[enfermizada]

Skipping the storyline and going straight into the fucking part..

[aransmind]

a powerful duo 💥

[enfermizada]

hashtag i need that asapnorocky

[maskysfawn]

TIM X READER X BRIAN

Summary: a creep is following you and you run into Tim and Brian. Are they real gentlemen, or are they hiding something?

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

The woods at night have never been scary to you. If anything, it all felt peaceful.

You liked taking walks late in the evening, surrounded by nature, knowing no one would be there to bother you.

Just peace and quiet.

Except for now. This guy has been following you the entire day, and no matter how hard you told him no, he still tried to get to you.

You kept walking, faster, looking behind your shoulder, repeating to the guy to get lost.

The guy, in all his stupidity, kept trying to touch you. You were pretty sure he was drunk as well.

“I’m telling you right now,” You hissed out, “Keep following me and I’m beating your ass into the ground.”

The guy had no self awareness, and no self preservation as well as he sloppily grabbed onto your wrist.

You were about to cuss him out until you stumbled into two other people. They were both men, older than you, probably. Maybe in their early to mid thirties.

One had dark brown hair and sideburns and a red flannel while the taller one had a yellow hoodie.

They looked at you, then at the guy, then at you again.

"There a problem?" Tim asked, cigarette in his mouth as he used a lighter to lit it.

Brian looked from you to the guy, tilting his head as he stayed silent.

You looked at them with wide eyes, lips parting. You shoved your arm out of the guy's hand and took a step back toward the two men.

"He keeps following me." You told them, a bit breathless.

Tim took a long drag of his cigarette, eyes fixed on the guy. The man's face went pale as he seemed to sober up a bit.

"Following her, huh?" Tim's voice dropped low, “That's a real shame."

Brian leaned against a tree, arms crossed, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Real shame indeed."

The guy stammered something about leaving, backing away. Tim stepped forward, blocking his path.

"See, the thing is," Tim said, exhaling smoke, "We really don't like men who can't take no for an answer."

Brian tilted his head, glancing at you for a few seconds before looking back at his friend and the weirdo.

“Where we come from, guys who can’t understand basic manners are bitches,” Brian added, tone almost conversational. “Are you a little bitch, or is your brain starting to work properly?”

The weirdo looked from them back to you. He had his eyes narrowed, and the grimace on his face suggested that he was thinking of hurting you. Tim could read it all too clearly.

Tim's hand shot out and caught the guy's wrist mid-grab. He twisted it hard, earning a sharp yelp and a cry from the guy.

"I don't think so." He dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his boot. "Brian, take her somewhere. I'll handle this."

Brian pushed off the tree and walked over to you, his hand gentle on your lower back, “Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you away from this mess."

He guided you toward the treeline, his body blocking the view of whatever Tim was doing behind you.

You walked, body still stiff from the stress as you cleared your throat, “What's going on? What is he doing to him?" You asked Brian as he led you away.

You tried looking back, but Brian's hand moved on the back of your head, redirecting your face ahead.

“Nothing you need to worry about," Brian said, his voice easy and warm despite the situation. "Just a lesson in manners is all."

He kept his hand on the back of your head, guiding you through the trees until you reached a clearing with an old pickup truck parked beside a fallen log.

He stopped and turned you to face him, studying you with those hazel eyes. “You alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

You looked at him before nodding, “I'm fine, yeah. Just a bit thrown off, I guess. Doesn’t happen much.”

Your fingers played with the hem of your shirt, a bit unsure of what was happening.

Brian's lips quirked into something between a smile and a smirk. "Good." He let his hand fall from your head to your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone. "You live around here? Cause walking these woods alone at night ain't the smartest idea."

From the trees behind you, Tim emerged, wiping his hands on his jeans. He lit another cigarette and joined you and Brian, standing at Brian's side.

"Problem's dealt with," Tim said flatly, eyes scanning you. "You need a ride home?"

You looked between them before raising your hands and shaking your head. “No, no. I've already bothered you enough." You laughed nervously, "No need."

Tim's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Brian's easy smile didn't waver, but something flickered in his eyes.

"It's no bother," Brian said, taking a slow step forward to close the distance you had created. "We don't usually let pretty girls walk home alone after dark. Especially not ones who just had a run-in with creeps."

Tim took a drag of his cigarette, watching you through the smoke. "Truck's right there. Won't take but five minutes."

Your eyes moved to the truck before looking back at them, “Ah, alright. If it's really not a bother, then I'd appreciate it." You muttered.

Brian's grin widened, genuine and warm. “Atta girl. Come on."

He led you to the back side of the old Ford, opening the door for you. The interior was worn but clean, smelling of cigarettes and pine air freshener. Tim climbed into the driver's seat, Brian sliding into the passenger seat.

"Where to?" Brian asked, settling back.

You watched as Tim made a U-turn before clearing your throat, “Near Marple Hill." You told them.

Tim grunted, taking a slow turn onto the main road. The truck hummed beneath them, headlights cutting through the dark.

Brian's fingers drummed lazily on his thigh. "Marple Hill, huh. Nice area. It’s quiet." He tilted his head. "You live alone out there?"

Tim's eyes flicked to the rearview to glance at you before shooting a look to his friend, catching Brian's glance. A silent exchange passed between them before his attention returned to the road.

You weren’t aware as you kept looking out of the window. “Yeah, I do." You said, "Moved in a month ago."

You drummed your fingers against your thigh as you deeply breathed out, settling against the backseat.

"New in town and already wandering the woods at night," Brian said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You've got guts, l'Il give you that."

Tim took a slow drag of his cigarette, cracking the window to let the smoke out, “Marple Hill's got some rough patches. Woods connect to some old logging roads, places where folks go to disappear."

Brian's hand finally settled still on his leg before turning his face back to look at you over his shoulder, "Good thing you ran into us instead of someone worse, right?"

You gave him a nervous smile before nodding, “Yeah, lucky me." You said, "You live around here or am I making you drive far from home?"

Tim exhaled smoke, watching it curl out the window. "Close enough. Edge of Rosswood."

Brian's thumb traced a lazy circle on his thigh. "We know these woods like the back of our hands. Grew up running through ‘em." He chuckled, low and warm. "Timmy here used to get us lost for hours, tracking deer and bunnies."

Tim's mouth twitched-almost a smile. “Learned to track other things since then."

The truck slowed as they approached a gravel drive. A mailbox with faded lettering read Marple Hill Rd.

You hummed, looking ahead. “Oh, so you two like hunting?" You asked them.

Brian's smile turned crooked. "Something like that."

Tim pulled the truck to a stop at the end of the gravel drive, engine idling. The house sat dark and quiet ahead, a modest two-story with a porch swing swaying in the breeze.

"Here we are," Brian said, but neither man moved.

