Cyanide Sunset @breenatalle - Tumblr Blog

Hey guys!!

So I’ve had this account for years and I started it just to keep track of fics for myself and to share some with you guys. Recently it’s really blown back up and I’m so thankful!! It’s so nice to hear from you guys especially in quarantine which is still going pretty strong where I live. Normally I only ever reblog fic recs that other people have made because I’ve been too nervous to make my own but I felt that it was time👍🏻 I’ll try to organize this the best I can but I hope you all enjoy!! Please let me know if anyone would want something similar to this in the future ❤️❤️

Also just an FYI, all these fics are completed. I’ll post the rating and word count just to make things a little easier for you guys :)

The Last Waterbender by myshipsaresunk on ao3. Rated G. 329,294 words

“AU where Katara is the Avatar// While on a quest to restore his honour, Zuko stumbles across a girl stranded on an iceberg. Katara has no memories when she wakes from the ice. They journey together through the South Pole, Zuko trying to find the Avatar and Katara trying to regain her memories. A cruel twist of fate pits their destinies against each other and even as Katara is accepting her legacy as the Avatar, Zuko must decide between her and his destiny.”

mnemosyne by skai_heda on ao3. Rated T. 8,287 words

“And then she dreams of Zuko, of getting to him too late. Murmured words too quiet to decipher, amber eyes going glassy, star-shaped wound hot to the touch.

She doesn’t wake with shaking breaths or with fingers clutching at the sheets; she doesn’t wake with a pained yelp, or even with tears on her eyes. No, all she has in the wake of her nightmares is the dull, hazy silence of morning. Katara opens her eyes without movement after nightmares, staring up at the ceiling with her heart pounding so hard that it hurts, but it never shows on her face. Even alone, she can’t seem to shed the mask of normalcy, of passive contentment.

Katara is glad that her dreams are infrequent, to put things simply. She has enough to worry about without them.”

how rare and beautiful we found each other by antarcticas on ao3. No rating. 9109 words

““Prince Zuko,” she quirks up at him, hands over her chest in a gesture that is more assertive than angry.

“Lady Katara,” he responds in kind, his eyes searing into hers. “It is good to see you again. I will admit, a part of me yesterday believed you wouldn’t come back.”Katara and Zuko fall in love in a world without war.”

The Color of the Stars by bluenebulae on ao3. Rated T. 172,326 words

“One moment changes the course of history. Katara and Zuko are imprisoned by the Fire Nation Army during the Day of Black Sun, and when they escape, they find themselves adrift in the Fire Nation with no one to rely on but each other. With only six weeks before Sozin’s Comet arrives and four nations to cross, the pair must track down Katara’s allies, save the world—and learn to trust each other.”

Our Strange Duet by Ally147 on ao3. Rated T. 22,300 words

“She makes one last adjustment of the ornate collar, then looks up at him and smiles. “You look good, Fire Lord.”

He huffs. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? That’s what you are, isn’t it? What you’re going to be?”

“Not to you.” The look in his eyes stops her in her tracks and settles somewhere deep inside her. “Never to you.”

Katara Alone by cablesscutie on ao3. Rated T. 21,047 words

“The war is over, and with it goes the only life she has ever known. In this era of love and peace, the world is becoming new, and Katara is unsure of her place in it. That’s okay though. Katara has rebuilt her life from scratch before, and she will do it again.”

Half Asleep by crushinator on ao3. Rated T. 82,362 words

“Five years after the Hundred-Year War, Fire Lord Zuko is hit with an assassin’s dart, and falls into a coma from which he cannot wake. A week passes, and his prognosis is grim. But Katara could swear she hears him in her dreams.”

Lightning Strikes in Her Eyes by cynical_mystic on ao3. No rating. 33,313 words

“Three years after the end of the Hundred Year War, Katara is questioning her relationship with the Avatar. On the other side of the world, Fire Lord Zuko is struggling with an uprising in the Fire Nation. What happens when the two collide, haunted by the day Zuko saved her life? This is my take on Zutara, and covers some things that were left unsaid in the show. Loosely based on the comics in some places.”

The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama on ao3. Rated M. 102,800 words

“Katara grew up in the Southern Water Tribe under the tutelage of Hama, the only waterbender ever to have escaped Fire Nation captivity. When Zuko arrives at the South Pole, seeking the Avatar, they are more than ready to defend him. Iroh watches as his beloved nephew throws himself at the ice walls again and again in an impossible siege–-and resolves to do anything it takes to save his nephew from himself. With the assistance of the Order of the White Lotus, he deposes his brother on the Day of Black Sun.

A week later, the Southern Water Tribe receives a petition for peace, and a proposal of marriage.”

Something Brewing by Draco_sollicitus on ao3. Rated E. 28,297 words

“When Katara returns to visit the Fire Nation after nearly a year away, Zuko is struck by how much his feelings towards her have changed.

It’s all he can do to not blurt his emotions out to her, or to make a fool of himself – but, with some advice from Uncle Iroh, Zuko decides to be patient in his courting of the Waterbender.

And, it yields some … interesting results.”

So I think for now this is all I have, If you guys like this let me know and I’ll start another one with some more recommendations :) Hope everyone is doing ok!!

indiewritesxoxo

indie's recent recs!

jjk drabbles + fics

brother's best friend ft. satoru gojo by @serikai

the punisher ft. toji fushiguro by @suguboobs

captain save a ho ft. satoru gojo by @yorikae

streamer ft. ryomen sukuna by @cumchiato

white noise ft. choso kamo by @lyvhhx

poor puppy reader ft satoru gojo + suguru geto by @popcornpaws

making your life hell ft. ryomen sukuna by @yuri-min

honey pack ft. satoru gojo by @eraserbread

gordon ramsey ft. ryomen sukuna by @slntty

my boyfriend eating our boyfriend's ass ft. ryomen sukuna + toji fushiguro by @oksukuna

morning dew ft. toji fushiguro by @hangenism

opposites attract ft. ryomen sukuna by @dolcemisu

sukuna throwing out the pot we beat him with ft. ryomen sukuna by @yenayaps

crazy in love ft. ryomen sukuna by @sukunahs

written in the stars ft. ryomen sukuna by @starmapz

a wicked mind ft. ryomen sukuna by @liahcharms

the soulmate sprint ft. satoru gojo by @fukiouh

smaus

mr. no relationship satoru ft. satoru gojo by @sumuse

you hit different ft. ryomen sukuna by @sveraia

other fandoms

recovery time well spent ft. dick grayson by @honey-snail

i'm sorry ft. jason todd by @jtoddsbaby

art i loved

dragon sylus sleeping by @sunsetagain

math with toji by @itterhorns

sylus by @yeovv-r

nanami by @ariawins

valko by @serena-sketches

wolf gojo by @gaytoeyume

a/n: been a while since i've done any kind of recs, thought it'd be nice to do a short one! haven't had too much reading time the last few months tbh but always feel free to send what you're reading and enjoying my way (and if you wrote something i missed or you want me to read, tag me!!) <3 div is by @/mieluno

hueningchai

part 3 > part 2 : part 1 | ask to be in the taglist !

it was already attempt number 3, and sukuna wasn’t giving up any time soon. third times the charm, apparently.

you guys shared some classes, so he had a better excuse to talk to you. he knew you liked cafes or eating out, so what better way to take you your friend out and get yourself involved in some way?

sukuna was talking to a friend of yours, the same one that hooked up with him. she agreed to help him, mostly because she would get money out of it and another quick fuck.

it was time for your econ class, and you usually sat next to your friend. She invited you to the hangout, well dinner, and you agreed.

—

at the right time, 8 PM, you and your friend walked into the hotpot restaurant, where Sukuna was waiting.

when you spotted him, your eyes widened and you turned to your friend.

“what the hell, why is he here?!..” your eyes darted to his, where he was staring back.

“relax, I didn’t know he was going to be here, okay?” your friend led you onto the restaurant, where he also followed after.

—

you and sukuna just gave each other death glares, eating silently while your friend ‘excused herself to the bathroom’ yet it had been 20 minutes and she wasn’t back.

“why do you hate me so much?” your head snapped up at Sukuna words.

“who said I hated you?” the meat on the grill sizzled, providing some noise to fill in the silence.

“well, you’re always ignoring me and turning me down. no girl turns me down.” Sukuna messed around with the piece of meat with his chopsticks, sulking.

“looks like I’m the first and to be honest, you’re just not my type. you’re a playboy, fratboy, need I say more?” you took the piece of meat, putting it into your mouth.

“what?”

“just the truth. look, no offense, but I would rather shit on my hands and clap than ever give you a chance.”

—

well, safe to say that the dinner date didn’t end up well at all, ending with you taking the train home when Sukuna offered to drive you home.

he was starting to lose a slight flicker of hope but he’s still going to try.

authors note: this may be ass cause I’m currently suffering from food poisoning and can’t think straight but I wanted to release this today 💔🙏 tell me how many more parts this should have 👀

taglist: @mrskamikazekaito @asian-woody @peysdeliveryservice @skinstickets @tobesocoldasyou @minadiary07 @stargirlsstatic @bubb13gumb1tch @scenic236 @yxo7

erenlav

bf!toji when you call him "pretty" for the first time

toji wasn't paying much attention at first, too focused on his phone. half listening, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, looking as uninterested as always.

then you said it.

"you're pretty." you say. admiring him from the side. his soft hair and hard face features. looking like he came out of a dream.

his thumb stopped moving. "...what?"

you blinked, biting back a smile. "i said you're pretty."

a laugh left him, not because it was funny but because nobody has ever called him that. ever. it sounded so foreign to him.

handsome? sure. hot? oh, all the time.

but pretty?

toji looked at you like you just spoke another language.

"you look confused, 'ji." you smile, moving to sit closer to him. you wrap your arms around his big hand and lean into him.

"it's a weird thing to call me."

"how come?" you ask.

"come on, baby. i look far from pretty. i look okay."

you scoff, feigning offence. you sit up and face him, brows furrowed. "how dare you say my boyfriend looks just "okay"?" you get on his lap, your palms on his cheeks.

he puts his phone completely away, focused on just you.

"okay? just okay??" you repeat.

he bites back a grin. "you know what i mean."

you cup his cheeks tighter, squishing them together. the sight almost makes you laugh. "look at you."

"i'm looking at you." he teases, arms circling around your waist.

you huff. "these eyes.." you look into his eyes. "so pretty, breathtaking even."

you run your fingers through his hair. "the hair. soft and pretty."

he rolls his eyes. "you're making things up."

"this face?" you lean in, your nose almost touching his. "the prettiest."

his ears redden, so does his cheeks. "are you done?"

"my pretty boy."

he groans, dropping his head back and then straightening up and kissing you.

"i fucking love you. god, baby." he mumbles against your lips. "so sweet to me."

"you deserve it." you smile against him.

"do i?"

