SEXY NANA

゛ oh papí ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

[fayelero]

# 𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔫’𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰

⊹ 𓈒 ੭ 파이 MOONEE ______ 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒆 .

# 20 𝆹 she/her 𝆹 french 𝆹 toji's problem, gojo's bitch n shidou’s twin

boyfriend’s catalogue enter at your own risk who’s that bitch ?

❝ below 18? THIS IS NOT DAYCARE !

-> side acc @fayefavz

Ⓒ𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑶---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

hi hello this is me coming to ask if you wanna be moots😽

Offcccc baby !!!! I followed you on my side acc @fayefavz !

[fayelero]

katsuki bakugo…begging to breed you ??

“c’mon, fuckin’ take it—yeah, just like that, y’know you love when I wreck this greedy cunt,” katsuki snarls, voice all gravel and heat as he drives his hips forward hard enough to shove you deeper into the mattress. he’s got you face-down, ass up, one big hand splayed across the small of your back to keep you arched exactly how he wants. the other grips a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so your spine curves pretty for him. every brutal thrust punches a wet, filthy pap! against your cheeks, the sound sharp and rhythmic, echoing off the walls of his room.

his cock is thick, angry-red, the veins standing out like lightning under the flushed skin as it splits you open again and again. the head of it keeps kissing the deepest part of you, that soft, spongy spot that makes your toes curl and your mouth fall open in a silent scream. saliva strings from your lower lip to the pillow, your tongue lolling uselessly while he uses you like he owns every inch. katsuki’s never soft about it—never has been. he fucks like he’s trying to leave permanent bruises on your insides, and god, you love it.

“look at you,” he grits out, free hand cracking across your ass hard enough to leave a perfect red print. the sting blooms hot, and your cunt clenches greedily around him in response. “fuckin’ dripping down my balls already. messy little slut. this what you need? huh? me rearranging your guts until you can’t walk straight?”

you can only whimper, high and broken, hips pushing back to meet every vicious snap of his. the wet glide of your pussy is obscenely loud—schlick-schlick-schlick—your walls fluttering and sucking at him every time he pulls almost all the way out just to slam home again. katsuki’s abs are rock-hard under the thin black tank he’s still wearing, the fabric dark with sweat between his shoulder blades. his free hand slides up under it to palm one of your tits, pinching the nipple roughly between two fingers until you cry out.

he’s relentless. always has been. dominant down to the bone, the kind of man who takes and takes and leaves you shaking and full and marked. begging? never. not once. not even when he’s so deep he’s kissing your cervix and your vision’s going white at the edges.

but tonight something cracks.

it starts with a low, almost pained sound in his throat when your cunt squeezes down hard around the base of him. his rhythm stutters for half a second—just long enough for you to feel the way his cock throbs, thick and heavy, the head flaring against that soft inner wall. his grip on your hair tightens until your scalp stings.

“fuck— fuck,” he growls, and it’s different. rougher. desperate in a way you’ve never heard from him. he folds over your back, chest plastered to your spine, mouth hot against the shell of your ear. “gonna—gonna pump you so fuckin’ full, y’hear me? every drop. want it leaking outta you for days.”

you moan, loud and shameless, and the sound seems to snap something loose in him. his next thrust is deeper, meaner, the angle shifting so the thick curve of his cock drags hard over your g-spot on every stroke. the wet slap of skin on skin gets louder, messier, your juices frothing white around his shaft.

“please—”

the word falls out of him like it hurts.

you freeze for a heartbeat, brain short-circuiting. please? katsuki bakugo does not say please. not in bed. not ever. but he’s saying it now, voice cracking on the edges, hips still jackhammering into you like he’s trying to fuck the word deeper into your body.

“please, fuckin’—please let me breed this cunt,” he pants against your neck, teeth scraping. “need to fill you up. need to put a baby in you so fuckin’ bad it hurts. c’mon, take it—take every fuckin’ drop I give you. gonna make this soft little belly swell, gonna keep you full and round and mine.”

the words hit you like a live wire. your whole body jerks, a broken sob tearing out of your throat as your pussy clamps down so tight he curses. something molten and filthy unfurls low in your gut at the sound of him begging. katsuki bakugo, the most dominant, stubborn, never-breaks man you’ve ever known, reduced to pleading while he rails you into the mattress.

