cyberkags

18 — dm for socials 😋

[ttakdoll]

SATORU GOJO :: fratjo and his curated instagram profile!

(18+) :: content – frat!gojo x fem!reader, college au, smut, switch!gojo, p in v, riding, pussydrunk gojo

frat!gojo is one of those guys with a heavily curated instagram profile.

it’s not that it’s overly nonchalant, or so quiet that it looks painfully intentional, but so effortlessly busy while maintaining an air of carelessness that he makes it look like a modern day art form.

it’s all witty captions (“siri, set an alarm for those sleeping on me”, who even thinks of that?), vaguely motion-blurred pictures of neon lights and solo cups, polo clubs and martinis, late nights at the frat house, and highlights of well-shot travel pictures and selfies. 

it just seems like he always knows exactly what kind of picture to take in what setting, exactly what makes him look good in front of the many people (many.) that are hungry to see what’s going on in satoru’s life. it doesn’t even seem like he’s actively trying to show off how cool and interesting and luxurious his life is – he just fucking does it.

the cherry on top? an absolutely lethal follower-to-following ratio. satoru doesn’t even follow back half of the thousands of followers he’s got.

in short: he’s got it down to a science. you’d think you knew exactly who he was simply based on the curation of his profile.

at least, that’s what you think when your sorority friends first show you his account.

you – well, you’re the type of person who’s seen it all before. 

you think you’ve got it down to a science too, because you’ve always been able to accurately predict exactly who someone is based on what their social media looks like. and the minute your friends show you satoru gojo’s instagram, you don’t know whether you should laugh, scoff, or clutch your pearls tightly.

“no. he’s definitely an asshole,” you clock immediately, shaking your head. “if I tell you guys I’m bored, at least give me someone nice.” “he’s nice!”

“I mean, someone who isn’t the definition of ‘lights on, nobody’s home’, maybe?”

your friends look at each other like they’d expected the less-than-positive reaction, but they keep pushing anyways. “just try talking to him. if you’re bored, gojo’s the person to go to. Look at his profile: he’s rich as fuck. fine as fuck. good in pictures. he passes his classes–”

you groan. “yes, because that makes him the epitome of academic excellence–”

“–just fucking text him already!”

against your better judgment, you click on that well-curated profile, and you text.

and he texts back – quickly, you might add, for someone that chronically looks like he ghosts people simply because he doesn’t have time for all of them. 

it's not just that. the thing is, you and satoru keep texting – for weeks on end.

it’s not even you holding the conversations together, but him. satoru does the most; he sends you pictures of him with his brothers, him in his car, him walking to classes you didn’t think he attended.

you wanted to stop replying. you want to doubt him, call him a slut, find him annoying. but he’s really not.

you: gojo it’s getting late yk

gojo: but i wanna keep talking to you :((

you almost scoff.

you: how many girls did u JUST text that to be honest

it’s mostly a joke, partially your own morbid curiosity kicking into action. it’s late on a friday night, you’re trying to find any reason not to be intentionally texting someone who probably doesn’t give half of a shit about you, and amidst the darkness of your own bedroom, you’re fucking entertaining this. satoru’s probably off convincing some other girl she’s the only one, calling her up, coercing her into letting him come over at this hour–

gojo: [1 attachment] it’s just you beautiful

he sends a screenshot of his recent fucking DMs.

and he’s not lying – it’s just you (pinned?), a couple of his frat brothers’ dump accounts, absolutely nothing incriminating that could justify your premature judgments about satoru.

suddenly, you’re in it now; your lip is caught between your teeth, trying to process this revelation, and he’s still fucking typing. like he doesn’t care if it looks desperate. maybe he just thinks he’s incapable of looking desperate?

gojo: soo will you keep talking to me now i miss you its been 30 secs

you: ur so stupid fine

okay. maybe satoru isn’t anything like his profile at all.

one day, he finally asks you to come over. it’s not even in a weird, frat fuck, booty call way either; you get home from a pretty late exam, and you somehow get into texting satoru about how you’re pissed, you think you flunked, and you hadn’t eaten anything in hours.

before you can even think about setting foot in your building elevator, he’s sending you a picture of a shit ton of sushi (he remembered you saying you liked it?), luring you into his place like a mouse trap, and threatening to make you feel better with free food and bad movies.

it’s irritating how saying no didn’t even cross your mind for a second.

even if there was a 70% chance satoru only wanted to fuck, you kind of didn’t even mind that.

and you learn that satoru is 100%, most definitely not an asshole.

 he doesn’t even actually look that much like what you’d see on his profile – other than being absolutely delicious-looking, because of course that doesn’t change. 

he’s tall, but half of all the bicep and muscle he loves to show off on his story highlights is hidden behind a faded digimon hoodie. satoru’s got a pair of black, thick-framed glasses perched on top of his head, pushing his snow-white bangs back, leaving a few strands to rest over his forehead.

he even smiles sweet, out of the corners of his lips, all “let’s stay in my room” and “you got any movies you like? I have all of them!”, drawing you in without even knowing it.

 your heart is in your throat when he leads you to his bedroom, where he’s laid sushi and snacks out as if eating was the first thing on your mind.

you have two thoughts: first, that he’s nothing like the fuckboy he seems he is on his instagram, and second, coming over to his house, just him and you, may be the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.

so you think it takes way too long, because satoru’s way too nice.

in fact, it takes you shuffling close into his side on the bed and tugging at his hoodie string with your fingertip midway through detective pikachu for him to even notice you wanted something.

“hm?” satoru hums, his arm absentmindedly wrapping over your shoulders in a motion that makes your skin warm. “yeah? is it too cold, or–”

oh my god. you bite the inside of your cheek. “maybe you wanna keep me warm?”

“oh, for sure, i’ll go get another blanket–”

“gojo.”

and satoru dares move to get up. “i’ll be quick, don’t worry–”

“satoru.” and you’re tugging him back down, giving him half-lidded eyes, gazing beneath your eyelashes like he’s one more word away from being eaten alive. 

and finally, finally, you see his eyebrows raise like something’s clicking into place, and there’s a faint grin starting to tug at the corners of his lips. maybe he is kind of an asshole – but you barely get to berate him before he’s clicking his tongue and tugging you into his lap.

⭑.ᐟ

“fuck, beautiful–”

you don’t even realize just how little satoru matches his instagram profile until he’s the one beneath you, hands roaming your waist, trailing up to pinch desperately at your hardened nipples, all while you press your hands to his bare chest and ride his huge cock.

it’s hard to remember how you ended up here, his back against his own mattress, glasses hitting his own headboard, with your legs hooked over each side of his hips, watching the frat boy’s face contort in absolute pleasure.

all you know is that every sound that leaves his lips, every flutter of his lashes over those blue fucking eyes – heat pools between your legs. it doesn’t help that satoru’s so big, each drop back down on his dick making you see stars behind your eyelids.

“s–shit,” you gasp out wantonly, a loud squelch resounding between you as your pussy clenched around him. he’s just so deep, stretching out your needy cunt so perfectly with each roll of your hips. “so fuck– fucking big, satoru–”

he hisses. “baby, you’re – oh my god – you’re killing me here. c’mon, let me take care of you–”

it’s cute how easy it is to get him, of all people, to shut the fuck up.

all it takes is a shaky scoff from your parted lips, as you lift your hips all the way up, sliding your wet entrance over his tip for a second, just to relish in the way the white-haired man below you practically whines, aching for the warmth of your pussy around him. and then you drop down fully, letting out a broken little cry as his cock splits you open again, the stretch achingly delicious.

“haah–” satoru sounds so pathetic like this, fingertips clutching at the skin of your waist tight like he needed to bounce you on his dick until you were sobbing in his hold. “come on, please, just– just let me fuck you properly, pretty.”

“mmh,” you breathe out airily as you grind down onto his cock, eyes rolling back. “but ‘s so good.”

“could make it even b–better,” satoru groans. “shit. shit, do that again,”

you almost grin, albeit cockdrunk and absolutely dripping on him, at the little whimper that escapes his lips when your fingernails claw into his chest, timed perfectly with a greedy little roll of your hips, shifting him deeper into the warmth of your cunt.

you lean forward, tits pressing against his skin as you press your lips to his. and satoru takes this opportunity as his only avenue of control — his tongue breaches your mouth, a dazed little whine escaping your lips in response, shoving the muscle as far down your mouth as it would go. as if taunting you.

but he’s fucking gone, at the end of the day, and all it takes to have his mouth dropping open is for you to slam that ass back down like your life depended on it.

“don’t be a — ah! — an asshole, satoru,” you murmur into his skin, devastating, manicured fingertips prying his hand off your waist. “be good.”

“f—fuck,” he sputters out amidst the wet plap! plap! plap! of your ass against his pelvis. “fuck, ‘re the asshole here, pretty—”

your teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, and the low, broken sound that escapes his mouth is almost enough to have you creaming around his dick right then and there. “you’re so — ngh — ungrateful. ‘m literally bouncing on your dick—”

“haah—” both of your words are messy, making it out through strings of saliva against each other’s lips, resounding across the space of satoru’s bedroom. “baby…”

“haven’t even said please.” you mumble, and the white-haired man keens at how easily you can pretend to be so innocent, voice soft and wrecked and sweet like you don’t even realize what you’re doing. “just say please for me, satoru.”

you swear you see something hot flash in those blue eyes.

he doesn’t say anything. 

“satoru,” and there’s no way he can say no to that voice. not like that. not when your voice is so candied, so sweet, so intentional in trying to get him to beg to fuck you. you press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and he hisses like you’ve just bitten bruises into his shoulder. “play nice for me, okay?”

“shit, baby…”

“pleaaase. say it.”

he tries rolling his hips into you, chasing the sweet warmth of the pussy you’re denying to let him fuck. all for not much, considering you slam his hips back down and leave him whimpering beneath your touch. so adorable. so desperate, it was almost comical, considering how satoru looked, how he presented himself.

so much for the fuckboy with an allegedly long list of girls in his DMs.

because—

“please!” satoru whines out, arms flexing by your thighs, a large hand meeting your waist, fingertips gripping loosely. “fuck, please, please let me fuck you properly, you’re so tight, so good–”

he’s babbling. about your pussy. satoru’s punctuating each little plea with a pathetic gasp ripped from his throat.

the man behind the curated ig that featured countless hookups, countless parties, and he’s utterly pussydrunk as you ride him to insanity.

“yeah?” you whisper against his mouth.

