shinazugawa sanemi never fails to take you to a whole different dimension with the way he fucks you — your poor cunt stretched tight around his cock, knees pressed to your chest, the weight of you sinking into the mattress below him as he holds you in a deep mating press.
every inch of him driving into you brutally dragged a cry from your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation. you were stuffed full of him, stomach bulging at where he met your cervix, air being knocked out of you like your lungs couldn’t hold them in the first place. your skin tingled, burning under the intensity of his gaze, goosebumps rising in it’s wake. every touch on your skin felt electric, touched like never before. and it was only sanemi who could do this to you, to allow you to experience bliss in the filthiest ways.
goddam i just saw my request that you replied to and omg its even longer than what I remember that’s a whole fic itself mb😭
oh please don’t worry, i genuinely really love the idea 🤍 it’s an honour that you requested it in my inbox honestly. i can only hope that i will do your idea justice 😞
hi! i wanna request smth thats a little angsty if that ok(: a timeskip!kenma x reader fic where reader has childhood trauma from her parents and its pretty sever im not gna explain in details but her mother hated her and she was really abusive and reader was always longing for a motherly love, she never wanted to have kids because she didn’t wanna become a mother when she doesn’t have on her own , but she doesn’t want her husband to be stuck with her so she ends up having twin girls thinking her love for them is probably gna make motherhood tolerable , but them its not and she has sever ppd, she doesn’t talk much anymore she barely smiles while she tries to do so at her babys she doesn’t let her husband touch her she’s not affectionate in any way anymore she tries really hard but she just unable to live with it. Also 4 sum reason she doesn’t like being affectionate with her baby’s infront of her husband she always checks if he’s looking her direction when she’s holding them or not and it’s basically her husband kenma helping her out of ppd (or tries) so sorry this is so long lol
hi! sorry for the late response but i just wanted to let you know that i will be working on this, but it won’t be uploaded that fast as i’m busy with my main account right now 🥲 i’m so sorry for the wait but i will get it done!
nagi's first impression of you was that you were a crybaby. and up until today, that hasn't changed.
the most vivid memory he had was during kindergarten when you both were five. he stood like a statue in between you and another girl who was about the same age, both sides of his arms being pulled like he was the rope in a tug-of-war. on his right, you were screaming, "nagi is mine!" while tears and snot streamed down your face. on the other hand (quite literally) was the other girl yelling back the same thing you screamed.
nagi didn't quite understand why you both were fighting over him. but seeing you in shambles like that made him feel uneasy, so he snatched his hand away from her and stood in front of you. "stop crying, it's annoying." he muttered, wiping your snot covered face with his sleeve. "you're such a crybaby, you know that?"
"but she tried snatching you away from me!" you wailed, more tears spilling as if your eyes held a waterfall captive. "i get it, i get it. i won't let anyone snatch me from you again, okay? i'm yours, so stop crying. you look ugly."
"you promise?" you asked, tears coming to a halt, though, you were still sniffling. nagi hummed in response, linking his pinky with yours. "it's a promise." he said. and seeing your beaming smile, warmth settled over his chest, little thuds echoing in his ears. your tiny hands were clasped together, little chubby fingers entwined tightly in each other's grasp. it could've been nothing serious back then, after all you both were children. but nagi never thought of it that way. for him, it was only you. even now, when you stood in front of him, fingers still locked between his, he was still yours.
"stop crying already, you look super ugly." nagi mumbled, holding back a smile as he watched you sob in your wedding dress. "i just—i can't believe we're finally getting married..!" your tears glistened under the bright lights, leaving a trail of happiness on your cheeks. "can't believe i'm getting married to a crybaby."
"can't you say something nice for once?" you pouted, trying to keep your tears in control. "yeah." nagi replied. "you're my crybaby. a beautiful one."
“are you sure?” you asked the magenta haired boy who was sitting in front of you, your eyebrows knitted and expression slightly perplexed. your glare flared with annoyance, one that sae was extremely familiar with for he had been on the receiving end of it for years now. “you’re lying to me again aren’t you?”