“oh god—katsuki—”

“yeah? that do it for you?” he laughs, but it’s breathless, almost wrecked. he pulls almost all the way out, just the fat head of him stretching your entrance, then slams back in to the hilt with a wet thud. “fuckin’ knew it. look at how this greedy hole’s sucking me in. you want it, don’t you? want me to breed you like a bitch in heat. want my cum so deep it takes.”

he’s talking filthy, but his voice keeps cracking on the edges, hips stuttering every time your walls flutter. one hand leaves your hip to reach under you, two rough fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, vicious circles. the dual sensation—cock battering your cervix, fingers working your swollen bud—has you seeing stars.

“say it,” he demands, but it comes out closer to a plea. “say you want it. say you want me to knock you up. fuckin’ beg for it the way I’m begging for this cunt.”

you can barely form words. every thrust punches the air from your lungs, your arms giving out until you’re face-down in the sheets, ass still obediently raised for him. saliva pools under your cheek. your thighs are shaking so hard the bedframe rattles.

“please—please breed me, katsuki—want it, want your cum, want you to—ahh—fill me up until it takes—”

that’s all it takes.

katsuki makes a sound like he’s been stabbed, a raw, punched-out groan that vibrates against your back. his hips turn brutal, short, sharp snaps that keep him buried deep while he grinds against your cervix. you can feel every pulse of his cock, the way it swells even thicker, the head flaring as he teeters on the edge.

“fuck—fuckfuckfuck—gonna give it to you, gonna breed this perfect fuckin’ pussy so good—” his voice is pure desperation now, the words tumbling out between gritted teeth. “take it—take every drop—don’t you dare waste a fuckin’ bit of it, y’hear me? this cum’s gonna make you mine.”

he comes with a broken snarl, hips locked flush against your ass as the first thick rope of cum punches against your cervix. you feel it—hot, heavy, so much—flooding you in pulse after pulse. katsuki keeps grinding through it, shallow little thrusts that force more of his seed deeper, the excess already starting to leak out around his shaft in creamy rivulets. his free hand clamps over your lower belly, pressing down like he can feel himself filling you from the outside.

“that’s it—that’s it, take it all—fuck, look at you swallowing me—” he’s still talking, still begging even as he empties himself, voice gone hoarse and wrecked. “gonna keep you like this. full. marked. every fuckin’ night until it sticks. until this soft belly’s round with my kid and everyone knows exactly who you belong to.”

the pressure of his hand on your stomach combined with the way his cock keeps twitching and spurting inside you tips you over. your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, cunt spasming so hard around him that more of his cum is forced out in wet, filthy gushes down your thighs. you sob his name into the sheets, body convulsing, vision whiting out as the pleasure borders on pain.

katsuki doesn’t pull out. he stays buried to the root, still gently rocking his hips, working every last drop as deep as it will go. his forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot and ragged against your skin. when he finally speaks again, the usual sharp edge is gone—replaced by something almost reverent.

“ fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “look at this pretty cunt just taking it. already overflowing and still trying to keep me inside.” one thick finger trails through the mess leaking out around his cock, gathering a smear of his own cum and pushing it back into you with a slow, deliberate press. “not wastin’ a drop. not when I begged so fuckin’ pretty for it.”

he stays like that for a long moment—cock softening but still plugged deep, hand possessive over your belly—before he finally eases out with a wet, obscene schlick. the rush of cum that follows makes you whimper, thick white rivulets pouring down your thighs and onto the sheets. katsuki watches it with dark, hungry eyes, then leans down, spreads your cheeks with both hands, and drags his tongue through the mess in one long, filthy stripe.

“still so fuckin’ full,” he mutters against your swollen folds, voice gone soft and almost awed. “keep that arch for me. gonna clean you up… then I’m puttin’ it right back in.” his tongue delves deeper, lapping at the cream pouring out of you, the scar on his lip catching against your clit in a way that makes your oversensitive body jolt. “can’t leave my girl empty. not when she let me breed her so good.”

he doesn’t stop until you’re trembling again, until every last visible drop has been licked away or pushed back inside with careful fingers. then he climbs back over you, already half-hard, the head of his cock nudging against your dripping entrance once more.

“round two,” he growls, voice raw with leftover desperation. “and this time you’re gonna look me in the eyes while I fill you again. want to watch your face when I beg for it.”

Ⓒ𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑶---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

PROMISE I'LL BE KIND! BUT I WON'T STOP UNTIL THE BOY IS MINE...

ft. gojo, toji, choso, geto

tw. mdni! dumbification, praise(geto), degradation, rough, p in v, stalker!reader, cult leader!geto, please read at your own risks !