Tim killed the engine, the sudden silence pressing in. He turned in his seat, hazel eyes fixed on you. "We'll walk you to the door."

You looked at them, offering them a small smile before shaking your head. “There's no need, really." You told them, waving your hands.

Brian exchanged a look with Tim. Tim's hand remained on the keys, not starting the engine nor moving away.

"It ain't a problem, sweetheart," Brian said, voice dropping that warm Southern register. “Dark night like this, porch light's out, wouldn’t sleep right knowing we didn't see you get inside safe."

Tim cracked his door open, the dome light flooding the cab. He stepped out, boots crunching gravel, and walked around to stand by the porch steps.

Brian's hand found the door handle on your side before opening it for you. "Come on, sweetheart. Humor us."

You slowly got out and followed them to the porch before stopping right in front of the front door.

"See? It's alright." You said.

Brian leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, a lazy smile playing on his lips, “Alright, we see."

He didn't move to leave. His eyes stayed on you the whole time as you searched for your keys, before glancing at Tim and nodding.

Tim stood at the bottom of the steps, hands in his jacket pockets, scanning the treeline like he was listening for something. After a long moment, his gaze settled back on you.

"Lock your doors tonight. All of 'em." Tim warned, “And your windows too.”

Brian pushed off the railing, stepping closer, “Let's see inside too." His fingers brushed your elbow, light and deliberate. “We'd hate for something to happen to you after all the trouble of saving you.”

You stared at them, processing Brian's words, “You...wanna go inside?" You asked him, "I assure no killer is in there."

You glanced at Tim nervously.

Brian's laugh rolled out easy, but the edge in his eyes didn't soften. "Not worried about killers in there, honey. Worried about the ones out here."

"Aint no reason to be skittish," Tim added, a lazy honesty in it, "Just the ghost of our mothers in us. Good Southern boys raised to see a woman safe to her front door. Look under the bed if she asks."

Brian's hand found yours, warm and calloused. He lifted it gently, let his thumb trace across your knuckles. "It’s just southern hospitality. Five minutes, then we're gone and we won’t bother you no more. I promise.”

You were hesitant, but they helped you with that creep! And even took you home. You owed them for their help, after all. Letting them won’t be a problem.

"Alright," You muttered.

You unlocked the front door, slipping inside and holding the door open for them.

Brian stepped in first, his eyes scanning the living room with a slow, deliberate sweep.

He ran a hand along the back of the couch, checking the floor before moving to the kitchen.

Tim followed, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His footsteps were quiet as he moved through the hallway, peeking into the kitchen, the bathroom. He checked the lock on the back door and tested the window.

"The lock is a bit loose there," Tim said, returning to the living room to you, “In the kitchen. You should change it.”

You glanced at the kitchen before nodding slowly, “I will. Thank you for checking.”

“Mm.” Tim hummed, looking at you with a tilt of the head.

You glanced at the stairs, knowing Brian was somewhere upstairs. What was he doing? Why was he up there? Why didn’t you even notice him go there?

“Bri, you’re spooking the girl out,” Tim called out, “Get down here, boy.”

You watched as Brian emerged from the hallway and walked down the stairs with an easy smile, “Checked the bathroom just in case. Everything’s good.”

You nodded as you walked them to the front door and watched as they walked back out, “Thank you again for helping me back in the woods and for taking me home. I really appreciate it.”

Tim nodded as Brian smiled, “No need to thank us, sweetheart. It’s our duty.”

You smiled and wished them a good night before closing the door.

They walked back to the car and slipped inside, in silence.

Tim sighed as he lit another cigarette while starting the engine, “That was too easy.”

Brian hummed as he grabbed his phone from the front pocket of his hoodie, “She’s a sweet one, Tim. What did you expect? Fights and screams?”

He tapped on the phone before showing him. Tim glanced to his right, seeing you walk around your house, unaware of the cameras Brian smoothly put around your house.

“Pretty.” Tim flatly said before starting the car and driving away before you could get suspicious.

Brian nodded, “Mm.” He hummed as he kept watching you settle for the night, “Picked the most oblivious girl in town, that’s for sure.”

[moonlightengel]

Haven't posted in months, but here's the mechanic Toji I spent forever on.

I don't typically post on tumblr so if you'd like to see updates and more drawings, follow my TikTok _moonlightengel_

[tophollands]

HANGING OUT TO DRY

A bet is classic. What could be more fun than targeting a sweet girl and making her fall in love with the reputable campus fuckboy? Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with you.

fratboy!gojo x f!reader

notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))

warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc

Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!

Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.

Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.

The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.

Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?

Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.

And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.

Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.

Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?

Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.

It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.

Always trying to see the good in people.

It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.

Things would have turned out great.

If he hadn't started falling in love with you.

But the show must go on.

“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.

Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.

One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.

But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.

You believed it all.

After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.

Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.

Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!

Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!

“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”

He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.

He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?

But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.

You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.

He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.

You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.

“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.

His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.

He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?

You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.

“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.

The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.

Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.

A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.

“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.

“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”

“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”

You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.

Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.

“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.

He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.

“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.

The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.

“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-

“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.

“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.

His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.

“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.

Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.

The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.

The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.

The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!

Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.

Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.

Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.

You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.

You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.

Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.

You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.

A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.

He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.

Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.

“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.

His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.

You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.

“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”

You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.

The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.

Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.

You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.

Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.

Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.

Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.

Who would willingly want to be with you?

Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.

Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.

Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.

He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.

He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.

Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.

“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”

Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.

If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.

“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.

You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.

“I thought you liked digimon??”

He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.

“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”

He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.

You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”

Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.

“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.

He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest

“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”

A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.

“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.

You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.

“Please.”

Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.

You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.

“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”

Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.

“What did I ever do to you?”

The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.

Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.

He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.

“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.

Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.

A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.

“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”

You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”

You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.

Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.

“I never want to see you again.”

His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.

He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.

“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.

For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.

“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.

He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.

“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.

Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.

He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.

And so, so stupid.