“haah— yeah, fuck, yes. been thinking about it — shit! — ever since you texted me.” satoru gasps. 

you find it in yourself amidst the haziness to glance down at his face, the way his lips are slicked with your drool, the way his eyes are half-lidded behind white eyelashes, so utterly destroyed. the absolute picture of intoxication, all by the hand of your cunt lewdly squelching around his length.

he’s not what he seems at all.

because the white-haired man would have never looked like he begged this pretty beneath someone like you.

and you’re just as far gone, because you kiss him hard after the admission, legs shaking as you slam your hips up and down like you wanted his tip bruising hearts into your cervix. it doesn’t take much — you’re biting at those plush lips, letting his tongue saunter down your throat, and he’s whining, stuttering into your lips as his dick twitches inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.

“baby, h-hah — shit,” satoru breathes out. “so— it’s so—”

it’s filthy, between the gasps from his throat, warm liquid seeping out of your hole and coating your pussy lips, dripping down your asscheeks, staining his sheets. you’re not exactly any better, whimpering at the sticky feeling of his cum deep inside of you, your own wetness soaking his entire cock in a pretty sheen. 

satoru’s spent for a moment, and so are you — heavy breaths are exchanged between kiss-bitten lips, his hands gripping your waist tight like you’re his only lifeline. like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t bruise your skin.

the afterglow lasts about five seconds longer. because you realize just how fucked you are when you feel the frat boy grin against the corners of your lips, long fingers moving down, down to grasp your plush thighs.

“satoru,” you mumble, somewhere between a warning and a request.

“shh,” his voice is wrecked. “said please for you, baby. promised i’d get to fuck you properly.”

“satoru—”

he presses down on the bulge where his cock is buried deep inside you, earning a soft little moan from your mouth.

and that voice makes you shudder. “you be good for me now.”

⭑.ᐟ

frat!gojo's profile is a heavily curated one. 

he’s got it down to a science.

so no one realizes anything is out of place — even when he posts a carefully-shot picture of you, passed out on his bare chest, hair splayed out to obscure your face. it’s provocative enough for everyone to know exactly what he did, but barely enough for anyone to question its place in the life he showed off online.

barely enough for anyone except you, who sees that story, dressed in an oversized t-shirt, while satoru’s waking you up with gentle pecks over your face.

yeah. he’s not what anyone thinks.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

kind of just wanted this one out of my hair,, i'll do smth better soon!

[seishmi-deactivated20260602]

fratboy satoru becomes pathetic in fear of you finding out about his secret. 18+

(part one)

love. a four lettered word written in swift strokes, uttered with imprudence. however, the word held depth. even more so, when it was used in a sentence. “i love you”.

but in japanese, the word held intense meaning. “愛してる”

mouths refrained from uttering it due to the abysmal warmth it had cradled. a phrase kept in the custody of hearts, locks rigid enough to keep it aseptic.

romanticists weighed the phrase to be a part of scripture and for satoru, it was no different. for the fact, he had been a part them once. before the frat lifestyle had invaded his existence.

before the instillment of arrogance, there had been intense insecurity. once upon a time, his metallic frames shielded his poor cyan visions. once upon a time, he was interested in theoretical such as boltzmann brain— encouraged to pursue quantum physics. once upon a time, he had steered away from foams of alcohol and smokes of cigarettes despite culture insisting upon it.

once upon a time, he had been lonely.

loneliness ate his bones like maggots devouring a dead body. solitude had become plastered on to him like wet clothes on skin. satoru hadn’t known of anything other than himself. satoru wasn’t allowed to know of anything other than himself. because he was different.

his pallid skin was luminous within the dark. his snow-like hair caused commotion for sights. his cerulean eyes captured all the oceans in those little orbs. he was a vision different from the typical, unfortunately, that became his curse.

cold touches of absence had stroked kisses on him as divine punishment for his parents’ sins. an unhappy marriage that reluctantly ended with him.

loneliness mangled him. ever since childhood. love absent.

he was three when he would toddle his way over to his parents’ vacant room and sleep on the middle of the empty bed, drifting to dreams where they resided in love. he was six when he had learned how to make toast for himself, sitting on the empty chairs imagining their presences at his sides. he was ten when he had finally accepted that he was just a nominal to them.

he had yearned for acceptance. he wanted to fit in. and somehow, he did. when he had accepted party invites. when he switched his metallic frames for clear lenses. when he let his hair settle in a mess instead of immaculacy. when he had forcibly let out laughter on incel jokes.

he finally fit in.

but on certain nights, he had always remembered one thing. one thing his parents always did with a facade.

his parents’ pacifying him with one lie. “i love you”. a semantic satiation to him. they said it as if it didn’t mean anything.

but to satoru, it meant everything. hence why, he never said it to anyone.

“what’s wrong, toru?” you asked, wiping away the lone tear that inertly slipped down his pastry-like cheeks. your brows shifted from concern. your fingertips subtly caressed at the damp trail carved by his sole tear. you sifted his face but all you could see was a slight lift at the corner of his chapped lips.

“愛してる” (i love you)

you had stopped, completely. as if your blood had completely gone cold. your eyes traced his face for any sense of regret or dishonesty but you found none. only a trembling truth.

slow tears ran its course down his face. you tried to wipe them but all he did was shake his head with a sarcastic chuckle.

“slap me”

“w-what?” you stuttered, needing assurance for what he had just said. “slap me, baby, please” his tone was soft, compared to the usual teasing lilt he possessed.

“slap me, please. c’mon. slap me, pretty girl.” he affirmed, harder. his hands tangled around your waist, pulled you closer. your chest adjacent to his. “why? wait— is this some kink thing?” your viridity sparked a light chuckle from him once again.

“yeah, it is” but it was a lie. truthfully, he wanted to repent for his actions. for the deception he had been giving you for the past months.

for taking that bet in order to fit in. to keep his name.

but right now, and for the last few months, he hadn’t wanted all of that. he had changed, in all honesty and subtlety.

“slap me” and you did. a faint mark of your hand imprinted itself on his pale cheek. impact robust enough to turn his head to the side. his eyes stuck in place, his irises dilating. for a second, you thought, maybe you hurt him. for a second, you saw another lone tear slid down, now against the red stained mark.

satoru gritted his teeth. it hurt but fuck, he deserved it. “slap me, harder”. the corners of his eyes were red, holding back tears despite them already falling.

he felt pathetic. felt insecure. felt numb. just like before. before the whole bet.

the palm of your hand connected with his face again, this time, harder. “are you s-sure—” before you could finish, you heard him.

“ride me. please.”

you moved against him, squelching sounds accompanied as your hole submerged his thick cock in. your raw pussy driving itself repeatedly on to his cum smeared shaft. the slap of skin on skin echoed vibrantly, moans engulfing.

his hands lay on flat on the mattress as he leaned back as if touching in any other way than lust would contaminate you with his dirt.

“fuck, ride me harder, please”. his tone was truly pathetic. it was of need. “damn it, please, please, please. don’t ever leave me” he was begging, pathetic. you weren’t sure what was going on. truly, you didn’t know what had initiated this change in him. he was not his usual self of arrogance and sarcasm.

but why would you ever leave him? he was the best lover you could ever ask for.

the one who was merit enough to seep in to the crevices of your sealed heart.

the one who had once drenched himself in the blistering rain for three hours because you were foolishly mad at him after an argument. the one who sweetly laughed at you and carried you to the bathroom when you had stained his sheets with your period blood. the one who had pricked his hands once when sewing your torn plushie as a little surprise. the one who would bow his head with a smirk saying “m’lady” whenever he picked you up for a date.

how could you ever leave him?

while satoru wondered, when will you leave him? would it be after finding out about that night— where drinks were passed around with topics. where naoya had started the conversation and mahito led it to taking your virginity for a year of paid drinks.

“seriously, don’t be a pussy” snickers of so had taunted satoru. and there it was, a poke in his head of insecurity and neglect. and in a covert panic, he had agreed.

and if that was the reason for your leave, would he be the bearer of truth? no— no, he wouldn’t. not at all. for once in his life, he had a nepenthe. he wasn’t going to let that slip. let him whelve the truth, just once more.

ink splattered on to the sky, stars glimmering in competition with the incandescent moon. satoru, stood in front of the open window, lost in thought. once again, in a reverie.

the weather carried a placid breeze, the petals of spring, cherry blossoms, falling from its trees signifying end. the loss of something beautiful. satoru loved the blossoms. something so beautiful, something so like you.

wet footprints of yours tainted the lacquered floor, stopping next to him. the moon’s milk glow, parallel to his skin, rayed on to you.

“愛してる” (i love you). he reminisced about it. on what he had said today. he hadn’t regretted it, wholeheartedly. he was made with every filth in existence, you distilled him. you had softened his sharp edges where he became a dull knife at your mercy.

and he was about to say it again, this time with a smile—

until

“satoru, was i just a bet?”

those atlantic eyes of his widened. hastily darting on to the phone you were holding, his phone that you were holding. chat opened. the group-chat between him, naoya and mahito.

before you could even slip out anymore words, his knees weakened as he fell on to the ground like the petals of cherry blossom.

do we make him suffer ..

taglist @blueyesuguru @miakanzaki @kentosoneandonly @taistoibelle @yungglean2003 @trsh-kitty @cooturee @whimmyjoi @sillyheartmoonnyx @nicolovesutoo @younghideoutberserker @tati-na @arminsgfloll @suyeomiiee @labbratz @loomislvrs

[miisbehaved]

STARGIIRL!

feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader

summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.

content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji,  jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, porn with a ridiculous amount of plot, vibrators, oral sex (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv sex, squirting, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig dick, daddy kink, size kink, breeding, etc.

word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)

author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them!

toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott

These were intense times. 

The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed. 

There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft. 

As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses. 

It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk. 

Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones. 

As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf. 

Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field. 

His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table. 

He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer. 

Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls. 

She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself. 

And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts. 

His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded. 

“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”. 

Part one?!

He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20. 

And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name. 

“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”

He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty. 

But in the lecture hall? Well… 

His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II. 

He was truly a lost cause. 

He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never). 

So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago. 

At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast. 

Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you. 

And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter. 

It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.

In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.

“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”

It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.

You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.

He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.

He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him. 

His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter. 

Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”

You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen. 

For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.

What the fuck? 

He took your phone. 

“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”

He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones. 

“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”

He hated how his dick twitched at your words.

But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.

He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake! 

His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”

You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!

And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.   

After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.

He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.

You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday. 

The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission. 

And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill. 

He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.

Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days. 

And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days. 

“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both. 

You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe. 

He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…

“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare. 

“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power. 

You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!

You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache. 

The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?” 

He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly. 

You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips. 

“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you. 

He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag. 

“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”

And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand. 

“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.” 

His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away. 

“It’s a small place,” you warned. 

He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”

He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them. 

You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”

For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world. 

All he could do was swallow and nod. 

He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door. 

The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road. 

Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row. 

The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen. 

Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.

And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.

He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–

He coughed lightly.

What was he thinking?

As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine. 

Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.

It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.

“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table. 

You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down. 

He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room. 

