I’m asking Genuinely here because I don’t know and I would rather hear from person experience than Google but Is tourette’s A reason to repeatedly call someone a pedophile? That happens quite a bit in Another server I am In. If they cannot control it Thsts one thing but It’s extremely uncomfortable not only for mi but Mulitole others. JJK writer
I'm going to start by saying this post is heavy but it is important. Please share it.
Below the cut I talk about my tic disorder, motor tics, vocal tics, echolalia, corpolalia, and thoughts of depression
This is a post I didn't see myself having to make but apparently me opening up about my disorder and answering questions when asked didn't get through to some people.
I'm going to start this post off by saying I have a tic disorder. I have had tics since I was 2 years old. I was diagnosed with a tic disorder at 17. I am 21 in two days and have gotten to a point in my life where I am at peace with the fact that I have this disorder but seeing a post like that from someone who I must talk to regularly and therefore consider a friend is disheartening.
I was diagnosed with a tic disorder when I was 17 years old. So nearly 4 years ago. But I have had tics since I was 2.
You have no idea what it is like to never have full control of your body. You have no idea what it is like to never know what you are going to say or do or when you could lose control completely.
I have a part of my disorder that causes tic attacks as a trauma response to shit that I don't want to get into. This presentation as literal seizures.
I don't give a shit if you the person who sent this was just confused, they could've come to me as I have previously answered questions about my disorder to clear things up. But the fact that any of my friends could think that I was in anyway using my disorder as an excuse to make a joke is fucking disgusting. I have, in many cases, been left completely immobile because of these tics. I have been taken to the hospital with suspected broken bones because of these tics. I have been viewed as racist and homophobic and sexist because of words that I cannot prevent from coming out of my mouth due to what we believe to be corpolalia.
This disorder has truly put me in some of the worst places I could've ever been in. It put me on a medication that altered my brain chemistry so drastically that since coming off of it I have had to relearn how to respond to fight or flight signals. I was 17 and begging my parents to fix me. I was 17 with my 9th psychiatrist talking every week about how I needed to fix what I had done wrong to deserve this. I was 17 and I couldn't leave the house without a parent for risk of hurting someone. I lost all of my freedom and I won't ever get that back because I'm not free in my own body.
I was 17 and I would've been happy to not wake up again.
I still have days where I cant get myself out of the house because I am scared of saying something I can't control.
I've been on call in the server multiple times and had to mute or leave temporarily because I've hit my head on something and I need to check that I'm okay.
I would not and will not ever lie to make my disorder seem funny. Because it isn't. I sometimes say funny things, and call people pedophiles amongst other things (which didn't start in the server it started when I was 16 and I announced it in the store with my father and then cried all the way home). But the disorder as a whole is not funny and I never want someone to view it as such.
If anyone had doubts about my disorder they could've come to me. But instead someone ran to @tojioffline .
I have called one person in the server a pedophile as a tic. And I don't have to share who that is but I will. It's @fricks . There was no context behind this happening, it was something that I said in a call and immediately apologised for. Fricks and I talked so briefly and she said she understood and it did not offend her. I felt insecure about it so she helped make it a joke so that I wouldn't feel as awful.
That is truly the nicest thing that she could have done for me and I will forever be grateful because I felt extremely uncomfortable and she helped make me feel better again.
Now is it a weird joke to have as a server, yes absolutely. But whenever anyone asked I gave the context. Fricks is not a pedophile guys, don't go writing hate asks to her.
But again, if someone had a problem with this they could have told me and I would've stopped making the jokes.
I can mask my tics to a certain extent. I an force the words to stay back but they'll come out much worse later on. And when I first joined the server, I was doing that a lot because I didn't know people. But as I got more comfortable with the group I allowed myself to tic because holding it back is painful and exhausting and we were frequently having hours long calls.
The only people that these tics ever directly targeted have been @fricks @strawb3rryhachi and @lemonswirlss because I am extremely comfortable with these three people. I know that none of them are offended by my tics, and they've been nothing but compassionate.
Waking up and seeing this post sent to me hurt. I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn't. And I've posted about Tojioffline before we know my stance and I still agree that the anons are part of the problem.
But @tojioffline is not a doctor. The anon who sent that clearly isn't either. It is not their place to speculate on someone's disability. And a blog that claims to be about JJK drama shoukd not be saying "@ anons" to spread misinformation about a disability.
This has been a heavy post and I'm sorry about that, but it's one that is very important to me.
⋆˚꩜｡ pregnant sex w/ hiromi
FOR MY GRACIE WACIE PUMPKIN CAKEY @dihtaifung
the front door clicked with a soft, final sound. you were curled on the couch in one of hiromi's old, soft t-shirts, your swollen belly resting heavy and warm in your lap. the glow from the tv lit the dim living room, some nature documentary playing quietly about deep-sea creatures.
you heard the rustle of his suit jacket being hung up, the clink of his keys being discarded into the ceramic bowl. then silence. you could feel his eyes on you from the doorway before you even looked up.
hiromi stood there, still in his crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows with his tie loosened. his hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it one too many times. he looked tired, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.
"long meeting?" you asked softly, shifting to sit up straighter.
he didn't answer with words. he crossed the room in three long strides, knelt before the couch, and pressed his face against the curve of your stomach. his arms came around your hips, holding you gently, his shoulders rising and falling with each, shuddering breath. you carded your fingers through his dark hair.
"missed you," he murmured, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. "missed both of you."
"we missed you too," you whispered, smiling down at the top of his head.
he lifted his face after a long moment, his expression raw and open. then his hands were on your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt up slowly, reverently. his palm smoothed over the taut skin of your stomach, warm and tender.
"so beautfiul," he breathed, leaning in to press a kiss just below your navel. "you get more beautiful every day." pulling away, he smiles at your unborn child. "you hear that? making mama gorgeous, i love you already."
his kisses trailed lower, over the sensitive skin of your hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your soft cotton shorts. you gasped softly as he tugged them down, along with your panties, his movements efficient but tender nontheless.
"hiromi… i'm so tired," you sighed, though your body arched toward his touch.
"i know, baby," he said, his voice a low rumble. he kissed the inside of your thigh, his stubble scratching at your skin. "let me take care of you, hm? just relax." he glanced at your stomach. "sit tight, okay? daddy's gonna make mama feel realgood."
he settled between your legs, his big hands spreading you open for him, and just… looked. his gaze was worshipful, taking in every detail. then, he leaned in and licked a slow, broad stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit.
you jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. "o-oh!—"
he hummed against you, the vibration making your back arch. he didn't rush, pleasuring you like he was memorising a new map of your body. his tongue was flat and wet, lapping at your folds, circling your entrance and dipping shallowly inside to taste you before moving back up.
he'd suck gently on your clit, then pull away to blow a cool stream of air over the wetness, making you whimper and squirm.
"s'good?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your slick flesh.
"y-yes, please— ah!— don't stop—"
he didn't. he found a rhythm, alternating between slow, deep licks and rapid, fluttering flicks right over your most sensitive spot. his nose nudged against you, his stubble providing a rough, perfect counterpoint to the soft wetness of his mouth. one of his hands slid under your ass, tilting your hips up to give him better access, while the other stayed splayed on your lower belly, a constant, grounding weight.
"f-fuck, hiromi—" you were babbling, one hand fisted in his hair, not guiding, just holding on. your other arm was thrown over your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations. "r-right there— pleaseplease— haah— l-like that, yes—"
he groaned, the sound vibrating through your core. he doubled down, sucking your clit into his mouth, applying steady, pulsing pressure with his lips while his tongue danced over your peak. you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tigher, a sweet, unbearable pressure building low in your cunt.
"g-gonna— i'm gonna—" you choked out, your back arching off the couch.
he pulled back just enough to pant, "come on, l-let me taste you." and then he sealed his mouth over you again, and you broke.
the orgasm crashed over you in rolling, electric waves, pulling a ragged cry from your throat. your thighs trembled violently around his head as he drank every pulse, gentling his motions but not stopping, licking you through the shiverin aftershocks until you were pushing weakly at his shoulders, oversensitive and spent.
“too much—hah—too sensitive—”
he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistening. he looked up at you, eyes dark and satisfied. “good girl,” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he leaned forward and kissed your belly gently. "so fuckin' sweet."
but when he rose, unbuckling his belt with sharp, precise motions, the look in his eyes shifted. the tenderness was still there, but layered over with something darker, hungrier. the frustration of the long day, the need to claim, to reconnect in the most primal way.
he moved over you, his knees slotting between yours, spreading your legs wide. before you could react, he caught both your wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them above your head against the couch cushions. the hold was firm, unbreakable, but careful, his thumb stroking over your pulse point.
“hiromi—” you gasped, the sudden restraint sending a thrill straight to your core.