“i’m not.” sae muttered, doodling idly in your notebook. the lines and circles he drew faded into little stickman figures one by one, an arrow pointing to each stickman, all of them labelled — idiot.
“stop drawing in my notebook, sae!” you scolded, smacking his hand away as you erased them with a huff, flicking the eraser dust in his direction. sae simply let out a breath of a laughter, lips curling into a smirk. it quickly went away when you continued pestering him, asking, “so are you really not going to tell me? it’s so obvious that you, like, you know, have a crush.”
“i said i don’t.” he rolled his eyes, averting his gaze with his usual resting bitch face stoic expression. “you know your ears get red when you’re lying, right? you’re a horrible liar.” you pointed out with a playful grin on your face, a teasing tone, resting your chin on your palm.
“they don’t, you’re seeing things.” he denied, yet again, earning a frustrated groan from you. “ask me that again and i’ll tell everyone that you—“
your hands flew to cover his mouth, flustered at what embarrassing moment he was about to remind you of. “ah, fine! i get it, i get it! i already know that you’re lying anyway.”
“tch, whatever. don’t bother me with such lukewarm questions again.” he said, turning his head with a hint of sass. “meh meh meh, whatever. you’re the lukewarm one.” you mouthed. and sae didn’t miss it, flicking your forehead gently, with you yelping out in pain.
as usual, your day ended with the both of you bickering.
ᯓ★
“you should just go confess to her already. you know your ears are always red when you’re around her, right?” rin mentioned, watching sae’s gaze follow your silhouette from a distance.
shit. was it that obvious?
guess he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. he’s just thankful that you’re that dense.
being high school sweethearts with itoshi sae meant weaving him into your daily routines, making him part of your everyday life — and hopefully for good.
so one afternoon, you took him to a little street stall near school, insisting the grandma there made the best skewers. sae wasn’t particularly fond of street food, but he couldn’t refuse when your eyes were sparkling with excitement. the grandma greeted you warmly, clearly just as delighted to see you.
“oh my.. dear, is this handsome young man your boyfriend? you have such a keen eye for men.” she teased, hiding her smile behind her hand. you grinned, shooting sae a sly glance before replying, “no, i don’t know him. he was just following me around.” your chuckle was smug, and sae’s scowl was immediate.
you thought nothing of it. after all, he was used to your jokes. at least that was until you placed your skewers beside his on the counter, expecting him to pay. he cleared his throat, voice cool and sharp.
“who are you? i don’t pay for strangers.”
you hadn’t known that itoshi sae could be this adorably cute when he’s petty — until now.
thinking about sylus, who strolls around shirtless at home, parading the love marks you personally carved into his skin the night before. he carries it with such pride, wearing every bruise, scratch and bite proudly, each one being proof of who he belongs to.
the scratch marks raking down his back remains raw, stinging at every gentle touch and the faintest brush of air. but he doesn’t care, refusing ointment even when you insisted. he likes the pain, wants to feel you even in your absence, doesn’t want them to heal. if he could, he would keep them etched into his skin forever as a reminder of the night he would gladly bleed for again.
hickies bloom across every inch of his neck, grinning like a fool every time he catches them in the mirror, even humming some obnoxious tune that only makes it more obvious how pleased he is to be yours.
sylus is so utterly in love with you and the idea of being yours that he bears every mark like a badge of honour. and he’ll never let them fade, not when he has you here to claim him again and again, willingly, endlessly and shamelessly.
two months after your break up, gojo satoru realised one thing — no matter how hard he tried, he cannot be an ex-boyfriend.
for one, he never learned the language of letting go. to sever the thread between you was to unravel himself; to cut contact was to carve out his own heart. and yet, even in absence, the habits remained — the quiet instinct to reach for you, the restless urge to know where you were, or what you were doing — the silence gnawed at him. nights dragged on, filled with questions he could never ask. it wasn’t just the distance that hurt, but the anxiety of not knowing.