[hunnismokah]

choso spread my husband omg

[lacquerheadd]

the invisible man

[reignpage]

SYNOPSIS:

in which the men turn to the AITA subreddit for opinions on their relationship disputes. the comments aren't always the most...supportive

warnings: just fluff and crack, some cursing, some sexual language, prob not the most accurate depiction of reddit (I am not familiar with the platform so I did my best lol), non curse au mostly, NOT PROOFREAD (this was a pain to edit you don't even know so I don't want to hear it) featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

[welshj03]

The video game screen trend but with Ghost! I love both versions :D

+Referenced parts of Brick lane for 2009 and Akihabara for 2022, Thank you google earth 🤣

[satoskii]

gym rat!toji only thrusts ur weight!!

toji came through the door, taking his gym shoes off immediately. you were on the couch, blanket pulled to your chin. as you heard his heavy footsteps, you looked over the arm of the couch, meeting his own dark, mischief filled eyes. “no.” you said, beginning to sit up. “no, toji. get back.” you smiled, putting a hand out to distance him. “you didn’t miss me?” he said, a sleazy smile on his face. he stalked closer to you, looking through his eyelashes at your form. “don’t run from it, baby. come feel on me.”

before you could protest, he braced both of his hands beside your head, and laid his body weight on you. you smiled, trying to push him away, but ultimately failing. “toji, you smell.” you said, pressing your hands against his chest. “oh, i missed you baby. mm.. couldn’t stop thinking of you.” he murmured against your neck. “i was doing hip thrusts today. i thrusted how much you weigh.” he said, rubbing himself against you, almost like a dog trying to put its scent on something. “that’s when i thought of you.”

you felt something poking your inner thigh, and you scoffed. “you’re nasty.” you said. “i want you.” he mumbled, sitting up between your thighs. he took your hand, and guided it to his heavy bulge. “i trained. just for you.” he said, his voice in a mockingly pleading tone. he moaned as your hand kneaded his bulge, and he looked down at it, watching as you did so. he looked back down at you, biting his lip. “aren’t you proud of me? trained hard as shit so you don’t have to do any work when we’re fucking.” he said, pushing his damp hair off of his forehead.

he grabbed your hips, pulling them closer, so your covered crotch was flush against his bulge. he gave one slow thrust, and smiled. “i know you feel that.” he said, looking down as he began to slowly grind against you. “you don’t have to do anything, yknow. i can do all the work. like i usually do.” he teased, putting wet kisses all over the side of your neck. he grabbed your waist, and effortlessly maneuvered you, so you were straddling him. “it’s okay, baby. you can act like you don’t want it, but i know you do.” he cooed, running his hand down your stomach. he smirked, biting his lip as he noticed you trying to be subtle, as you “adjusted” your position on him.

“see? that’s my girl, always wanting this dick. it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to hide it.”

© satoskii 2026 ─────────

a/n : short n sweet before i get back on track yay ;)

[mytwofaces]

Well, he should know

[gojosconsort]

︵ ೀ mdni. being anxious and insecure the fist time sleeping with toji so he has to learn how to be soft ( size difference / tummy bulge / creampie )

toji fushiguro has never felt this helpless in his life.

you’re lying underneath him, completely naked, and instead of the usual heat and hunger, all he sees is anxiety written all over your face. your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, knees pressed together, eyes squeezed shut like you’re bracing for something painful. you want this—you told him you did—but right now you look terrified.

“hey,” he mutters, voice rougher than he means it to be. “you still with me?”

you nod, but it’s tiny. “i… i want to. really. i just—i’m scared i won’t be good enough. you’re so… big. everywhere.”

toji glances down at himself, at his broad chest, thick arms, heavy cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. yeah. he knows. the size difference has never bothered him before, he even kinda liked it, but seeing you this nervous makes something uncomfortable twist in his chest. he isn’t used to this. he’s used to rough, fast, no feelings attached. not this soft, shaky vulnerability.

“shit,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. he feels clumsy, too big for the moment. “i’m not good at this gentle shit.”

still, he tries. he shifts his weight so he’s not crushing you, lowering himself onto his elbows. one massive hand gently pries your arms away from your chest. “don’t hide from me,” he says, quieter this time. “you’re so beautiful.”

you whimper when his calloused palm cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. he’s trying to be soft, but his hands are rough from years of fighting.

toji leans down and kisses your neck, slow and open-mouthed, hoping it helps. when you finally relax a little, he moves lower, kissing between your breasts, then your stomach. his mouth is hot, a little sloppy, but sincere.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he mumbles against your skin. “i’ll stop. swear.”

when he finally settles between your legs, his cock looks obscene against your smaller frame. thick, heavy, already glistening. you tense again the second you feel the blunt head nudge your entrance.

“breathe,” he says, one hand stroking your thigh. he’s trying so hard to be gentle, but his voice is strained. “i’m not gonna shove it in. not like that.”

he rubs the head up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. you’re soaked despite the nerves, and that small fact makes him groan low in his throat. still, he goes slow—pushing in just the tip first, jaw clenched tight.

“fuck… you’re tight,” he hisses. his hips twitch, instinct screaming at him to thrust, but he forces himself still. “too much?”

you shake your head, eyes still closed. “keep going… please.”

toji pushes in another inch, then another, cursing under his breath the whole time. every time you whimper he freezes, big hand rubbing clumsy circles on your hip. he feels too big, too rough, too much for someone as anxious as you. but you’re taking him so well, stretching around his thick cock, and it’s driving him crazy.

halfway in, he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. his voice comes out rough but surprisingly soft. “you’re doing good, baby. so fucking good for me.”

when he finally bottoms out, buried to the hilt, you both moan. he stays still for a long moment, letting you adjust, even though his arms are shaking with the effort of holding back.

then he starts moving—slow, shallow thrusts at first, trying not to be too rough. but toji has never been gentle in his life, and it shows. his hips snap a little harder than he means, the slap of skin louder than he wants. every time he catches himself he curses and slows down again, kissing you messily to make up for it.

“sorry—shit, sorry,” he mutters against your lips when he accidentally thrusts too deep. “you feel too good. can’t help it.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, finally opening your eyes. the fear is still there, but so is want. “it’s okay… i like when you’re a little rough.”

that seems to break something in him. toji gathers you against his broad chest, one thick arm sliding under your back to hold you tight. he fucks you like that—deep, steady, still a little clumsy, but wrapped completely around you. every thrust is punctuated with gruff praises and clumsy kisses.

when you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock, toji follows right after with a low groan that vibrates through his chest. the feeling hits him like a punch to the gut.

your walls flutter and squeeze around him so tightly, pulsing in waves as your orgasm crashes through you, and it drags him under with you. his hips stutter once, twice, then slam deep one final time as he spills inside you—thick, hot ropes of his creamy cum flooding your insides for the very first time.

“fuck— that’s it… take it,” he rasps against your ear.

it feels overwhelming. the wet heat of your pussy milking him, the way your body trembles and clenches like it never wants to let him go, the slick sound of his cum already starting to leak out around his thick cock. he’s never felt anything like this before—raw, intimate, almost too much.

every pulse of his release seems to push deeper, filling you until you’re stuffed full of him. toji stays buried to the hilt, hips pressed flush against yours, letting every last drop spill into you. his breath comes in heavy pants against your neck as the intensity slowly ebbs, leaving him shaky and strangely tender.

he’s cum inside plenty of women before, but never like this.

never while holding someone so small and anxious in his arms. never while feeling your heartbeat hammering against his own. never while his rough hands are still gently stroking your back like you might disappear if he stops touching you.

the sensation lingers—warm, wet, intimate—and it makes his cock twitch again even as he softens just a little inside you.