“shh,” he murmured, his voice rough. he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “gotta be quiet, baby. don’t wanna scare the little one.”
with his free hand, he guided himself. he pushed into you with one deep, relentless stroke, filling you completely.
you cried out, back bowing off the couch. you were so sensitive, so full. “i-i can’t—it’s too much—ngh!”
“yes, you can,” he growled, his grip on your wrists tightening just a fraction, holding you utterly still beneath him. he pulled out slowly, almost completely, letting you feel every inch of his drag, then slammed back in, deeper. the force of it rocked your entire body, but his hold kept you anchored.
“you can take it. you’re so fucking perfect.” he set a punishing pace from the start, hard and fast, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs. his eyes burned into yours. “taking me so good. my pretty girl. carrying my baby.”
his pace was brutal now. deep, driving strokes that stole the air from your lungs. you were pinned beneath him, utterly at his mercy, able only to take what he gave you. the rough possession of it, contrasted with the gentle swell of your belly pressed between your bodies, was overwhelming. tears pricked your eyes.
“s-see?” he panted above you, sweat dripping from his chin onto your chest. his control was gone, lost to the need to fuck you senseless. “you c-can. you’re doing s'good. so perfect for me.”
you could feel another climax building, a desperate, coiling tightness fed by the relentless friction and the sheer dominance of his hold on you. “m'c-close,” you whimpered, the word breaking on a sob. “please—”
“come on,” he snarled, his thrusts becoming erratic, animalistic. the couch groaned beneath you. he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “l-let go. come for me. wanna feel you—fuck—squeezin’ me—”
you shattered with a broken scream, clenching around him in violent pulses. he followed instantly, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural roar, his body locking as he spilled deep inside you, his grip on your wrists finally going slack.
for a long moment, he stayed there, collapsed over you, his weight pressing you into the couch, both of you breathing in ragged, shattered gasps. slowly, carefully, he released your wrists and gathered your limp form into his arms, turning you to cradle you against his chest. he rearranged your clothes with trembling hands, his touch reverent once more.
he settled back against the couch, pulling you onto his lap, your back to his chest, his big hands splayed protectively over your belly.
“i love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. “so much. sorry… i got carried away.”
summary: choso's developed a dirty little habit in the wake of his first sexual experience, and it's driving you fucking insane.
warnings: 18+, MDNI, choso's inexperienced, fem!reader, groping, choso sends nudes, reader wants that cookie so fucking bad, handjobs, whiny!choso as per usual here
a/n: art by @/thatsallitchief. part one is not necessary to read, but it is linked here
You may have unintentionally created a monster.
In your defense! You didn’t expect that letting your boyfriend see your tits would spiral into this, but the universe really likes to complicate things.
Choso, your sweet, loving Choso, keeps sending you dick pics. Every time he’s gotten hard since jerking off to you, he’s sent you a picture of it. Sometimes, it’ll be him sprawled out haphazardly on the bed with an obvious tent in his light-colored sweats. Sometimes, it’s him hiding in the bathroom at the gym, compression shirt between his teeth, sweaty abs on display as his fingers circle the base of his cock. He’ll send shit like that with captions like “thought of you again :(“ or “when are you gonna be home, baby? i miss you </3”
As if that’s not enough, he sends videos, too. Some of them have dodgy lighting, but he must have taken an online course in camera angles because he never disappoints.
In fact, he just sent you one now. You’re still at work–you had a few things to wrap up before you could leave–so you duck away into a bathroom stall and pop in some earbuds to watch.
The video starts simply enough. He’s on his back, long legs spread wide, as he tugs down his boxers. His cock bobs up into view once the waistband is down around Choso’s knees. You can hear the wet plap of it slapping his defined abs, even over the shuffling of his clothes.
He starts by placing his palm over his shaft and grinding his hips up in slow little rolls. It proves to not be enough for him, and he starts pumping himself in earnest a few moments later.
“Baby…fuck,” he whines. Every whimper that slipped out of his mouth during the recording process was captured in crystal clarity by his phone’s microphone. “Miss you so bad. Been waiting for you. Come home soon…”
So…watching that at work wasn’t a good idea. You’re pretty sure your brain stalled out because you’re stuck sitting in that fucking bathroom for at least five minutes after the video ends. You don’t even watch it again. You can’t.
You get another picture from him after you’ve finally come down from ascending to the astral plane. He’s got his face buried into the sweatshirt you’ve been sleeping in for the past two nights, biceps flexed as he hugs it close to him.
I miss you. How much longer are you going to be gone? I want to hold you.
Yeah, you’re pretty sure you violated multiple traffic laws on your way home, but there’s nothing that’s going to keep you away from the gorgeous man you’ve got waiting on your bed.
Once you park your car, you’re basically on a mad dash to your bedroom. As soon as the front door slammed open and shut, Choso had gotten up and shuffled out to the hallway. He starts to say something, but you turn the corner and barrel into him like a steam engine.
He grunts and slings his arms around your waist, but you’re pushing at him to get him back in the bedroom.
“Bed, Cho.”
The order is simple but effective, and you’ve got him on his back and spread out under you sooner than you could’ve hoped for. Your hands roam over his pale skin greedily, drinking in every shiver and tense muscle with a desperate fervor. Choso, for his part, is flushed and panting under you already. You’ve never touched him with such voracity before, and it’s both flattering and embarrassing all at once.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have that shit sent to you? Fuck, honey. You’re unreal.”
You’ve prided yourself on your self-control in your relationship with Choso. Of course, there have been moments where you’ve wanted to jump him, but the feeling you’re feeling right now is more visceral. You need to touch him.
You slowly slide down his body, hands dragging down his chest and groping at his sides before settling on his strong thighs. Choso lets out a quiet gasp when your fingers brush juuust a bit too close to his already-leaky cock.
“You’re so…god, Cho. A little bit of touching, and you’re this hard again? You just came, like…fifteen minutes ago, didn’t you?”
Choso bites his lip and then shakes his head sheepishly.
“Uh, no. I didn’t.” Your confusion must show through on your face because Choso clarifies quickly. “It doesn’t feel right to cum without you around, so I…try not to.”
“You…what?”
The concept of the man under you purposely edging himself for almost two weeks, just because he doesn’t want to do it without you is enough to make your brain break and your pussy throb.
“That’s just…” you stare down at him incredulously before shaking your head. “Do you want to cum?”
Choso nods quickly. “Yes. Please, fuck. I want to so bad–” He reaches toward his crotch, but you’re quick to intercept his hand. Like hell you’re letting him get himself off right now.
“Let me.”
Choso’s big, dark eyes blink up at you once, twice, and then he nods. “Okay.”
There’s a moment where everything feels like it’s too much. Too heavy, too quiet, too close. Even your horny brain is cognizant of the fact of how much the man under you trusts you. It really only serves to turn you on even more.
“Fuck. Okay. Just relax,” you murmur. You don’t know if you’re talking to yourself or to him at this point, but you feel like a virgin about to give her first handjob again. Choso has no metric other than his own hand to compare to, but you still want it to be good for him.
But, honestly, with the way he’s already trying to buck up into your touch, you can’t imagine anything would feel bad for him at his point.
Slowly, your fingers scoop up some of the pre that’s oozing out of his tip and smear it down his shaft. Choso lets out a guttural, full-chested groan and squirms under your hand.
“Ohhh god, your hands are so soft. S’much softer than mine,” he mumbles. “Don’t stop. Want more of you.”
The thought of stopping right now is like a sick joke. Your hand circles around him, fingertips running over the twitchy veins running along his length experimentally. Choso’s entire body tenses and then jerks, and he lets out a broken noise. The gentle touch is overstimulating and yet not enough for him at all.
“Hnngh…don’t tease me. Please. Can’t take it–”
Your hand starts gliding up and down his slick cock, squeezing at the base and twisting at his tip. You watch on in fascination as his tip slowly turns more and more red each time it peaks out of the channel created by your fingers. It’s almost mesmerizing, watching your hand glide over the slick, silky skin.
Choso’s already close, but the moment your left hand finds his balls, he cums immediately. You barely get the chance to actually play with them before his cock is twitching in your hand. His cum spurts into little puddles in the divots of his abs. You absently wonder how he stayed so silent, only to find him biting down on the collar of his shirt.
“Cho,” you murmur. His stomach clenches as your thumb smears a drop of his cum over his skin.
“Y-yeah?” he asks raggedly. He’s panting like he ran a marathon.
“Wanna learn how to touch me, next?”
“Fuck, please, yes. When? Now? I wanna touch you so fucking bad.”
When you look down and see the sheer need in his eyes, you decide that maybe a bit more indulgence wouldn’t hurt. You always were bad at resisting him.
all written content belongs to @planetchoso! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. i do not own the original characters or the art used above.
synopsis : It's your second week working in HR at Tokyo General Hospital. You’re still adjusting to the job, still learning, still meeting people and making friends. You meet Dr. Shoko Ieiri whilst setting up for a conference. It’s short and slightly awkward. It should mean nothing, but something about her catches your interest.