he wondered if you were doing better in a world that no longer had him in it. and sometimes guilt swallowed him whole, because selfishly, he hoped you weren’t happier without him. but he knew better.
from afar, he had seen it — the way you smiled more these days, even though you were still careless when it came to taking care of yourself. maybe some things never changed.
he knew it wasn’t healthy — keeping tabs on you, clinging onto memories — but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. you weren’t something he could erase, and he refused to try. because once, he swore to devote himself to you. a breakup couldn’t break that vow.
and even if you no longer wanted that love, it was still yours — a promise he couldn’t take back, even if it broke him to keep it.
you’d think that by now — almost two years into your relationship with rin — he would’ve gotten used to you smothering him with affection. and you mean lots and lots of affection. a suffocating amount, even.
but no, you’re wrong.
because rin’s cheeks still heat up the same way, tinted by the same shade of pink that coloured his face when you first met. rin still stammers and stumbles all over his words when he’s flustered, always caught off guard by your flirty antics. he still gazes at you with the same eyes you could drown in, a teal ocean full of love.
rin doesn’t push you away when you show him love. he basks in your affection, even if it makes him look like a fool. because he is — foolishly and helplessly in love with you.
gojo satoru once used to be pathetic. he was the kind of boy who sat at the back of his class with crooked glasses sliding down his nose, sweaters too big for his frame, and a habit of laughing at jokes he didn’t find funny just because he didn’t want to be left out. he was smart — the one who knew everything, always keeping himself updated with the latest shows, trending music, and the recent news cycles, always topping the class — the kind of smart that didn’t make him charming, just forgettable. he was just a nerd that people forgot existed unless they needed help with something.
then there was you. the girl he had the biggest crush on during high school. and it didn’t help that you were leagues away from him — popular, charming, charismatic — everything he wasn’t. it was embarrassing, really — the way he lit up whenever he saw you around, how he would smile just by hearing you laugh, or when he lingered in the hallways just so he could watch you pass by. he just wanted to be in your presence, to at the very least exist in your world. but you never spared him more than a glance. even so, gojo carried every fleeting interaction like a treasure. like when your keychain fell off once, and he picked it up.
he contemplated walking away and keeping it for himself. a little selfish, yes. but he returned it to you anyway, no matter how envious he was (yes, he was jealous of a keychain) because it was yours — probably something you cherished. and when you turned around and thanked him with a smile, his heart stopped. he stumbled backwards, words tumbling out uncontrollably, face heating up redder than a tomato. pathetic. he couldn’t even hide the fact that he liked you.
it was beyond humiliating when he found himself sweating through presentations just because you were sitting in the front row, tripping over his own shoelaces when you looked his way, even convincing himself that lending you a pen when you forgot your pencil case meant something. his crush on you was loud and obvious, but he wondered why you never noticed. or maybe you just never acknowledged him at all, given how irrelevant he was.
eventually, he told himself he’d get over it — this stupid crush of his — that he’d move on, grow out of it. and for a while, he did. kept it that way by avoiding you throughout the entirety of high school. until he saw you with your friend, on the dance floor of a college party he didn’t want to be at. he thought he’d buried it — his feelings, the late-night daydreams, the stupid hope that you’d be his one day — he swore he was over you. but he realised how wrong he was when you trailed behind your friend, who was walking towards him, to the group of friends he was hanging out with.
panic bloomed in his chest instantly. shit, shit, shit. would you even remember him? if you didn’t, then that would spare him the humiliation, right? sure, he was less pathetic now that he had more friends, and for some reason, people actually liked having him around. but he was still the same person at his core — still hiding behind his glasses, still draped in sweaters twice his size, still topping all his classes, still forgettable — he didn’t change at all. there was still nothing memorable about him, and he was the only one holding onto memories of you.
he forced the lump inside his throat down as your friend started introducing you to his group so casually while he was dying from anxiety. “this is geto, this is shoko, and this is gojo!” your friend said cheerfully. “gojo?” you asked with a confused expression on your face. “yeah, don’t you know gojo?” your friend tilted her head. “huh.. as in gojo satoru?” you blinked at him, a blushing mess standing in the corner of a room.
the sound of his own name leaving your lips almost knocked him off balance right there, spiralling internally. oh my god, you remembered? actually? holy shit, holy shit. this can’t be real. he was so out of it, stuck in a dizzying blur of thoughts that he didn’t even notice everyone had left to get drinks, leaving just you and him behind.