“shit…” he mutters. “you feel that? feel me filling you up?”

he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, still rocking ever so slightly to push his cum deeper, savoring the way your body accepts every bit of him.

for the first time in his life, cumming inside someone doesn’t just feel good.

it feels right.

then his large hand slides down between your bodies. his palm presses firmly against your lower belly, right below your navel. he pushes down gently, feeling the slight bulge of his thick cock still buried deep inside you.

“fuck… can feel myself right here. so deep in you.”

you gasp sharply—you’re still so oversensitive from your orgasm, every nerve raw and sparking. the feeling of his hand pressing down while he’s still inside you makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to squirm away.

“toji… don’t— it’s embarrassing…”

“no,” he says, firm but surprisingly gentle. his thumb strokes softly over your skin as he looks down at you, eyes dark and intense even in the low light. “look how well you’re taking me. all full of my cum… belly swelling just a little because of me. nothing about this is embarrassing, baby. it’s fucking perfect.”

you whimper, face burning hotter, but your body betrays you by clenching around him again. toji lets out a low, satisfied hum and presses down just a tiny bit more, feeling the shape of himself through your soft stomach.

“yeah… just like that,” he murmurs, voice dropping even lower. “so damn pretty when you’re stuffed full of me.”

then toji rolls onto his back, taking you with him so you’re lying on his massive chest, his cock still nestled warm inside you. the room is quiet except for your slowing breaths. his rough hands, usually so quick to grab and bruise, now move with surprising tenderness. one palm strokes slowly up and down your spine, while the other hand cups the back of your head, thumb brushing gently behind your ear.

he keeps caressing you in long, lazy passes—over your shoulders, down your arms, along the curve of your waist. every touch is careful, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid his calluses might scratch you.

what the hell have you done to him?

he feels clumsy and huge and completely out of his depth, yet he can’t stop touching you. can’t stop wanting to be gentle for you.

“you okay?” he asks.

you nod. “yeah… you were really good to me.”

toji huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no bite in it. his hand keeps stroking your back in slow circles. “didn’t think i still knew how to be gentle,” he admits, almost to himself. “you’re making me all soft, doll. never thought anyone could do that.”

he pulls the blanket higher around your shoulders and tucks you more securely against him, one thick thigh sliding between yours to keep you close. his fingers continue their gentle exploration—tracing the shell of your ear, the line of your jaw, the delicate skin of your collarbone.

“stay here tonight,” he murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to your hair. “don’t want you going anywhere. not after that.”

you smile against his chest, and toji feels something warm and unfamiliar settle deep in his ribs.

yeah… you’ve ruined him.

and for once, the roughest man alive doesn’t mind being soft at all.

[kill3ill]

choso's bulking — 18+

choso's really wanted to try the bulk and cut technique he found online, where he focuses on eating in a calorie surplus, training strength and protein intake. you've noticed since that his body's a lot softer, pudgier in the best way. his pecs are bigger and rounded, as his his stomach, thighs, arms, and the rest of his body.

he's a little bit insecure about the weight gain, and feels like he has to keep reminding you it's temporary and that he's aiming for lean, defined muscle. but you're more and more opposed to that idea every day as you take in how good he looks right now.

his whole body is just so pillowy and heavenly, and the nutrients he's been taking in from the extra food intake has just made him stronger. he was always strong, yes, but now he can practically toss you around one handed. his lower region has also chubbed up and gained weight.

for starters, his balls are bigger and heavier now, resting on the insides of his thighs when he sits down. they're soft and pudgy, full of cum and softness that has you salivating whenever you see them. his cock is also pudgier and thicker. it's too heavy and fat to hold with one hand, so now you have to use two. it drools thicker loads of precum - and as for his actual loads? they're much more copious because of all the new room in his fat balls to store it. everything about him has just improved. thick cock, thick balls, thick cum.

he just seems so much more eager in bed too now. like his new body and insecurities have made him more desperate to prove he's still worth something. you've told him so many times you find him so handsome regardless, and that you actually prefer this beefier, chubby body type, but he's still so sure you're only humoring him so he won't be upset.

moreover, he folds you up in bed, palms spanning your thighs and squeezing the fat of them to hold you open while his meaty cock pushes into you over and over again. choso pulls his cock out of you until only the swollen head of his cock is notched in your puffy hole, then sinks back in sickeningly slow, grinding the fat, spongy crown against your soft, sensitive inner walls, smearing his sticky precum inside you.

you can feel every rigid vein and throbbing inch of his cock as it drags along inside you, stirring up the mix of your juices already inside you. "i-is that... does that feel good?"

moaning loudly is the only response you can muster right now, your back arching as he pumps his cock into you again and again. choso echoes your moans with his own, the sound rumbling through his soft chest as he ruts his cock in and out of you. wet, squelching noises from all the slick you're both leaking fill the room, adding to the slap of his heavy balls against your ass with each thrust.

they're so big now, swollen and churning with the cum inside them, sloshing about whenever they connect with you. the girth of his dick makes your pussy drool around his shaft, leaking out to mix with the sticky mess already coating your thighs. rivulets of creamy fluid ooze out from where you're joined, dripping onto the bed and making a mess of both of them.

"you're not answering me..." he says down at you, analyzing your fucked out expression. "do you not like me anymore? cause 'm all chubby?"

you gasp out a; "no! i still- mngh... like you soooooo much, choso!" when his tip presses far too deep inside you. he's never gone that far in before, and you feel so full as he bottoms out and presses against that soft spot inside you that makes your toes curl. he pushes his cock deeper with a roll of his hips, then draws back nice and slow, watching how your pussy adjusts to his size with each thrusts, soft folds molding around his fattened cock and sucking him back in whenever he draws back.

"you sure?" he asks, panting and throwing his head back at how much tighter you feel these days. you've always been tight, your velvety walls wrapping perfectly around his dick, but with how he's gotten bigger, there's less space in your pussy for him to fit, and it feels like he's cramming his dick inside you. "im... im gonna cum..." he moans, picking up the pace and staring down at you, pupils blown and lips parted as broken moans leave his soft lips.

he pushes a thumb onto your clit, the pads rubbing against the nub until it gets swollen and adds to the pleasure he's already inflicting on you. he pinches and tweaks it, wanting the two of you to cum together so he knows for sure that you're still attracted to him.

choso's hips rock faster, hands squeezing your thighs and easily lifting your hips so he can pump his cock even deeper inside you. his tip kisses your cervix with each thrust, not ramming against it to hurt you, but pushing on it, pressing down just like how his thumb is pressing on your clit. with one last pathetic moan of your name paired with "ooohhh fuck! 'm cumming!" he finishes inside you, veins bulging along his shaft as your velvet walls clench and flutter around him, your orgasm hitting at the same time.