"always."

theorphicangel

thinking about surfer!sukuna with tanned skin and his tattoos as usual and you can't help but spot him on the first day of your vacation.

you made sure to arrive early to the beach, catching a good spot in between the sun and the shade. your towel is all laid out, your sunscreen is applied and you have a good book in hand but a pink haired surfer manages to catch your eye.

you didn't pay him much attention in that skin tight all black surfer suit he had. you side eyed whilst he prepared to surf, not really having watched anyone surf before.

you watched him surf out into the ocean, testing the waters. it's early yet so the waves aren't too strong but it would still be a perfect practice for sukuna. distracted from your pages you watch him move across the waves with perfection and ease.

you almost feel an itch to join him on the waves but you have no idea how to surf yourself. he makes it look so easy you're so envious, watching him shake his damp hair as he runs out of the water.

pulling your book closer to your eyes you feign having ever saw him, acting as if your eyes weren't glued to his figure in the ocean. you certainly don't keep an eye on the way his suit peels from his shoulder,s exposing his tanned skin and tattooed. you definitely don't noticed his muscular body and the way his biceps flex as he lays on the sand. your eyes are most definitely not fixated on his large chest and how water drops drips from his pecs as he pants in and out.

no, you totallyyyy don't notice him meeting your eyes and giving you a glare. a glare that scares you enough to return back to the line in your book that you've re-read over twenty times.

but at least you know what time to come back to the beach tomorrow right?

iheartyuyu

[very strong suicidal themes and strong topics. can not stress enough these warnings, reader is suicidal. v strong self projection... english isn’t my first language.]

the first time you ever had a proper conversation with sukuna ryomen, he saved your life.

that day was supposed to be your last, really. you had everything planned— letters written, belongings labeled with who to give them to, a plan in mind, and no doubt in your heart on what you were going to do.

you had nothing left.

your family would move on. your friends were already so busy, which would help. they would be distracted and they would move on, too. nothing in the world would stop, the world would continue spinning, and you were just so, utterly tired. you didn’t care about ‘being selfish’, all you cared about was just how badly you needed everything to stop.

you were just so tired.

too tired, in fact, to focus on anything as you walked into the roof of a frat party, deciding to enjoy one last party before you could finally rest. the roof was surprisingly empty, and you stood near the edge, leaning on the ledge quietly, eyes down on everyone partying downstairs, laughing and dancing and enjoying their best years.

the view was slowly becoming more blurry, your eyes glossing over with tears, taking a quiet, shaky breath, mourning the happiness you failed to ever achieve.

just then, the roof door slammed open, a loud groan echoing. “fucking choso always giving people the key. hey, you.”

you glanced over, gaze blank, vision cloudy with tears that you forced not to drop, and you paused. you could identify the tan, pink-haired frat president even with your vision blurry— fuck, probably even with your eyes shut.

sukuna ryomen was known.

the usual cliché frat president, really. a heartless asshole who’s great in bed, with a burning hot temper and knuckles that are always bruised with strangers’ faces to match. although, he definitely was prettier than any guy you had ever seen— not that it mattered, really, you never cared enough to focus on pretty guys when your first priority was to survive, but he was easy on the eyes.

for some reason, the 6’4 football player froze as soon as your eyes met. you only blinked blankly, barely able to properly see him, lack of lights on the roof and tears not helping the slightest. you sniffled, praying your voice doesn’t crack as you spoke. “sorry, am i not supposed to be here?”

he was frozen for a few more seconds, then frowned. “you’re in my monday class.”

you blinked, not expecting him to recognize you, before slowly nodding, not trusting your voice to not shake if you spoke again, he stared at you for a while longer, before walking over, leaning on the ledge beside you.

you didn’t care enough to overthink it, really, not enough to even think twice about why the life of the party was on the roof beside you instead of doing a line of shots downstairs. instead, you resumed staring at the party downstairs, trying to enjoy the last few hours—

“i don’t know you that well, but,” sukuna murmured, voice low. you blinked once, thanking the darkness for concealing the tears that finally dropped, keeping your gaze ahead as he sighed. you expected him to say something shallow, irrelevant— the kind of stuff frat boys spew to random girls on rooftops. “give it another try.”

you blinked, mind going blank for a moment. you were quiet for a beat, eyebrows slowly furrowing in confusion, because there was simply no way he was saying what you thought he was. “…what?”

“give it another try.” he grunted, voice low, serious. “one year ago, i was standing on this stupid roof with those exact tired, hopeless eyes and coming up with a plan because i wanted everything to stop. now ‘m fucking thriving.”

you froze, quiet and silent, heart beating too loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts anymore. sukuna kept getting blurrier, but you saw his head move to look at you before he sighed loudly. “…i’m not going to do anything, not even stop you. but, i know exactly how you feel, and i’m promising you, it really does get so much fucking better.”

“…bullshit,” you mumbled. your voice was quiet, hissed between gasps that were a pathetic attempt not to cry. he only hummed, quiet.

“i would have answered that way, too.” he muttered, voice quieter. “funny, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer. you kept staring straight ahead, and sniffled. after a few quiet minutes, you breathed out, trying not to bawl in front of the stranger in your class. “…what stopped you?”

he let out a faint chuckle. it sounded sad.

“…you.” he muttered. you turned to him this time, utterly confused, no longer caring about the tears streaming down your face and how much of a mess you definitely looked. if he was looking at you in disgust, you definitely wouldn’t have noticed through the tears, anyways. his voice remained almost gentle, though. “that was the semester i never forgot to bring a fucking pen with me. everyday i showed up, and no one had an extra one, and i had to go get one from outside the fucking room. then, that day, i showed up, and you had two. you got one for me, a stranger, and i realized that maybe i wasn’t as invisible and meaningless as i felt.”

your breath halted, body freezing, tears flowing even faster. you could feel the neckline if your hoodie soaked with tears from how long you had been crying, but it barely registered in your mind when sukuna was casually mentioning that the reason he stood alive in front of you today was because you brought him a fucking pen. your eyes were wide, lips wobbling as they parted wordlessly, and you could finally make out the faint, sad smile on his lips.

“i just planned to raincheck it, you know. couldn’t let your pens go to waste. but, by the time the semester ended, i felt... better. i remember fucking laughing then, because holy fucking shit, it really does get better.” he stated calmly, reaching over, warm fingers wiping your tears in a way rhat was so nonchalant that it almost made you laugh. “so, trust me, i know how it feels. gets really fucking better.”

“…what if it doesn’t?” you finally manage to choke out. he hummed quietly, taking the time to think, before his fingers dropped away from your face.

“then you will get better,” he spoke, voice serious. “you’ll heal and adapt.”

“i don’t think i have it in me, sukuna.” you whimpered. “i don’t… i’m so tired…”

strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a solid chest. he held you so firmly yet so carefully, as if you were going to break if he breathed wrong.

“…let’s try,” he whispered, a hand gently sliding to hold your head gently as you broke, sobbing, the sound muffled by his shirt, which you definitely were ruining. “one more try. just one more, and then ‘ll never bother you anymore. i’ll even give you a pen, just one more semester, okay?”

you sobbed harder. he held you patiently, waiting for your cries to die down, never once loosening his grip, fingers carefully rubbing your back to comfort you. after a few minutes, you finally pulled away, harshly wiping your tears, and he spoke again, voice even quieter. “one semester, and then i’ll let you do whatever you want, i promise. please.”

you rubbed your eyes harder, as if that would remove the pounding headache that refused to leave you, even in your worst moments. “…you don’t have to be involved in this, sukuna.”

“i want to be.” he immediately argued, no hesitation. “least i can do after you saved my life, really.”

“that’s stupid. i just gave you a stupid pen.”

“that stupid pen saved my life,” he repeated, frowning. “please? please.”

you scoffed, the sleeves of your hoodie still covering your palms that you had pressed to your eyes; avoiding looking at him. “…i really don’t want you burdened.”

“you think i would do this if i didn’t want to?” he grunted. “have you heard nothing about me?”

you were quiet for a while, before you finally sighed.

you already had everything written and packed, plan ready, everything prepared. you already survived for twenty years, a few more months weren’t too bad, right? and it wasn’t like you had to force yourself if things became unbearable again, you could always just… do it.

worst case, sukuna would just end up as another letter in your life.

eventually, the curiosity of how sukuna thought he could ever make things better won, and you sighed, sniffling as you dropped your palms off your eyes, looking at him, your eyes exhausted and swollen. “…one semester.”

sukuna ryomen grinned like he won the fucking lottery. “i promise you, you’ll never regret this.”

and years later, as you laid in bed, turning off the alarm set for you to go to a job in a career you finally felt comfortable in, sitting in a room with mirrors you no longer despised even glancing at, with sukuna’s heavy arm wrapped around your waist because your clingy husband refused to let you get out of bed with ease, your lips twitched into a small, tiny smile.

yeah, gets really fucking better.

a/n: this was lowk horrible but using this fic to cope so it doesn’t matter anyways. do u guys like my new dividers I LOVE THEM shoutout to my tumblr crush fr <3

minayans

Honey ! That dick was 11 inches !

Teaser: Childhood best friend!Suguru who has always looked like an emo, closed off loser in your eyes ever since you were awkward middle schoolers suddenly grows to be a womaniser you can’t seem to move on from.

Tags: [MDNI/18+] Porn with a whole lotta plot, smut, fluff and angst w comfort, pining, yearning and pathetic geto, blowjob, riding, f recieving, messy sex, hotel sex, doggy style… When will I actually write pure smut without feelings?

Satoru and Suguru are the two most inseparable but different boys you have had the misfortune to meet.

Suguru is the kind of man straight out of your kinkiest most freaky dreams that would have you floored if they were to ever escape the confines of your mind.

He’s all black clothes, ear gauges that suit him criminally well, long and shiny locks that took years of growing to achieve, subtle yet dangerous piercings that make you spiral whenever you catch glimpses of them.

Suguru is hot.

You know it.

Your body knows it.

But your mind refuses to resonate with that perfectly obvious fact.

Because you’ve known Suguru before the tattoos and the cigarettes he carries in his pockets.

You know the boy with less than shoulder-length jet black hair that was dry before he learnt to take care of it junior year of highschool to try and impress some preppy bitch that used to get on your nerves too quickly.

You know the version of him who threw his guts out in your bathroom toilet after his first party, and the one who collapsed with his then-boney figure on your bed and called it a night—only to wake up 16 hours later.

Groggy as shit, voice deeper than a broken speaker, eyes swollen as if he were crying but it was really just from the first time he smoked mary and had a bad reaction to it.

That is the Suguru you know.

The one who isn’t the muscular and seductive man he has turned into. You love him in the present either way, but your mind can’t process that little virgin Geto is now the same man that has thousands of girls wrapped around his pretty pale, long fingers without doing anything about it.

Maybe it’s a secret defence mechanism of sorts that your body set up for you after you noticed how popular he got first year of college.

Or it could be that deep down you hate not being the only girl around him anymore. The only one he could find comfort in after getting rejected by yet another girl because of Satoru.

Which brings us back.

Satoru is a complete 360 from Suguru. He’s bubbly, bright, dramatic, overly friendly and extroverted for his own good.

With no sense of personal space or privacy, Satoru jumps around life surprisingly with no repercussions—flunking all of his classes in high school due to his fucking around with girls but somehow ending up at the same prestigious school you, Suguru and Shoko got into by working hard.

Though none of you dare to say it out loud, you’re all aware it’s because of his connections. The Gojos are quite well off.

Which makes the three of you resent the little albino shit at times.

But you wouldn’t change him for anything.

Within your group of 4 though, Suguru and Satoru have always stuck out like sore thumbs. Being glued by the hip since babies, of course they share a bond deeper than you and Shoko do with them.

The difference is, you entered the picture a bit after Shoko did in middle school to kind of “replace” Satoru during that time as he discovered the world of girls and parties after only living in the comfort of video games and his best friend for the previous 15 years.

So while Gojo ran around flaunting his awkward charm and pick-up lines—living off the thrill of being able to get any girl he wanted because of his looks—you and Suguru naturally got closer as your short-haired friend was always buried in her books.

Weekends at Satoru’s turned into weekends at yours with cookies in the oven and chess pieces fighting eachother.