And, holy shit. 

No. 

There was genuinely no way in hell. 

He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it. 

His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body? 

Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.

His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it. 

Everything looked familiar.

Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–

“Can I help you?” 

You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours. 

You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.

And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words. 

All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.

“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.

The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.

And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself. 

What. The. Fuck. 

It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it? 

No. He couldn’t. He’d never.

Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell? 

He couldn’t tell.

What does this mean? How should he act?  What does he fucking do with this information now?

He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer. 

“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”

He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin. 

“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled. 

He tapped into the link despite himself. 

“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”

He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video. 

For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera. 

But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded. 

The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind. 

He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look. 

He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.

You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.

“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”

The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1. 

His jaw ticked, hard.

“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before. 

His dick bobbed in his pants. 

This could not be happening to him right now. 

You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”

He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie. 

And he couldn’t help it, really. 

Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers. 

He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back. 

Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit. 

He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip. 

He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him. 

He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to  uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot. 

He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.

And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.

It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner. 

And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing. 

He just finished to the thought of you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Toji Fushiguro had a problem. 

No, scratch that. 

He had a fucking crisis. 

It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times. 

And that was only how one of his practices went this week. 

It had been five whole days since he last saw you. 

Five days of being dogshit at his sport. 

Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.

It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say. 

How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?

How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay? 

How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!

And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.

He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body. 

A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him. 

He stared down at your last texts to him.

⭐️(Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark  ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree 

Ba-dump! Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

⭐️(Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive

It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare. 

Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet. 

He needed time. 

He needed space. 

He needed to get this shit under control.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals. 

It would be the perfect distraction. 

About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light. 

He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–

“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”

His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised. 

Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him. 

He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature. 

You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame. 

He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.). 

“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily. 

The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire. 

He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt. 

You looked good, really fuckin’ good. 

Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding

Did he say that outloud?!

You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.

Back to the last name basis. 

You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes. 

A dull pang rippled through his chest. 

He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started. 

And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter. 

And, you knew he was huge before. 

But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms. 

He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly. 

You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled. 

He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear. 

You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other. 

You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.

But for him? That just would not do. 

He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate. 

“Because you scare me,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched. 

“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.

“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I can go-”

“Don’t.”

And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt. 

“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.” 

You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”

“Stay.”

It was as simple as that, really. 

And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you. 

Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.

He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits. 

He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face. 

Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start. 

And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh. 

You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous. 

“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened. 

“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell. 

His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.” 

Please.

His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission. 

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

You breathed. 

The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–

“It’s not just you, Toji.” 

Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest. 

And that was all he needed. 

He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.

He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom. 

He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.

The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own. 

He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own. 

It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.

You put your hands against his chest. 

“Toji-”

“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”

You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed. 

His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place. 

You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.

A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing. 

“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?” 

And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.

He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process. 

“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?” 

You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs. 

You shook your head. 

“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”

He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench. 

Fuckin’ tease. 

“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out. 

A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.

“Good girl.” 

And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties . 

“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”

And - Holy shit.

The videos of you didn’t even do this justice. 

Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.

And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric. 

It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong. 

But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks. 

He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots. 

“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet. 

His heart was thunderous against his chest. 

And his dick? 

Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.

He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.

After all, how could he say no to you? 

He pushed your panties to the side. 

And oh. 

His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy. 

Holy. Shit.

Everything was soaked and glistening. 

He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process. 

He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool. 

It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room. 

The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

“Toji, I might-” 

He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle. 

You saw fuckin’ stars.

The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs. 

He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again. 

He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him. 

Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three. 

You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer. 

Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears. 

Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.

The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs. 

You were orgasming before you even realized it.

And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks. 

Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place. 

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt. 

You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples. 

Your heart squeezed in your chest. 

It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond. 

“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.” 

And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went. 

You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso. 

You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.

“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”

You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.

Who would move first?

His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist. 

“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.” 

Oh. 

And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue. 

And then he’s pulling you into his lap. 

You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again. 

A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.

“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting. 

“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.  

And oh fuck.

Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud! 

The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.

Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat. 

You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff. 

You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear. 

“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you. 

Pretty girl. 

He squeezed tighter.

His pretty girl. 

A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”

And who was he to deny you? 

Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs

Your mouth gaped open.

And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.  

You didn’t even think anyone could be this large. 

Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head. 

He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.

Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.

He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.

He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.

He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.

You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead. 

And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him. 

None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock. 

You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.

But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together. 

“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass. 

“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices. 

Your heart fluttered.

His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off. 

You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you. 

You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips. 

He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.

Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt. 

You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly. 

Please, please, please, ple–

And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole. 

“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. 

Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip. 

And this was just the tip.

He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant. 

You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him. 

“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him. 

Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”

And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests. 

He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.

You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.

You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need. 

It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here. 

“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features. 

“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.

“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.

And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.

His dick bobbed from inside of you. 

“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down. 

“But-?”

He thought you would hate him if you knew. 

He agonized for days for this reaction?!!

“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”

And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy. 

“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?

“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.  

And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again. 

T-O-J-I !

He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air. 

You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise. 

In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.

He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck. 

Oh. His cum.

His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you. 

“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?” 

And oh, how his broken mind snapped. 

The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear. 

And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb. 

It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.

Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white. 

And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed. 

And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.

And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.

“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”

And later on, as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.

After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.

There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side. 

Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).

He still kept his same protein shake recipe.

He still kept his same choice of attire.

But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb. 

And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38. 

And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend. 

a/n: lmk if u want a part 2! mwah! <3

[cyberkags]

why are the ads on here the same level of sensitivity as a clit being rubbed after an orgasm??? like i BARELY swipe past an ad and boom! new window pops up like what

[rinaxs]

ryomen "my girlfriend beats me" sukuna. aka, the time where sukuna thought it would be funny to announce to onlookers that his girlfriend beats him.

it some random saturday where your friend group decided to go bowling. after you all had gotten tired of gojo's whines since he was losing to geto, you all decided to head out. on your way out though, gojo pointed out the arcade room and bought game cards for everyone before anyone could complain.

among the rigged games, there was a boxing machine where a small punching bag would dangle. someone would then step up and hit the bag as hard as possible, allowing the machine to "measure" the strength of the hit. the current high-score was 920. it was actually sukuna that dragged you over to the machine and told you to give it a shot. he swiped the game card he purchased earlier and leaned on the side of the machine as it let the punching bag dangle, awaiting your hit.

"go on, baby. give it your best shot," sukuna says, the smug look on his face making you want to hit him rather than the machine.

as if he read your mind, gojo pipes up and says, "yeah just pretend the bag is his face, yn!"

you roll your eyes and have half a mind to just give it a half hearted punch just to get it over with. until you get another look at the smirk on sukuna's face. the asshole just wanted you to go first so he could go after and show off. you found that your boyfriend likes to take any opportunity to show his strength. whether it's tightening jars so you would have to ask for his help or doing stupid arm wrestling at the parties when he's had a few too many drinks. just the thought of the ego boost this would give him made your eye twitch.

so you take a stance you remember sukuna showing you when he insisted you learn self-defense. you raise your arm and pivot your body as a practice punch that didn't hit the bag just yet. using that momentum, you land a hook powerful enough to shake the machine as the numbers on the screen shot up before stopping at 999, the max. 

choso and shoko clap in praise from behind you as gojo and toji let out a couple hollers and whistles. the commotion from the impact of your punch caused a couple people to look over and upon seeing the number on the screen, a couple of them clapped a little too.

you look over to sukuna with a smirk, expecting to find nothing but shock only to get irritated when he looked prouder than before. you watched in real time as the idea formed in his head before he cupped one hand around his mouth as his other hand points at you.

"she's my girlfriend!" sukuna calls out, loud as fuck. "she beats the shit outta me!"

as if the commotion from your friends' cheers weren't enough, of course sukuna decides to be an attention seeker. his comment earns some laughs and toji even adds on, "don't worry, he's exactly where he wants to be."

sukuna saunters over to you before pulling you into his chest by your waist. "damn right i am," he tells you with a grin.

you land a soft jab into his side in protest, "if someone calls the cops on me for domestic abuse, i swear ryomen."

"y'know i'd bail you out, pretty baby."

[gojosconsort]

︵ ೀ mdni. yuji dreaming of megumi and you together and now he gets all flustered when the two of you are around ( part one / part two )

it happened again a few days later.

the three of you were in the dorm kitchen after training, exhausted and sweaty. you were reaching up to grab glasses from the top shelf when megumi stepped behind you without thinking. his chest brushed lightly against your back as he easily plucked three glasses from the shelf and handed them to you.

“thanks, megumi,” you said with a bright smile, turning to face him.

his hand lingered for a second on your waist to steady you, a casual, instinctive touch. nothing inappropriate. just megumi being megumi—helpful and a little protective. but yuji, leaning against the counter, had this feeling in his stomach again.

that simple touch sent his mind spiraling right back to the dream. he couldn’t stop picturing megumi’s hands sliding lower, slipping under your shirt, those long fingers disappearing between your thighs while you moaned into his mouth. yuji’s face burned. he gripped the edge of the counter a little too tightly.

you noticed almost immediately. “babe?” you set the glasses down and stepped closer to him, tilting your head. “you’ve been quiet since we got back. what’s wrong?”

yuji froze. his heart hammered against his ribs. “n-nothing! i’m good.”

megumi glanced over, one eyebrow slightly raised, but said nothing.

you didn’t look convinced. you reached up and gently brushed yuji’s bangs out of his eyes, your touch so soft it made his chest ache. “you sure? you can tell me anything, you know that.”

yuji swallowed hard. he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. his cheeks were burning crimson. for a long moment he just stared at you, then his eyes flicked nervously toward megumi, who was pretending to be very focused on pouring water. finally, the words burst out of him before he could stop them.

“i… i want to see you and megumi kiss.”

the kitchen went completely silent.

you blinked. megumi froze mid-pour, water spilling slightly over the rim of the glass.

yuji wanted to die. he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i mean— you don’t have to! it’s just… i keep thinking about it. the two of you together. it makes me feel… really warm. and kind of crazy. in a good way.”

he looked between you and megumi, eyes wide and cheeks flushed all the way to his ears. “i know it’s weird,” he added quickly, voice getting smaller. “but i can’t stop thinking about it. you both mean so much to me… and the idea of you two kissing… it doesn’t feel wrong to me. it feels… right.”

he stared at the floor, heart pounding, terrified he’d just ruined everything. you and megumi exchanged a long look. yuji swallowed.