MDNI || CW: none really, for now || afab!reader, H.R. employee!reader, sfw, use of y/n for email address
Word Count : 1.7K
After Hours - Master List ☆ art by @/_N3dayo on Twitter ☆ Star Divider Cred : saradika
“You’d better tell me if there’s any hotties in that hospital. I am sick of being single. I need you to be my wing-woman.”
Your best friend’s voice comes through the speaker of the car’s radio as you pull into the staff parking lot. She’s been nagging you about finding her someone as soon as you’d told her you got the damn job.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Yuki. Find someone that’s hot, figure out if they’re single and give them your number.” You sigh with a smile, pulling down the visor to fix your hair in the mirror.
After a quick rummage through your bag to make sure you have everything, you bid your farewells to Yuki with another promise to find her someone. You take the keys from the ignition and begin making your way to the office.
The cold, sterile environment of the hospital is a stark contrast to any other jobs you’ve worked. The bright fluorescent lights, white walls and tile floors, and minimal decorations don’t exactly create the most welcoming vibe. It’s less daunting than your first few days, but you still have some adjusting to do.
Within a week, you’ve already learned multiple routes to the Human Resources offices—mostly because you gotten lost a few times. You’d managed to stumble into the Solicitors’ offices somehow, which was a floor above where you were meant to be. A particularly busy looking man, Higuruma, had to escort you to the right place.
Thankfully, you have found your way to H.R. without issue today.
After giving everyone a curt wave and hello, you plop yourself down at your desk and begin the increasingly familiar routine of logging onto the computer and setting up everything that you’ll need. With notices read and emails replied to, you decide to grab your first coffee of the day.
The office bustle is strangely comforting as you make your way to the kitchenette. Co-workers chat and gossip, decide who’s turn it is to make coffee for each group, and make plans for after work.
You make a mental note to get to know everyone better, you don’t want to come across as a hermit.
“Mind passing the sugar?”
A voice interrupts your thoughts.
Beside you stands a young man with dishevelled brown hair and a dorky smile on his face. He seems to be in his early twenties, just a few years younger than you. You blink at him for a moment before grabbing the sugar and setting the jar down beside his mug.
“Nice to meet you.” He starts as he spoons an abnormal amount of sugar into his coffee. “I’m Takuma Ino. You’re the new hire, right?”
“Yeah, I just started last week.” You confirm. “Nice to meet you, too!”
You continue to sort your coffee whilst introducing yourself to Takuma. He repeats your name under his breath before smiling.
“Cool. I’m not here long, either. Started a month ago. Let me know if you ever need help with anything.”
“Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”
He shakes his head, “No biggie. We could all use a helping hand sometimes. Anyways, I need to get back to dealing with an employee issue. I’ll talk to you later.”
You give him a small wave as he walks back to his desk, finish making your coffee, and return to your own desk.
The hot coffee warms you as you glance through your emails. One catches your eye.
To whoever it concerns,
I really think I should be getting paid more to clean up literal shit, as well as the mess that these people leave behind. Why do people struggle to use the bins? Can’t remember what the time period for discussing raises is but thought I could bring it up anyways.
Thanks,
Toji Fushiguro
Maintenance Crew
A smirk crosses your lips as you reread the email. You couldn’t blame him for feeling that way, really. A strangled giggle threatens to slip past your lips as you begin typing your reply.
Dear Mr. Fushiguro,
Whilst I do respect what your work in Maintenance entails, I must remind you that profanity is not permitted when communicating with staff members.
If you’d like, I can set up a meeting between you, your department manager and a member of Human Resources to discuss a possible pay increase?
Please let me know if this works for you.
Kind regards,
Human Resources, Tokyo General Hospital
Someone being themselves is refreshing, but it would be a bad look if you didn’t remind someone of the rules on your second week and you need this job. Badly.
You go about the rest of your afternoon in a similar manner—Replying to emails, drinking coffee, doing some training courses on the computer. The courses could make anyone rip their hair out, honestly.
“If a co-worker says something inappropriate to you do you: say something inappropriate back, hit them, or report them to the correct person?”
This cannot be for real, you think with a roll of your eyes. Unfortunately, it is.
You begrudgingly slug through the course, paying no heed to the stupidity of some of the questions for sanity’s sake.
Thoughts drift back to your promise to Yuki, then to Ino. Would Yuki be into him? He’s cute, seems sweet, has a steady job. You’ll mention him to her whenever you get to know him better.
Ten minutes later, the completion screen feels a gift from the heavens. You push back from your desk, stretching your legs out beneath it.
“Ahem.”
Oh, shit.
“Ms. Iori! Hi. Sorry.”
Utahime Iori, the Head of H.R, is nothing short of a dream employer. She's a good teacher, treats you as an equal, and doesn't act as if she's plagued by your naivety.
Planting your feet to the ground, you pull your chair back in and straighten up.
“What can I do for you?”
She gives you a small smile, “No need to apologise! Sitting down all day calls for a stretch. I need you to run across the hall to the meeting room and set it up. There’s a talk happening for the new med students. You should need fifteen chairs.”
“Yeah, of course. Just set up chairs and the computer?”
“Mhm! Thank you, dear.”
Silently glad that it’s nearby, you grab your jacket and make your way out the door. You quickly spot the sign beside a door reading “Conference Room”. At least you weren’t going to intrude on a random department this time.
The conference room well equipped: there’s a large table in the middle, stacks of chairs line the walls, a projector is mounted on the wall behind a podium.
You get to work, taking chairs from the stacks and moving them to the table. It doesn’t take too long, the worst thing is deciding how much space to leave between them. Setting up the computer should be fine, too. You just need to unlock it and make sure it’s connected to the Wi-Fi.
Password is incorrect. Try again.
Are you fucking kidding me?
You type it again, maybe you made a typo.
limitl3ss!r3d_066
Password is incorrect. Try again.
You stare blankly at the screen, at the flashing cursor. You’re almost certain that it’s the right password.
As you rattle your brain and try to figure out if you missed a number or special character, someone knocks at the door.
“C’mon in.”
The door clicks open, followed by the sound of heels on the floor.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise someone else was setting up the room for me. Thank you.”
You glance up quickly.
A woman in a lab coat stands in front of you.
“It’s no problem. So, you’re the doctor giving the talk?”
Her lips quirk up into an amused smile.
“Yes. Doctor Ieiri, but you can call me Shoko. Pleasure to meet you.”
She moves around to your side of the podium and cocks her head at the computer screen.
You steal another glance at Dr. Ieiri—she has a freckle beneath her right eye, green eyes—before directing your attention back to the password issue.
“Oh, yeah. The password they gave me last week isn’t working anymore. I’m, uh, not sure what they changed it to. I was about to go as–”
Shoko chuckles, “Had to change it because of a security breach. Let me.”
Her shoulder bumps into yours as her slender fingers move across the keyboard.
When she finishes typing, she clicks ‘Show password.’
s!xey3s_123
“Ah. I’ll ask for it again in the office and make note of it.”
She hums in acknowledgement and turns to face you.
“Office? Which department are you with? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I’m in human resources. I just started last week. It’s nice here.” You chirp, giving her a small smile. “Which department do you work in, Doctor?”
There’s a strange look on her face—eyebrows knitted together, an almost critical look in her eyes.
“General Medicine.”
“Ah, okay.”
She gives you that look again, and you can’t help but raise your eyebrows in confusion. Shoko seems to notice her expression and quickly relaxes her face.
“Anyway, my students will be here shortly. I’m happy to finish setting up. Thank you for your help.”
You nod briefly and step away from the podium and towards the door, grabbing your jacket from the table. “Best of luck. Nice meeting you.”
The walk back to your desk isn’t long enough for you to process what happened. Why was she looking at you like that? Did you say something dumb?
The last hour of work passes in a blur, and before you realise it, it’s time to go home.
You gather your things and make your way back to the staff car park. Sighing, you slide into your car. The smell of the lavender air freshener is a welcome change from the cold, sterile air of the hospital. You rummage through your bag for your keys and phone. After finding both, you start the car and bring up Yuki’s phone number.
It rings for a long moment before she answers.