choso stays buried inside you so he can shoot his thick, creamy load into you. it's thick and hot and the volume is so much that it bulges your belly just a little, excess trickling out and splattering out around his dick and your pussy lips.

while both of you cum, you tug him down into a deep kiss, and he sighs dreamily as you pull him in and meet his thrusts with little bounces of your hips, the two of you riding out your highs together with your lips mushed together. he shoots out a whole fresh load when you tell him his favorite words;

"i love you, choso. you're perfect just the way you are."

see more in my jjk masterlist

see more in my main masterlist

[enfermizada]

YESYEYSYSHELLYESYESYESYESOMYGAADD

[lilikoiyu]

gojo is addicted to filming you while fucking !

gojo satoru is addicted to filming you.

it started innocently enough—or as innocent as anything ever is with him. one lazy sunday morning when you were still half-asleep and riding him slow, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand with that mischievous grin and whispered, “just one video, baby. for my eyes only. i wanna watch how pretty you look when you come on my cock.”

you said yes.

now it’s become a ritual.

every time he fucks you, the phone comes out. sometimes he sets it up on the tripod in the corner of the bedroom so it captures everything in wide angle. sometimes he holds it himself, filming close-ups of his thick cock stretching your pussy open, the way your tits bounce with every thrust, the messy slick coating his shaft when he pulls out just to push back in deeper.

he loves the sounds most of all.

“listen to that,” he’ll groan, angling the camera down between your bodies so the microphone catches the wet, filthy squelch every time he bottoms out. “hear how sloppy your pussy gets for me? fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my balls.”

he always makes sure to get your face too—the way your eyes roll back, the way your mouth falls open when he hits that spot inside you, the broken moans and whimpers of his name that spill out when you’re close.

“say it louder,” he’ll demand, voice rough as he fucks you harder, free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider for the camera. “tell the camera who’s making you feel this good. who owns this tight little cunt.”

you always give in. “you do, satoru—fuck—only you—”

he saves every single video.

they’re stored in a heavily encrypted folder on his phone titled “private collection🤍” with a little heart emoji he thinks is subtle. there are dozens now. some are short clips of you sucking him off in the back of the car after a mission. some are long, hour-long tapes where he edges you for ages before finally letting you come. there’s even one from the time he fucked you against the floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse while the city lights glittered behind you.

he watches them when you’re away.

when you’re on a solo mission, or visiting family, or just busy with work that keeps you late. he’ll lock himself in his bedroom, pull up the folder, and pick one at random. sometimes it’s the one where you’re riding him reverse cowgirl, ass bouncing as you take every inch. sometimes it’s the one where he has you folded in half, legs over his shoulders, pounding you so deep the camera catches the bulge in your lower belly.

he strokes himself slow at first, matching the rhythm on the screen, groaning your name under his breath. “fuck, look at you… taking me so well even when i’m not there.”

his hand speeds up as the video gets filthier. he loves the parts where you beg—when you’re crying and whimpering “please, satoru, fill me up, i need your cum.” he always comes hard to those, thick ropes spilling over his fist while he watches himself breed you on the screen.

after he finishes, he doesn’t delete anything. he just saves the new load of cum on his fingers and sends you a quick text:

“miss you. watched our video from last thursday. you looked so pretty crying on my cock. can’t wait to make a new one when you get home.”

you always reply with something flustered and needy, and he grins like an idiot, already planning the next tape.

sometimes he gets bold.

he’ll send you short clips while you’re at work—a ten-second snippet of him thrusting into you from behind, his hand fisting your hair, the sound of skin slapping skin loud and clear. the message always comes with the same caption:

“thinking about you. hurry home so we can film the sequel.”

he never pressures you to let him post them or share them. these videos are strictly for him—his private collection, his dirty little secret. he watches them when he’s stressed after a long day, when he’s horny and you’re not around, when he just wants to relive how perfect you feel wrapped around him.

and every time he films a new one, he makes sure to whisper against your lips right before he starts recording:

“smile for the camera, baby. gonna watch this one later when i’m all alone and missing this tight pussy.”

then he fucks you like he’s trying to make sure the next video is even better than the last.

because gojo satoru doesn’t just love fucking you.

he loves keeping every single moment of it forever.

so he can watch you fall apart for him again and again.

even when you’re not there.

[enfermizada]

well yes !

[gojosbf]

oh my doomed yaoi

[heartkaji]

18+. 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 #𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓 !

cw: coworker!toji, workplace sěx, fingëring, dry hūmping, p w plot, pälming, ôrǎl. art by o6frog on twt ! 𓏲 .˚˖ ᵎᵎ

“TOJI FUSHIGURO IS DEFINITELY A B MINUS,”

lunch break at goldman sachs means jam sticky on your fingers & shoko’s bleary eyes. beside you she’s plum cheeks & lashes fluttering, lips smudged with brownie-choc & something else she swears isn’t laced with weed.

“that’s not very generous. i thought you liked the guy.”

and you do. toji fushiguro is a man divorced with broad chest & tired eyes. but even thick arms & bulging pectorals aren’t enough to earn a print grade of D++.

“not to the point that i’d lie to myself,” you click your tongue. “see how the peak of his crotch rests right below the middle? that’s a B minus.”

two cubicles & a half-opened laptop away, toji fushiguro is there.

sleeves folded over thick forearms, glasses heavy on sunken nose. and his eyes? low & lazy & gazing nowhere near your direction. and you’d worn this skirt just for him !

you shake the thought away. beside you, shoko smushes a palm against her cheek.

“i think you’re wrong.”

“hm?”

“have you seen how he walks?” shoko leans in, eyes glimmering. “slow. heavy. like he’s weighed down by the sheer mass of it,” she licks her canines,

“that man is packing.”

“but the print chart—“

“fuck the print chart,” shoko interrupts. “i say we investigate.”

INVESTIGATION #1 : COMPANY GYM

the company gym is mirrored walls / sweat-soaked skin / air heavy with the haze of midsummer heat. somewhere between the barbell racks & bench press machines, your palms bruise red from the weight of a dumbbell.

toji fushiguro has the body of a god.

you won’t admit it, though. won’t even look at it. even now you’re low lashes trained on shoko sprawled against her mat. said girl is shameless & gawky & wide-eyed.

“shoko,” you hiss. “stop staring.”

“i can’t! his waist is too slutty!”

your tongue licks your canines. girls like you don’t feel the need to sneak a peek. toji fushiguro is a man who knows he will never be refused. to seduce you, he’d need more than broad back or slow gaze or thick thigh—

oh my!

you only see it for a second, really. he shifts & the material clings far too tight—stretching & dipping just enough to outline his cock; thick & fat & far too heavy against his right leg.

“bitch. did you fucking see that?”