GOJO SATORU

You’d been careful. Or so you told yourself.

Six days of shadows and stolen glances. Six days of trailing the tall figure in black, white hair catching every streetlight, blindfold never quite turning toward you. You memorized his routes—the way he cut through alleys near the school, the late-night convenience-store runs, the quiet residential street that led to the modern house with the dark windows. You told yourself it was just admiration. Just a fan’s obsession. Harmless.

Tonight you stepped onto his porch anyway.

The lights were off. No car in the driveway. You pressed closer to the door, heart hammering, fingers brushing the cool wood as if you could feel him through it—

A hand clamped over your mouth from behind.

Hard. Absolute.

Warm palm sealed your scream. An arm like steel banded around your waist and yanked you backward into a solid wall of muscle and heat. You felt the smirk against your ear before you heard the voice.

“Caught you, little stalker.”

Gojo.

He didn’t give you time to struggle. One shove of his foot and the door swung open. He propelled you inside, kicked it shut, and the locks engaged with sharp, final clicks. Darkness swallowed the entryway for half a second before soft lights bloomed—low, intimate, enough to see the dangerous curve of his mouth above the black blindfold.

He spun you and pinned you to the wall so hard the air left your lungs. One hand stayed over your mouth. The other wrapped your throat, thumb resting lightly over your racing pulse.

“Six days,” he murmured, almost fond. “Six whole days of you following me everywhere. I let it go at first. Cute. Then annoying. Then…” His thumb stroked once. “Interesting. You wanted my attention so badly you became a little ghost. So here it is.”

He kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. His mouth crashed onto yours the second he moved his hand, tongue forcing past your lips, claiming every inch. He tasted like mint and danger. You whimpered into it—fear, shock, and something darker twisting low in your belly—and he only deepened the kiss, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your stomach through his clothes.

When he finally pulled back an inch, both of you were breathing hard.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, voice low and amused. “Scared? Or already wet for the man you’ve been stalking?”

You couldn’t answer. Your thighs pressed together of their own accord. He laughed softly—mean, delighted—and then he was moving again, marching you deeper into the house with a hand between your shoulder blades. The living room was spacious, modern, all clean lines and a wide black leather couch. He bent you over the back of it without ceremony, cheek pressed to cool leather, ass presented.

“Stay.”

One word. Absolute.

You heard his belt. The soft hiss of a zipper. Fabric shifting. Then his hands were on you—rough, efficient, yanking your shirt up and off, unhooking your bra, peeling your pants and underwear down to your knees in one ruthless motion. Cool air kissed your bare skin. You were already dripping; you could feel it.

Gojo’s fingers found the evidence immediately.

Two long fingers slid through your folds, gathering slick, then pushed inside without warning. You cried out. He curled them hard against that sensitive front wall and scissored, stretching you open while his thumb circled your clit with deliberate pressure.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost impressed. “Soaked. You’ve been walking around with this needy little cunt thinking about me for days, haven’t you? Obsessive little freak.”

He finger-fucked you hard and fast, wet sounds obscenely loud in the quiet room. When he added a third finger you sobbed into the leather. He only laughed and kept going until your hips were jerking back against his hand, chasing more.

Then the blunt, hot head of his cock dragged through your folds.

He didn’t ease in.

He sank halfway on the first thrust, then slammed the rest of the way home in one brutal stroke that punched the air from your lungs. The stretch burned—thick, perfect, too much. He bottomed out and stayed there, hips flush to your ass, letting you feel every pulsing inch.

“There,” he groaned. “That’s what you get for following the strongest. You get used.”

Then he started to move.

Hard. Deep. Relentless. The couch creaked under every snap of his hips. His cock dragged over every sensitive place inside you on every stroke, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. One hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back so he could watch your face in profile; the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you exactly where he wanted you.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Stuffed full of me and still trying to pretend you didn’t want this. You stalked me for days just hoping I’d catch you and fuck the sense back into you. Admit it.”

You couldn’t form words—only broken gasps and high, desperate moans. He fucked like he fought: precise, overwhelming, completely in control. When your legs started to shake he only spread them wider with his own, forcing you more open, more vulnerable. The angle changed and suddenly every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you. Your vision blurred.