“…sorry,” he mumbled. “i shouldn’t have said anything.”

the silence that followed was deafening. yuji wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. his face was burning, ears bright red as he stared intensely at the kitchen floor. you and megumi were both staring at him.

megumi’s expression was unreadable at first but then his eyes widened just slightly, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

you were the first to speak. “…you want us to kiss?” you asked softly.

yuji nodded quickly, too embarrassed to look at either of you. “i know it sounds crazy. but i keep thinking about it. the two of you… together. it doesn’t make me jealous. it makes me feel… warm. really warm. like my chest is going to explode in a good way.”

he finally dared to glance up. megumi was looking at him now, dark eyes steady but clearly processing. you stepped closer and gently took yuji’s hand.

“babe,” you said carefully, “are you sure that’s what you want? you’re not just saying it because you think it’ll make us happy?”

yuji shook his head. “no. i mean— yes, I want you both to be happy. but… i really do want to see it. i’ve been dreaming about it. not just innocent stuff either.”

the last part came out as a mumble. megumi’s eyebrows shot up.

you bit your lip, clearly thinking. then you looked over at megumi, a small, curious smile forming on your face. “what do you think, megumi?”

megumi stayed quiet for a long moment. finally, he set the glass down and exhaled through his nose. “…i wouldn’t mind,” he said quietly, almost too casually. but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

yuji’s heart skipped several beats.

you turned back to yuji, still holding his hand. “if we do this… you’re okay with it? no weird feelings afterwards?”

yuji nodded so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “i promise. i just… i want to watch. at least once.”

the air in the kitchen felt heavier now, warmer. you glanced at megumi again, then back at your boyfriend. slowly, you stepped toward megumi, who straightened up, looking slightly tense but not unwilling.

you placed a hand on megumi’s chest and leaned in. megumi hesitated for half a second before tilting his head down. then your lips met softly.

it was gentle at first—careful, almost testing. but then megumi’s hand came up to rest lightly on your waist, and the kiss deepened just a little. you made a quiet sound against his mouth that sent electricity shooting down yuji’s spine.

yuji couldn’t look away. his breath caught in his throat, heart hammering wildly as he watched his girlfriend kiss his best friend right in front of him.

when you finally pulled back, both you and Megumi were slightly flushed. you turned to look at yuji, his eyes sparkling. “…how was that?” you asked softly.

yuji stared at the two of you, lips parted, face burning crimson. he could only manage one breathless word: “…again.”

the kitchen fell quiet for a moment once more. you and megumi both froze, eyes meeting each other in a brief pause. a silent question passed between you. megumi’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, but he didn’t move, waiting. your heart hammered in your chest as you searched his face.

then, slowly, megumi leaned in again.

you met him halfway.

this time the kiss was deeper, with more hunger, like he had been holding back for too long. his fingers pressed into your waist as he tilted his head, sliding his tongue against yours with surprising boldness. a soft, surprised sound left your throat, which only seemed to encourage him.

he kissed you like he was starving.

his other hand came up to cup the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw as he pulled you closer. the kiss grew hotter, wetter. megumi made a quiet noise against your mouth, almost a groan, as he sucked gently on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue back in.

yuji’s breath hitched loudly. he couldn’t look away. his face was burning as he watched his best friend kiss you like he wanted to devour you—slow, deep, and getting greedier with every second.

megumi pressed you back against the counter, his body flush against yours. one of his hands slid down to grip your hip, pulling you tighter as the kiss turned messy, completely lost in it now while yuji was breathing hard, eyes wide.

his cock strained painfully against his sweatpants, throbbing with every wet sound of your lips moving together. he couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts crashing through his mind.

he wished megumi would push you harder against the counter. he wished he’d slide his hand under your shirt and grope your tits the way yuji had imagined so many times. he wanted to see megumi bite your neck, suck marks into your skin, shove his thigh between your legs and grind against you until you were whimpering and soaked.

the thought made yuji’s mouth go dry. he imagined megumi dropping to his knees right there in the kitchen, pulling your shorts down and burying his face between your thighs while you moaned into yuji’s mouth. he wanted to watch his best friend make you cum, fingers deep inside you, tongue licking greedily at your clit.

“fuck…” yuji whispered under his breath, barely audible. his hand unconsciously pressed against his aching cock, trying to ease some of the pressure as he watched megumi kiss you deeper, hungrier.

he loved this. loved seeing you like this—flushed, wanted, desired. especially by megumi. his two favorite people.

when megumi finally pulled back for air, his lips were red and swollen and his breathing uneven. he stared at your mouth like he wanted to kiss you again immediately.

“megumi…” you whispered, dazed.

he didn’t answer with words. instead he leaned in and kissed you once more, slower this time but no less intense, like he was savoring the taste of you. his hand stayed possessively on your hip while the other gently held your face.

when megumi pulled away again, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment, eyes closed, breathing shakily. “…that was—” he began but couldn’t finish. you let out a soft, breathless laugh.

yuji could barely speak. all he managed was a weak, awed whisper: “holy shit…” his heart was pounding so hard he felt dizzy and his cock was aching, pressing painfully against his sweatpants.

“megumi…” yuji’s voice came out rough. “don’t stop.” both you and megumi turned to look at him. “touch her more. please. i want to see you touch her. like… between her legs. i keep thinking about it. i want to see you make her cum.”

both you and megumi froze for a second. but megumi hesitated only for a moment before his gaze darkened. without a word, he looked back at you, silently asking for permission. when you gave a small, breathless nod, he didn’t waste time.

he brought two fingers to his mouth, licking them slowly, coating them with saliva while keeping his eyes on you. then his hand slid down your stomach and pushed boldly into your shorts and panties. his long, slick fingers found your soaked folds and rubbed over your clit before pressing two fingers inside you.

you gasped, immediately clinging to his shoulders. megumi leaned in and kissed you again, swallowing every sound as his fingers began moving—slow at first, then deeper, curling just right inside your tight heat.

“mmh—!” you moaned into his mouth, panting against his lips as he fingered you right there in the kitchen. the wet sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy filled the small space.

yuji let out a needy groan at the sight. his hand shoved into his sweatpants, wrapping around his aching cock as he started stroking himself. his eyes were glued between your legs, watching the silhouette of megumi’s fingers disappear inside you again and again.

“fuck… that’s so hot,” yuji whispered. he pumped his cock faster, breathing heavily as he watched you whimper and squirm against megumi. “megumi… curl your fingers more. she likes it when you hit that spot.”

megumi obeyed without question, curling his fingers deeper, rubbing that sensitive spot inside you like he’d already done it a million times. you cried out into his mouth, thighs trembling as you clenched hard around his fingers.

yuji’s hand moved quicker on his own cock, eyes half-lidded in pure bliss as he watched his best friend finger his girlfriend right in front of him.

“good girl…” yuji murmured breathlessly, completely lost in the scene. “let him make you cum, baby. i want to see it so bad.”

you cried out into megumi’s mouth, thighs shaking violently as his fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you. the pressure built fast and overwhelming until you finally snapped.

“megumi—!” you moaned loudly, clenching hard around his fingers as your orgasm crashed through you. your hips jerked against his hand, pussy pulsing and gushing around his long digits while he kept stroking you through it, drawing out every last wave.

the moment your orgasm started to fade, megumi pulled his fingers out with a wet sound. before you could even catch your breath, he dropped to his knees right in front of you.

he yanked your shorts and panties down to your ankles. you barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on you, hot and eager. his tongue dragged slowly up your soaked folds before latching onto your sensitive clit.

“ah—! megumi— too much!” you whimpered, legs trembling as you gripped the counter for support.

but he didn’t stop. he sucked gently on your clit, then flicked his tongue rapidly over it, groaning against your pussy like he was addicted to your taste. the overstimulation hit you like electricity, making your hips twitch and jerk against his face. every stroke of his tongue sent sharp, overwhelming sparks through your body.

yuji was completely dizzy.

his hand was still wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking himself in shaky movements as he stared with wide, glassy eyes. the sight of his best friend on his knees, face buried between your thighs, licking and sucking on your oversensitive clit while you moaned and shook was almost too much for him to handle.

“fuck… megumi…” yuji breathed, voice hoarse and awed. his head felt light, cheeks burning crimson as he watched megumi devour you. “she’s so sensitive right now… look at her…”

megumi hummed against your clit in response, the vibration making you sob. he pressed his tongue flat against you, licking broad strokes before sucking on your clit again, completely lost in making you feel good.

yuji’s hand moved faster on his cock, breathing ragged as he watched your thighs tremble around megumi’s head. he looked completely drunk on the sight.

“you’re both so hot…” yuji whispered. “don’t stop, megumi… please don’t stop.”

then megumi pulled his mouth away from your dripping pussy. he rose to his feet, breathing heavily. without a word, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock. it slapped against his stomach, flushed and leaking. you barely had time to catch your breath before he stepped close again, lifting one of your legs around his waist.

“shh,” he whispered against your ear as he lined himself up.

then he pushed in.

a loud moan started to leave your lips as he stretched you open in one smooth thrust, but megumi quickly covered your mouth with his hand, muffling the sound. his palm pressed firmly against your lips while he sank deeper, burying himself to the hilt.

your eyes rolled back at the sudden fullness.

at the exact same moment, yuji let out a choked groan. the sight of megumi’s cock disappearing inside you was too much for him. his hand stuttered on his cock as his orgasm hit him like a freight train.

“f-fuck—!” yuji whimpered, thighs shaking as thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist and onto his stomach. he kept stroking himself through it, eyes glued to where megumi was buried deep inside you.

his vision started to blur. the edges of the kitchen grew hazy, like he was looking through fogged glass, but he could still see megumi’s hips snapping forward, burying his cock deep inside you with every thrust. he could see the way your body jolted, your tits bouncing, your mouth open against megumi’s palm as you moaned helplessly.

more and more cum leaked out around megumi’s cock with every deep stroke, dripping down your thighs in shiny streaks. the sound of it echoed in yuji’s ears—the obscene squelch of megumi’s cock sliding through your soaked, cum-filled pussy.

yuji was barely able to focus anymore. everything felt like a fever dream. the only thing he could see clearly was megumi’s thick cock plunging in and out of you, pushing his own cum deeper inside your body with every thrust. more white leaked out, sliding down your skin, dripping onto the kitchen floor.

his hand kept moving on his cock, slow and sloppy now, milking every last drop as he watched the scene in front of him like it was the only thing real anymore.

yuji was panting hard, chest heaving, completely lost in the sight of his best friend fucking his girlfriend while his own cum continued to spill uselessly over his fingers. he never wanted it to end.

but then everything shattered.

yuji’s eyes snapped open.

he was in his own bed, chest heaving, body covered in a thin layer of sweat. his heart was pounding violently as reality slowly sank in.

it had been another dream.

just a dream.

his cock was still twitching weakly, completely spent. he could feel the warm, sticky mess inside his boxers and sweatpants. he had cum hard in his sleep again. the front of his pants was soaked through.

yuji groaned softly, throwing one arm over his face. his cheeks burned as the images from the dream flashed through his mind: megumi’s hand over your mouth, the way you moaned against his palm, the wet sound of megumi thrusting into you…

“fuck…” he whispered to himself.

he lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling. the ache in his chest was back. his two favorite people. the thought of you two together made him feel so full and so filthy at the same time.

he slowly sat up, wincing at the cold, wet feeling in his pants. another ruined pair. this was becoming a problem.

he wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell you and megumi the truth. if he would ever stop just dreaming about it… and actually ask.

for now, he just sighed, peeling off his ruined sweatpants with a tired, embarrassed little smile. “this is getting ridiculous…” he muttered. but deep down, he already knew he’d probably dream about it again tomorrow.

