” toji presses.
“no!” choso repeats, scandalized. “why would i just—she’s—she’s not—” he gestures vaguely toward the door, like you’re still there, hovering. “she’s not just…that. and i don’t know if she even wants sex, i mean—we—we’ve only kissed a little,” he mumbles out, face burning hotter.
the room goes quiet.
“and,” choso adds, voice smaller now, “she’s so…she’s—” he exhales, frustrated. “she could have anyone. i don’t know why she picked me. i don’t want to mess it up.”
“so you’ve never fucked,” gojo clarifies. “and your plan is to…do nothing forever?”
“that’s not—i just want her to be comfortable.”
“so…kissing?” toji asks. “what, like…making out?”
choso rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “not…not really.”
“so you’ve done nothing except for a couple pecks?” geto runs an exasperated hand down his face. “dude. what are you doing.”
“i feel like ive failed him,” toji says, leaning back and cracking his neck. “have you ever done…anything? with anyone?”
choso looks down, embarrassed. “…no.”
“okay, that’s okay, that’s okay,” gojo says, clapping his hands once. “this is salvageable. we won’t let you fumble her, okay?”
“how do you mean….”
“sex 101,” gojo exclaims grandly, dashing out of the room and stifling through the storage closet and pulling out a giant rolling whiteboard.
“where the fuck’s that from?” toji asks, laughing.
“keep scores for drinking games. anyways,” gojo continues, writing SEX 101 in bold letters at the top. gojo slaps the marker against the board aggressively.
“lesson one,” he declares, writing KISSING in aggressive block letters. “because clearly, we are operating at…beginner level.”
“i can kiss,” choso says, a little stiff.
gojo spins. “define kiss.”
“…i—” choso hesitates. “i press my lips to hers.”
toji snorts and geto pinches the bridge of his nose.
“no,” gojo says, horrified. “no, no, no. that’s a stamp. you’re not mailing a letter, you’re kissing your girlfriend.”
choso’s ears go even redder. “she hasn’t complained.”
“because she likes you,” geto says gently. “which is the only thing saving you right now.”
gojo draws a very questionable diagram of two circles labeled you and her.
“kissing is not just lip contact,” he continues. “it’s—tempo. pressure. reading her reactions. if she leans in? good. if she pulls back? you stop. you don’t just…hover there like a confused statue.”
“…i don’t hover,” choso mutters.
“you absolutely hover,” toji says.
“i’ve seen you hover,” gojo adds.
“you have not—”
“you radiate hover energy,” geto cuts in.
choso looks like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him.
gojo taps the board again. “also, hands. what are your hands doing?”
“…at my sides.”
toji actually laughs this time, low and disbelieving. “you’re telling me you’re standing there like you’re waiting for a school photo?”
“hands are important,” geto says, more composed. “start simple. her waist, her arms, her face if you’re gentle. it shows you’re present. that you want to be close.”
choso nods slowly, absorbing it like it’s sacred info.
“okay,” he says. “hands. not…at my sides.”
“progress,” gojo beams.
he underlines KISSING three times before moving on, far too excited.
“lesson two,” he announces, writing READING HER.
“this is where you stop being dense,” toji says helpfully.
“ignore him,” geto sighs.
gojo points the marker at choso. “you said you want her to be comfortable, right?”
“…yes.”
“good. that’s actually the one correct thought you’ve had,” gojo says. “so build on that. you don’t rush. you don’t assume. you pay attention.”
he starts listing things down the board:
• does she lean closer
• does she linger when you touch her
• does she look at your lips
“these are green lights,” he says. “signals.”
choso’s brows knit. “and if i’m not sure?”
“then you ask,” geto says simply.
choso blinks. “…just like that?”
“yeah,” toji shrugs. “crazy concept. communication.”
“it doesn’t have to be weird,” geto adds. “it can be quiet. ‘is this okay?’ ‘do you want me to…’ that kind of thing.”
choso nods again, and gojo grins.
“lesson three,” he says, turning dramatically and writing ANATOMY.
“oh boy,” toji murmurs.
“do not ‘oh boy’ me, this is educational,” gojo shoots back, already sketching a lopsided pair of tits.
geto immediately stands up. “give me that.” he takes the marker. “you’re going to traumatize him.”
“i was doing great.”
“you’re drawing boobs,” geto says, face bland. “and they’re crooked. at least try.” he sketches something he labels “pussy” (which makes choso wince). “alright, basic overview. you don’t need to memorize a textbook, but you do need to know where things are and what they do.”
gojo crosses his arms. “i still think my version had personality.”
“your version had googly eyes for nipples,” toji mutters.
choso is staring at the board with wide eyes.