“Come on my cock,” he ordered, voice rough now. “Do it. Let this obsessive little cunt milk me while I ruin you.”

The orgasm tore through you without mercy—violent, full-body, walls clenching and fluttering around the thick length buried inside you. You sobbed his name. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow. He fucked you through it, chasing his own pleasure, the overstimulation making you thrash and whimper against the leather.

When he finally pulled out it was only long enough to flip you onto your back on the cushions. He shoved your tangled pants the rest of the way off, spread your thighs wide, and sank back in with a guttural sound. Face to face now. The blindfold still covered his eyes, but you felt the intensity of his focus like a physical weight. He braced one hand beside your head, the other folding one of your legs up so he could drive even deeper.

“Still with me?” he asked, almost gentle for a second—then ruined it by snapping his hips so hard the couch scraped across the floor. “Good. Because I’m not done taming you.”

He kissed you again while he fucked you, swallowing every broken sound. His tongue mimicked the rhythm of his cock—deep, claiming, relentless. When he tore his mouth away it was to latch onto your throat, sucking a dark mark just below your jaw while his hips kept pounding. You were going to come again. You could feel it building, coiling tight and hot.

“That’s it,” he groaned against your skin. “Take it. Take every fucking inch. This is what happens when an obsessive girl gets caught by me. You get fucked until you understand exactly who you belong to.”

The second orgasm hit harder than the first. Your back arched clean off the cushions, inner walls fluttering and squeezing around him in helpless waves. Gojo cursed, low and filthy, and then he was coming too—burying himself to the hilt and pulsing deep inside you, flooding you with heat. He stayed locked there, breathing hard against your neck, hips giving a few last lazy rolls as he rode it out.

For a long moment the only sound was both of you panting.

Then he slowly pulled out. You felt the immediate rush of his come slipping out of you, warm and messy down your thighs. He looked down at the mess he’d made, that same lazy, dangerous smile curving his mouth.

“Still think following me was a good idea?” he asked softly.

You couldn’t answer. Your body was trembling, oversensitive, thoroughly used—and somewhere under the haze of pleasure and surrender, the obsessive girl in you was already craving more. He leaned down and kissed you one more time—slower now, almost sweet—before murmuring against your lips:

“Good. Because you’re not leaving tonight. And tomorrow… we’re going to talk about exactly how long you’ve been watching me.”

His hand slid between your legs again, two fingers gathering the mix of both of you and pushing it back inside.

“And then,” he added, voice dark with promise, “I’m going to fuck you again. Until this little obsession of yours is the only thing that makes sense.”

You shivered—fear, yes, but also something hotter, deeper. Because even like this—trapped, used, claimed—you had never felt more seen.

And the obsessive girl in you loved every second of being tamed by Satoru Gojo.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

You’d been following him for days.

Not the white-haired sorcerer this time. This one was different—taller in a different way, broader, scarred, moving through the city like a predator that didn’t need cursed energy to own every shadow. Toji Fushiguro. You’d watched him from rooftops, from alley mouths, from the dark corners of cheap bars where he sometimes drank alone. Your eyes always lingered too long on the thick muscle of his arms, the heavy scars that mapped his torso under thin shirts, the way his body moved with lazy, lethal power. You told yourself it was fascination. Research. Admiration.

It was obsession.

You wanted to touch that skin. Trace every old wound with your fingers, your mouth. You wanted to know if the scars were raised, if the muscle under them jumped when pressed. You wanted him. All of him. The freak in you had already decided he was the only thing worth looking at in this entire city.

Tonight you got too close.

The alley was narrow, reeking of rain and garbage, lit only by a distant streetlamp that barely reached the walls. You’d followed him in, heart slamming against your ribs, thinking he wouldn’t notice another shadow. You were wrong.

A hand the size of a dinner plate closed around the back of your neck and slammed you face-first into the brick wall.

The impact knocked the air out of you. Rough stone scraped your cheek. His body pressed in behind yours—massive, hot, immovable—pinning you so completely you couldn’t even turn your head.

“You again,” Toji’s voice rumbled low against your ear, gravel and smoke. “Been watching me like a fucking dog in heat for days. Thought I didn’t see you? Cute.”

You tried to speak. His grip tightened, fingers digging into the sides of your neck hard enough to make your vision spark at the edges.

“Shut up. I know what you want.” His free hand shoved under your shirt, palm sliding up your stomach with zero gentleness, rough calluses catching on your skin. “You keep staring at my body like you want to peel the skin off and wear it. Sick little freak. That what this is? You want my scars? My muscle? You want to fucking collect me?”