“you’re not going with them?” you asked, your voice snapping him out of his trance. “n—no! i’m—i’ll just.. stay here..” he stammered, voice cracking in the same embarrassing way that he claimed he outgrew.
“gojo satoru, hm?” the corners of your lips curled upwards, eyes sweeping over him in a way that made his stomach flip. “well, when did you get hot?”
“h—hot? like the temperature kind of hot? or in the way society describes—“ he stuttered, very much flustered by your question. you laughed at his reaction, the sound that he loved to hear the most. one that he would replay every second if he could. “definitely not the temperature.” you said, still smiling brightly at him. “i remember you.”
and in that instant, gojo fell still. his heart was beating out of his chest, his hands turning numb from how flustered he was. he didn’t know what to say, standing there stupidly like his brain had stopped functioning. he was set back to where he started — hopeless, and falling all over again for the same person he tried so hard to ignore.
you remembered him. the same forgettable him. and still, he was in love with you, pathetically. always pathetic.
you weren’t looking to join a circle of horny college students when you entered this room, not at all. you just wanted a break from the blaring music, away from the loud chaos of laughter, chatter, and drunken stupors from hedonists who couldn’t give two fucks about what they end up doing tonight.
but you weren’t any better. you couldn’t say much when you were dressed up in a scanty outfit, at a party with a reputation just as scandalous as the others around you. call it hypocritical if you may. at the very least, you just thought you were slightly better than the others given that you weren’t reckless enough to get yourself inebriated.
when you opened the bedroom door, hoping to save yourself from the madness downstairs, you weren’t expecting to see a bunch of familiar faces sitting in a circle with a bottle in the centre. that could only mean one thing, and you weren’t someone who would involve yourself in social situations like this, let alone a game that was basically a live action smash-or-pass. think about being a criminal voluntarily walking into a police station, that was exactly what it felt like.
“oh, hey—“ reo greeted with a smile, already waving you to join them. but you knew better, turning around to walk away immediately. you didn’t get far — actually, you couldn’t even move a single step before michael kaiser appeared in front of you, blocking your way before you could escape. “oh, you’re here too?” ness sounded from behind him, head popping up behind kaiser’s shoulders.
you could only sigh, knowing that there was nowhere for you to run. “great! the more the merrier!” reo cheered, inviting the rest of you in.
‘great!’ your ass. you couldn’t have been in a more miserable predicament right now.
you sat down with an impassive expression, dreading to play this stupid game more than ever. and only then it hit you — familiar teal eyes, the usual gloomy expression, his piercing gaze — sitting right across of you was itoshi rin.
your ex. the same person that you left almost a year ago with forgotten feelings, hurtful words, and buried memories. everything you tried to erase from your life started returning one by one — and it was overwhelming you.
you knew you should’ve left, but when there was someone beside you — pressing you down by your shoulder, basking in the tension and drama — you couldn’t. you were gonna kill michael kaiser one day, and you hoped that you were able to send that message by mouthing a little “fuck you” to him, which he only shot you a sly smirk in return.
it didn’t take long before they started spinning the bottle, people stumbling in and out of the closet tucked away at the corner of the room. you felt icky thinking about the fact that you had to spend 7-hellish-minutes in the same space where the others did god-knows-what in there. and when it got to rin’s turn, you could only pray — pray that it didn’t land on you. the last thing you wanted was to be trapped in a closet with someone you were frantically avoiding for several months straight.
but lady luck wasn’t on your side today. like some cliché romance story, it landed on you. the tension was louder than the silence that filled the room, and it had amplified by a hundred times more than when you first walked in here. you let out a breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding, rolling your eyes at the outcome. just your luck.