[hidingwhere]

— Letting Sukuna’s stomach mouth eat you out

It happened every time Sukuna would nap, his stomach mouth would awaken like another whole entity itself and start talking to you, somehow sensing your presence every time.

Its voice, deeper than Sukuna’s yet still extremely similar, drawled out slowly. “I have always wondered what you’d taste like, woman.”

Your throat bobs nervously. “Can’t you taste things from both mouths?”

He hummed ‘no’, lip twitching up into a smirk. “Care to appease my wishes? I can already feel you throbbing on my thigh.”

You shift upon Sukuna’s lap, the man himself still deep in sleep. He remained with his eyelids fluttered closed as you slipped off the silk robe you were wearing and discarded your underwear, slowly shuffling up his abdomen until you were hovering over the stomach mouth.

“Don’t leave a starved man waiting,” the stomach growled beneath you, breath touching in between your legs and making your thighs squeeze against either side of his torso.

Hesitantly, you lowered yourself down until the thick tongue pressed flat against your heat, sinking into your slick and licking a long strip fron your hole to your clit. Your nails dig into your husbands skin immediately, lower lip tucked between your teeth to try and quieten your moans.

“Are- are you sure about this?” You ask tentatively, glancing up at Sukuna sleeping soundly.

“Mmm,” the mouth hums in pleasure. “Very sure.”

You writhed and moaned atop him, head tipping back in ecstasy, any remaining sensibility leaving your brain the second the long, thick tongue delved into your hole and ate you out as if you were its last meal and it was the sweetest thing it had ever tasted.

You’d finished twice already when Sukuna grumbled on the bed, hands twitching and eyes flickering, threatening to open and expose you of your current act. The speed at which you pull off his stomach makes the bed shake violently, throwing the discarded robe over your naked body as quickly as possible.

It’s your erratic movements that causes your husband to fully wake, slipping from unconsciousness and blindly reaching for you. You settle down next to him casually. “I’m here, Ryo.”

“Hm,” he grumbles sleepily. “Did you rest?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

“Good.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both settle down to sleep again.

“Liar. I can taste you on my tongue.”

Busted.

[stardustsatoru]

Your best friend Choso accidentally sends you an nsfw video | 18 + minors do not engage

.ೃ࿔*:･

A soft "ding!" reverberated through your quiet bedroom just past midnight, announcing a late night message from your best friend Choso; not unusual since the two of you texted each other like you'd die without constant contact. You stirred in bed, unlocking your phone to a new video in the age-long chat you and Cho used so frequently to send memes and talk shit.

But everything changed when you opened it. Labored breathing echoed from your phone's speakers as Choso appeared to prop his phone up on his desk. You couldn't see much of his face but you'd recognize the manga collection and intricate purple LED lights illuminating the background anywhere.

He leaned back in his gaming chair, the one you'd spent countless hours in kicking his ass at Mario Kart, and his caloused hand dipped into the waistband of his sweats–wait, what???

You paused the video, double checked the recipient name. It still read "Cho 👾💜", confirmation that you somehow weren't hallucinating.

Your finger hovered cautiously above your screen a moment, contemplating whether or not to keep watching, countless thoughts swirling around your head before you ultimately decided to hit play.

As soon as the video resumed, Choso's length sprung free from the confinement of his sweats and your jaw went slack. He's huge, information that never came up in your decade of friendship. And why would it? You only saw each other as friends, right?

That's what you thought to yourself as the video continued and his thumb smeared the precum that pulsed from his swollen pink tip. But then you heard your name on his lips, spoken like a dying man's wish while his chest heaved and his body shuddered.

You damn near dropped your phone , catching it mid air before repositioning it inches from your face like you needed to hear every breath and see every detail—every inch, every vein—to believe it was real.

The video still played, your best friend's ragged breaths and desperate moans spilling from your speakers as his hand stroked his veiny length. Choso appeared to lean down, his silver piercing sparkling as a glob of saliva slid off his adorned tongue and onto his tip, cascading down and pooling obscenely at his fist.

You should stop the video. Obviously he sent it on accident, right? But you were stunned. You couldn't look away if you wanted to, and honestly, you weren't sure that you did.

Especially not as his movements became sloppy, erratic, his moans turned to outright whimpers. "Please, oh fuck, oh my god," he was begging to cum, his tattooed arm flexing as his hips spasmed, desperately lifting with each wet stroke to fuck his own fist harder and faster.

With wide eyes and a confusing flutter in your stomach, you witnessed a side of him you never realized you wanted to see. You were mesmerized and hopelessly turned on, unable to tear your eyes from the screen.

You watched eagerly as one large hand grabbed onto the arm of his gaming chair, the other stroking sloppily, desperately, as your best friend chased his high with your name tumbling off his lips like it was an every day occurrence. Was it?

You found your breaths quickening in time with his as Choso's head leaned back, Adam's apple bobbing with each desperate gulp before white, sticky ropes of cum painted his chiseled abs. The video ended when Cho leaned forward enough to stop recording, but your eyes stayed locked on the frozen still of his slick painted body glinting in the purple-tinted light.

It was that salacious image that burned behind your eyelids when you tried (and failed) to fall asleep, thighs clenched and heart beating erratically while the sound of him moaning your name replayed in your mind like a forbidden lullaby.

You knew it was only a matter of time before he realized that he actually sent you that video, and the anticipation kept you up for hours. It wasn't until the sun began to peek over the horizon when sleep finally came for you.

.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: I think there will be a part two for this one!!

[gughnt]

sukuna got google?

synopsis: you were getting sick of sukuna’s grating voice in your head, as his vessel, but having him on your phone isn’t ideal either!!

a.n: this is a mini series i’ve been working on, and this is the debut!! its basically a small drabble of google searches sukuna would do

how to digitally gaslight vessel

average sorcerer lifespan

ryomen sukuna admiration

why do people despise the greatest sorcerer to ever live?

is the current ruler of japan more powerful than ryomen sukuna

why is my vessel crying

what is a luteal phase and how do i stop it

how to restore the heian era through a mortal’s body

how easy would it be to kill my vessel and survive

nuclear bomb footage

[veilist]

using the replica dildo your nsfw content mutual!gojo satoru gifted you on stream. part one + inspo ask

ever since you’ve received that stupid gift from satoru, he hasn’t left you alone. constantly asking if the quality of silicone was that of a good quality. and asking if it felt like the real thing — a subtle hint of ‘did it feel like my dick?’.

but the truth is, you haven’t used it — you couldn’t even fathom the thought of how something so big could possibly fit inside of you.

“sooo… how’d it feel, hmm?!” satoru says over the phone, and you could practically hear the smile he’s biting back as your eyes flicker over to the hyper-realistic dildo.

it’s almost scary how similar the replica is to the videos of himself on twitter. the texture of the silicone is soft to touch, representing a faux skin. even the girth of the toy is surrealistic — the way your able to curl your hands around it, and squeeze it as the skin around it wrinkles in just the way satoru’s does when he’s fisting his dick on live.

“i already told you, toru.” you pan your attention back to the conversation. “i will not be putting that monstrous thing inside of me.” you reach a hand towards your phone, watching satoru’s lips curl downwards into that signature pout of his.

“monstrous?! you’re so mean.” he sighs, “thought you wanted a gift straight from japan, something you could even put to good use.” you watch his lips follow his words as he rambles on. his gorgeous, feathered eyelashes batting with each blink he takes, and the way his bottom lip is glossed over with a coat of his saliva.

satoru’s beauty always made you question how such a pretty face could be carrying something so, deadly within their pants. and you’d be lying to yourself if you said the thought of using the dildo never cross your mind at least thrice.

“not monstrous in a bad way, just you know…” you add to satoru’s mini yap-session. “this thing is way bigger than it looks on camera. if i put this inside of me, i’d probably die.” you say in an a way that left you speechless which earned a chuckle out of satoru.

“you’re not gonna die, we have infinite compatibility.” he grins, revealing the dimple at the corner of his mouth. “compatibility, or not it’s still gonna hurt like hell.” you reply, though there’s a little pause.

just a beat of silence before satoru responds. “should i fly over there and just give you the real thing instead?”

his tone is playful, but there’s a linger that makes it feel heavier than it should have. the kinda feeling that makes your stomach fill with warmth. “w— what, toru?! stay where you are!” you stutter out, a little flustered because he’s stupidly persistent and annoyingly bold.

—

and now you can’t help but wonder — what if satoru had flown to your city. what if your first taste of satoru’s dick didn’t have to be the replica he sent, but the real him… wondering just how warm your bodies would feel against each other. how, if it was too much, would he praise you through it? or would he accidentally bottom-out inside you?

a connection shared between you two in which a piece of silicone could never replicate.

so maybe that explains why you’re active at such an abnormal time — logged into your onlyfans during past hours, disregarding the posting schedule you had planned for unreleased content as you hit the ‘go live now’ button.

you rarely go live after midnight. and the one thing you didn’t expect was for your subscribers to be so active after midnight as the view count doubled, and tripled over the span of minutes.

though this wasn’t an ordinary live — no, this one was different. your setup was slightly ajar, as if you were in some sort of rush. you didn’t even use your camera display, instead you used some cheap tripod you found lying around your room and connected your phone to it.

the quality of your phone in dim lighting wasn’t the best, but at least your body’s still clear enough on the camera. you’re in nothing, but a thin-cottoned tank top and panties. your back against the mattress, thighs parted with your knees tucked towards your chest and the tripod is held between your thighs. exposing the damp spot of fabric practically molded onto the mounds of your lips.

it was honestly pathetic how wet you could get from just a few thoughts of delusion. inappropriately thinking of all the ways you’d take satoru at any time, and place. how knowingly he’d come running like a dog if you’d just say the word.

but you don’t have to say the words — not when satoru’s almost instantly pressing on the onlyfans notification with your username titled in bold.