“see what?”

girls like you tell lies like they’re gospel. even now, shoko’s shoving your side, spitting something about ‘playing hard to get’ & just ‘sneaking one more glance.’

you do. lashes low. lips half-bitten. eyes on the mirror because girls like you can’t look men like toji in the face.

your cheeks burn hot when your eyes lift.

toji fushiguro is already looking at you.

PRINT ASSESSMENT : B(+) FOR BIASED.

DIHVESTIGATION #2: BOARDROOM 4-B

one half-drunk coffee browning at the rim. two men with glasses who don’t know how to murmur. in boardroom 4-B, there are three reasons why you can’t fucking focus.

reason number one: toji fushiguro is staring at you like he knows how you taste when you lie.

it shouldn’t bother you, really. 3PM at goldman sachs means company whiteboards & stock market projections. this afternoon you’re buttoned blazer & tight skirt & tighter bun. there’s a clipboard in your hands & two knots in your gut.

you’re presenting something about liquid assets. toji’s gaze has liquid pooling between your thighs.

the nerve of him. toji fushiguro has a pen in his teeth & a tie half-loose. his glasses slip low on his nose, chair leaning, thick arms crossed over thicker chest. & his eyes—glazed over & half-lidded—blink slow. heavy & bored & flitting to your hips before glancing away like you don’t even exist.

the projector goes out.

& it’s a good thing it does. it’s hard to talk about assets when toji’s got you wishing his shove through your pussy. you bite your lip, thighs aching like a fucking virgin. down the table, shoko notices.

IT girl shoko ieri doesn’t stand up.

she should. you’re already irritated & it’s her fucking job for christ’s sake, but shoko seems to have other plans. instead she turns to toji,

“mr. fushiguro—do you mind getting that? you’re closest to the port.”

toji doesn’t mind. at least, that’s what it looks like. he gets up, body all spine & lazy muscle, and stops just in front of you.

“s’cuse me, miss,”

he lowers himself to pick at the wires by the screen. you’re quick to clamp your thighs shut & pray he doesn’t catch your soaked panties or the way they cling between your folds.

you also pray he doesn’t catch the way your eyes flick to his crotch.

& god, he’s huge; thin slacks not bothering to hide his shape in his pants. he’s thick. so thick you can’t guess if he’s hard & bulging or some sort of monster even when soft or if his cock would twitch if he shoved it right into your aching cunt—

your thighs squeeze. there’s three crevices in your palm where your nails dig into your skin & your knees feel weak & god why the fuck is he so hot? his hair’s all messy & shirt half-unbuttoned so when you sneak a peek, his chest peeks back.

you bite your lip & sneak a peek at his face as well.

toji fushiguro does not peek back.

he’s consumed by the wires it seems—shuffling cables; one arm lifting to rest on the chair beside you & unavoidably bracketing your knees. you’re leaned back against the wall now, chest heaving, thighs shut, lashes fluttering because toji’s nose sniffles & it’s so fucking cute.

& so fucking annoying. because you’ve used your pretty heel to nudge him twice now & he’s still plugging wires like he can’t feel your thigh brush hot against his arm. like he can’t hear how heavy you’re breathing, or the soft squelch under your skirt when he leans so close you have to shift away. like he can’t—

“legs,” he mutters.

you shift your heel back, cheeks ripe-red & sweltering hot.

toji drops a cable. arms on his knees now, still crouched low, bleary eyes flicking up to yours. there’s only silence for a beat, and then he stands up slow. heavy. you don’t miss the soft knock of his cock against his crotch.

you gulp.

toji stretches. gaze low, eyes somewhere too close to your skirt.

“fix that.”

toji doesn’t clarify as he turns to leave.

PRINT ASSESSMENT: D(-) FOR DICKHEAD.

DIHVESTIGATION CUT THE EYE TAG N’ FUCK THIS CUNT !

5PM at goldman sachs & there’s an elbow wedged between your ribs.

the elevator’s full—too full—& you’re too foolish; and the bone in your rib clearly isn’t yours. to your left there’s a man in khaki suit & beach blond hair & heavy goggles. the man on your right has pearl white hair & talks to him a mile a minute.

behind you is something hard.

but your body knows the scent of maroon’s dogwood et tabac. behind you toji fushiguro is leaning, hands heavy on the rail behind him, crotch conveniently caught behind your ass.

the elevator air is sticky as a chewed prayer. the first time you grind against toji, it’s purely by accident.

too many bodies press together, sweat-slicked & aching in the midsummer heat. the elevator stutters & you can only shift back, backside dragging over his semi-hard cock.

the second time you grind against him, your hips are the culprit.

not you, your hips; because girls like you have bodies with minds of their own so you can only bear witness as they rub against his crotch. heavy. slow. assisted by the weight of two grown men pressing beside you every time the elevator simmers.

behind you, toji hasn’t tensed.

in fact, he yawns. like he hasn’t noticed you frotting on his cock. like his dick isn’t semi-hard & kissing your ass beneath your skirt.

he’s so fucking frustrating.

so you stop for now. even your hips know better than to lie to you twice. you try to move forward, keyword: try, but the elevator slams to brake & you’re shoved against toji’s chest.

big hands catch your hips automatically. you muffle a squeak. how cute.

but you’ll never know if toji thinks the same because he only grunts behind you, sound rumbling through his chest. the elevator fills out quickly, too many footsteps eager to find home.

it’s time for you to find home, too. heaven knows this workday has filled you with embarrassment.

you’re about to step off when toji pushes the emergency stop button.

you only realize it when you bump against his back. you blink once, twice, & toji turns to you with lips ticked up in a smile too cruel to be kind.

“you gonna pretend you don’t know why i did that?”

you tell lies like they’re gospel so you play the fool. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

you say it with clicked tongue but blisters swell where your thighs touch. there’s a heat on your cheeks that you can’t itch away.

toji laughs, shakes his head. the sound is close to guttural.

“heard you and shoko at lunch earlier,” he muses, voice low & steps heavy. “B-minus, was it?”

“what are you—“

a palm pats your cheek. heavy, hot. “rubbing up on me like a bitch in heat. that desperate to find out, miss?”

you shiver against his touch, neck hot, thighs burning. toji’s thumb drags at your lip. the other hand slips towards his pants.

he’s palming himself now, gripping at his crotch, moulding & pressing as you suck air in with glossy eyes.

“don’t be shy,” he murmurs. you’re still rag dolled in front of him, shaky knees & lust-glazed eyes. his palm leaves his crotch to take yours gently, so gently, & you almost moan when he presses it to his hard, swollen cock.

fuck.

“easy,” he rasps, low. you’re half-bitten lips now, pupils blown & palms playing with his zipped-up cockhead. his pants twitch with each clothed rub, & your body has a mind of its own so you whimper.

“wanna take it out for me, miss?”