“Hi, hun. How was work today? Any luck with your promi–”
in which choso explores himself, you, and what it means to please each other
part one: his hands, his body
╰┈➤୭˚. ᵎᵎ where choso experiences his first ever orgasm
part two: your hands, his body (coming soon)
╰┈➤୭˚. ᵎᵎ where choso develops a dirty little habit and you can't hold yourself back
part three: his hands, your body [april 2026]
╰┈➤୭˚. ᵎᵎ tba
part four: his mouth, your body
╰┈➤୭˚. ᵎᵎ tba
part five: your mouth, his body
╰┈➤୭˚. ᵎᵎ tba
+ more
this series is 18+ and not suited for minors. gradient dividers belong to me. all written content belongs to @planetchoso. do not repost, translate, or feed my work into ai.
synopsis : It's your second week working in HR at Tokyo General Hospital. You’re still adjusting to the job, still learning, still meeting people and making friends. You meet Dr. Shoko Ieiri whilst setting up for a conference. It’s short and slightly awkward. It should mean nothing, but something about her catches your interest.
MDNI || CW : none really, for now || afab!reader, H.R. employee!reader, sfw, use of y/n for email address
Word Count : 1.7K
After Hours - Master List ☆ art by @/_N3dayo on Twitter ☆ Star Divider Cred : saradika
“You’d better tell me if there’s any hotties in that hospital. I am sick of being single. I need you to be my wing-woman.”
Your best friend’s voice comes through the speaker of the car’s radio as you pull into the staff parking lot. She’s been nagging you about finding her someone as soon as you’d told her you got the damn job.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Yuki. Find someone that’s hot, figure out if they’re single and give them your number.” You sigh with a smile, pulling down the visor to fix your hair in the mirror.
After a quick rummage through your bag to make sure you have everything, you bid your farewells to Yuki with another promise to find her someone. You take the keys from the ignition and begin making your way to the office.
The cold, sterile environment of the hospital is a stark contrast to any other jobs you’ve worked. The bright fluorescent lights, white walls and tile floors, and minimal decorations don’t exactly create the most welcoming vibe. It’s less daunting than your first few days, but you still have some adjusting to do.
Within a week, you’ve already learned multiple routes to the Human Resources offices—mostly because you gotten lost a few times. You’d managed to stumble into the Solicitors’ offices somehow, which was a floor above where you were meant to be. A particularly busy looking man, Higuruma, had to escort you to the right place.
Thankfully, you have found your way to H.R. without issue today.
After giving everyone a curt wave and hello, you plop yourself down at your desk and begin the increasingly familiar routine of logging onto the computer and setting up everything that you’ll need. With notices read and emails replied to, you decide to grab your first coffee of the day.
The office bustle is strangely comforting as you make your way to the kitchenette. Co-workers chat and gossip, decide who’s turn it is to make coffee for each group, and make plans for after work.
You make a mental note to get to know everyone better, you don’t want to come across as a hermit.
“Mind passing the sugar?”
A voice interrupts your thoughts.
Beside you stands a young man with dishevelled brown hair and a dorky smile on his face. He seems to be in his early twenties, just a few years younger than you. You blink at him for a moment before grabbing the sugar and setting the jar down beside his mug.
“Nice to meet you.” He starts as he spoons an abnormal amount of sugar into his coffee. “I’m Takuma Ino. You’re the new hire, right?”
“Yeah, I just started last week.” You confirm. “Nice to meet you, too!”
You continue to sort your coffee whilst introducing yourself to Takuma. He repeats your name under his breath before smiling.
“Cool. I’m not here long, either. Started a month ago. Let me know if you ever need help with anything.”
“Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”
He shakes his head, “No biggie. We could all use a helping hand sometimes. Anyways, I need to get back to dealing with an employee issue. I’ll talk to you later.”
You give him a small wave as he walks back to his desk, finish making your coffee, and return to your own desk.
The hot coffee warms you as you glance through your emails. One catches your eye.
To whoever it concerns,
I really think I should be getting paid more to clean up literal shit, as well as the mess that these people leave behind. Why do people struggle to use the bins? Can’t remember what the time period for discussing raises is but thought I could bring it up anyways.
Thanks,
Toji Fushiguro
Maintenance Crew
A smirk crosses your lips as you reread the email. You couldn’t blame him for feeling that way, really. A strangled giggle threatens to slip past your lips as you begin typing your reply.
Dear Mr. Fushiguro,
Whilst I do respect what your work in Maintenance entails, I must remind you that profanity is not permitted when communicating with staff members.
If you’d like, I can set up a meeting between you, your department manager and a member of Human Resources to discuss a possible pay increase?
Please let me know if this works for you.
Kind regards,
Human Resources, Tokyo General Hospital
Someone being themselves is refreshing, but it would be a bad look if you didn’t remind someone of the rules on your second week and you need this job. Badly.
You go about the rest of your afternoon in a similar manner—Replying to emails, drinking coffee, doing some training courses on the computer. The courses could make anyone rip their hair out, honestly.
“If a co-worker says something inappropriate to you do you: say something inappropriate back, hit them, or report them to the correct person?”
This cannot be for real, you think with a roll of your eyes. Unfortunately, it is.
You begrudgingly slug through the course, paying no heed to the stupidity of some of the questions for sanity’s sake.
Thoughts drift back to your promise to Yuki, then to Ino. Would Yuki be into him? He’s cute, seems sweet, has a steady job. You’ll mention him to her whenever you get to know him better.
Ten minutes later, the completion screen feels a gift from the heavens. You push back from your desk, stretching your legs out beneath it.
“Ahem.”
Oh, shit.
“Ms. Iori! Hi. Sorry.”
Utahime Iori, the Head of H.R, is nothing short of a dream employer. She's a good teacher, treats you as an equal, and doesn't act as if she's plagued by your naivety.
Planting your feet to the ground, you pull your chair back in and straighten up.
“What can I do for you?”
She gives you a small smile, “No need to apologise! Sitting down all day calls for a stretch. I need you to run across the hall to the meeting room and set it up. There’s a talk happening for the new med students. You should need fifteen chairs.”
“Yeah, of course. Just set up chairs and the computer?”
“Mhm! Thank you, dear.”
Silently glad that it’s nearby, you grab your jacket and make your way out the door. You quickly spot the sign beside a door reading “Conference Room”. At least you weren’t going to intrude on a random department this time.
The conference room well equipped: there’s a large table in the middle, stacks of chairs line the walls, a projector is mounted on the wall behind a podium.
You get to work, taking chairs from the stacks and moving them to the table. It doesn’t take too long, the worst thing is deciding how much space to leave between them. Setting up the computer should be fine, too. You just need to unlock it and make sure it’s connected to the Wi-Fi.
Password is incorrect. Try again.
Are you fucking kidding me?
You type it again, maybe you made a typo.
limitl3ss!r3d_066
Password is incorrect. Try again.
You stare blankly at the screen, at the flashing cursor. You’re almost certain that it’s the right password.
As you rattle your brain and try to figure out if you missed a number or special character, someone knocks at the door.
“C’mon in.”
The door clicks open, followed by the sound of heels on the floor.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise someone else was setting up the room for me. Thank you.”
You glance up quickly.
A woman in a lab coat stands in front of you.
“It’s no problem. So, you’re the doctor giving the talk?”
Her lips quirk up into an amused smile.
“Yes. Doctor Ieiri, but you can call me Shoko. Pleasure to meet you.”
She moves around to your side of the podium and cocks her head at the computer screen.
You steal another glance at Dr. Ieiri—she has a freckle beneath her right eye, green eyes—before directing your attention back to the password issue.
“Oh, yeah. The password they gave me last week isn’t working anymore. I’m, uh, not sure what they changed it to. I was about to go as–”
Shoko chuckles, “Had to change it because of a security breach. Let me.”
Her shoulder bumps into yours as her slender fingers move across the keyboard.
When she finishes typing, she clicks ‘Show password.’
s!xey3s_123
“Ah. I’ll ask for it again in the office and make note of it.”
She hums in acknowledgement and turns to face you.
“Office? Which department are you with? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I’m in human resources. I just started last week. It’s nice here.” You chirp, giving her a small smile. “Which department do you work in, Doctor?”
There’s a strange look on her face—eyebrows knitted together, an almost critical look in her eyes.
“General Medicine.”
“Ah, okay.”
She gives you that look again, and you can’t help but raise your eyebrows in confusion. Shoko seems to notice her expression and quickly relaxes her face.
“Anyway, my students will be here shortly. I’m happy to finish setting up. Thank you for your help.”
You nod briefly and step away from the podium and towards the door, grabbing your jacket from the table. “Best of luck. Nice meeting you.”
The walk back to your desk isn’t long enough for you to process what happened. Why was she looking at you like that? Did you say something dumb?
The last hour of work passes in a blur, and before you realise it, it’s time to go home.
You gather your things and make your way back to the staff car park. Sighing, you slide into your car. The smell of the lavender air freshener is a welcome change from the cold, sterile air of the hospital. You rummage through your bag for your keys and phone. After finding both, you start the car and bring up Yuki’s phone number.
It rings for a long moment before she answers.