Somewhere along the lines, you stopped seing Suguru as someone else in the background and more like your own best friend.

He seemed to see it the same way. Soon confiding in you more and more—sharing plans about his future and how he wanted to pursue philosophy while his parents pushed him into a business-oriented career.

Back then, you supported him, convinced him that he didn’t have to listen to his parents nagging because he was his own person, forcefully drilled confidence into that innocent teenager until he finally grasped it.

Everything was going smoothly.

Satoru was in his own world.

Shoko was doing great in school and after-hours clubs, anything for extra credit so she could get better grades for uni.

You and Suguru shared dreams over tea.

Everything was fine until that party.

Suguru’s first.

Satoru had invited him, saying that his frat friends—the ones he had recently met and somehow managed to befriend despite being younger by a few years—promised fun and a good time.

You didn’t expect hard-headed Suguru to cave and go. But he did.

Shoko stayed with you that night while the boys were out until her mom picked her up at 11 P.M. as she had piano practice in the morning.

Fridays were usually the quietest days for you. Your parents took weekend trips to your grandparents house religiously and you usually skipped on visiting to study.

Which was what you were doing when at 1 in the morning, the front door was being unlocked and the sound sent a bone-chilling shiver down your spine.

An old baseball bat in hand and with hesitant steps, you slowly moved down the stairs to catch sight of messy black hair over a tall body slouching against the entry.

Your heart recognised him before your eyes caught up in the dark. And you managed to drop the bat, cross the distance and reach him before he fell over.

Later, you found out as he threw his guts out in the toilet bowl, that he was batshit drunk.

You remember holding his hair back, the dry locks in between your fingers as he retched on and on.

And then.

The hickeys.

The small purple and faint red marked along his side that peaked out from under his loosely fitted black shirt all across his collarbones.

Your breath had hitched without you even noticing it. But your world shattered.

Because you’d grown feelings for the man that you knew would cause you more harm than good. But who were you at the hands of love? Only 16 and already feeling betrayed when there was nothing promised between the both of you.

You never acted like you liked him, never spoke about love, never showed interest. So who were you trying to blame?

Who were you going to blame for being such a pussy when Suguru got on the same train Satoru was and started changing again.

Learned how to do his hair, got piercings, gauges and his first tattoos in no time. Suddenly turning into a woman magnet that had your heart clenching painfully in your chest.

Yet, throughout the years. No girl ever stuck. No woman made it past the texting stage, not a single one of them slept in his bed the way you did at times when you’d crash at his place.

And you never stuck to any man either. A relationship here and there to get Suguru off your mind with some asshole that only messed with your head even further before you’d ditch him and swim in regret over never having confessed to your best friend before the words carved themselves into your bones.

So Suguru, at 24, has been your crush for seven round years by now.

And you’re one sorry excuse of a supportive best friend when he mentions dates and girls. You want so badly to rip your ears out, stuff his mouth with cotton till he chokes on the skinny blondes and Coke addicted bitches he ends up with at random bars.

Your raspy, beer-ghosted voice cuts him off as he tries to scramble together where he met his latest situationship.

“I’m tired, Suguru. We should continue this tomorrow.”

It’s not often you cut him off so brutally but the few times you do, Suguru sees the sirens going off in his head.

Head lolling to the side, left hand holding his drink in between his fingertips, he subtly lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake over every inch of your beautiful skin.

Covered in a sheet coat of shine, probably from a body oil that he will remember tonight as he pumps his cock in his hands like he does almost everytime he sees you because you always come so pretty for him.

Well, he hopes it’s for him.

But 7 years of acting like he’s fine with being your best friend with his feelings wrapped under bandages and buried under cement, and he’s fearing that soon he won’t be able to hold it in anymore.

You’ve never shown interest in him. He’s never caught a sliver of love swimming in your eyes when his onyx ones prayed to find it in them.

What was he supposed to do? Risk your friendship? No.

Instead, he put himself out there. For every other person to see, hoping that you realise someday he is actually selling himself open for you to snatch off the market.

Yet, time passes and time passed. Nothing.

You stay quiet.

When in the present, your jaw is working and you’re mumbling something along the lines of “I’m really worn out, not really in the mood for talking right now.”

Suguru softly sighs, eyes crinkling at the corners as his they soften under the dim yellow-light lit bar you’re both at after work.

“I’ll take you home.”

He can’t remember the amount of times he’s done it for you. Taken you home tipsy, carried you up your apartments stairs because the hellhole you live in has an elevator that works once a month, tucked you into bed after tugging most of your clothes on because he’s done it ever since you were young from times when you were too tired to change but refused to sleep in dirty clothes, kissed your forehead goodnight and let his chest tighten.

Because he wishes he could say “let’s go home.”.

And he wishes he would stay over, wake up with you in his arms in the morning where he’d kiss the soft corner of your shoulder before the pecks would turn warmer.

But he buries those thoughts deep down and walks out the front door, steps heavy and shoulders weighing a ton.

You wake up feeling like a truck slammed into you sometime in the night—muscles aching, head banging, eyes burning. Though last night you swore you didn’t drink too much, your morning dizziness is really screaming for a rain check on how many beers you actually had.

Were you turning into Shoko?

Catching sight of your phone plugged to charge on the nightstand, you open it to find a mess of texts from your coworkers in the group chat talking about some event they’re trying to set up.

A plethora of messages from Shoko stressed out because of her latest karen patient. A checking in text from Suguru you’ll reply to in a bit. And a thousand texts from Satoru..?

You click on his icon and swipe past the hundred of messages where he’s literally just screaming your name in order for you to reply and get straight to the point.

The favor he’s asking you seems almost ridiculous as it stares back at you.

You, me, Shoko and Suguru. Friday at my company, need u all there for a major event. But I don’t have a date, I need you to act like my girlfriend. 🙏🏻😭

Please help, can’t take Shoko ‘cause she’s already been here and everyone knows her.

I’ll literally buy you anything you want, you know I got the means, boo.

And unfortunately, that last text is what sells it for you.

Friday you waltz hand in hand into one of six eyes’ hotel branches with Satoru who paid for your custom Chanel outfit—elegant silk dress with the tiniest most intricate details around the hemming, a nice cream shade that brings out all the right places—and you wear your new Manolo Blahniks that he got you like the deal promised.

Feeling good, you barely notice how the hall holds you it’s breath when you come in. People’s spines straighten up, how certain women that aren’t really comfortable with being outshined with simplicity and elegance, narrow their eyes.

But the tiny gasps go straight to your blood vessels and straight into your heart. You feel good and nothing can stop you tonight.

Satoru whispers in your ear—hair gelled back, crisp cream suit to match your dress with subtle brown outlining, black slacks.

“Careful, Suguru is about to jump at anyone who stares at you for longer than three seconds.”

Your breath hitches, head swinging back to him. You’re supposed to feign innocence over your little huge crush on your best friend, but all along, Satoru has known.

“How do you know?”

He smirks, that cocky and know-it-all one that makes you want to slap him square sometimes. “You’re not so slick, Y/N. I am also your best friend after all.”

Well shit..?

Before you even have time to debunk his claim—which was already confirmed by your subconscious look of surprise, caught red handed in the worst possible moment—a figure you hadn’t noticed creeping up cleared their throat.

Your heartbeat jumps to the hundreds at the sight of Suguru. Clad in everything dark—black blazer with no lining or details, just the dark void of the color complimenting him dangerously well—silver piercings shining under the bright hall light, helix in place, gauges sitting in their right spots, three small studs on his lobes.

And that tongue piercing you know he has is tucked away behind his teeth.

Shoko monotonously stands by his side, expression dull, looking every bit unhappy to be here. Though you know she’s about to hop onto the bar and flip that look right around.

You exhale for the first time in what feels like the five excruciatingly tense minutes beneath Suguru’s piercing quiet gaze.

“Oh, hey, Suguru.”

Suguru.

You’ve been calling him a lot that recently and he’s not liking the sound of it. Where is the nickname you usually use on him?— Sugu?

It’s his name. He knows. But god does he hate to hear it coming from your pretty lips.

The words “What the fuck are you doing wrapped around Satoru?” and “You look gorgeous.” drop straight into his stomach acid as he swallows them and says instead a brief, oddly cold “Hey.” back.

Truth is, you look divine. But the sight of you clinging onto his best friend kicks him in the wrong way even though he knows you’re both just friends and this is just an act.

He’s been let on the plan.

Yet he can’t stand to watch it unfold.

Satoru sweeps you away to network with you on his arm because it gives him a good look. A nice lady on his side and smooth words could get him deals after deals tonight.

You pretend that you’re enjoying yourself when all you can think about is how you felt and feel Suguru eating you up with his eyes.

It feels illegal. The way his eyes are so hungry for you, shooting bullets through your skin from where he is with Shoko at the bar.

From your side, Satoru mutters something you barely catch from having your mind somewhere else, and your arm drops from his forearm suddenly.

You find yourself alone at a small circular table in the gathering, swirling your drink in your cup and patiently waiting for him to come back till a cold, possessive hand settles on the small of your back.

Chills immediately overtake your body.

The air in your lungs gets kicked out once the figure circles you and reveals Toji Zenin. You know him from the bullshit smeared over his name everywhere.

The business industry’s biggest rival. Every season he’s out for some company’s neck again. The Zenin’s have their claws deep in everyone’s business.

He’s weirdly tall, looming over you with his wispy bangs covering the half-lidded eyes he has. Dark like someone else’s, still different.

But the hair on your skin stands up despite the fire in your eyes. His touch feels like poison to you.

“Toji Zenin.” You recognise. He smirks, sending a small nod your way.

“Y/N L/N.”

Huh? How does he know your name?

“I’ve had my eye on you all night.” He casually points out, putting your questions to rest for the moment.

His touch is long gone from your back but it lingers there in an uncomfortable way that still has the hairs on your arms prickling.

He’s every bit intimidating, from his looks to his gaze. The tattoos on his skin that don’t offer a single ounce of comfort to you like Suguru’s does.

Shit, why can’t you ever get him out of your head no matter how many times you throw yourself in-front of other men?

“Yeah? Am I that intriguing?” You ask, a sly smirk mirroring his on your face. Deciding to play into his game, you rest your drink on the table and relax your previously tense stature.

Briefly, he takes a good look at you again before replying confidently. “Very.”

You fake a giggle to keep the chat going.

“Let me buy you a drink?”

The freshly ordered cosmopolitan you were sipping on suddenly seems good enough to abandon, so you nod.

In the blink of an eye, before the man can even open his mouth, you’re yanked away. A strong grip on your wrist and your body getting dragged through the multitude of people in the room by someone you don’t catch sight of until you reach outside of the hall.

"Suguru." He finally stops dead in his tracks at the sound of your sweet and confused voice ringing in his ear.

Body on fire, soul frusturated, he holds it in to not lash out over seeing Toji even think you're on his level.

“Suguru.” You try again to rip him out of his head.

Only when your hands find his bicep does he physically jerk out of his thoughts.

Deep onyx eyes stare back at yours under the dimly lit sidewalk where the only thing wrapping around the both of you is the faint noise coming from behind the closed wooden hall doors and the night’s coldness.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worry lacing your tone.

“Nothing.” He spits out, too quick to be thought through.

You push back, knowing him. “There is something wrong. Come on, you’ve always been clear with me.”

One of his hands run down his face to try and lessen the growing turmoil inside of him.

Defeated, resolve chipping little by little by your warm concern, he sighs. “No, I haven’t.”