He laughed, short and mean, and yanked your hips back against him. You felt the thick, heavy outline of his cock through his pants, already half-hard, pressing into the curve of your ass.

“Too bad. You’re not getting a trophy. You’re getting fucked until that dumb brain of yours remembers what happens when you stalk the wrong man.”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn.

His hand left your neck only long enough to rip your shirt open. Buttons scattered across the wet pavement. The cool night air hit your bare breasts a second before his rough palms did—squeezing hard, thumbs scraping over your nipples until they peaked painfully. You gasped. He answered by grinding against you harder, the friction deliberate and filthy.

“Look at you. Already shaking. Already wet, I bet.” One hand dropped, shoved past the waistband of your pants and underwear without ceremony, two thick fingers sliding straight through your folds. He found the proof immediately—slick, hot, shameless. “Fuck. Dripping. You really are a perverted little stalker, aren’t you? Following me around just hoping I’d catch you and use you.”

He fingered you roughly, curling those fingers deep, dragging them against your front wall while his thumb mashed against your clit. No finesse. Just ownership. The wet sounds of it echoed off the alley walls. You moaned despite yourself, hips jerking back into his hand, and he barked a laugh.

“There it is. The freak comes out. You like this. Being pinned in a dirty alley by a man who could snap your neck. Being handled like a toy. Say it.”

You didn’t. He twisted his fingers harder, pressing deep until your knees nearly buckled.

“Say it or I stop and leave you here dripping with nothing.”

“I—I like it,” you choked out, voice wrecked already. “I like it—”

“Louder.”

“I like it!”

“Good girl.” The words were pure mockery. “Obsessive little cunt. Now you’re gonna take what you actually get.”

He yanked your pants and underwear down to your knees in one brutal motion, leaving them tangled around your calves so you couldn’t kick or run. The night air kissed your exposed pussy. Then you heard his belt, the heavy zipper, the shift of fabric. The thick, hot head of his cock dragged through your folds once, twice, gathering your slick, and then he shoved in.

No warning. No gentleness.

He bottomed out in one savage thrust that punched a broken cry from your throat. The stretch was brutal—Toji was thick, heavy, the kind of cock that forced everything else out of your head. He stayed buried for a second, letting you feel every pulsing inch, then pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in harder.

“Fuck,” he growled, the sound low and filthy against the back of your neck. “Tight little stalker pussy. Clenching around me like you were made for this.”

He set a punishing rhythm immediately. Hips snapping against your ass with wet, heavy smacks that echoed down the alley. One hand stayed fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so your back arched, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints. Every thrust drove you up onto your toes, cheek scraping brick, breasts bouncing with the force of it. He fucked like he fought—efficient, overwhelming, zero wasted motion. Deep. Hard. Claiming.

“This what you wanted?” he snarled between thrusts. “Following me for days, staring at my body like a fucking predator, and now you’ve got it. My cock rearranging your guts in a dirty alley. You happy now, freak?”

You could only moan, broken and high, the words dissolving into gasps every time he bottomed out. The angle was perfect and merciless, the head of his cock dragging over that sensitive spot inside you on every stroke. Pressure built fast, hot and inevitable. Your walls fluttered around him. He felt it and laughed, mean and breathless.

“Already close? Pathetic. One good fucking and the obsessive little stalker is about to cream all over the cock she was too scared to ask for.” He reached around, thick fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, rough circles. “Come on then. Come on my cock like the needy bitch you are. Show me how much you love being used.”

The orgasm hit like a truck. Your whole body locked, inner walls clamping down hard around the thick length buried inside you, a broken sob tearing from your throat as pleasure ripped through every nerve. Your vision whited out for a second. Toji didn’t stop. He fucked you straight through it, the overstimulation making you thrash and whimper against the wall, legs shaking so hard he had to hold you up.

“That’s it. Milk me. Take it.” His voice was rougher now, closer to the edge. “Gonna fill this greedy cunt up so you remember exactly who put you in your place.”

He shifted, one arm banding around your waist to haul you back harder onto every thrust, the other still working your oversensitive clit. The dual assault was too much. A second orgasm started building almost immediately, sharper, almost painful. You tried to speak—please, too much, more—but the only sounds that came out were broken moans and the wet slap of skin on skin.