“ooooh, that’s.. really interesting!” reo exclaimed with a grin on his face. rin said nothing, simply standing up before nodding to the direction of the closet. and you followed after him with a sigh, reluctantly shutting yourself in with him.
it was cramped in here. hot, humid, and it smelt disgusting. you guys didn’t talk, for the first few seconds at least. with a space this tiny, something was bound to happen, just that you didn’t know when or what to expect. but you definitely did touch — just barely — and you could only pull away every single time, awkwardly dusting yourself off before you guys accidentally made contact again.
the closet was too small, and his presence was too big. rin leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you with that flat expression that he always has. “of course it had to be you.” he said, tone unimpressed.
you scoffed, hugging your arms to your chest as you leaned on the opposite side. “you act like i was the one who spun the bottle. i’m not thrilled either, okay?”
“could’ve fooled me.” he muttered.
you tried not to notice, but his eyes hadn’t left you ever since you walked into the bedroom. his gaze was as intense as ever, the same eyes that could always see through you, reading every micro-expression and movement you made.
“you’re nervous.” he pointed out, tone flat and casual like there hadn’t been a gap in time since you last talked.
“of course i am. do you not see the situation that we’re in?” you grumbled, already irritated from the way he’s acting.
“do you have a reason to be?” he asked, pushing himself off the side of the closet he was leaning on, invading your space (which you already lacked to begin with). “i don’t see why you’re so hostile despite being the one who cut things off.”
“you know, we don’t have to talk.” you stated, rolling your eyes as you displayed your annoyance. “so save your breath, because i have nothing to say to you.”
“ha, you used to never shut up before.” he scoffed.
“that’s funny, because seven minutes was all it took to make you beg back then.” your lips twitched, half a sneer, half a smirk.
he squinted his eyes, feeling the weight of your words. “don’t start.”
“don’t start? there was no need for you to say anything in the first place.”
he shifted closer, not because he wanted to, but because the tiny closet forced him to, chest brushing against yours. his breath fanned hot against your cheek. “why would i do that when you’re finally within my reach?”
“what?”
“stop moving.” he said when you tried to sidestep. his hand caught your wrist before you could pull away. “you’re always running from me.”
your pulse thundered in your ears. you told yourself you should shove him off, tell him to shut up, remind yourself why you broke up in the first place. but your body betrayed you, leaning into the warmth that you swore you didn’t miss.
the silence changed — charged now, heavy with something you couldn’t identify. you could feel his eyes on your lips.
“what are you trying to say, rin?”
“why do you think i started showing up at parties after we broke up?” he asked, hand tightening around your wrist. “i’ve seen you. how you spiral. how you still look at me. i knew you then, and i still do.”
“people change.” you shot back. “it’s been months, i’m not the same person anymore.”
“then why do you look like that?” his tone was desperate, pushy, like he was trying to make you admit everything you tried to brush off.
you didn’t look at him — you couldn’t. if you did, everything you tried to run away from would come back to chase you. and you didn’t want to do anything you regretted again. you bit your lips hard, trying to suppress as much emotions as you could.
“you say you hate me.. but that’s not the look of someone who does.” rin mumbled, sounding somewhat dejected.
before you could argue, “time’s up!” someone called out from outside.
“i don’t—“ you tried to say.