“What?” A shaky breathe escapes you, maybe from the cold or because of the tension.

Unlike himself, he dodges your question. “I didn’t like seeing you with Satoru.”

“Or with Toji.”

Confusion replaces your initial worry. Eyebrows knitting together, your hands twitch by your side.

“What? Toji?”

Suguru doesn’t dare to look into your eyes, glueing his sight to the empty street behind him.

Nevertheless, you continue. “Why did you pull me away from him? I was getting to know him.” Bothered by how he stepped in when he had no right to.

“You could’ve just asked me to come with you like a normal person does. There was no need to cause a scene.”

You catch the way his fists ball into fists by his side, the way his shoulders square up under your words.

“Suguru. Say something.”

“Stop calling me that.” He cuts you through.

Something splits in your chest. “What? Why? It’s your name.”

Without missing a beat, he continues while dodging your face. “You never call me by my name.”

“I do.”

“You didn’t.”

Silence takes the wheel.

And you realise where you both have gotten.

When did it ever turn so cold between the two of you? Was it when it started to hurt too much to keep your feelings in check while he fucked around?

Maybe.

“I don’t get what’s your problem.” You breathe out, shoulders slumping.

He finally turns to you. “You are my problem.”

Another beat passes.

A knife is jabbed between your heartbeats.

“Then leave.”

His eyes thin out, unaffected by you. “I won’t.”

Voice shaky, you pry again. “Then what do you want from me, Suguru?”

What does he want?

What does he not want is the question.

“I want you to see me for once.”

Your heart turns to stone immediately. Every vein in you freezing.

“I want you to look at me and not those other men. Fuck.” He pivots on his heels, slacks clicking against the cement as he turns around and runs his hand through his pulled back hair again. Frustration bleeding from him.

“I’ve been in love with you for seven fucking years, Y/N. What don’t you understand?”

What?

Your eyes burn with tears you’re not sure are supposed to be brimming.

Seven years?

Since the chess matches? The afternoon study sessions? The nights you’d both spend stargazing?

“In middle school you told me to start taking care of myself if I wanted girls to like me so I did. And you thought I did it for them when it was all for you.”

“In high-school I got my first piercing because I overheard you tell Shoko that men who had them were hotter.”

“Then the tattoos too. I’m a pathetic loser who has done everything to try and get you to look at me. Yet you don’t.”

“I went around to try and find you in someone else but I couldn’t. And i’m at my wits end, Y/N. I don’t know what else to do.”

The air is too thick for you to swallow, but its even harder to process his words as they pierce painful holes in your chest.

He did all of that for you?

Every single detail carved into his body is for you?

“God, you’re such an idiot.” You whisper, feeling a warm tear slip past your waterline and fall down your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you, asshole. You never looked at me.”

He swings back to you, to see the streaks falling down your angelical features. And something fractures inside of him too.

Fuck, you’re both such idiots.

His arms wrap around your trembling figure before you can calculate your next sentence. Warmth and his signature smell of faint vanilla and musk cradling you to calmness.

Your head softly hits his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a second before pulling it upwards and searching for his eyes.

He tilts his head down and loses himself in your doe-eyed look. Feeling his rough corners go smooth.

Neither of you need to communicate anything as your souls search for each other, bringing your lips in a deep kiss.

One that took too long to play out.

The kiss lasts an eternity longer than it actually did, but you’re experiencing such euphoria that you don’t pay mind to the way your lungs pray for air.

Eventually, you do break the kiss.

The fragile moment feels like it’s a fragment of your imagination.

It shatters when the front door of the hall opens, a plethora of people spilling out in a hurry.

You freeze in Suguru’s hold. His head is already running though. Once more, this time gently, he gets a hold of your wrist and takes you with him back inside.

You’re confused as you cross the swarm of people inside still working. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru, and you see Toji following you from the other side of the room too—hand in hand with Suguru—and him with a drink pressed to his lips.

Subconsciously, you swallow the awkwardness before you enter a different room.

Standing before a corridor full of elevators, you turn with the intention to question Suguru—but before you can, a lift’s door opens and he pulls you inside where you land against the mirror.

He locks you there beneath him, palms pressing into the mirror that sees you both. And he catches your gaze so much you don’t even dare to think about looking anywhere else.

Feeling butterflies explode in your stomach, crawling up your throat and spreading through your chest, you can only look up at him with the galaxy in your eyes.

Suguru is breathing heavily, eyes clouded with possession and love while he looms. Chest lifting and falling in the quietness.

The elevator doors close with a ding! and your lips meet once more. Hungrier this time. You feel his desperation clinging onto every surface of you as his hands drop from the mirror and circle your waist.

A small moan escapes you when he parts from the kiss and pecks a sensitive spot beneath your ear. Something needy has overtaken him and you won’t complain at all.

His long fingers press into your ribs, keeping you in place and not enough to harm, but enough to make your panties wetter by the second.

You didn’t even hear the lift stop or the doors opening, fortunately, he did and slowly he guided you out the elevator. Mouth still on your neck, one hand on the small of your back while his other shuffles around for something in his pocket.

You’re pressed against a foreign door that unlocks when he presses a keycard to the lock while still kissing you madly.

Cold, cold kisses your bare shoulders the second you’re gently pushed inside into the darkness of the empty room.

Before you can catch a glimpse of the place, you’re meeting the closing front door again, Suguru’s hands roaming more freely than before.

The cold tips of his fingers meet the exposed skin of your back as his lips press soft kisses to your collarbones. Ghosting around your neck every now and then.

Every coherent thought is fleeing your mind—Is this how it feels like to be touched by your best friend? What have you been missing out almost for a whole decade?

“Y/N.” Barely hearing his muffled call, you try to hum a yes but accidentally let a small whimper escape when he briefly bites your carotid gently.

He kisses the red spot once his teeth detach and you feel his lips in a smirk as they meet your throat.

“Do you really want to do this?” He asks, nipping on your sensitive skin—searching for where you’re most delicate and where you fall apart the easiest.

Teeth grazing a particularly sensitive spot, you shudder and he fights back the urge to chuckle at his effect on you.

“Yes.” You breathe out after getting a grip on your mind again.

He hums against you, the vibration travelling all the way down to your soaked panties begging to be pulled off.

“Really?” He muses, a slender hand tracing the curve of your waist unhurriedly, landing on your hip before giving it a firm squeeze and continuing it’s way down.

Hand on your ass, he starts to knead the plush skin of it over your silky dress once your lips combine again in a sloppy, half-minded kiss.

Fed up and so needy, your hands fist his silk shirt—black like most of his closet which you’ve learned over the years—and bring his lips close enough till they brush yours again.

“I’ve waited enough.”

And he crashes against you, lips colliding, hips closing in on you and making you feel the hard outline of his boner pressing against your stomach.

Moving on your own while your mind is absent, your sly fingers find the hem of his pants and slip past to palm him over the thin material of his boxers.

You almost groan at the feeling of his cock—at the shape of his prominent vein under your touch, and the tiny bit of liquid spilling from his tip.

Not even noticing it, you’re so beyond dripping that when Suguru hooks a leg between yours and presses up into your cunt, you leave a wet patch on the cotton of his pants.

He continues to explore your mouth as you subconsciously grind your hips on his muscular leg, steadily supported with the help of his hands on your waist to the wall.

Under your hand, you feel his length twitching—every time his cock jerks weakly in your hand, struggling to move much by the restriction of being in his boxers and because of its weight—you wonder why he feels so big.

And if he will even… fit.

The thought consumes you quicker than you have the time to stop it. Suguru feels you stopping your dry humping and your hands settle on his chest before pushing him back.

Curiously bites at him but disintegrates when he sees you drop to your knees, pupils blown wide open and your hair falling perfectly on the sides of your face. Framing those perfect features of yours.

Without ever admitting it, Suguru feels himself being able to already cum at the mere sight of you like this—but he holds it in the best he can as he feels your hands crawl up.

Hook around his belt, slowly pull the leather out of the secure, pull it off and throw it somewhere on the side, bundle the fabric at his upper thigh and pull down till the only thing in your sight is his aching cock pulsing against his underwear.

You bring your hands excruciatingly slow like everything else you’ve done in the last few moments to his dick. Seeing the thick ridges of him throw the light gray and practically salivating at the mouth.

The material smoothly glides off his skin once you pull it by the edges and…

Suguru might look like he always messes up somewhere along the way with girls, never able to get an actual girlfriend and settle down—resulting in him looking like he gets no bitches.

But boy, that dick is eleven inches.

Those girls have no idea what they are missing on.

And you’re the lucky winner.

It slaps loudly against his firm abs once it’s set free, tempting you already with its looks.

Pale, dusty pink tipped, veiny all around, girthy and criminally long. For a second, your eyes flicker to Suguru.

And he’s smirking. Looking down at you like you wished for this upon yourself and now there’s nowhere to run to.

Swallowing, you bring saliva onto the floor of your mouth and prepare to take him in. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you part the connection between his chest and his dick before licking the tiny pearl of pre-cum that was on the top.

Suguru quietly hisses, and that’s all you need to immediately take him in your mouth.

Starting by the tip, you feel your mind already exploding at the salty and tangy feeling of his juices, smearing the sensitive end on your textured tongue while peering up at him.

Desperate to catch every reaction.

His fists ball into tight fists once you wrap your pretty lipstick-smudged lips around him.

Immediately wrapping him in the warmth your mouth it.

Then your tongue comes into action and Suguru starts counting his blessings, praying he has room for one more so he doesn’t immediately lose it already.

Skillfully swirling your tongue around him, you map every surface of his dick and memorise every dip of his veins—every length of them, the ones that go all the way to the base and the ones who only pop up at the very top.

Only being able to take him halfway before choking, you try to stroke the rest with your hand until you feel him place a hand on your head and start to choke you on his dick.

Your eyes shut closed as his tip hits the back of your throat, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as he breaches your oesophagus—hauling himself somewhere tighter.

Flattened tongue resting on the bottom of his heavy cock, you fight the urge to gag as he fucks himself harder.

Only when you feel yourself about to collapse from the lack of oxygen do you tap out and he immediately pulls out.

Your throat burns with that delicious ache you’ve just discovered.

Voice hoarse and raspy, you let out a curse under your bed before he’s moving again.

Back meeting the soft mattress of the hotel bed, you let out a breath before seeing that Suguru is already sitting between your legs, spreading them so far that your dress rides up and displays your wet panties clearly for him.

The low chuckle he gives reaches your ear in a soft melody. Long fingers hook around the flimsy material and you’re already jerking at the feeling of his knuckle brushing your clit.

There’s not an ounce of shame in your body when you let out a throaty moan as his fingers dip inside of your hole, mouth latching onto your twitching clit instantly after.

He takes two licks with a flattened tongue and your touch-deprived self already starts to collect tears on your waterline.

The cold metal of his tongue piercing adding more to the blissful sensation.

Mewls start to subconsciously spill out of you.

“Sugu~ Ah!”

You feel him smirk against you as your sensitive bud makes out with his mouth. Quickly, your vision starts to go blotchy when he curves his long fingers inside, finding that spot that makes you gummy in his hands.

You’re so close to the edge, so ready for the orgasm to crash over you when he pulls away in the blink of an eye.

You whimper at the loss of contact, near damn crying at the escape of your climax.

And he smirks, he fucking smirks.

Pulling his shirt over his head and climbing back, saying.

“That’s for leading on Zenin, and for even accepting being Satoru’s for the night.”

Eyebrows knitting and your eye catching the possessive side of him, you circle back to the first name.