“yes—i mean, yes.”

you don’t miss the tug of his lips. the expression he wears is close to mocking but you’re half-devil half-girl so you zip him free anyways. he springs free & god he’s huge. veiny & thick & tip an angry pink.

toji pumps himself, horny & pulsing with each stroke. his thighs twitch like it fucking hurts.

“knees, dollface,” he’s breathless now. “tell me i’m a B with my cock stuffed in your throat.”

toji fushiguro doesn’t need to tell you twice.

you sink obediently, palms resting at his thighs. you reach to cup his dick but it only slaps against your face.

“tits out, doll. wanna watch ‘em bounce while you suck me.”

& you’re half-devil half-girl so you obey immediately; knuckles shaky & fingers clumsy against your buttons. toji sighs & snaps them open with a grunt.

“can’t do anything right…”

he murmurs but you’re peering up at him with doe eyes. toji thinks you’re so fucking cute, hot cheeks & clenching thighs & a nose that scrunches in self-denial. ten minutes ago you were rubbing against his cock. five minutes & you were telling him otherwise.

nevermind that, though. he’s always wanted your glossy lips wrapped around his dick.

& the precum on his tip makes them glossier. toji’s got his head tipped back now, thighs twitching, hips thrusting himself into your hot mouth. the sight of your pebbled nipples glistening with sweat makes him groan, & you pump his cock & suck so good he thinks he might be seeing stars.

“mm—fuck, that’s it,” he rasps, “that’s good, s’good, miss.”

you lick a stripe up his slit. toji shivers.

& you’re a devil of a girl so you take it a step further. your thighs squeeze, & the soft squelch of your panties stick to his ears. you take your other hand & fondle with your perky nipples.

“fuck—“

but toji doesn’t let you continue. he yanks you by the hair just as his cock twitches, pulsing & sputtering with sticky precum.

“up,” he rasps, pulling at your waist, “get up.”

you’re only in his arms for a moment before he gets to work, neck flushed & rock hard against you. he’s much too rough in folding up your skirt, dragging it up so your ass spills out & the cool air licks your panties.

“been so fuckin’ noisy,” his fingers rub circles on your juicy clit, “soaked & begging for me since the meeting. thought i wouldn’t fucking notice.”

he’s muttering more to himself than you, pressing his thumb to your panties before he somehow gets annoyed & slides them away. you’re slobbering on his fingers now, sticky & drenched & squelching with each pump.

“mhm—right there, ah—“

“quiet,” he hisses with two fingers in your folds. he’s pumping them in & out now, brows furrowed, hair sweaty, dick impossibly hard. you go limp against him, tits smushed against his chest as he works to stretch you out; cockhead still poking against your swollen clit.

“so fucking tight,” he rasps. “god, baby. why’s your pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

toji fushiguro is big man with little patience. so when he circles your swollen clit one more time, your thighs trembling against him, you’re not too surprised when his palm shifts back to his cock.

he’s still got a palm on your hip, heavy & aching. he pumps himself two more times before kissing the crook of your neck against his chest.

“gonna stuff you with my cock,” he’s pumping harder now, lips brushing just under your jaw. “that okay, sweetheart? want my B-minus cock in you? or is that not big enough?”

“it’s big! so big—please toji—“

“so cute,” it’s almost a laugh now, guttural & vibrating through your chest. he hooks your thigh up with an arm. “starin’ at my cock and rating it with your friend. shoulda stuffed it in you ages ago.”

& he does. he strokes your clit once before pushing himself in, pussy sputtering & spitting around him. your walls streetch, velvety & aching, hips twitching as you clench around his cock.

“m’sorry! so sorry, can’t take anymore, please—”

he only shoves himself deeper as you cry over his cock. he’s panting now, groaning, palm shaky as he grips your thigh. “look at me—this feel like a B to you? can’t even take B-grade dick, hm?”

he thrusts into your squelching pussy as you go limp against him, lashes fluttering, lips bitten hard as your nipples drag against his chest.

“it’s a D! fuck, toji—!”

he slides his dick out as your pussy sputters; walls cumming, body aching & tingly on his chest. toji’s got his dick in his palm & pumping slow; thick white cum dripping out with each stroke. “mhm…fuck.”

you’re still breathing heavy on his chest, nipples budded & glistening with sweat. against you toji shoves his dick back in his pants, breath heavy, tugging on his zipper as his thumb slips low to circle at your swollen clit.

your lashes flutter open to peek at his jaw. toji fushiguro is already looking at you.

his eyes are low, grin sleazy.

“still a B?”

your eyes flutter shut. what a fucking bastard.

PRINT ASSESSMENT : A(-) FOR FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE.

catch print, end.

© HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-upload.

[yailuxe]

౨ৎ — bf toji fushiguro finally realises why you’ve been moody || mdni, smut 1.6K words.

you always greeted him the same way whenever he came home from a mission.

beaming smile, a “bear hug” that lands more like a tickle, and a kiss lasting so long your lips tingled by the time you pull away.

so why is it that this time, toji gets neither?

when he asks what you’ve been up to during the two weeks he’s been away, all your replies are curt. short, tight-lipped mutterings that were seemingly trapped deep inside your throat and refused to come out no matter how hard he tried.

and man, did he try.

you're making dinner when he comes up behind you, and his arms have barely wrapped around your form when you shoulder him away, grumbling something about “broke boyfriend hugs” he couldn’t even make sense of. so with frustration and confusion taking over in equal measure, he moves to sit in the chair on the other end of the island.

toji watches as you zip around the kitchen as if the tiles would burn your feet if you stayed in the same place too long. your hands are jerky as you take plates out of the cardboard. every movement too sharp and exerting a lot more force than necessary.

when you place them on the counter, the loud clank of ceramic against marble is grating enough to make him stop biting his tongue.

“what’s going on with you?”

the drawer rasps as you open it and he hopes it’s a coincidence you happen to take out a knife so soon after the question.

“huh?” your brow arches, but you still don’t look up. it has him bristling.

“you’ve been in a mood all day,” that draws your eyes to his and even when they narrow at the edges, he doesn’t stop talking, “i’m not a fuckin’ mind reader. if something’s wrong, you better come out with it.”

a nerve under your eye twitches.

“i’m sorry,” he has a feeling you’re not sorry at all. but finally that nonchalant front is cracking, and along with it, a frown follows its path, setting deep lines around your mouth. “is coming home to a clean house and me slaving over a hot stove not good enough for you?”

the fuck?

his jaw to tightens. “i never said that.”