“Hi, hun. How was work today? Any luck with your promi–”
summary: choso's still not used to having a human body, and he's even less used to feeling the desire that gnaws at him every time he's near you. as much as you want to jump him, you know you have to be patient.
warnings: 18+, MDNI, choso's inexperienced, fem!reader, groping, choso touches himself, choso cums in his pants, needy!cho, choso’s first ever orgasm
a/n: CHOSO'S HUMAN EDUCATION SERIES IS BACK!! and yes this does mean that i'm currently working on part three :) i'm so excited to share it with you all! art by @/thatsallitchief
“Wait, is that–do you have those, too?” Choso asks, looking between you and the TV screen that’s displaying a topless woman. You slowly lift your head up from where you’ve been absorbed in your phone and balk. What the hell is he even watching?
“Wh–no! Well, yes, but–” you shake your head, completely flustered by the suddenness of his question. You and Choso have been dating for a few months now, but you’ve been taking it slow. You inhale and exhale slowly before finally speaking again.
“Yes. Most women do have breasts, but they usually look different between women. I mean, variation is natural, especially when it comes to skin tone,” you explain. "Mine don't look like that."
Choso nods solemnly then fixes his stoic gaze on you.
“Can I see yours, then?”
Choso lets out a grunt when you suddenly smack him in the face with a pillow.
“You can’t just–like, yes, you can, but–ugh! You don’t just ask someone that.”
That’s how you find yourself here, sprawled out on your back on the bed. Choso’s kneeling between your parted thighs, and his fingers are playing with the hem of your t-shirt. He’s seen you in a bathing suit before, but that’s about as much skin as he could handle at once without having to lock himself in his bedroom for half an hour out of embarrassment.
“Take your time, honey. I’ve got nothing going on today,” you shrug nonchalantly. Secretly, you’re absolutely thrilled that he’s finally showing interest in exploring not only your body but his as well. You don’t mind taking things at his pace. You want him to feel safe and comfortable with you, but he’s so fucking hot that it can be hard to control yourself around him. You’ve built great amounts of openness and trust withing your relationship, and you don’t want to rush him into anything.
“Okay,” he mumbles. “Can I just…feel you first?”
“Yeah,” you say with a nod and a reassuring smile.
Choso slowly, almost agonizingly so, slips his fingers up under the hem of your shirt. His hands are warm, and the rough tips of them skate over the expanse of your stomach like an explorer trying to map out a new landmark. He’s methodical and reverent, treating the soft flesh like something much more delicate and rare than you’ve ever thought of yourself.
“You’re–soft. And warm. I knew that, but this is different,” he whispers shakily. His palms flatten over your waist suddenly, and you let out a soft gasp. He rubs his hands over your belly slowly, your shirt lifting up to expose peeks of your skin to him. His eyes are immediately glued to the way your muscles tense in response to his touch. He hums to himself when he feels the way your stomach jerks with your breathing. “Is that good?”
“It can be,” you whisper. “Since I’m not in pain, yeah. It’s good.”
He nods and drags his palms up to your ribcage. His big hands splay across the lower portion of the bones, and he gently presses in until he can feel them.
“That’s weird,” he mutters.
“You’ve never felt your ribs before?” you ask quizzically.
“I…guess I have. I’ve never felt someone else’s like this before. It’s different. You’re different.”
His hands continue up until they hover over your bra. You see his throat work before he diverts his attention. He gently tugs your shirt over your head and smooths his hands down the sides of your neck, his fingers trailing over your shoulders and down your biceps.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers.
“I use lotion. Y’know, like the blue tube of stuff I gave you?”
Choso looks at you blankly.
“You use that don’t you?” you ask.
“You said it was for my hands,” he replies, a pout pushing at his lips.
“Mostly, yeah, but you can use it anywhere else. It’s not just for hands.”
“Oh. Would…touching me feel nicer for you if I use lotion?”
You crack a smile at his innocent question and reach up to cup his cheek, “I mean, yeah, but it’s also good for you. It helps keep your skin hydrated and strong.”
He hums. He’s run out of skin to explore, and now he’s stuck with the two glaringly obvious features in front of him.
“So, these…” he says, his hands hovering over your chest. “They’re okay to touch, right? It’s not uncomfortable?”
And god, he’s so earnest when he asks that. You feel bad for the giggle that escapes you, but you’re quick to nod. You don’t want him to feel stupid for being curious.
“Yes. Yeah. It’s okay, baby. Just be gentle and go slow.” You pause for a moment before adding, “But thank you for asking. It’s important to ask, even though I’m your girlfriend. Just…don’t go around asking random women if you can touch their boobs.”
“What kind of man do you take me for?” Choso asks indignantly. Then, more sheepishly: “I’ve never really felt the need to touch anyone like I do with you.”
A quiet warmth blooms in your chest, but it’s quickly replaced by surprise when Choso’s hands land on your chest. His palms mold to cup your breasts through your bra, and you both lose your breath. His fingers flex, and his heavy gaze fixes on the way your plush flesh dimples and gives way to him.
“Oh,” he whispers. “That’s–I can take this off you, right?”
At your nod, he attempts to take your bra off over your head. You wince a bit and gently guide his hands behind you.
“Just push both sides together. It should click apart.”
Choso’s fingers fumble with the clasp. He’s not aware of the face he’s making, but you can’t help the way your heart does a little backflip in your chest. His eyebrows are furrowed, and the tip of his pink tongue is pressing out of the corner of his mouth. The intense focus is equal parts adorable and sexy, and you find yourself wanting to yank him down just to press kisses all over his gorgeous, stupid face.
Your daydream is interrupted by him finally getting your bra unclasped.
“I hated that,” he frowns. “Do you have to wear them?”
“Kind of. When I’m moving around or if I’m going to be out a lot, yeah. I don’t usually wear one around the house unless I have company,” you shrug.
Choso gives you a nod before he starts pulling the straps down your arms.
“I’m nervous,” he whispers, looking up at you for reassurance. He can be hesitant and unsure in a lot of new situations, and it manifests in nerves and awkward energy a lot of the time. He’s so fearless when fighting and so determined when he sets his mind to something that it’s almost funny that the prospect of seeing your tits has him shaking in his boots. There’s a little frown on his face that makes you pause, though.
“Hey,” you murmur. Choso leans his face into the delicate sensation of your knuckles brushing his skin. “What are you nervous about? Are you worried about how you’re feeling? Or are you anxious about how you think you’ll react?”
Choso pauses for a moment and mulls your questions over. A soft silence settles over the two of you. He’s still kneeling between your thighs, but he’s got his palms propped up on your biceps now. His hooded eyes meet yours once again, his mouth now set into a determined line.
“I’m never worried about how you look. You’re gorgeous. I think I’m just nervous about how I’ll react and…new things always stress me out. My stomach feels weird.” The last phrase is a reluctant admittance of an anxiety that he so rarely shared with anyone. Choso has so much trust in you now that it almost makes your chest feel like caving in. Sometimes, it feels like you’re the only person who can keep his world from tilting on its axis.
“I promise that I won’t be offended, no matter how you react. I just want you to feel comfortable. I told you already that I don’t want to pressure you, and I’m happy going at your pace. Things get overwhelming. It’s okay. We can stop the second you’re uncomfortable,” you soothe. Your hand slides down to massage the nape of his neck. “That being said, it’s just my tits. You saw some earlier."
Choso shakes his head adamantly.
“No, it’s different. They’re yours. They’re part of you. I can’t explain it, but everything feels so much more important when I know it connects to you.”
You’ve never quite figured out how he got to be so poetic, putting words to feelings you can't explain yourself. You drag your hands up and down his sides, grasping at the edges of this tenderness like a blanket that’s being yanked off you.
“That’s a good feeling to get to experience, Cho. Not everyone gets to. I’m glad I can be that for you,” you whisper.
Choso nods, and his throat bobs as he tries to find the words to say. When he can’t, he settles on resuming his previous actions. His fingers hook around the straps of your bra. There’s a heavy pause. The air sinks around both of you. It’s not a big deal. Not really. Some part of both of you recognizes that, but neither of you can snap out of the haze of momentousness that seems to linger.
“I’m going to do it now,” he whispers. He nods to himself and finally slips your bra straps down your arms. He sets it to the side, but his eyes immediately zero in on the sight of your chest. “You’re so beautiful. What the hell,” he whispers.
His fingers slide back up your stomach and cup your breasts once more. The contact is more intense this time. You didn’t anticipate the jolt your nervous system would get from his touch.
His hands knead your breasts slowly. His eyes go all glassy in enthralled fascination as he watches the way your skin responds to his touch. He swallows when goosebumps bloom, and his pretty lips part when your nipples pebble under his fingertips.
His thumbs begin circling your nipples slowly, small absent-minded strokes that are more curious than anything. Still, it floods your stomach with warmth, and the whimper that falls from your lips is almost pathetic. Choso’s attention is immediately on your face, and he starts rubbing with more intention.