“Leading on Zenin?” There’s curiosity in your scratchy voice.

But he doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t let you ponder any further while his hands hook around your waist and flip you on your stomach.

“You’re mine.”

And his cock breaches the first muscle of resistance, making you scream out both in pain and pleasure as the first few inches mercilessly dip inside of you.

Feeling like you’re being split in half, your hands start fishing the sheets, anything to lessen the pain.

Suguru presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder and back, soothing you through the ache that soon turns delicious.

Once the pain subdues, you feel him move again—only being able to fit half of him inside of you, but he takes it nonetheless.

Pulling your hips upwards and arching your back—Suguru finally starts hitting mean thrusts to your poor overwhelmed pussy.

Not caring at all how the whole building can hear you scream out, moan his name like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

The headrest groans in an uneven rhythm as Suguru plunges deep into your velvety walls, creating a frothy ring at the base where your bodies meet.

“Come on, Y/N, relax so I can fit.”

“N-No—You won’t-haah.” You can barely get your words out, panting and shaking while tears run down your face. “Fit.”

But Suguru is a level of stubborn and hard-headed you’ve known since middle school.

“I’ll make it fit, dear.”

And you’re flipped on your back again, wincing at the loss of him nuzzling his tip into your womb, but getting hauled up before being able to catch your breath.

His back meets the leather of the headrest as his hands guide your shaky legs to each side, your knees digging into the soft cotton sheets, and you pussy hovering right over who she wants inside.

“Take me.”

And you do.

You succumb to his order like a body with no mind. Legs collapsing on you from the lack of strength and lowering your cunt to meet his glistening tip again.

He hungrily watches himself disappear up until where you physically cannot take him anymore—halfway through.

Seeing how your hands tremble on his shoulder, how your breathing is shaky and your body unsteady, he hooks an arm around your back and places a warm hand on your hip.

And pushes down.

Down.

And down.

Till he’s buried to the hilt and you’re groaning so much that they are bouncing off the walls and settling in his bones.

You can’t believe Suguru has been hiding this monster for god knows how long. It almost makes you wish you never had sex with anyone else just to experience this as your one and only.

But some things can’t he changed.

Just like you know that he has been with other girls because you didn’t notice he was in love with you the whole time.

Like you have been.

What a mess.

What a mess it is between your bodies too—sweat clinging to Suguru’s forehead and moistening the front pieces of his silky jet-black hair that cling to his forehead.

The straps of your dress have long fallen and revealed your chest once you sat down on him, giving Suguru the perfect angle to nip and suck on your breasts as you focus on riding him.

He takes control once more when he rams up at you, feeling your walls fluttering around him and spasming closer to the edge you were previously stripped of.

You feel your jaw going slack, the air in the room impossibly hot and the coil in your tummy at its end.

And it takes him a few more thrusts, angry and desperate till you come down crashing on him.

Body violently shaking, high-pitched mewls coming out of you and your weight going dead on him.

At the very last second, he pulls you up, almost cumming inside of you—but his dick slips between your bodies—shooting his seed over your dress and chest.

Ruining your attire, shamelessly so.

And the room goes dead silent save for your heavy breathing and his.

Fingers twitching against your sex-slicked skin, Suguru finally relaxes against the bed. Draping your body over his—the aftermath of him finishing sticky between your bodies but neither of you care.

It’s quiet for a second while the memories and the weight of the moment settle between the both of you.

“We are so stupid.” You whisper after another beat, cuddling your head further into his chest, searching for the steady beat of his heart beneath the muscles and bones.

“Yeah. So stupid.”

Stupid in love.

Not proofread yet, maybe my longest work as of now (def in the smut category.) this is my 1k special as a thank you to all of you for being so kind with me and genuinely making writing so fun <3

Main masterlist, JJK masterlist. Taglist.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ @asom2xim @abbycadabras @sailormarsinanotherlife @duckie3801

dolcemisu

dream first date with frat!kuna (shy!reader) pt.2 of this

never in a million years did you expect your first date to be at your favorite stationary shop. the owner was this adorable grandma that knew your name since you frequented her store often. it’s where you shopped for all your pens, notebooks, and highlighters from—plus any cute miscellaneous things that caught your eye.

sukuna picked you up at 3pm on the dot in his fancy sports car. you took note of the car brand to research later. it was the least you could do, he was taking you to a store that specialized in aesthetic stickers, which was totally not his scene…but, you appreciated his effort.

the second you sat in the passenger seat, he handed you the wire for aux. “surprise me.”

crap, you weren’t sure what he would like. you've never really talked about music to get a good enough idea of what was acceptable to play around him…in his car too, mind you. you chewed your bottom lip anxiously and skimmed your playlist. you were taking way too long, but you didn't have even the slightest idea of what to play. you felt his eyes on you. he was probably confused on why you were taking five million years to play a single song.

"don't overthink it. just play what you like," he said. "i wanna hear what you listen to when you're making our study plans," he smirked at you. you froze. how did he know that…

as if he could read your mind: "i've seen you, before our sessions, going through your practice problems and flashcards, headphones on and all. you're pretty thorough." oh. the thought of him watching you go over your session notes made you a bit self conscious. were you really that thorough? what a big word for him. how could he tell just by watching from afar? and why in the world was he watching in the first place?

"wait—so you just watch me like some stalker?" you teased him. you noticed the way the tip of his ears turned a blush pink. you had no idea teasing him had that effect on him. you needed to do it more.

"nah, i just so happened to come a little early and saw you already hard at work without me there." he scoffed, lips curving into an exaggerated frown. he pulled into a parking space and put the car in park. "it's okay though, you can make it up to me by putting me onto ball at this store."

you sighed dramatically and pretended to think about it. "hmm, i guess i could. you know, charity work is good for my applications," you shot back with a huge grin on your face.

he gaped at you and you smirked. corny teasing did the trick it seems like. though, he didn't expect you to come up with something so quickly. but you were smart —you were his tutor for goodness sake—so he needed to step his game up.

"oh, so you've got jokes now?"

"i've always had jokes, you just weren't smart enough to comprehend them." you blurted out. you clasped your hand over your mouth. was that too far? the charity work joke was light, but you basically just called him dumb. and he wasn't. at least, not really? you contemplating folding and apologizing profusely so he didn't think you were a jerk, but his grin only grew wider.

"yeah well, luckily, i have you now."

dolcemisu

frat!kuna likes to fluster his shy tutor !

“so that’s our answer?” sukuna asked. he didn’t understand why he had to basically beat around the bush just to find the correct answer. math was beneath him.

“not quite… we’re almost there,” you said, trying to keep your voice upbeat. he’d gotten all the questions wrong on the same topic, so you didn’t want to discourage him. plus, the allotted time for tutoring sessions ended in—you glanced at the clock—around ten minutes. maybe only a miracle could help him.

sukuna groaned softly, dragging his hands down his face. “does any of this make sense to you? it’s idiotic.” he gestured to all the work on the page with his hand.

you blinked at him, trying to not let your face falter, but it was hard with the way his eyes bore into yours. you quickly looked away and cleared your throat. “we’re almost there.” you glanced the clock again before grabbing your pencil again. “now, do you remember what to do…here?” you tapped the tip of your pencil where he left off. he frowned at the page and grunted.

“i can’t even see from over here,” he complained. he moved his chair closer to you, scooting over to the point where your arms were touching. now, you were painfully aware of his presence. your heart stopped as he leaned in even closer to see where you were pointing. the smell of his cologne wafted through the air. to your surprise, he smelled good. you thought frat guys hardly showered. sukuna smelled fresh and clean in a way that was oddly comforting.

sukuna smirked, realizing he had thrown you off track. “you were saying?” he asked, not even trying to hide his amusement. you cleared your throat. where were you again? your mind blanked as the numbers stared back at you.

“you alright?” his voice was practically in your ear.

you nodded, swallowing hard. the way your heart pounded frustrated you. you only had a few minutes left to make sure he left the session understanding the content. yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think straight.

“i think we were here,” he leaned in and pointed on the page. the way you froze as he inched closer didn’t go unnoticed by him. you nodded frantically and put your head down, writing frantically.

“woah woah, slow down. geez, i’m struggling here, remember?” he chuckled as your hand slowly came to a stop. you lifted your head up, ashamed you’d left your mentee behind in the dust.

“i’m so sorry, i have no idea what’s going on with me today.”

“i think i might have an idea of what it might be.” he grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

your heart dropped to your stomach. he couldn’t know—could he? were you that obvious?

“i am so sorry. i promise it’s not like that at all. i’m just not used to being super close to people during sessions—or like, ever—so that’s my fault for not being as focused as i typic—”

“woah, slow down. i meant the way you kept checking the clock. you got somewhere to be?” he tilted his head slightly and studied you. “boyfriend?”

“what? no! i uhm—” you stammered. you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. somehow, within the span of thirty seconds, you exposed yourself to your cute classmate under little to no pressure from him. that had to be a new world record.

he grinned at you. “okay good, i’m glad to hear that. now, can we please finish the problem?”

“of course we can and—wait what?”

sukuna checked the time on his phone. “shit, looks like we’re out of time. same time next week?” he raised an eyebrow at you. you could only nod and watch as he gathered his things. he waved goodbye before walking out of the library. you slumped your head on your textbook and let out a frustrated sigh. now you had to spend the next week trying to figure out how to wipe someone’s memory. starting off with your own.

series m.list

zinjanthropusboisei

Hell yeah CLRG!

tonycries

Hips Don't Lie - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru: he’s the best striker the Japanese national team has. The strongest, the sharpest, the fastest—and the hottest. With a 66% accuracy rate and a goal headed straight for your heart. You: a reporter for the FIFA World Cup, and the greatest at goalkeeping Gojo’s flirtations. You just can’t stand him- or so you say… You—1. Gojo—0.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!sports reporter!reader, football pIayer!Gojo, FIFA World Cup AU, Football AU, enemies-to-Iovers, sorta, he has a BIG crush on you, yearner!Gojo, fIirting, banter, bets, first date, paparazzi, fan cIubs, pússydrúnk!Gojo, MUNCH!Gojo, oraI (f + m), 69, bets in BED, fíngering, spítting, p taIking, sIight p sIapping, bj’s, cIit bíting, goals, races, bIack cards, tongue f, doggy, wearing his jersey, manhandIing, making it fit, stopping you from running, he’s FÉRAL, cervíx smooches, counting, he BREAKS, babbIing, sIight overstím, making him whímper, making him cry, getting together, happy ending aww, PDA, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.9k

A/N. In honor of the FIFA World Cup heheheh I just had to-

“—Geto—a beautiful pass to Gojo. The one and only Gojo.” Booming. If there was one word that could describe the FIFA World Cup then it would be simply that: booming. Everything from the bacchanal cheers; the resounding noise of the football coming into contact with flesh; and excitement mixed with fear that was an amorphous neighbor next to where one sat.

Speaking of seats; everyone was on the edge of theirs.

They watched as Gojo Satoru stopped the football using his chest. Alternating it to a dribble—he’s quickly bypassing some of the opposing team’s defenders- and it doesn’t take long before Gojo’s coming face-to-face with the goal.

“—the famous Gojo technique, Limitless, because of the sheer unlimited speed and strength. It’s a play unable to be recreated by another, with a 100% scoring…” Gojo takes a deep breath. He points. He kicks.

And he misses.

And in-between the commentary and the chaos, Gojo’s eyes can’t help but meet yours pitchside. Amongst the cameras and the anchors-

—you were laughing.