“freakenuinelyy/n is now live!”

his screen being met with your body on full display during his lecture. he isn’t even in a moral environment to be watching something, so explicit as he makes his way to the nearest bathroom in the building.

and as unusual as it is for you to go live during the middle of the day in satoru’s timezone — he’s never missed a stream of you a day in his life.

satoru watches you through his screen. watching the way you tease yourself through those dangerously thin panties, as your fingers rub over your clothed clit. he loved hearing the soft moans escape from your lips whenever you’d touch yourself, it made the blood flow straight to his dick immediately.

you were like an addictive drug to him as he fumbled around to get himself free from out of his pants. mumbling under his breath once he began stroking himself to you, imagining just how perfectly you’d take him. how fucking beautiful you’d look underneath him while being stretch out by his dick.

he’d watch you tug your panties to the side, pupils blown as he focus on how soaked you were. like you’ve been edging yourself all day just to find relief at the end. satoru groaned at the sight of your hole clenching around nothing, practically begging to be stuffed as he squeezes his cock harder with a pleasurable wince.

your fingers graze over your clit, dipping down to where you’re soaked before gliding your index and middle finger through your slit with a moan as you bit down on your lip. that’s satoru’s favourite part because whenever your fingers dip down and disappear into that tiny hole, he can’t help but replace your fingers with the image of his cock sliding in.

he watches as he fists himself, biting back noises before realizing that your fingers never once dipped inside your pussy. instead you’re reaching for lube, and drizzling it messily over yourself as it drips down the inside of your thighs down the crevices of other areas.

a part of him is hoping that you reach for the gift he sent you, and not some other random subscriber’s gift. satoru wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft, practically strangling it as he pauses his movements in anticipation. feeling the circulation slowly cut off, making him more sensitive as he watches you pull a dildo into the frame.

his dildo. the dildo he shamelessly begged you to use even though you’ve repeatedly told him no. “well, fuck me…” satoru let out a breathlessly chuckle, and threw his head back against the wall behind him as his dick involuntarily twitched in his hand.

this reality felt a little different than how he’d imagined it. his jaw tightened as he watched you glide the silicone between your folds, watching the way your slick coated the length, and how’d he wished it were him.

the size difference drove him absolutely insane, he even started to understand why you thought it wouldn’t fit as his eyes drifted towards the comments.

@torusthroatgoat: no fucking way that things gonna fit

@iswalakum: i’ve never seen dildo look THAT realistic before

@oggoonetter: wait … why’s that dildo look so familiar ??

@dilftojiidk: if you can take that like a champ, let me gift you something even better

@463352cs: is that theblueeyedgoat’s dick ???

satoru closes the comment tab while groaning, before he’s getting numerous notifications from twitter of people tagging him under your page.

“@theblueeyedgoat, @freakenuinelyy/n is using a dildo that looks similar to your dick?!?!!”.

the parasocial subscribers are going crazy. but nothing’s crazier than the jealous pit lodged at the bottom of satoru’s stomach. the way he watches you dip the head of dildo near your entrance, and hears the way you whine at the first attempt to push it in? he’s losing it.

satoru didn’t expect to feel a sense of inferiority… no, he thought watching you struggle to take his dick would be the best thing life had to offer, but that was completely wrong. he’d made the the biggest mistake of his life. and now he’s stuck paying the price — watching you gain pleasure from something that he should’ve tasted for himself.

the camera is shaking as you’re pushing the tip of the dildo against your entrance, struggling to fit the silicone inside. it’s too big, and you can already feel the stretching burn every time you push it deeper.

you’re cursing under your breath, small whimpers falling from your lips as you go for another attempt. this time more assertive than last as you gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling the slow, aching burn stretch you open as the head finally disappears inside of you.

there’s a strained lump in your throat that makes you swallow down hard because there’s no way you’re taking satoru’s ‘dick’ right now, in-front of thousands of people. and within those thousands of people there’s a certain someone watching… locked in a campus bathroom stall with his pants dropped to his ankles and a hand desperately fisting at his cock.

he’s watching you fuck yourself with the dildo he made you — the dildo he replicated just for you and yet he’s gritting his teeth, and tightening his jaw out of pure jealousy.

the way you’re so visibly tight around the silicone. how your breathing staggers each time you push and pull another inch of the toy in and out of you. even how you’re able to accommodate the size of something that looked physically impossible to handle.

it should’ve been satoru inching his way into you — he should’ve been the one splitting you open on his cock. you were supposed to be the one clawing your nails into the flesh of his back, while he felt you struggle to take him as he cooed you through the pain of it all.

or… that’s what he thinks should’ve happened instead of gifting you that stupid, fucking dildo he’s basically been cucking himself with as he watched the way your hole devoured the silicone repeatedly through the screen. thinking about how warm, and tight your insides would be while milking his dick for all he’s worth before he’s shooting a heavy load into the palm of his hand with a desperate groan escaping his throat.

satoru watches as you’re still rearranging your insides on screen while he’s still pulsing out ropes of cum, before he’s opening the chat box again. this time tapping his fingers against his screen.

“theblueeyedgoat has tipped $2000.”

and there’s a message sent along with the donation.

“you’re taking me so good princess. think ya’ can handle the real thing too?”

lowkenuinely tagging the ppl who wanted a part two, hope you enjoy !! ᰔ : @therealkenzieeee , @m1lfl0verrr , @oidloid , @novxccaine , @meennish , @miacutiepatootie , @gojomio , @luvxpink , @eyekoniccs , @grandqueen1533 , @itsthegrabber , @lumiq-q ,

[cyberkags]

bro i can’t even smoke in peace wdym sixxels deactivated her account yo 💔💔💔

[heartkaji]

frat!gojo is the dream. but frat!geto is your best kept secret.

even now, sigma-chi’s frat house is far too loud. the air’s heavy with the smell of drunken bodies & strawberry chambourd leaking red on the counter. gojo satoru has liquor in his mouth. geto suguru has a hand between your thighs.

he’s betting on something—you don’t know, you don’t care—but he’s got a palm on the tabletop & another inching up your skirt. gojo is two beer cups & a speaker away. suguru’s silver piercings are glistening in the heat.

“suguru,” you murmur, because he’s brushing your clit through your panties now & your thighs ache with want. “can i steal you?”

he drops a stack of cash, doesn’t meet your eyes. “you can,” he hums. “you always do.”

sigma-chi’s basement is four gaming chairs & a packet of condoms left open on the game box. suguru’s leaning back against the wall now, lashes low, breath heavy, palms on your hips when you step between his thighs.

& suddenly you’re shy—when it comes to geto you always are—because he’s got a gaze that’s thick like honey & spoils in the heat.

“you look tired,” you murmur, but your voice comes out too soft.

his thumb draws circles on your hip. “i was,” he hums. “not anymore, though.”

“i missed you.”

his lips quirk quick but you don’t miss it. his palm slides up your waist, brushes your nipple once before sliding away.

“yeah? was touching you the whole time, angel.”

his voice is warm. it always is when it comes to you. even now geto is limp boned & bleary-eyed, but his palm still climbs up to meet your cheek.

“could feel it, y’know,” his breath fans your lip. “you were so soaked. you’re always so soaked.”

you frown. “not true.”

maybe you shouldn’t lie to suguru. or maybe you should do it more often instead because his fingers crawl under your skirt to grope between your thighs. you squeeze involuntarily. he gives you a look & you part them immediately.

his finger circles your clit. you shiver. “suguru,”

“shhh,”

he’s in your ear now, voice mocking & humming through his chest. he tugs you closer so your tits smush against him. the friction shocks your nipples & they bud hard.

suguru slides your panties out of the way. & god you’re soaked, so soaked, & geto’s thumb rubbing eager against your clit has you hot & wet & sticky.

“so pretty,” he murmurs, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “you’re so pretty. do i tell you that enough ?”

you gasp, “yes—yes you do, sugu,”

“mm,” he’s got a finger dipping into your glossy folds, then two, then three—simply because he likes how your pussy squelches & sputters around him. so much. he likes it so much.

“i know i do,” he hums, “does satoru, though?”

you wish he wouldn’t bring up your boyfriend. not when his lip’s on your throat & he’s three fingers too deep.

he pumps in & out—slow, painfully slow, because he knows if you whine out for more the words will come out too loud & you know not to risk it. you know very well not to risk it.

so you fall limp against his shoulder. raise your hand to grope your own tits & moan into his neck while he plays with your sticky clit. geto suguru is mean & won’t give your perky nipples any attention. not unless you ask him to. not until you beg for it.

you won’t beg, you never do. at least, you try not to.

he’s knuckles deep when he kisses you. “so pretty,” he sighs into your lips. “my pretty, naughty girl.”

“suguru? you down there, man?”

you squeak. gojo’s voice blares loud & tone heavy. you can tell he’s drunk by how he slurs geto’s name, & you wonder how you missed the creak of sigma-chi’s basement door.

geto only smiles at you. “i’m here, toru.” he keeps a finger brushing at your clit, lips tugging as your thighs ache around him. “you need something ?”

satoru leans against the door. “nah, just looking for my girl, bro.” he clicks his tongue. “you seen pairin earlier?” he has a wistful tone. it makes your stomach hurt. “her tits looked nice. real nice.”

geto hums, pinches your nipple when your gaze flits towards the stairs. “you gonna try to score one with her?”

“i dunno,” gojo shrugs. “maybe. hopefully.”

“good luck.” geto hums.

“thanks, buddy—what are you even doing down there ?”

suguru brushes a thumb across your lip. he tugs on it as you hide in his neck & it bounces back up & he sighs. “just clearing out some stuff. go away, toru.”

“liar,” gojo licks his canines. “you’re fucking some bitch, aren’t you?”

suguru smiles at your pout. “mm, not a bitch,” he cups your face, strokes with his thumb. “but i’m about to. can you go away?”

“lemme have a turn with her next.”

“go to hell, satoru.”

gojo laughs as the door creaks shut. geto smiles as he kisses your cheek.

can you keep a secret ?

© HEARTKAJI do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.