“then what are you saying?” you throw back so fast it almost feels like he’s been shot.

toji pauses. he takes stock of you from head to toe and really allows himself to take his time as he does so.

the man reasons that your body always told him what your stubborn mouth never seems to be able to so maybe, just maybe, he would be able to sniff something out.

your hair falls to your shoulders, messy as if you ran your hands through it a few more times than you should have. eyes a little too bright and tracking as they stay fixed on him.

his sudden appraisal is anything but subtle, and whatever cutting remark you throw his way at the fact is completely ignored.

instead, he focuses on how your pulse jumps in your neck, ticking fast within the delicate column of skin. the way it always did that when you were angry, or when you were—

oh.

dark eyes light up like a christmas tree when it finally hits him.

“i see what this is about.” toji starts with the barest hint of amusement colouring his tone. his gaze flickers south just to make sure, and yes. the longer he stares at your tits, the more your nipples pebble under your sleep shirt. they perk up so hard he’s surprised they haven’t torn through the fabric yet. “baby, we've been together three years and you're still too shy to tell me what you want?”

your back straightens. caught. “what are you even talking about?”

he merely raises a brow at you, because you knew exactly what he was talking about. and slowly but surely, a warm flush touches your cheeks. embarrassment has you throwing the knife back into the drawer—as if you forgot what you wanted to use it for in the first place.

“you know what? fuck this,” you turn the stove off and step away. “make your own damn food.”

but toji wasn’t hungry anymore. not for food anyway.

his hand latches around your wrist before you get two steps in, and your head whips to him. lips part to no doubt curse him out, so he sharply yanks you into his chest.

the pull happens so quickly it knocks the air out of your lungs and before you can take a second to breathe, his mouth is on you to steal even more.

strong hands cup the undersides of your arms, lifting then setting you down on the edge of the counter and a shiver runs up your spine as cool marble hits skin.

toji grips the plush flesh of your thighs, forcing them apart then winding them around his body.

the speed of it all and the rush of having him between your legs, all snug and muscular, has your hips subtly pitching against his…or at least you thought it was subtle until he pulls away.

“oh, my poor baby,” he huffs against your mouth. “missed me a little more this time, didn’t you?”

your lips purse in response, and when you look away with your nose turned up, a soft chuckle is exhaled over your jaw.

you don’t have to answer for him to know the truth.

swift hands grab your shorts, almost tearing them clean off in his rush to get you bare for him, and once you were, his eyes go impossibly dark as they settle between your thighs.

“fuck, look at you,” a sexy grin tugs at his scarred lips. “so soaked for me and i’ve barely touched you.”

your chin tips up. “what makes you think it’s because of you?”

smack!

his palm promptly cracks over your cunt and the sharp bite of pain coupled with the wet squelch that echoes through the apartment afterwards, has you mewling.

“shit—!”

“keep being a brat, and i’ll leave you like this,” he tuts.

both of you knew that was a lie, but you still bit your tongue. mostly because the sight of him lowering himself to his knees steals away any snark you hoped to make.

once settled between your legs, middle and pointer fingers part your folds open, smearing the glittery wetness of your slick over your clit. then thumping over it in two sharp taps that have you grunting.

thick fingers slide down to press over your entrance and he croons when he feels you quiver. desperate and painfully empty.

“toji,” you complain between a moan and it makes his cock stir. your hips lift, seeking a trace of friction, only to get the soft press of his lips over your thigh instead.

the kiss was almost sweet and you hated it. hated him, because since when was toji ever soft?

he’s clearly teasing you.

“hm, you want something?” he murmurs so close to your cunt you can feel the heat of his breath on it. “told you i’m not a mind reader.”

he glances up at you and just knows you’re calling him every name but his own in your head. the way your lip curls tells him as much, but it only has him smiling wider.

“your mouth.” you manage between uneven pants, and a low hum follows.

“what about it?”

jesus christ.

you throw your head back in frustration, and he simply waits you out.

waits until you swallow your pride and get bold enough to tell him what you want.

it takes some time for your eyes to meet again.

“need it,” he frowns with faux empathy. so mocking it would have made you stand up and leave if you weren't so pent up. you ignore that it makes you a little wetter too.

“where?” he whispers, then thinking better of it, he tilts his head to the side. “show me.”

with a sigh, you let your legs part some more, fingers bumping against his as you circle your clit. he leans down and you nearly slap him when he presses another tender kiss to your inner thigh instead of where you wanted him most. where you literally just showed him to go.

“you sure you don’t want it here?” your head shakes and kisses continue to trail up your skin until he reaches your cunt. each peck he delivers is soft and gentle and devastatingly disarming, so when you start to relax, his lips part and sinful lick is dragged all the way up your slit.

you gasp. brokenly and all too loud, and he meets it with an answering groan against you.

“there’s my sweet girl,” toji doesn't give you time to adjust. “sweeter fucking pussy.” doesn't start slow.

his tongue laps at your sensitive clit, fat tip flicking it teasingly, before going to slurp the slick dripping down your folds. he sucks sensitive flesh into his mouth, sharp teeth scraping until you squirm under him. your hips shift back only to be pulled forward again.

“uh-uh, you wanted this. don't hide her from me.”

toji cups the tops of your legs, holding you down and open as he forces his tongue into your cunt. you flutter around the muscle, and it only makes him plunge deeper. swirling, thrusting, searching.

calloused hands grow rougher when you try to wiggle away again, moving to the backs of your thighs to push your legs, up, up, until your knees nearly touch your ears.

his mouth unrelenting as he eats you out like he means to break you. sloppy open-mouth kisses smacking onto pussy until your legs tremble in his hold.

“toji—oh, fuck please—” you don’t even know what you’re begging for as you grip his broad shoulders.

manicured nails dig into his skin, and it hurts, but it also has his cock throbbing harder. each pulse beats in time with your clit twitching under his tongue, and he groans when you cum and balmy sweetness washes over it in a thick heady rush.

“shit, there you go baby. let it out.”

the man doesn't stop even when you're a blabbing mess under him, and he moans into your pussy, free hand fisting his length through the rough fabric of his jeans.

you fall back against the counter, its coldness and hardness not even registering as you convulse all over and only then does he finally pull away.

“been gone for fourteen days,” he starts while your bleary eyes stare up at the ceiling. “guess i have to make you cum that many times to make it up to you?”

your eyes go round and you look down at him.

there’s no way he could do that. there was no way you could do that.

but as two fingers are pushed deep into your cunt, hooking up juuust right, you have a feeling the maniac is going to find a way regardless and god did you love him for it.

of course you fucking missed him.

art by @/hunnismokah

note: self indulgent because this was me a few days ago, minus you know, toji…..anyway first jjk drabble yay (?)

🏷️: @stberrypuss, @cheriefrosting, @indom-itus, @rambld, @ehcilhc @blueglitterwalet, @magicalpeenpoo, @sonotkiki, @mieleism, @deartoru, @sugusplaything, @maxxthefan, @kingraspberry12-blog, @21-princess, @peonysecret , @jiyuspassion, @sluttyangel04, @shannonigans1029, @pjselee

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