At him.

ttakdoll

꩜ – FRAT PRESIDENT SATORU GOJO (and the shy girl he's obsessed with!)

(18+) HEADCANONS :: – frat!gojo x innocent!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, handjobs, praise, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, slight dub-con

frat president!satoru, who’s used to every type of girl at his party except you, all big eyes, wandering around his house like you didn’t know what to do. he’s asked suguru to offer you everything under the sun in the last thirty or so minutes — a drink, a smoke, a joint. you just politely decline, shaking your head so prettily.

frat president!satoru, who swears he’s just got an ego when he decides he’ll be the one to show you all of that and more. he could do it if suguru couldn’t, if no one else could.

he starts off all nice, walking you to all your classes, offering his sweaters in the lectures you had together (which he only started attending for you), buying you lunch and listening to your cute little rants about your worst profs.

frat president!satoru learns that you like being held when he’s the first one to find you after an exam you swear you’d failed. he doesn’t get it ‘til he’d realized your eyes are all glassy, so shiny as you peered up at him with wobbling lips, trying not to cry in front of him.

frat president!satoru loves the way you’d just melted into his arms after that. he calls you easy to his friends for it, but something inside him never wants to let go whenever you’re willing to press yourself into his chest, wherever you’re willing to do it.

frat president!satoru, who asks you what you’re wearing all the time and sends even prettier things to wear to your dorm when he thinks you can do better.

frat president!satoru, who’s spiraling at night, jerking off to your contact photo, wrapping his large hand around his dick and pretending like it’s that sweet mouth of yours engulfing his length. he imagines how shy you’d be, lips parted wide, smearing pre-cum and replacing your candy lip balm. he wants you tasting like him, those soft cheeks drenched in his cum, eyes screwed shut until he’s all you can think about.

frat president!satoru likes making you need him, doting on you and driving you around like a princess, spoiling you until you frown whenever his hand isn’t on your hip, or whenever he dodges your calls for fraternity meetings. he likes the idea that you might become obsessed with him (like he is with you).

frat president!satoru, who’s grinning cruelly the minute you finally tell him, “you know, you do so much for me, I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.” in that nervous voice of yours one day, while you’re tucked into his side at your apartment.

frat president!satoru, who’s never missed a meeting or a call until that day, when he’s finally got you whimpering shyly in his lap while he gently mouths at your neck, tasting that perfume he’s been searching online for for weeks, whispering about how he’s so grateful you wanna help him out, how sweet you are for making it up to him too even when you didn't have to.

but he’s been waiting for weeks, you’re all soft and impressionable on him, and he’s not letting a moment of your kindness go to waste.

frat president!satoru guides you with a husky voice when he teaches you to spit in your own palm and wrap your hand around his cock, nearly shivering at the contact — “make me feel good, pretty girl, it’s the least you can do.”

frat president!satoru, who just chuckles at the fact that you’re all nervous, looking up at him as if asking what to do next, just for him to wrap his palm around yours, engulfing it entirely. he groans lowly as he moves your palm up and down on his already-hard length, bottom lip catching between his teeth at how warm your hand feels against his dick.

“shit, just keep it like that, baby, up and down…”

frat president!satoru, who kisses you slow when you gasp at how he bucks up into your hand, keeping his own wrapped around it while desperately attempting not to just use you, jerk himself off with your tiny little fingers, maneuver you down and slam himself deep into your tight cunt. “hah — fuck, gorgeous, y— you’re good at this, huh? so good for me, so fucking cute…”

“i’ve never done this before,” you admit into frat president!satoru’s mouth, hushed and breathy like it’s a secret. he wants to fucking laugh, but he’s cut short by a low hiss as you thumb at his slit without him having to teach you, making him lose his mind piece by piece. shit, you’re just perfect, aren’t you?

“am — am I doing okay, satoru?”

frat president!satoru has nearly had enough of patience when you say that. shit, he bites down into your lip without even realizing, hand tightening around yours when you whimper. and it’s barely enough to notice at first, but he pumps your hand around him faster, growling into your mouth at the way your fingertips flex around his length, making a slick! sound that echoes across the room.

“you’re — shit, just like that — doing perfect, baby. so perfect.” frat president!satoru groans into your throat, even though he’s using your hand like a fuck toy now, smearing his own pre-cum mixed with your saliva all over his huge dick, bucking his hips up into your plush skin like a glorified fleshlight.

the only one he’s dreamed of in the past few weeks, at least.

frat president!satoru gets off on how eager you are to match his pace, his other hand cupping your cheeks to purse your pretty mouth open for him as he spits down your throat and relishes in your confused little whine. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hand now, forcing you to jerk his cock faster.

“that’s it,” he pants into your lips, “just let me have you, okay? hah— so good, shit, you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“satoru—” your voice is a wet dream, how it feathers off around the edges and breaks like you’re not sure.

frat president!satoru groans at the sound of your confusion. “been, fuck, thinking about this, baby. want you creaming on my cock next, yeah? or maybe it’s — haah! — too big for your first time. gotta — shit — prep you first.”

frat president!satoru spills into your hand with one last rough stroke of both your hands around his length, gasping low with his tongue down your throat as he finally lets your hand go. he watches the way your palm shakes, eyes dark, lifting your cum-covered fingertips to your mouth without thinking. and he thinks you won’t do it, until—

your sweet fucking tongue darts out to lick experimentally at your own fingers, and satoru thinks he’s gone to heaven.

frat president!satoru, who can’t help himself when he’s grabbing you by the waist now, laying you flat on your back and coming up to slot his knee between your thighs, committing the way your face scrunches up in both confusion and pleasure to memory. he thinks you’re the cutest fucking thing in the world, and he wants you broken in every way possible until you can’t fuck any other guy without imagining his dick.

“thank you, baby,” he grins against your neck. “can i make you feel good now?”

frat president!satoru, who decided he’d never let you fuck anyone else anyways the moment you'd nodded.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

inspired by an anon request for a shy reader!!

minayans

⋆｡˚⋆ ✵ ⋆ Slow and secret. ⋆ ✵ ˚｡⋆

Synopsis: Scar!jo's wife misses her husband's touch.

Pairing: Scar!jo x wife!reader.

Tags: [MDNI] Slow and intimate SMUT some fluff and angst sprinkled, voyarism, public sex, exhibitionism, breeding, p in v, reader is a horny little shit, praise kink ig, missionary, overstimulation (can people learn the diff between this and overwhelmed..?) cunnilingus.

From Shibuya and Shinjuku's ruins to the Italian coast is a long, dreadful and sorrowful journey you embarked on with your husband.

Freshly scarred and high from the adrenaline after the showdown, Satoru hadn't realised just who he was after defeating Sukuna.

He wasn't just the strongest anymore.

He was a survivor.

The winner.

But he came crashing down from the peak sooner than he expected.

One look in the mirror.

And he wasn't anyone.

Not your husband, and most definitely not Gojo Satoru anymore.

So for months, he hid.

The characteristic charming and confident man you married was nowhere to be seen the last three months. Buried in the rubble that consumes what Tokyo once was.

Satoru is still somewhat a ghost of himself—you watch him as he stays rooted at the shore, tall frame swallowed by his orange oversized sweatshirt to hide the dents in his canvas underneath that follow his skin until his mid thighs.

Just staring at the horizon of azure blue, a mirror of his own eyes.

Though you can't see his face, or read his thoughts from where you lay on the sunbed shaded behind the creamy, semi-see through curtains, you can tell his gaze is void—empty like it's been for some time now.

Or perhaps foggy with his everlasting fear. Paranoia of ever having to relieve what he did. Unfortunately for you, as much as you've tried to be a reassuring and wife, nothing has quite helped your husband with abolishing that mindset just yet—that he's on the battlefield.

You don't dare to say it out loud.

But you miss your husband.

Your Satoru.

So much.

Not how he looks.

Never that.

But the cheerful, loud and lively version of him. It pains you far too much to see him so far away despite being right next to you.

You press your face further into the plush white pillow beneath your cheek and try to find comfort in it—to no avail, you can only fall asleep on your husband's chest but he's refused physical contact ever since he came home.

It breaks your heart every time.

Because you love him either way—scarred or not—maybe now even more than before after he kept his promise of coming back to you.

He doesn't see it that way though. And he avoids you like it's better for you to stay away and not see the outcome of the events carved into him.

Says he's "not worthy for you anymore." or "unattractive." So you won't need to force intimacy onto him because he hates the feeling of your fingers brushing every dip of his skin that wasn't there before and that only serves as a reminder that he was still weak.

You wish he'd understand he's anything but weak.

In the distance he's still watching the waves, you begin to wonder if today, on the third day of your vacation—the one you forcefully dragged him on, far away from Japan so he'd have a change of scenery (a positive one)—he will finally get inside the water.

Tug off his cover-up, dip himself beyond his feet in the blue and lose himself in the ocean.

The answer lingers in the back of your mind like a pest, you're sure he's not ready yet, but there's a sliver of hope in your chest.

Which disappears and gets overtaken by vast disappointment once he turns around and makes his way to you. A few long strikes and he reaches where you're bundled up on the bed, hair messily sprawled out on the sheets, curtains half drawn to sheild you from the sun.

And he would usually cling onto you immediately. Throw a hand over your waist, press himself against your back and curl into you. Cuddle you until you both fell asleep in this nice weather.

Instead, now he takes the other end of the bed. Swinging his feet up after dusting the sand off and leaning against the headboard—quiet as a church mouse.

Sadness pools in your stomach, an uneasy feeling taking over your every fiber. You try to be strong knowing he has it so hard—but you can't help but feel undesirable at some point.

Swallowing the prickling feeling of wanting to cry, you try to keep your voice leveled—clear of any sentimental emotions—when you attempt small talk with him.

"How's the water, honey?"

He's quiet for a beat before mumbling "I didn't go in."

You hum, a sorry excuse of a smile on your face.

And you can't help it when the tears bubble quickly in you and you accidentally choke out a sob you were meant to push down.

Satoru’s head whips over to your sideways curled up figure on the bed when the sound reaches his ear.

You feel pathetic.

Making small talk with your husband.

Helpless, and feeling incredibly selfish.

For the first time in months, Satoru feels himself live in an emotional fully. Worry spreading through his whole body.

He pushes himself off his side of the bed and circles the bed till he reaches your side and crouches right where your face is hidden in the pillow and from where tiny whimpers are muffled.

"Baby, what's wrong?" You start sobbing at the sound of the nickname. He has no idea just how much it means to you to just hear him talk or look at you.

The tears spill past your waterline like a waterfall with no direction or limit, dampening your cheeks, soon turning your eyes raw from the dryness.

You hiccup into the pillow, muffle sobs that rip straight from your chest while your husband stays crouched next to the bed and rubs your back—unaware of the inner turmoil you actually fight everyday because of him.

Because he’s there.

Yet, he’s not.

And it stings.

“It’s okay, tell me why you’re crying.” His voice soothes in your ear, questioning softly with the underlying care in his words that he always had with you.

That has your heart clenching even more, your chest tightening at how the man you knew only shows up every once a never now.

You feel like a terrible wife for wanting him back.

“I miss you.” You frailly cry out, voice a pitch higher and shaky.

Though you can’t see him, you know he’s probably wearing that face of indescribable confusion. He’s there, so what are you talking about?

“I’m right here, sweetheart..?” He’s unsure as he points out the obvious.

You don’t miss a beat in replying. “No, I miss my husband.”

His mind slowly wraps around the idea he has about what your talking about and something shifts in him.