[ryoride]

𝓒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 going to your brother's college had been the plan since you were kids, though, things weren't the same as you'd imagined back then. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 was frat president. partied all the time and had the hottest best friend on campus—𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚—who, against better judgment, you were falling for.

pairing: frat!sukuna x shy!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 warnings will be noted at the top of each chapter, college au, secret dating, eventual smut, virginity loss, oral (fem rec), smoking, fluff, sukuna is a softie, toji's your average protective older brother.

art by @/hunnismokah

prologue ⸝⸝ chap. one ⸝⸝ chap. two ⸝⸝ chap. three ⸝⸝ chap. four ⸝⸝ chap. five ⸝⸝ chap. six ⸝⸝ chap. seven ⸝⸝ chap. eight ⸝⸝ chap. nine ⸝⸝ chap ten ⸝⸝ chap. eleven ⸝⸝ chap. twelve ⸝⸝ chap. thirteen ⸝⸝ chap. fourteen ⸝⸝ chap. fifteen ⸝⸝ epilogue.

taglist : to be added, comment below.

block a : @louddinosaursblog @vanillakirstein @emneedshelp @d011yyxx @dogggggggblog-kaye @dumgxm @squishycandles-blog @itsjsmes-world @snail-squasher @themostserioushoomen @iseeyouuu @kiromiix @bam-boozledx @kunacakes @sukubusss @yummidumplingss @yarimarjane @seokiify @seellove @itsreyningoutside @jinririz @meowmeew @crybabyrizz @aporcelainphantom @getting-the-pizza @frickpickle @kianqz @fh4irys @slut4oscarissac23 @fififoofi @geobbyx @dr1diot @elasticluminarysilhouette @ilovebakugo123 @laitifly @cocketteblog @axryl @hepprine @palanggaaa @valenloveskibichi @1r2u3b4y5 @spidergirlnr1 @fullofdelightt @rafegetinmybed @cxcoamilk @princeable @whitemelanin @sashinemis @love-purple678 @ogf1maxwag @agejonami @hanaegoaway @serenadesvt @impossiblegremlinobserver @5seos @maddy24207 @ughdontbeboring @cigarette-smoke-ghost @devilinpinkk @literallyadarling @sukusdoll @skatsukii @rinofcike @brookaroo @chososcupoftea @t0kyoreveng3rs @hayazoro @p1nkfl0wers @aengelren @love-d-luxe @8kvraa @kittyfilmz @reigeinsmiraculouskwaii @historia200 @beaniesayshi @hellodeeyanna @aspinny @angel-nyx-evill @0angel-baby0 @ribbqns @tojiguros

[chosolar]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ hit me up!

modern!choso x fem!reader

synopsis: your best friend's older brother finally added you on instagram. what's a little harm in flirting with him through instagram notes?

inspired by the ig notes au trend on tiktok!

a/n: been highkey wanting to make one of these aus for a while and it took fucking foreverrrr also guys I'm in my flop era so if this flops again I might quit writing <3

[juh00n]

HATE ME NOT KIM JUHOON

SYNOPSIS juhoon has always been nonchalant, bad at feelings, worse at relationships, and the best at acting like he doesn’t care. you knew that better than anyone, especially after he led you on. when your situationship ends in a messy, confusing way, he pretends it doesn’t bother him. except it does. a lot more than he excepted. when the new school year starts and you’re suddenly not his anymore, juhoon realizes he might’ve messed up the best thing he had. now, determined to fix it, he decides it’s time win you over. even if he has no idea what he’s doing. you on the other hand wanted nothing to do with him.

PROLOGUE — BEFORE THE STORM

→ yo i lowk move hella fast bro, posted that poll a day ago and i already got shit down ok ok i see me 😮‍💨😮‍💨 i hope ur excited cs i am✌️✌️ FYI idk if ima post tmr cs i got fuck ahh sats and i’m scared asf so yeah ALSO just to make things easier if u wanna be added to the tl plz say so in the masterlist, thank uu! LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE AND TURN THE NOTIFICATION BELL ON😹😹

MASTERLIST | NEXT

🏷— @ilovegojosatoru13 @saffy26jade @one-chance-pls @love-4-keum @toj1sgf @acaifeen

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

fratboy!nanami who constantly gets overlooked by his frat brothers. so, he fucks the girl everyone wants to prove he's more than just a square ˙⋆✮ smut, exobitionism (?)

fratboy!nanami was, for lack of better terms, a stickler. there was a reason he was the vice president of phi delta theta after all. he was astute, well mannered, harsh when needed, and overall a very well put together man. but, vicing a rowdy president like gojo left little time to himself where he wasn’t cleaning up a mess satoru had made.

as a result, the blonde had little to no time to fully engage in the... college experience. 

kento wasn’t bothered by this fact, to be honest, he liked the work that came with the frat. he was well respected, had a purpose, and had a certain amount of control in his environment, exactly how he liked it. 

but, on nights where his brothers would get on the piss and become a little too bold, the incessant teasing would begin. 

toji had kicked it off this time, “ken, when th’ fuck are you gonna get laid?” the inquiry caused an onslaught of laughter and consistent goading. 

“yeah, maybe some pussy’d help with that stick up yr’ ass,” sukuna huffed out, taking a hit of the cone circling round’ the room. 

“leave him aloneee,” gojo added on, flopping down onto the couch and swinging an arm over nanami’s bulky shoulders, “let the poor man be celibate, he’s got other shit to worry about.” 

“yeah? like all the fuck-ups you cause for everyone else when you’re on one of your little power trips?” suguru piped up. 

“shut up.” the blue-eyed freak spat back. 

nanami would just roll those pretty hazel eyes and take a swig of his drink, telling them all to fuck off before ignoring any further digs. 

he wasn’t a virgin or anything, like i said, he was just busy. he’d had a fair few girls before he sold his soul to the house, it’d just been a while! that’s all. he told himself he didn’t give a shit, but then the boys did it again. and again, and again, and again. 

after around the sixth time, the man had enough. 

he was gonna get laid alright, and he was gonna leave a lasting impression on all of his fuckwit friends. 

kento had the perfect plan cooking up in his head. out of everyone on campus, he knew there was only one person he could ask to carry said plan out with, and that was you. 

you were very well known among the frats. not for being a notorious slut or anything, no way, the complete opposite actually. you were hot shit, on track for an equitable future, the embodiment of look but don’t touch, a certified man-hating pillar. you never gave any guy the time of day, always choosing to hang with your friends at parties rather than give a male the satisfaction of your company. 

you had one exception, though. and that was nanami. 

he was your partner in one of your classes last year and he treated you with nothing less than respect. not once did he try to flirt or play around like most guys did, he just kept his head down, made normal conversation, and used his manners. 

god, why couldn’t all guys be like nanami? 

it wasn't much of a secret that you’d formed a little crush on the man, and if you weren’t mistaken, you’d say he liked you too after all the flirty conversation you’d exchanged since the project.  but then again, the whole 'busy' thing. a little annoying that the first guy you’d had a proper crush on was always too busy being big and important at his frat, but you could deal with it. 

nanami was worth it. 

anyway, long story short, he was the only guy who had the privilege of being in your contact list on campus, and that warranted a lot of back-and-forth conversation. 

nanami smiled at the last chat you’d had about hating gojo, then sent the message that would start everything off. 

kento [7:38pm] evening, [name]. i hope you’re doing well. 

kento [7:38pm] i was wondering if we could meet up and talk sometime soon? 

you [7:42pm] kento! 

you [7:42pm] hiii :) 

you [7:42pm] ofc, tell me when and where and i’m there 

kento [7:45pm] perfect, does right now and my room sound okay? i’m sorry, i know it’s such short notice. 

you [7:45pm] mhmmm that’s fine 

you [7:45pm] omw! 

now it wasn’t like kento was using you, no chance in hell. this wasn’t a one-sided scheme, he too had had a crush on you for quite some time and he knew you liked him as well. in fact, the two of you had frequently spoken about how your joint lack of sex weighed heavier on the both of you than you’d liked to admit. 

“y’know, ken. if you ever wanted to indulge, i'd be happy to help.” 

“how generous, most men would kill to hear you say that,” 

“what can i say, you’re pretty special to me.” 

“we’ll see, angel.” 

well, this was him seeing. 

~ 

“ken, y’ in there?” nanami heard drift from the other side of his door, followed by three short knocks. 

he instantly shot up, straightened out his shirt, then strolled up and opened his heavy wooden door. 

“evening, glad you could make it.” he smiles softly, taking all of you in with lidded eyes. 

“anything for you.” you teased half heartedly, oblivious to the effect that little quirk had on his now throbbing cock. 

he closes the door behind you, then ushers you to sit beside him on his bed. 

“well, don’t you look lovely. i hope the guys didn’t give you too much trouble on the way up here? i should have met you downstairs, my bad.” 

taking a loose thread from your shirt and twirling it around your finger, you smile and reply fondly. “they weren’t too bad. just told them we needed to study and they left me alone. and it’s no issue, i was the early one.” 

nanami smiled at your unusually formal reply. very different from your regular laid back demeanour, he could tell you were a little nervous. 

“you’re probably wondering why i asked you over so late?” 

“mhm, what's that about? y' need something?” 

yeah, you. 

he shook his head and turned to face you completely. “you remember that talk we had last summer? how we chatted about—” 

“—about our sex lives? or... lack thereof.” 

he's taken aback at how readily that slipped from your lips, like you were just waiting for this to come up.

“yes, well... exactly.” he clears his throat and curls his pointer finger around your pinky that lays rested against his bed sheets, sending a flush of heat to both your face and lower stomach. 

“now, what i'm about to ask is going to sound terribly douchey, but i'd like if you were to hear me out...” he looks up at you to see you nodding along with an intrigued little glint behind your eyes. “the guy’s have been especially irritating as of late about how little action i get, and it’s getting on my nerves.”

he sighs in pure embarrassment from how horrible this was about to come off, “i was wondering if you’d be open to—” 

“yes!” 

nanami looks a little shocked at how you cut him off once again, staring at you with an air of surprise. 

“i mean, yes.” you say a tad calmer. “yes, i wanna do it, with you... now.” 

the once stoic man finds it hard to suppress his enjoyment and lets go of a soft laugh. 

“eager, i see.” 

“you could say that.” 

well, that was easy.

“so, you don’t mind if i...” his hand slips up your arm, pulling you closer to his body with a low, sly smirk. seeing him in this light did nothing to aid the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach, and you nod feverishly. 

“please...” 

the reaction is instant, he leans in and gently takes your lips in a deep, slow kiss. nanami allows you to set the speed, starting out nice and slow, but for you that wasn't enough, you’d spent too long needing this man for this to be anything but fast-paced and passionate. 

you bite at his bottom lip as you slip into his lap, earning a guttural moan deep from the man’s throat. both his thick thighs and iron grip on your waist made for a nice seat as you begin to rock your hips back and forth against his hard, clothed cock. your tongues dance together as he keeps one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, guiding your face towards him as he desperately deepens the kiss. 

you pull away for air then drag your hand up his shirt, feeling his firm chest and solid stomach. “you’re built...” 

“surprised?” he quirks a brow, running his hands up and down your sides purposefully. 

“guess not... i wanna see.” you gently tug the bottom of the shirt then reach for the hem and pull it over his head. rippling abs and lines of thick muscles come into view, and you hold your breath in astonishment at the sheer amount of muscle mass. you’re completely awestruck at his build, his reddening chest rising and falling heavily as he struggles against his arousal. his entire torso was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his abs twitch as you follow the center crevice down. 

“you’re so hot, my god...” you breathe, any other guy would solicit no more than an impressed nod. but nanami? his ego deserved to be stroked. 