“Do that again, please. Please. I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard in my life,” he says breathlessly. His throat is tight with desire he doesn’t yet know how to express, but his body does it for him. His hands get a bit rougher, and he has to choke down a groan.
You’re not unaffected yourself. Watching the sheer ecstasy and desire playing out on Choso’s face while he gropes your tits for the first time is more of a turn on than you’d like to admit. Your official excuse is that you’re too pent up to think properly, but the truth is that the feeling of his fingers kneading your skin combined with the way his shoulders heave with the natural desire for more gets you wetter than anything else ever has.
Your eyes widen when Choso makes a sudden movement that shifts the mattress under you. You almost protest when his right hand moves away from you, but the view he gives you is more than enough to make up for the loss. He’s got his shirt off now, his pale, muscled torso exposed to you fully. He’s an eyeful on his own, but his hand instinctively finds the growing bulge in the front of his pants. He starts rubbing at it pitifully, no rhythm or coordination to the action.
“Hnng–fuck, what are doing to me, baby?” he whines as his hips buck into his hand sloppily.
It’s a carnal display, and you’re not entirely certain where to look. His big thighs flex with the strain of keeping his weight balanced while he fucks up into his hand. His core is tight from keeping himself upright when all he wants to do is collapse into you. His chest is heaving as his panting breath and pitiful whines fill the rapidly warming air. His dark hair has started coming undone, and it falls into his face messily.
This is easily the most ruined you’ve ever seen him, and you haven’t even shown him anything yet. You try not to let your mind spiral into how he’d look when his cock sinks into you for the first time. You can see the outline of him through his sweatpants. He’s big, but not unmanageable. Somehow that makes him even hotter.
“Nnn–I’ve never–baby,” his fingers tremble around your breast before his hand slips down to your belly for stability. There’s a warm, pink flush that’s started crawling up his chest. His eyes meet yours and stay there, daring you to look away from him. He’s almost certain he’ll die if he loses the feeling of your eyes on him. “S’too much…why does it feel like this?”
You’re reeling now. You’ve never pried, but you had just assumed he’d touched himself before. That doesn’t seem too far out of the realm of possibility, right? Looking at him now, though, the desperation rolling off him makes sense.
“You’ve been hard before, right?” you ask dumbly.
“Wh–yes. Why?” he replies brokenly, weakly trying to chase his pleasure.
“Have you never touched yourself?” you whisper, almost choking on the words.
“Not like this,” he whines. “It’s never felt like this!”
“Cho, it’s okay. Just breathe and feel it. It’ll get more intense, but it’ll feel so good. Do you trust me?”
He nods frantically, and draws his lower lip between his teeth. He’s making the sluttiest expression right now, and he doesn’t even realize it. You’d think he was fucking you with the way his eyebrows are drawn and lowered. His eyes are screwed shut, his head is tipped back, his cheeks are pink, and his bobbing Adam’s apple is exposed. The things you’d give to be able to bite him right now…
“Yeah…just like that, Cho. Try closing your hand around your cock,” you murmur.
He does as you tell him, and his long fingers close around the straining outline of his cock. A guttural moan immediately rips out of him, and he starts pumping himself through his pants even quicker.
“Oh. Oh, fuck. Fuck. No, why does that feel so good–oh my god, baby,” he whispers. His voice is wavering now, stretching around the feeling of his pleasure rising in waves. You quickly capture his free hand in your own, and you drag his fingers back up to your tits.
“There you go,” you murmur as his fingers close around the soft mound of flesh once again. His head drops forward, and his hips give a few more stuttery thrusts before stalling. He lets out the loudest groan you’ve ever heard from him. It’s a broken, drawn out noise that seems to explode from the very depths of his soul. A wet patch blooms on the front of his pants, and he slumps back on his knees.
“Oh my god. I’m gonna die,” he whispers. His thighs are still trembling from the release and flood of sticky pleasure throughout his body. You help guide him to lie down. His head settles on your soft belly, and his left hand comes up to rub at your skin. He lets out a broken little whine as he nuzzles into your stomach.
“My pants are sticky,” he pouts after a few minutes of silence. You slowly lift your head from your pillows to stare at him. The absurdity of the situation–the fact that your boyfriend just had his first orgasm from feeling you up and rubbing himself over his pants–catches up with you quickly.
“That’s okay. I’ll buy you a new pair,” you reassure.
“I didn’t know I could do that,” he mumbles against your skin.
“There’s a lot of stuff like that you don’t know. I can show you, if you want.”
‘Slowly,’ you add mentally. Your hand finds the nape of his neck again, and you trace circles into his delicate skin.
He nods against your tummy and nudges his nose against you.
“Sounds good. I…liked it. It felt good,” he murmurs hesitantly.
“I’ll make you feel even better next time,” you reply breezily.
He lifts his head and stares at you before lifting a big hand to cup your cheek.
“Promise?”
Your answer comes with a kiss to his palm, “Promise.”
all written content belongs to @planetchoso! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. i do not own the original characters or the art used above.
synopsis : You've just started working at Tokyo General Hospital, and it's great! You've found your place, made new friends. It's simple, plain and predictable—Until your run-ins with Head of General Medicine, Shoko Ieiri, become far too regular.
notes : this is a non-curse au! some medical goings on may not be 100% accurate, but i'm just writing this for fun. all chapters posted will have the relevant content warnings!
please comment if you'd like to be added to the After Hours tag list.
sometimes you need a four-armed man to awkwardly hug you to feel better ! (apothecary!reader)
you were tired. your eyes burning, your fingers calloused while you tried to move along with your work—ignoring the stupid voices in your head calling you incompetent while you tried to bottle your herbs, trying to distract yourself from the tears pooling at the rim of your eyes.
you weren’t going to cry. you weren’t that incompetent, were you? your eyes watering while you silently sobbed—working even faster to try to cover up the tears cascading down your face.
“what are you doing, woman?” you could hear his voice booming behind you while you sniffled, bowing before him, keeping your head held low so he wouldn’t notice. of all things, you didn’t want to burden your king with your frivolous emotions.
“i’m working, my lord.” you said, keeping your head held low, while he examined your entire form, watching the way your body was flushed, trembling a little as you cried.
“what is the matter?”
“it would be silly for me to trouble you with something so trivial, my king.”
“i’ve told you to cut out the formalities, my petal. what is it that woes you? would you rather not discuss it?”
you slowly nod, a little taken aback with his response, almost certain that he was going to reprimand you for being lazy.
you could see sukuna’s arms stretched out before him, almost as if he was beckoning you to a hug—
“my lord what are you—” you gasped out,
“is this not what humans do?”
you immediately rush into his arms, the four limbs enveloping your body while you choked another sob, your tears staining his expensive robes while one of his arms found their way to pet your head.
“oh such fragile things, you humans. take better care of yourself, you’re my favourite apothecary, after all.” his voice was gentle, almost nervous while you cried, his arms crushing you into his chest, almost hiding you away from the rest of the world. and that’s exactly what you needed.
he slowly pressed his lips to your head, slowly pulling his robes apart, hiding you inside them, as if to shield you while you just cried your heart out.
“there…there.”
“you’re hic s-surprisingly good at this.”
“it is simply because i favour you.” he said that like it was simply factual. like a truth that wasn’t up for debate.
who would’ve thought that of all people, the king of curses would have you crushed in his arms, comforting you, while your cries slowed down against his chest. his poor apothecary, overwhelmed to tears. whoever did this—whoever overworked you, they would pay. right after he puts you to sleep in his ornate chambers, in his bed. because you, his petal, can do no wrong, and that is simply just the truth.
well. i need this so.
🖇️: all works belong to @liliklei do not copy, translate or feed to AI.
SYNOPSIS When party boy and fraternity president Satoru Gojo pokes too much fun at his brother Sukuna, he has to face the consequences. Lucky for him, you and Toji are doing everything to save him!
CONTENTS mostly crack, some smut— threesome, anal (top toji, bottom toru), cunnilingus, squirting— drug use, everyone is doing coke, implied age gap relationship w reader & toji
A/N this is dedicated to @madamechrissy for her object gojo event! this was so much fun, happy belated birthday and congrats on 50k! i luv u
The sun was beating down harder than it had all year as the semester came to a close. Summer break was just around the corner and everyone wanted to party one last time before exam week rolled around.
Satoru Gojo was no exception.
He was well known around his campus as president of one of their biggest frats and as the most popular guy among the sororities. Well, him and Sukuna of course. Oh, and they were also both complete cokeheads.
One can imagine the kind of issues this might lead to— arguing at parties over who got cut a bigger line or who got to sleep with which girl. Honestly, they drove everyone crazy with their constant dick measuring contests but no one could deny they were also the life of the party.