For the first time since he’s gotten back from the shore, you show your face again. Mascara smudged around the corners, hair messy, cheeks glossy and lips puffy.

“You don’t look at me anymore. You don’t let me touch you. We barely talk. You don’t let me help. We are married for fucks sake, Satoru.”

Your voice breaks as you spill your hearts content out through the tip of your tongue. Months of frustration and loneliness piercing right at the one man you love most in the world.

Satoru falls quiet with a frozen tongue and a paralysed mind. Internally, he feels the gears shift, his mind rewire as he understands you.

And he gets it.

Shit.

Where has he been these last months?

Back at the battlefield while his wife desperately tried to cling onto his consciousness and ground him like the tether she always was to him in his world of curses?

Uneasiness washes over him at the realisation that he can’t erase the past—the last months you’ve spent in solitude with an absent husband at home, constantly nurturing it without reward.

So all he can offer and pray you accept are apologies.

“Shit, babe, I’m so sorry.” His long fingers clasp around your hand against the pillow. Holding tight enough for you to feel your bones being squished against his.

“I’m so sorry.”

But you don’t need his apologies.

He has no need to apologise for. After all, you’re not the only one grieving him. He is too. The life he had, who he was, who the mirror showed him before the slashes.

It’s different though. He doesn’t love who he is now, while you still do.

He’s still your husband. You said “I do.” 4 years ago with the same confidence you’d say it today. Even after all of the hardships and even after all of the forgiving.

“Don’t apologise.” You mutter, shifting on the mattress and sitting upward—moving your weight to sit on your legs—and cup his cheek with your right hand to caress it.

Only now do you realise his eyes are glossy too, guilt swimming in them—regret. The kind that eats at your bones for mistakes you didn’t mean.

Quietly, you confess with the sound of the waves in the background supporting you.

“I’ll always be by your side, Satoru. But you need to let me in. I’m your wife.”

Your eyes follow the way his Adams apple bobs as he swallows your honest words. Their meaning sinking into his marked skin with permission this time.

He nods once—slow and sure—and the knot in your chest loosens. In the blink of an eye, he’s getting off his knees.

The matress dips where he sits down next to you, hand still in hand, his body fully turned to you while your legs—folded beneath you—still are angled straight ahead.

In a slow pace, he draws himself closer to you. The smell of his natural musk that always drove you crazy mixed with the ocean breeze in his milky white hair filling your senses.

His lips brush against you in the comforting way they always did before meeting.

And slowly, he whispers.

“You are so much more than my wife.”

You hum once, curtly.

“You’re my everything.”

And the man you thought you no longer recognised, kissed you like the man you know by heart.

The kiss is impossibly soft. Tender and warm. Electrifying all of your dormant atoms to life, cells buzzing under his touch.

It’s magical. An open door to the world you thought you were shut out of entirely—one with him and your love.

His lips move slowly against yours. Plush skin meeting plush skin in a desperate yet patient reunion.

You didn’t realise you missed it so much till now.

It hurts to part.

Satoru only pulls away for a second to look in your eyes.

Neither of you exchange words before diving back into each other’s essences.

His hands find your waist, your body turns to him completely—back pressing against the headboard as he holds you, your hands fitting on his broad shoulders.

Beneath the tips of your delicate fingers, you feel the dips and uneven surfaces under the thin layer of his sweatshirt.

The kiss deepens once he swipes his tongue under your lip and you grant him that quiet access like you always have under the sun or moon.

You’ve always been Satoru’s.

From the day you saw him on the other side of the train station.

Till now.

And you always will be his.

Your nails slightly dig into his flesh as he explores your mouth, one of his hands now on your chin—tilting your face up—so he can follow the same path he always did.

Tongues fighting, bodies heating up under the daylight, you feel the need to reduce the layers between your thin white cover-up dress and his sweatshirt.

Hesitantly, the pressure on his shoulders caused by your fingers lessens and your hands migrate to the collar of the orange material.

He’s still kissing you as you tug on the zipper.

Then he freezes.

Tongue retreating and lips separating from the heated kiss. Eyes locking together.

You see the fear and hesitation in his baby blues. A silent prayer for you to not see him.

“Satoru, I love you.” You croak out. Voice scratchy and hoarse. The remaining few drops of tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

“I love you so much you have no idea. And I have always loved you and I always will. Even when you change.”

Your husband’s heart shatters.

Loud, like glass breaking against the floor. Unmendable.

But he trusts you.

So he dries your face with the buds of his fingers. Kisses the corner of your damp eye, and pulls the zipper down himself—showing the tainted and raw outcome of his fight.

Pink scars, painfully painted stars in his history.

You see beyond them. See the chiseled body he worked for, the defined v-line that you go crazy for, his rock-hard abs. His determination.

The scars are mere decorations you wish he accepts someday.

“You’re beautiful, honey. Even more now.”

Satoru has doubled in mass since being in the prison realm.

There’s nothing unattractive about him.

Your mind momentarily flashes to the promises of him giving you a family after the fight if he made it.

Every time you think about it, nausea overtakes you.

That dangerous what if that haunted you for nights before the showdown.

What if he didn’t…

No, he’s home.

And that matters so much to you.

That he could come home missing half of his body and you’d still cherish him to death.

Because you know there were others without the gift or the fortune to see their loved ones faces ever again.

Your hands press against the hard surface of his pecks before peeling your back off the headboard and reaching up to kiss him.

You’re caged in between his arms that hold himself up against the headrest. He happily accepts the kiss, lighter than a few seconds ago.

He melts into you again. Your back presses against the cushioned board again as he hovers over you once more.

Hands dipping, your nails feel every dip of his abs. Your legs subconsciously closing as the heat in between them grows.

Satoru bites your bottom lip so he can slip inside your mouth this time, his confidence recovering little by little as he sees the effect he still has on you.

You rein back a whimper that almost escapes once he lowers his lower body onto you. Hard boner pressing against your thinly covered clit—slotting himself perfectly against her.

With the palms of your hands, you push the orange sweatshirt off Satoru and he pulls his hands back quickly to throw it off before latching them on your breasts.

Your mouths dance a ballad you’ve both practiced across different lives.

With no regard for even considering that people might walk by and catch what’s happening through the slightly agape curtains, you slowly plunge your hands inside your husband’s swim trunks.

He hisses against your mouth as your hands wrap around his shaft, sensitive from not being touched or touching himself at all these last months.

Every fiber in you is on fire. His lips leave yours and attach to your neck—peppering your skin with love bites that show you’re his as he works on kneading your tits.

You start pumping his girth at a rhythmic pace, swiping your index finger to collect the small amount of pre-cum oozing out of his tip to stroke him.

Satoru’s face lifts to see you spit on your hand while maintaining eye contact and he feels himself grow harder even when it’s not even possible anymore.

His hand messily pushes down his swim shorts and his cock springs up, hitting him in his lower belly where you immediately grab it and coat it in your spit.

He lets out a deep rumble from his chest that has you twitching around nothing. One large hand pushing your cover up just enough for your bikini-covered breasts to meet the light of day.

A finger hooks under the thin strap underneath them and he sets them free once he tugs the string over your tits.

Your stroking falters when he moves to your nipple, biting as a greeting and then sooting the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You’re dripping—soaking the expensive material of your bathing suit under your cover.

Satoru’s still working on your nipple when his hand pushes up your cover up and moves aside your panties. Long fingers pressing against your warm wetness.

He swears he could cum just for the fact that you’re this wet over him.

A thick, rough digit of his pokes at your entrance before slipping inside. You gasp at the stretch, not having had sex in a long time.

Satoru relishes in the small sound. He pumps the finger once, twice and on the third thrust he unexpectedly adds another finger.

Now, his middle and ring finger stretch you. Wedding ring pressing against your cunt whenever he bottoms his hand out.

His palm rubs against your clit in a way that has you twitching beneath him. Your body jerks at his tongue swirling around your nipple and his palm slapping your bud.

Small moans ring in his ear. With your hands still wrapped around him, he starts thrusting against the mattress, chasing that friction while your mind crashes.

He feels you tense up when your walls start to flutter around his fingers so he pulls them out before you can reach your release.

You feel him lower and latch his mouth onto your pussy before you can process it and whimper for the loss of his digits. Hands letting go of his length as he lowered himself.

Immediately, your hips buck when he flattens his tongue—trying to lap up and consume relish in every taste of his wife’s nectar that she’ll offer him.

You lose all control over the moans and whimpers that leave your mouth—too far gone to even think about others now when your husband eats you up so messily.

Your juices mixed with his saliva soak into the white mattress, staining it, yet the two of you couldn’t care less.

Satoru laps up like a starved man. As he is. His tongue slips past your ring of resistance at times, teasing. Testing to see if you’re ready.

Your nails cling at his back, scratching new redness that he doesn’t mind—not in the way he does with his scars.

His hands are now under your plush ass, angling you upwards and holding you in place as he devours you with the reverence and need he has always had with you.

Your orgasm approaches quickly once he reignites it. Satoru holds the need to smirk against you once he feels your clit twitch and your sweet cunt start to flutter all alone.

He looks up with your bud in between his lips to see the heavenly sight of you propped on your elbows, tits out and glistening, your head thrown back.

His rutting against the bed stops.

You come undone on his tone aggressively. It hits you all at once, shivers overtaking you as your mind falls into pure euphoria.

Satoru doesn’t let a single drop spill.

Not giving you much time to recover, too eager to melt his body with yours, and with you all over his face, your husband climbs over your body again and captures your lips in a kiss.

Tasting yourself on his glistening lips, you shudder and whimper from how sensitive you are once you feel him rub his tip against your entrance.

“ ‘toruuu.” You whine, tears brimming your eyes.

A mock pity pout spawns on his face. His head lolls to the side as he watches your struggled expression—mouth parted, eyes fluttering open and shut when he brushes himself against your overstimulated clit.

“Didn’t you miss me, baby?” He teases.

"I—did-I missed you so much, mmh!" You mewl out in high-pitched stutters. Eyes falling shut and letting the tears spill from your clamped shut eyelids once he bottoms out in one go.

“Oh fuck.” Satoru bites back a low groan that escapes straight from his chest, his thighs pressing against the round and plush skin of your ass.

He wastes no time in pulling back and snapping himself back home. Letting his length disappear inside of you with little to no resistance. “Yeah, baby. Take all of me.”

Electricity sparks every once-dormant nerve in your body back to life.

Your mind momentarily flashes back to the promises he had vowed to keep before the fight. How he’d retire if he won, give you a family and spend the rest of his days cherishing the moments he spends in your arms.

And you snap out of your thoughts once you feel his two hands slide under your thighs, strong forearms locking them against your hamstrings so he can snugly wrap your legs around his textured waist—carved skin firmed up from days in a dark realm where he fought against time and his own mind.

You feel him everywhere. To the veins harshly reminding you how they have a place within your velvety walls ever since he vowed to be the only one who would ever walk the earth to please you—to the heat swirling in your chest out of profound and raw love you have for your husband.

It’s not supposed to be such a bittersweetly beautiful moment as Satoru is keeping your legs folded around him—forcing him to voluntarily slam down and dip his bulging cock back down home, juices welcoming him and kissing his length goodbye when he pulls back—but it’s so painfully good.

The way he’s back within your reach—caging you under his huffing, feral state where you can see the light color of his eyes sparkling as his body is electrified with life for the first time in months—and the way he’s stretching you out so deliciously.

Making you mewl out incomprehensible words that end up being letters melted into each other with no real meaning because your brain can barely form a real thought.

He’s finding the love you have for him in every crevice of you as your tongues mesh together again. Saliva on saliva as he connects his hips to yours without faltering once.