“thank you, angel.” he grins. “now let’s get these off.” he slips one hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, tugging you higher on his lap with the other arm to create enough room for him to yank them off. with one less layer of fabric, the pressure of his dick now felt all but too much to handle as he continued to explore your mouth with his tongue. your previous grinding movements started to slow from the new intensity, you were scared you’d finish right then if you were to keep going. but just then, nanami pulls away for a second, his hands now on your hips as he manually begins to pull you down harder. 

“keep grinding, baby. you can do it.” 

he's acting all smooth and suave, but deep down? he’s beside himself that he managed to capture your attention. out of all the men thirsting over you, you’d chosen him. he wasn’t particularly flashy or especially funny, yet you’d decided to entertain him when so many others would kill to be in his position. 

by now you’re letting the filthiest of sounds pour from your lips into his open mouth as your clothed clit bumps against his concealed cock over and over again. you try your best to conceal your sounds, but he pulls back to tease you a little, his cheeks flushed red as he smiles. “don’t hide those pretty whines, baby. i want them to hear.” 

he then hoists you up, flips you over, and climbs over you, pinning your arms over your head as he overtakes your lips. as he grinds, you free a hand, but he catches it and guides it to the front of his jeans, placing your fingers against his fastened belt. “go on, sweetheart.” 

between breathless kisses you undo the leather and slide it out and onto the floor. you take your time teasing and unzipping his jeans and he moans lowly when your hand curls around his semi-freed cock, gently smoothing over his boxers. 

“fuck, that feels s’ good.” he slurs, latching onto your neck and rocking his hips up and into the palm of your hand. 

you bite your lip as he begins to litter hickeys over your neck, you slip your fingers into his underwear and cup your hand over the shaft, stroking up and down before pressing your thumb into his dripping tip. he whimpered against your lips, cock twitching and hips jerking uncontrollably. 

he makes sure to make a show of it. there was no movie playing downstairs, nor were the speakers blasting bad rap, so the house was perfectly in order to be subjected to both his, and your thirsty sounds. 

he'd make sure every one of those assholes could get a good idea of just how much he could get if he really wanted. 

nanami grabs your wrist, panting heavily. leaning his head against your shoulder, he places soft kisses on your neck, working up to your ear before tugging your shirt off along with your pretty, red, lacy bra. 

fuck, he’d never been harder than he was right now, you really had it over him. 

“a matching set, hm? you hoped tonight would end up like this?” 

you flush, embarrassed that he’d caught on to your presumption of this happening. “a little...” 

“what a naughty thing.” he laughs. “i’ll show you just how thankful i am to you, baby. you deserve to be treated like an angel.” he unclips the bra, then cups one of your breasts and squeezes gently, huffing out an appreciative sigh as he dips down to take the nipple into his mouth. 

“fuck—!” you whine, your own hips jerking and grinding up into nothing at the delicious sensation. 

he rolls the soft bud between his teeth softly, then two thick fingers trail down your stomach and into your panties, tugging them off before rubbing your clit in circular movements, dj-ing the bundle of nerves until you’re whining and writhing beneath him like a woman possessed. 

“ken—! fuck, i can’t, i can’t! fuck, i need you!” 

pulling off with a ‘pop!’, he grins at your now bare body, slipping his fingers between your soaked folds before tugging off his boxers and freeing the monster of a cock you’d only felt up until now. he pumps the shaft a few times before slapping the tip against your clit. 

you lay there, entranced. “oh my... you’re fucking massive.” 

“yeah?” he grins, letting go and cupping your face tenderly. “think you can take it, baby?” he asks genuinely, searching your eyes for any sense of hesitation. “we can stop at any point, okay? just tap me three times and i'll stop, promise.” 

you only gulp in reply, staring at the thing nervously before opening up your legs fully, your sweet spot on full display for him. 

“be gentle...” 

“of course, love.” 

with one arm beside your head and the other on his cock, the muscular man lines up, then pushes slowly into your sopping cunt with a, “fuuuckk.” 

you huff out a whine, squeezing your eyes shut, trying your best to accommodate for his big size. 

“holy shit! ken— i— fuck—” you’re already a blabbering mess and he’s not even halfway in, adorable, really. 

kento smiles as he draws such pretty noises from your throat, thrusting in a little faster to see just how loud he can make you scream. 

“kento! you're so fucking big, shit!” 

he hopes everyone hears that. 

“almost there, honey. keep your hips still, i'm almost— fuck!—” with one final pull, he’s bottomed out, your stomach bulging from his size. 

“god, ken! move, please move. need you.” you groan, gripping the sheets with balled fists, in complete and utter ecstasy from the full feeling, 

he listens, rocking his hips back and forth. he goes tantalisingly slow at first, then speeds up as your whines grow desperate, 

“more, please, go faster ken!” 

he pounds into you relentlessly. sure, it’d been a while since he’d done this, but he couldn’t let himself be anything less than perfect for you, because in his eyes, you were perfection. 

with each thrust he’s drawing you closer and closer, each dirty word coiling you up tighter and tighter, until finally, 

“o-oh! kento, i think m’ gonna— i think i'm gonna—” 

and with one final thrust, you’ve come undone all over the man’s cock. he rocks into you a few times with nasty grunts before coming himself, thick ropes of seed painting your insides, the warmth sending your brain into overdrive. 

he keeps still for a good while after it all, panting heavily with his weight pressed over you, his forehead dipped down near your collarbone. 

his thumbs drag over your waist gently as you both calm, huffing and shaking with pleasure. 

“shit,” he whispers into your ear, “you were fucking amazing.” he laughs, tired. 

you let out this small, stupid laugh, “so were you, kento.” 

he smiles and brushes a soft kiss to your temple before finally pushing himself up, “you all good?” he asks gently. 

you nod, then realise how intently he'd looking at you, waiting for an answer. “m’ good. really good.” you grin. 

that gets another one of those small smiles. “good, let me clean you up, angel.” 

he disappears off the bed for a second, grabbing something from his drawer, then comes back with a warm, damp cloth. “open your legs f’ me.” you obey and he wipes away the mess he’d left behind tenderly. to think, the same guy who had you pinned down on his cock just minutes ago, now taking his time making sure you’re clean and comfortable 

“ken,” you say, softer now. 

“hm?” 

“that was… really nice.” 

he stills for half a second, then resumes. “yeah?” 

“yeah.” 

he glances up at you then, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to figure out if you’re just saying it, but you’re not. 

“i was worried this’d be…” he trails off, “i dunno.” 

“what, bad?” you snort. 

“no,” he says quickly, “just… not this.” 

you tilt your head. “you mean not… us?” 

he doesn’t answer, he finishes what he’s doing, sets the cloth aside, then leans back on his hands looking at you. 

“i guess so, yeah,” he admits. “wasn’t sure you’d even say yes.” 

“yeah, well... i liked it being us. and i’d like it to be us again, if you catch my drift.” 

“me too,” he smiles, kissing your forehead once more. 

you scoot closer to the man and rest your head against his arm. “we could’ve done that ages ago.” 

he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. “i know, and i wish we did.” 

“we’re so dumb.” 

“mhm.” 

you smile, nudging him. “you like me.” you tease. 

he looks down at you, then away with a flush on his cheek. 

“and you like me.” he replies. 

“i do.” 

“so what now?” he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes. 

“well... i like you, and you like me... normally this is where people start seeing each other.” 

“well, i’d love to start ‘seeing’ you, [name].” 

your brow quirks. “yeah?” 

“i mean it,” he says, more serious now. “this isn’t just me proving something to those assholes. i really like you, sweetheart.” 

you blush gently, then reply, “good. because i really like you too, i’d be a little pissed if this was just to get back at them.” 

“two things can exist at once.” his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining together. 

after a good two hours of talking about what this meant for the two of you, nanami dressed you, fed you, and walked you to your car outside the frat at around 2am. 

“text me when you get home,” he says. 

“yes, dad.” 

“i’m serious.” 

“i know,” you grin. “i will.” 

you lean in and plant a quick kiss to his cheek, then slip into your car. 

~ 

the next morning, nanami’s standing in the kitchen making avocado toast with a big old smile on his usually stoic face. 

as he’s spreading the avo across the bread, one by one, his frat brothers trudge down the stairs. they yawn and stretch as they stalk towards the kitchen. 

“morning,” nanami calls over his shoulder. 

no one really answers him properly, so he glances over his shoulder. 

gojo, suguru, toji, sukuna. they’re all just standing there, looking at him like they’ve seen a ghost. a tall, muscular, post-sex glow ghost. 

he furrows his brows in faux confusion. “what?” 

gojo’s the first to break. “so...” 

nanami sighs. “so?..” 

“did you—” suguru starts, then cuts himself off, “did you... and [name]… like, fuck?” 

nanami turns back to his toast and cuts off his crusts. “yes.” 

... 

toji lets out a low whistle. “no way.” 

“way,” nanami replies dryly. 

sukuna leans against the counter. “you’re serious?” 

“i don’t make a habit of lying.” 

the men are still awkwardly quiet, then gojo steps forward, grin creeping back onto his face, but for once, this time, it’s not mocking. 

“y’ sounded pretty passionate last night. real cozy, you guys a thing now?” 

“yep.” 

toji walks up and claps him on the shoulder. “didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“clearly,” nanami mutters. 

suguru smirks. “she’s hot as hell, man.” 

nanami doesn’t respond to that, just takes a sip of his black coffee. 

sukuna gives a short nod. “you're real lucky.” 

“i know.” 

and there it is. silence. no digs at his lacking sex life, no jokes about his dry dick, and no incessant teasing. 

god, is this heaven? 

gojo stands by nanami’s side, then sticks his hand out. “good job, man.” 

nanami looks at it for a second, then takes it. 

one by one, they follow with quick daps and nods of approval, like some unspoken ‘bully the fuck out of nanami’ rule just got rewritten. 

and then they’re moving on, grabbing food, talking about anything else and finally leaving him alone at the counter. 

nanami exhales slowly, staring down at his plate. 

bliss. no more comments, no more pressure, absolutely nothing left for them to hold over him. 

and yet, that’s not even the best part. 

he reaches for his phone, smiling fondly as he types you out a message. 

kento [8:12am] good morning, angel. did you have a nice sleep? 

you [8:12am] best sleep of my life.

kento [8:12am] i'm glad. could i come over tonight?

A/N was motivated to write this req for wifey @fricks, and co-creators @blu-goingdark and @/kiwiladylaurence (silly girl won't give me her @) helped me with an idea uwu so sugoii

© 2026 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.

[marsbeat]

joyride !

✉️ very self indulgent smau, inspired by how my dealer got arrested sooo i had to get a new one…. who makes sure im hydrated & gives me discounts (and lowk looks like martin) !!!!

prologue; blocked….

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summary; your plug blocks you, and with no other options you text martin, someone you’ve never met but everyone swears by.