“so,” geto continues, pointing. “this is the vulva. external. this—” he taps a smaller point, “—is the clit. extremely sensitive. important. do not ignore it.
choso nods immediately. “important.”
“very,” toji says. “like, top priority.”
geto sighs but continues, tapping the board again. “the main thing is this don’t rush and don’t treat it like a checklist. every girl is different. what she likes, how fast she wants to go, what feels good…you learn her, not just…this.” he gestures vaguely at the drawing.
choso’s gaze softens a little at that. “learn her.”
“exactly,” geto says, satisfied.
toji stretches. “and for the love of god, don’t go in there acting like you know everything.“
“you speaking from experience?” gojo snickers, which promptly earns him a glare from toji.
they bicker, and choso sits there, staring at the board like it’s a revelation, his friends words looping through his mind.
touch her waist, and lean close. if she leans in too, ask if this is okay, and…and then kiss her. and if she wants to keep going ask her if she’s okay with that and…
choso stiffens slightly. he’s still not quite sure what to do next.
ـــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ
choso stares at his phone later that night, thumb hovering over your contact.
choso: did you get home safe?
you: yeah 🥰🥰 what u miss me already
choso: yes
his ears go red again. it’s a reflex at this point.
choso: i liked today
you: me too!!! ur so cute
his brain short-circuits, dazed smile drawn on his face.
choso: you’re cute too
you: next time i’m stealing more than one kiss btw
his heart does something violent, his flush deepening. he thinks about the whiteboard and gojo’s primitive sketches, toji’s bluntness, how geto explained everything to him calmly.
he thinks about you. how soft your lips felt when you kissed him goodbye earlier, how you smiled at him.
choso: you can
choso: just tell me what you like
you: wow..who coached u 🤨😋
choso huffs a quiet breath.
choso: no one
you: don’t worry lol. i’ll show u
he stares up at the ceiling, face burning hot.
these dynamics i love😭😭
➽─────── choso pulled…you?! ───────❥
access the verse here !
“…this is my girlfriend.”
the room fills with absolute, soul-leaving-the-body silence.
you step into the living room, smile bright and easy. “hi! i’ve heard so much about you guys!”
you wave, and your bracelets jingle, your hair bounces, your voice is warm and musical.
and you look…yeah. you look insane.
low-cut top, skirt that fits just right, glossy lips and sparkling eyes. the kind of pretty that makes people sit up straight without realizing.
across from you, gojo’s frozen. geto’s blinking like his brain’s buffering, and toji stares at you, a little dazed.
“choso talks about you all the time!” you continue, undeterred, clasping your hands together.
three heads snap towards choso, who’s’ standing there stiffly, one hand hovering near your back, his face dusted pink.
gojo’s mouth opens and closes. “…huh?”
“girlfriend?” geto repeats for clarification.
you hum, looping your hands through choso’s arm. “yeah!”
“how,” toji adds, very seriously, “did you pull her?”
you gasp softly. “oh my god, that’s so rude—”
choso stiffens, but before he can say anything : “he didn’t pull me,” you continue, almost offended. “i liked him first.”
silence. again.
“you like weird, quiet choso?” gojo asks incredulously. “you can’t even see his eyes! his hair’s—”
“he’s perfect,” you say with a grin. “choso’s so sweet. he listens to me ramble, like, all the time, which is impressive, honestly.”
choso’s ears redden. “i don’t mind,” he says quietly.
you smile at him. “i know.”
gojo presses a hand to his chest. “this has to be a glitch in the matrix.”
toji just laughs. “nah, the quiet ones always—”
“alright,” choso says, and his hand finally settles at the small of your back, gentle but certain. “we’re going upstairs.”
you brighten immediately. “oh! okay!” you lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“lead the way,” you hum.
choso’s entire face goes red, from collar to ears, eyes wide for half a second before he manages a stiff nod.
“…yes,” he manages, already turning, one hand finding yours.
“wait, are we watching that movie you mentioned? the weird one with the—”
your voices fade up the stairs.
after a few seconds, gojo launches to his feet. “how—how did he—she’s—”
“a campus ten,” geto supplies.
“a twelve,” toji corrects.
upstairs, in choso’s room, you curl into his side, nuzzling your face happily into his neck.
“do you think they liked me?” you ask nervously, chewing on your bottom lip.
choso gives you a small smile, kissing your forehead. “i’m sure they did.”
you tangle your legs with his, reaching for the remote. “well, it only matters if you like me, anyway.” you give him a pointed look, smiling. “which you better.”
“i do! i do, a lot,” choso splutters with a reddened face.
“good,” you giggle, and choso flushes even more.
oh i loved