Begrudgingly, he pulls back. Your eyes fall down to his plush baby pink swollen lips that once shined with your release.

His breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling—occasionally shaking as a deep groan escapes him when you suck him in so greedily—for a second, you catch his stare falling to your bodies connecting.

Then he snaps back up—face levelling to you where you’re still giving him that fucked out doe-eyed look that he swears will have him falling over the edge sooner than he intends to.

“Baby?” He softly calls out, the four-lettered word spilling out of his mouth with ease that comes out of the habit he has of calling you that loving name.

You barely hear the sound of his voice, mind somewhere over the clouds. His tip is pushing past your cervix soo nicely. Kissing that little spot that makes your muscles start to spasm in uneven waves—your eyesight blur and the tears streak down the sides of your face quick.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru is a lot more pleased with himself than he’d admit right now. Even after the noise, the trauma and the ashes—he still has it in him.

Still has it inside of him to unravel you with the simples touches, to have you with your mouth parted open and your eyes rhythmically rolling back as he plunges inside of you—searching for your release.

It fills his body with a tingling sensation—a lingering hot feeling right where his heart sits at the realisation that you’re his wife in every sense of the word.

That you’re still here and still so loving.

All for him.

“M-mhm?” He hears you barely make out, nails moving from his back and onto his forearms where your nails subconsciously dig into his tainted skin.

A cannined smile pulls on his handsome face, almost resembling one of his characteristic smirks that has you knowing—even in your haze—that something is coming.

“Remember the promise I made you?”

Instantly, you scramble around your mind to try and filter to the thousands of promises you’ve offered each other and that he has yet to break.

There are so many, and you don’t have enough mind to run through them all.

“Which—ngh, ‘toru!” In the middle of your attempt to speak, he shifts, hooking both legs over his shoulders. Drawing his chest down, the strong surface of his chest weighing down on your smooth skin.

“—right there! Oh—“

You’re loud. Too loud for someone on a sunbed in a public place. Satoru probably knows it. Yet he makes no effort in shutting you up—he doesn’t muffle your real moans with a kiss, doesn’t silence your babbles with his hand. He lets them pour out into the open.

He lets the world know you’re his.

And that he’s back.

Either way, you don’t make any effort to stop the shore from knowing your lover is back.

His calloused hands, detailed with resilience and his unmatched strength, go delicate as he tries to wipe the stream of tears on the sides of your face.

“C’mon baby, you know which one.”

Seeing the way you fall quiet—half losing the fight between yourself and climaxing too early as your orgasm holds you by your throat, and half winning over the chaos of your mind—he “aids” you just a bit as his left hand drops and finds your clit with soft circles.

He’s teasing you, worsening the internal struggle he’s putting you through—setting every nerve in your body on fire as he pulls your release by the reins.

“What do you want from me?”

His words find a place in your disoriented head, clicking with his previous question.

A baby.

You wanted a baby with him before the fight.

A family.

Something to remember him by

Every night before that godforsaken day.

You tried.

Clung onto his body with a different—more painful kind of desperation than the one you have right now.

Tried for a baby.

Tried to leave a part of him within you just in case he—

The answer spills out of your mouth before your mind dips to darker places.

“A family.” You breathe out, eyes clamping shut for a second.

He muses, face dipping to press soft kisses to your pulsing temple. “Yeah?”

“Y—yeah!”

Your voice pitches higher at the last second as he presses down on your clit.

“Please—please, ‘toru—don’t leave me. Give me a baby.”

You don’t realise just how your fear is spilling through the cracks as you beg to finish and for him to never be done with you.

And Satoru goes soft.

Pace stuttering, abs tightening—he’s so close, you’re so close too.

With slow strokes, already high off demolishing you the past moments—Satoru rides the last moments of the roller coaster as he reaches his end.

“I’ll give you everything, honey.” He whispers, the bed creaking less beneath the both of you as he takes you to the edge.

And you titter to your orgasm that crashes over you twice as strong the second time once he completes his sentence. “Just take it all.”

He places a soft kiss to your lips as he buries himself inside, ropes and ropes of white milky cum filing your womb—overflowing right out of your walls while he remains inside, twitching and unwilling to leave.

A choked sob is muffled as Satoru’s lips catch it, right hand caressing your cheek.

Everything falls quiet, the smell of sex in the open air quickly settles back into the horizon as the sea overtakes the atmosphere and your ears hear the waves crashing against the sand.

The birds sing a song that relaxes your muscles. Your husband goes limp inside of you before pulling out—no longer having anything left of his to give that’s not love.

He plops down to you, the bed dipping in two sides now—but it quickly goes back to only one spot when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you over his warm body, letting you hear his heartbeat underneath the layers of skin.

Thud thud thud.

The sound goes straight to your veins, travelling through arteries and shifting your own heartbeat till it follows his.

He’s home.

Your Satoru is home.

And you fall asleep in his arms.

Safe, the way you both deserve to be.

Three hours later, Satoru walks over to the rim of the sea, stares off into the distance as the sun kisses his pale skin.

He’s uncovered, letting the salty breeze greet his open and slowly healing scars.

But he’s real.

And you join him when he goes inside the water.

Because this is just the first step out of the trenches.

And you’ll be there with him every stretch of the way.

Please excuse the way this turned out, tumblr has been deleting my completed drafts and not saving anything I write and it has been killing my motivation to write. Nonetheless, thank you to the 800 of u who have been patient w me, satosugu x reader and suguru x reader smut coming soon~ bye loves. More <3 Taglist.

Not proofread cause im scared it will get deleted.

heartkaji

18+. rockstar!choso’s girlfriend always gets him caught !

1. HEADLINE #1 : R★CKSTAR CAUGHT GETTING BJ IN THE REC ROOM ?!

in REC room eight, choso kamo is flipping switches while pretending your hands aren’t fondling his cock.

12 PM friday means the rec room heat & choso’s sweaty thighs. choso kamo has his headphones on his ears as sukuna & suguru practice on the other side of the glass pane, but he can’t seem to focus on sukuna’s voice crackling through his speakers. half of his mind’s on his pretty girlfriend perched on the chair beside him, lashes fluttering and skirt bunched up your thighs as your palm rubs at his already swollen cock.

“choso,” you coo sweetly. “i miss you.”

“miss you too, baby,” he rasps, but it’s more of a whimper & your palm rubs just over his throbbing tip as his hips twitch. his eyes are stinging but your touch is warm & choso kamo is in really big trouble.

he reaches for a switch on the board. “trying to work, princess,” he breathes, and you press your thumb to his clothed slit and his head goes all dizzy again. “could you please let me focus?”

his headphones crackle with sukuna’s voice but choso doesn’t hear it. ‘choso, the reverb. can you amp that shit up already?!’

pillsatoru

꣑ৎ fighting with satoru leads to him forcing you to ride him

The last thing you wanted to do was get into an argument with your roommate and best friend. Yet you found yourself going back and forth with him & it didn’t look like it was coming to an end any time soon.

“I don’t understand how I’m not allowed to have boys over but you’re free to bring home girls, it’s totally unfair Satoru!” You yelled, voice turning raspy.

It’s been hours since this argument began and he was getting sick of it.

“The difference between us is that I didn’t invite that girl over to fuck, did I?” He shot back, a vein forming at his temple.

His hand reached up to his face, sliding off his glasses to set them aside on the counter. “I came home with her because we had a project to do and the library was closed. And you know this because I texted you earlier about it.”

“So? She was totally giving you bedroom eyes!”

“And what if she was? Doesn’t mean I gave in and started humping her like a dog in heat. I’m not that easy, sweets.”

But you were.

You were not about to give in because he used your favorite pet name, and you definitely weren’t going to allow him to see the effect it had on you.

“I don’t know why me bringing a boy over concerns you either.”

“Watch that tone.” He warned. His eyes have darkened enough to match the late night shadows seeping into the kitchen, rain being muffled by the windows. Your lip trembled, being utterly frustrated. It’s not like you even did anything with the guy, you just wanted to make him jealous – get back at him for inviting that girl over.

Satoru noticed your pout, sighing through his nose as all previous anger faded. “Baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He closed in, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “You love it when I use sweet names on you.”

You pulled away from his touch, still pissed. “We’re just roommates, that’s why.” That certainly got him to raise a brow, a slight tilt at his head as he took in your words. “Just roommates? Am I not your best friend? Am I not the one that makes you feel good?”

Your breath hitched, knowing what he was referring to.

You had come home stressed about some class and it didn’t help that it was ovulation week as well, making you all pent up. Thankfully, Satoru didn’t mind helping you out on the very counter he was leaning against. “What was your goal when you brought him over? To make me jealous? Get your pay back?”

Well, yes.

But you were not going to admit that so easily.

“If I hadn’t made it clear enough, sweets, you’re the only girl I want. Why would I be stupid to put my dick inside someone who isn’t you?” His vulgar words strike again at your inner core, forcing your thighs to clench.

“Satoru..” Your cheeks heated up.

“I’m going to ask you again, and you’re going to answer honestly. Are we just roommates?”

Of course not. Roommates don’t just allow the other to ride them like rabbits in heat the way you were doing right now. Your clothes were discarded on the floor, shaky hands rubbing up and down his abs all while he watched.

A smirk was lifting at his lips, enjoying the way you struggled to do all of the work. He wanted to touch your tits, give them the little kisses they deserved. But hearing you beg for his touch was far better.

“Please– I said I was s-sorry..” Your apologies fell upon deaf ears. This was your punishment after all. You could barely register your own pleas as his tip grazed your puffy folds. “You’re going to ride me and I’m not going to help for shit.”

And he kept his word because he hasn’t done anything more than letting out the occasional grunt. It was genuinely pissing you off.

“Please,” You tried again, leaving sloppy but sweet kisses on his lips that he didn't reciprocate. Not even when you picked up your pace or slowed it down did he react.

Nothing was working.

Not until he saw you begin to sob, hiding your pretty face in his neck did he soften up. “Hey, hey.. It’s okay, sweet girl. I forgive you, you did so good, took your punishment like the good girl you are. Don’t cry, you’re making me feel bad.” His expression softened, large hand rubbing the small of your back as he coo’ed in your ear at your hiccups.

You sniffled, chasing your nearing orgasm now that he praised you. “Am gonna cum..” You gasped, clawing at his back. Satoru fully wrapped his arms around you, bouncing you harshly on his lap. “Go ahead.”

White dots filled your sight when you spilled on his dick, legs trembling. He followed soon after, releasing deep in you. “Good job, baby. Don’t you ever think that shit again. I don’t want anyone but you, and it’s time to realize that.”

You nodded, placing your lips on his, finally receiving the kiss you needed.

nightshiftnotes

❥ comfortable

♡ summary: after two terrible days, all you want is to use your boyfriend as a mattress. unfortunately for you, gojo satoru is very easily distracted.

♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • oral (f!receiving) • multiple orgasms • piv sex • praise • possessive language • dirty talk • creampie • fluff

♡ author’s note: this was inspired by a post from @silentlunarkiss based on this fanart 😭 i screenshotted it immediately because i knew i wanted to write it, then somehow lost the original post before i could tag them. finally found them again!! ♡

banner by @pixopix

The apartment is quiet when you finally drag yourself through the door, your work bag feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Your feet are killing you, your brain is fried, and all you want is to collapse into bed and not move for approximately twelve hours.

toastbutteregg

da-boy-o-kultur

How does it feel to ask for a drink and instead you get a whole artistic experience.

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