“save it.” his mouth crashes into yours, desperate, rough, months of unsaid words bleeding through in a single kiss. it ended just as quickly as it started, leaving your lips stinging and your heart hammering in your chest.
he pulled back first, expression unreadable, tinged with feelings you couldn’t name. “seven minutes was never enough for us anyway.” his touch lingered on your cheek for a little longer before he pulled away, the spark in his eyes fading. “guess we’re going to keep pretending. like we always do.”
the closet door swung open, light spilling in. and rin slipped out without looking back, leaving you in the dark, choking back sobs as the clock ran out.
the door might’ve opened, but the weight of him lingered heavy in your chest, a reminder that seven minutes would never be enough to undo what he left behind.
just thinking about nerd!gojo who made immature decisions during his brief rebellious phase before he started taking his image seriously — covering up every inch of his body with oversized hoodies, sweaters, or jackets while he worked on getting his reputation back up, studying hard and building friendships.
it took almost a year for gojo to open up to you — standing in front of you with his shirt off, glasses still sliding down the bridge of his nose as he averted his gaze. your jaw dropped at his physique — toned abs, jacked arms, and… the sluttiest tattoos known to mankind sprawled across his skin like a canvas to a hidden masterpiece that you weren’t supposed to discover.
it was a complete contrast to the image he’d built — his cheeks flushing into a shade of pink with a meek expression as you examined him inch by inch, eyes raking over his entire body.
who’d expect the most innocent looking person on campus to be hiding something like this?
just thinking about gojo satoru being such a smooth flirt that it’s almost criminal.
you were just spending a casual saturday night, learning a different language for fun — just another casual hobby of yours, nothing big. no, you weren’t travelling the world. no, you weren’t going on a vacation anytime soon. but being able to understand the art of communication seemed like something knowledgeable. and if you were interested in it, wasn’t that enough of a reason to give it a shot?
your learning session was peaceful until gojo sat down beside you on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he pulled one side of your earphones out. “what language are you learning now?” he asked, leaning over your hand to peek at your screen.
“spanish. why, you interested?” you responded, tilting your phone toward him. he shook his head, taking the other side of your earphones off. “i’m interested in something else.” he said, his hand caressing your cheek. “wanna try speaking in tongues?”
you felt all the blood in your body rush to your face, cheeks flushing into a shade pink as you processed his words. “no! i’m seriously trying to master a language here.” you exclaimed, nudging his shoulder to push him away, but as expected, he didn’t budge.
“why not you learn french instead? i can teach you.” he quipped, chuckling at your reaction. “well, spanish pronunciation is easier.” you muttered, putting one side of your earphones back in. “since when could you speak french anyway?”
he leaned in close enough, lips brushing your ear as his hands rested on the back on your neck. “my tongue has always been speaking french. wanna see?”
“satoru, that’s not what i meant!” you huffed, but he only leaned in, stealing a kiss that left you speechless — a smile pressed to your lips like he was going to teach you french anyway.
gojo satoru thinks he has a problem — either he has the hormones of a teenage boy going through puberty that gets insanely horny all the time, or he just loves you too much, way too much. the answer is probably both, but he prefers to go with the sweeter option.
because who in their right mind would get so turned on when their girlfriend is berating them?
he’s not even trying to hide the tent that formed in his pants, feeling tight and stiff under the fabric. suddenly, all his senses were heightened, feeling the way he sank into the mattress under him, shifting uncomfortably in the sheets. his eyes are locked onto the way you waved the wand of your mascara around, angrily ranting as you applied your makeup, talking about… whatever you were saying. he lost track of your scolding about three words in, when he saw you glaring at him through the mirror as your words practically machine gunned him.
god, he couldn’t get enough of that attitude of yours — every single eye roll, every angry clack of your heels — it ought to make a man go crazy.
“are you even listening to me, satoru?” you whipped your head around, frowning at the sight of your boyfriend, whose cheeks were flushed in a shade of pink, heavily panting as he pumped his cock with his fist.
“haah—yeah—keep going, baby.” he grunted, pearlescent beads forming at the tip. “i’m listening, go on. ‘m almost there.”
and that nasty glare of yours did it, cum trickling down his length and hands as he groaned. “you’re disgusting, ‘toru.” you muttered, unsure whether to feel flustered or furious at the sheer audacity of your boyfriend. how shameless.
“that’s harsh. anyway, round 2?” he teased. he’s just asking for another scolding, isn’t he?
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