Things between the two of them had been relatively chill in the hours leading up to their frat pool party, much to the relief of everyone else. Maybe it was the hangovers from the night before that had mellowed them out, but they were actually working together to set up the party.
The truth is, there was a mutual understanding of how crucial these hours were. After all, there were going to be women in bikinis and short shorts at their frat house all day— everything had to be perfect.
And it was. The string lights were hung up, the coolers were filled with beers and seltzers, the bar was stocked with liquor, the pool had been cleaned, and their dealer had already swung by to drop off a little baggie filled with white powder.
Standing out on the back porch, Satoru overlooks the scene before him with a contented smile on his face. He's certain that this is hands-down going to be the best party all year.
Until Sukuna comes outside.
That big fucking bumbling idiot! Satoru's jaw nearly falls open in disbelief when the man walks outside in his choice of party attire. The theme is swim suits for fucks sake. Satoru thought that the most variation he'd see in the outfits among his brothers were inseam length and design.
But no.
The 6 foot 5 hunk of a man is dressed in nothing but a speedo.
Bulge on display and all, muscled ass cheeks hanging out.
"What the hell are you wearing!?" Satoru exclaims, ignoring the way his voice cracked.
Sukuna looks at him like he's the crazy one. "It's a swimsuit, the fuck do you mean?"
"That is not a swimsuit! Or, at least not one that anyone should ever see you wearing." Satoru shields his eyes from the view of Sukuna's pelvic region, looking away in disgust. "Seriously man, that's fucked up."
"How's it fucked up?" Sukuna's voice is raising as his irritation rises. Satoru always had something to say about him. "Everyone wears speedos."
"No one wears speedos! At least no one under the age of 50. Are you 50? Who in their right mind would wear that to a frat party? There's gonna be girls here you know!"
Satoru's baffled. He's completely lost in the aftershock of this unexpected reveal as he tries to figure out how he's going to save this party from his stupid frat brother's tomfoolery. He's so lost, in fact, that he doesn't even notice when Sukuna's hands come together in a strange way before beginning even stranger chanting.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the fraternity, and the entire university actually, Sukuna was well versed in all things occult. Just a little hobby he'd picked up in high school to enact revenge on his enemies.
And right now, Satoru is his enemy.
How dare he treat Sukuna's outfit choice as something to be ashamed of! Dark clouds begin to swirl in the sky above the two men, flashes of heat lightning striking between the gray. What was once a beautifully sunny day is now eerily dark.
Satoru is snapped from his thoughts when a crashing roar of thunder rings out. His eyes widen as he notices Sukuna who has not yet broken his trance and is still chanting monotonously. Their hair begins to whip around as the wind picks up, swirling around Satoru as he stands glued in place.
CRACK!
A bright bolt of lightning strikes down Satoru in a flash, reducing him to nothing but a soot stain on the porch.
When Satoru comes to, his eyes take a while to adjust. All around him are flames, blanketing the space in a bright, red hue, casting shadows all around him that twist and turn with each flicker.
In front of him, a man sits in a throne, staring down at Satoru with a bored expression.
Aw shit.
Satoru had an idea where he was once he took in the view around him, but he really wanted to hope that he was just imagining things. But there's no doubt about it, not with the way that man is sporting a set of horns and a killer goatee.
He's in Hell.
"Sukuna has got to stop using that spell," Satan grumbles. Satoru had no idea that the two of them were on a first name basis like that.
Satoru waits to be addressed, but Satan just continues muttering to himself. "I'm running out of punishments with all the people he's sending down here before their time. And Death is going to be pissed at me again if I run out of space for the people he's bringing over on the next ferry."
Satoru debates speaking up and letting Satan know that he wouldn't mind just being sent back to reality, since he's not even supposed to be dead yet. But he decides to hold his tongue.
His eyes roam around the place as he stands awkwardly, awaiting his fate.
"Hmm… I haven't done this in a while but I suppose it would be alright. You there!" Satan bellows, finally addressing Satoru. "You will be subjected to the punishment of reincarnation—" That doesn't seem too bad.
"The curse may be lifted, allowing you to return to your…" Red eyes trail over Satoru, heavy with judgment, "riveting lifestyle, but only if you remember this."
Satoru's gaze burns with determination as he listens intently, not wanting to miss a single instruction.
Satan clears his throat loudly. "With a breath of crack, your humanity shall be back, only so long as you ejac… ulate before the clock strikes midnight."
Satoru's about to ask what the hell that could possibly mean, and if he got his inspiration from Cinderella, when Satan snaps his fingers.
And just like that, their meeting is over.
When Satoru returns to the real world, the first thing he notices is that he can't talk or move on his own, which is unfortunate because he loves to talk and he needs to move in order to find this so-called "breath of crack." Satoru also seems to be incredibly short, noticing that his view is roughly a mere 3 feet off the ground.
A quick glance around tells him he's in a bedroom, but he doesn't recognize anything so he's not sure whose. Above him he hears a soft grunt followed by someone clicking their tongue.
Is he on someone right now?
Satoru receives an answer to that question a minute later when he's moved in front of a mirror. The sight is utterly horrifying. If he had a voice right now he'd be screaming until it was gone again.
In the mirror is one of the largest men Satoru's ever seen. Broad and muscled, he still has a bit of a dad bod that reflects his age along with the occasional gray hair mixed into his black tresses. And the amount of hair on his head could almost be rivaled by the hair that's spread across his chest.
But all of that wasn't even the part that bothered Satoru. The real issue was what the man was wearing.
A light blue sequined speedo.
It is by far the ugliest thing Satoru has laid his eyes on and it takes a moment to realize that's him. If he could cry right now, he would. His perfect hair, his big blue eyes, his chiseled body, all gone! Reduced into one gaudy piece of swimwear on a 50 year old man.
There was nothing good about his situation.
"Baby, did you try it on?" You shout from bathroom where you're tying up your own bikini. You'd gone to Goodwill earlier trying to find a new one to wear today but you ended up only leaving with that sparkly speedo instead. But you have tons of bikinis already, so it's not like it really mattered.
"Yeah, it's fuckin' ugly though, babe."
At least he has some brains, Satoru thinks.
You stick your head out from around the door, a pout on your lips as you glare at the man that's wearing Satoru.
Okay, maybe he was being dramatic about there being nothing good in his situation. He definitely didn't expect this burly guy to have a girl as cute as you. At the very least, he gets to look at you while he figures his shit out.
"It's not ugly, Toji. It just… has character," you counter, but even then you can't stifle the little giggle that slips out after. Honestly, you just wanted to see if he'd actually wear it.
"You're fuckin' laughing, you know it's ugly," Toji grumbles, before reaching a hand down and hooking a finger into the elastic that's wrapped around one of his thighs. He tugs on it, stretching Satoru out more than he should be.
And then Toji slips his other hand into the waistband, trying to adjust his dick in a way that doesn't make it feel like it's suffocating.
Satoru quickly looks away but that doesn't save him. Not when he can feel Toji pulling at him, rummaging around in side of him, dragging his cock all around his insides until he finally seems content and leaves Satoru alone.
"You couldn't have gotten a bigger size? Feels like my balls are bein' strangled," Toji huffs, giving the elastic one last snap.
"I already told you it was at goodwill, they don't have size options there," you explain, rolling your eyes.
You already know that Toji won't stop complaining though, so in an attempt to placate him you say that you got something else for him. Toji's interest is piqued at that, and he shuts up long enough for you to rummage through your purse until you pull out a little baggie filled with white powder.
Satoru could die of excitement right now. Or maybe not? He's not sure how it works, if he can die again.
But never mind that because the important thing is that you have coke, and he just realized that he needs coke, or a "breath of crack", so then he can become human again and go do more coke.
"You want some?" You offer to Toji as you climb onto the bed. "I picked it up today after I went shopping."
Toji's beside you in a flash, grimacing when he sits down because it feels like the speedo has gotten impossibly tighter. He needs a bump now, if he's going to put up with this all day.
You open the bag and dip your key in, collecting a small amount on the end before holding it up to Toji. Plugging one nostril, he inhales the powder in one sharp sniff before rubbing a finger along the key to collect the residue.
"Open," he commands. Satoru is watching from his place below you both in awe as you obediently let your jaw fall slack for Toji to stick his finger in your mouth. The digit slips under your bottom lip, running along your gums.
You let him do that until he's convinced you've cleaned up everything that was left on his finger. Then he grins, "suck."
Your pretty glossy lips close around his finger, your cheeks hollowed as you stare at Toji. His mouth hangs slightly open, his breathing heavy as he watches you intently.
He'll never get tired of you— his perfect, young girlfriend, always eager to please him and the only person who can handle him.
You can tell the coke is starting to hit Toji. His pupils are dilated as they roam, drinking in the sight of you in your bikini, all supple skin and your chest on display. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you can feel the space between your thighs starting to get warmer, wetter.
"Lean back," you say, pressing a manicured nail into Toji's chest and pushing him gently. He reclines on the bed until he's propped up on his elbows, watching you curiously.
He's not the only one, Satoru has his vision locked on you. More specifically, he's watching your tits that are threatening to spill out of your top when you bend over, your face hovering close to Toji's stomach.
You tilt the little baggie, dumping a bit of powder onto Toji's abs before snorting it off of him. A tiny amount of white residue remains that you clean up with a soft kitten lick.
Satoru feels like he's going insane.
How did this old man bag you? You would have been perfect for him. At least he thinks so. You're hot, funny when you're teasing Toji, and clearly a fun hang for a guy like Satoru who loves to party.
You can feel your tongue tingling, starting to numb slightly as you wipe your nose. And Toji's on you in an instant. A large hand wrapped loosely around your throat as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. You're melting into his touch, your heart racing from the drugs and the excitement that your boyfriend always elicits from you.
Toji groans into your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a way that makes you gasp. You're fumbling around, trying to set down the bag in your hands so that you can have them both on Toji instead, but you slip up. Before you can seal it, the baggie falls from your fingers, landing right on Toji's crotch and the speedo.
"Fuck," you curse, noting how the fine powder spilled out and is slipping between the sequins, getting lost in the material. "Oh, god damn it. I just bought that!"
"It's okay, baby. We can get more," Toji reassures you, even though he's a bit disappointed himself.
Satoru though, is far from upset. Actually, this was the best case scenario for him.
He's not sure how he was able to ingest the cocaine, maybe the fabric is like his skin and it's being absorbed that way? Whatever, he didn't need to understand it to know that he was feeling much better. And much fuller?
"What the fuck!" You and Toji shriek at the same time. You're scrambling backwards, fear and confusion written all over your face as you stare at the naked man that just appeared out of thin air with a quiet poof!
That wasn't all though— he was sitting right on top of your now naked boyfriend too. Or, more specifically, on his dick.
"This shit's even tighter than that damn ugly speedo," Toji grits, shifting in his seat and making Satoru bite back a small whimper.
Your eyes are wide as your brain tries to catch up, "what… what's tighter?"
Toji doesn't need to say it out loud. The way Satoru's hands are gripping the sheets, his chest heaving and cheeks tinted in a bright pink, it tells you everything you need to know.
You still have a million questions. "Who are you? And where did you just come from? A-and what are you doing with my boyfriend!?"
Satoru stutters, trying to think of how he can answer you in a way that would make sense but any way you slice it, his story is just completely unbelievable.
Toji, quite frankly, couldn't give a fuck anymore. As far as he's concerned, the biggest question he has is when someone's going to get him off because his cock is rock hard and being strangled right now.
Satoru tries to share his story as best he can, tripping up over his words each time he feels Toji twitching inside him. You raise a brow at the two men when you notice the way Toji's hands are gripping his hips, holding the mystery man in place on his lap.
"I didn't know you liked men," you comment, changing the subject. Your brain is still wired, your thoughts all over the place, and you've moved on from questioning how you got into this situation.
At the end of the day, it is what it is. And now you've got two attractive men in front of you, so really, who are you to complain?
Toji just shrugs. "If someone's hot and willing to make me cum, why should it matter?"
You tilt your head, mulling over his words. You find that you agree with him.
"Okay, but I wanna cum too."
Satoru's mouth falls open— you two were insane. He really lucked out, aside from having to be an ugly speedo for about 20 minutes. That was awful.
The three of you barely have time to exchange introductions before Toji is manhandling Satoru while telling you what to do. He gets you all positioned how he wants, with Satoru on his knees and his back pressed into an arch, his face buried between your thighs.
He's got his tongue slipping between your folds and flicking at your clit while he plunges two fingers deep inside your warm cunt. He barely has to move them himself because Toji's fucking him from behind, each thrust so brutal that it pushes him further into your pretty pussy.
You're writhing on the bed beneath Satoru, your hips pinned down by him so all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and tug on his hair so hard that he feels tears forming in his eyes.
Those shimmering, salty droplets begin to streak down his face the longer that Toji uses him, his thick cock stretching out Satoru's ass more than he ever imagined possible.
The older man was literally splitting him open.
Your slick pussy swallowed every moan that Satoru let out, the vibrations stimulating you further and making your thighs tremble around his head.
You were getting louder, whinier, and Toji knew you were close. He could tell Satoru was too by the way his tight walls were pulsing around his length.
"You two are fuckin' dirty," Toji grunts, landing a harsh smack to Satoru's ass. "You like having your boyfriend fuck another man?" He's addressing you now.
Heat rises to your cheeks as your eyes flutter open.
The sight you're met with is unreal and Toji looks absolutely feral. His fingers are digging into Satoru's hips, no doubt leaving bruises that he'll see tomorrow, and Satoru can't stop crying into your cunt as he laps at your juices like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted— you were.
"Y-yeah," you moan, "you're so hot, 'ji."
"You gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum all over Toru's face 'n make a mess?"
Satoru looks up through wet lashes to see you're nodding your head fervently, babbling out the cutest string of mmhm's over and over. He lets out a deep groan before returning to your cunt with more energy than before.
He can feel his own climax rising and he's determined to push you off that peak with him. His lips wrap around your puffy clit, sucking it between his teeth as his fingers curl deep in your wet cunt. Satoru abuses that sweet spot inside you over and over while Toji does the same to him.
"'mclose'mclose'mclose—" you mewl, back arching off of the bed as your orgasm crashes over you.
You can't help it when you squirt, your watery arousal splashing onto Satoru's face, and the sight alone is enough to have Toji's hips stuttering.
"Fuuuck," he groans, slamming himself back into Satoru one last time before releasing rope after rope of sticky cum into his ass.
Toji pulls out slowly, admiring the way his white spend begins to seep out of Satoru's hole before the yougnger man's hips give out and he collapses onto the bed.
Satoru is a fucking mess. His face covered in your release— whatever he wasn't able to swallow down— and he's now laying in his own puddle of cum on the mattress, too spent to even think about moving on his own.
You and Toji sit in silence, catching your breath as you look at one another incredulously.
No one would ever believe the events that had trasnpired today. About how you picked up a sequined speedo from goodwill for Toji as a joke, which ended up not really being a real speedo. And rather, it was the reincarnation of a frat boy who could only become human again if he was able to do coke, and could only stay human if he was able to cum before midnight after transforming.
At least you two were able to help him with that!
When Satoru finally moves, he pushes himself up with a tired grunt. He really needs a shower.
As if reading his mind, Toji tells him he can wash up in the bathroom, and that he could get a ride to his frat house afterwards if he needed one. He did.
A/N special shoutout to @cupidstrace for coming up with Satan's wonderful riddle for Satoru, i love your brain. long live bikini!jo and speedo!jo
would you wet your fingers for me?...
would you place a bookmark in me?
LIBRARY
(n.) a playground for books and readers, but also for occasional debauchery
Synopsis: your plan is to avoid your rival, now that you’ve both been hired as assistant librarians, to minimise the chances of getting into hours long debates and committing murder. the problem is that he's everywhere — helping you carry heavy boxes, scoffing at your choice of literature, eating you out in the back corner between the We Shouldn't Do This and the We'll Never Speak of This Again shelves. in all the bickering and orgasms, you're left with one question:
is the smell of books an aphrodisiac?
Warnings: porn with plot, a romcom vibe series, college au, nerd!nanami x nerd!reader, both classical lit students, f!reader, rivals to lovers, forced proximity, they're mean to each other, specific warnings will be added to the relevant chapters, Nanami art by @/thatsallitchief, will be next updated Friday 17th (super busy next week), will eventually be available on AO3, comment to be added to the taglist on this post (must be 18+ and have that clear in bio or pinned post), details on this post are subject to change, not proofread
Word Count: tbc
Canto I - The Hopeless Gate
℘ you wanted the librarian job. unfortunately so did he. and the world hates you so you both got the job. now you have to learn how to tolerate his existence with much closer proximity than before. it's doable, isn't it?
Canto II - The Second Circle
℘ this job's not as stimulating as you thought it would be. people are predictable, unadventurous, and too serious. he looks bored too. stoking some harmless competition wouldn't be so bad, right?
Canto III - The Dark Descent
℘ stakes have been added to the pot. you should stop letting him part your legs, should stop allowing him to light your fire, but no harm no foul if you guys just continue as you have been, no?
Canto IV - The Emerging Stars
℘ this was a mistake. all of it was. from the very beginning, it was doomed. you're too similar, too ambitious, too cutthroat. at the end of the day, you're only ever meant to be rivals...aren't you?
kianamaiart
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
origamiaround
snowghoul
titsay
jbbartram-illu