“Listen to you,” he mocked, breath hot against your ear. “Can’t even form words. Just a dripping hole for me to use. That’s all a little stalker like you is good for. Taking cock until that dumb brain finally shuts up.”

He bit down on the side of your neck hard enough to bruise, hips slamming deeper, faster. The second climax tore through you without mercy. You screamed into the brick, walls fluttering and squeezing around him in helpless waves. Toji cursed, low and filthy, and then he was coming too—burying himself to the hilt and pulsing deep inside you, thick ropes of heat flooding your cunt. He stayed locked there, grinding through it, making sure every drop stayed buried.

For a long moment the only sound in the alley was both of you breathing hard.

Then he slowly pulled out. You felt the immediate rush of his come slipping out of you, warm and messy down your thighs, dripping onto the pavement between your feet. Your pants were still tangled around your knees. Your shirt hung open. Your legs barely held you up.

Toji stepped back just enough to look at the mess he’d made of you. His scarred hand reached out, two fingers sliding through the mix of both of you still leaking from your used pussy, and he pushed it back inside with deliberate, possessive pressure.

“Still think following me was smart?” he asked, voice low and dark with residual heat.

You couldn’t answer. Your body was trembling, oversensitive, thoroughly claimed—and somewhere under the haze of pleasure and humiliation, the freak in you was already craving the next time. He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear, and the words that came out were pure mockery wrapped in something almost like approval.

“Good. Because next time I catch you staring at my body like that, I’m not going to be this nice. I’m going to bend you over wherever we are and fuck the obsession right out of that pretty little head. Or deeper into it. Depends how much of a freak you still are when I’m done.”

He gave your clit one last rough circle with his thumb, making you jolt, then stepped fully back. You heard him zip up, the soft clink of his belt. When you finally managed to turn your head, he was already walking away down the alley, broad shoulders cutting through the dark like nothing had happened.

But the bruises on your hips, the come still dripping down your thighs, and the fresh bite mark on your neck said otherwise.

And the obsessive girl in you—the one who had followed him for days just to look at his skin—smiled against the brick, already counting the hours until she could stalk him again.

CHOSO KAMO

You’d been careful. Obsessively careful.

First it was Choso himself—shadowing the tall, pale figure with the dark marks under his eyes, learning his routes, his silences, the way he moved like something half-human and half-blood. You wanted every scrap of information. When you finally pieced together that Yuji Itadori was his brother, the obsession sharpened. Stalk the brother, learn more about the blood-user. Simple. Efficient. You told yourself it was research. It was never just research.

Tonight you crouched beneath the window of the quiet house Yuji sometimes stayed in, heart thudding, notebook forgotten in your pocket. The lights were low. You could just make out shapes moving inside. You leaned closer, breath fogging the glass—

The front door opened.

Choso stepped out into the dark.

He saw you instantly.

Those dark eyes locked on you like a blade. The marks under them seemed to deepen with pure, protective fury. In two long strides he was on you, one hand fisting the front of your shirt, the other slamming you back against the outer wall of the house hard enough that the air left your lungs in a rush.

“You,” he growled, voice low and trembling with rage. “I felt you watching. Hovering around Yuji. What were you going to do to him? Hurt him? Take him? Speak.”

You opened your mouth—to explain, to deny, to say it was never about Yuji—but Choso didn’t give you the chance. He spun you, shoved you face-first into the rough brick, one heavy arm locking across your chest while the other yanked your hips back against him. You felt the hard, thick line of his cock already pressing through his clothes, pure fury and something darker.

“I don’t care what excuses you have,” he snarled against your ear. “You came near my brother. You don’t get to leave until you understand exactly what that costs.”

His hand shoved under your shirt, palm rough and cold against your skin, then higher, cupping one breast hard enough to make you gasp. He pinched your nipple between two fingers, twisting just shy of pain, and you felt the first pulse of unwanted heat between your legs. The freak in you—the one who had stalked him for weeks—shivered.

Choso noticed.

“Disgusting,” he muttered, but his cock twitched against your ass. “You’re already reacting. You came here to threaten what’s mine and now your body is begging.”

He didn’t undress you gently. He ripped your pants open, shoved them and your underwear down to your knees in one harsh motion, leaving you bare and exposed to the night air. Two long fingers shoved between your thighs without warning, sliding through the slick that had already gathered. He barked a short, humorless laugh.

“Soaked. You were watching my brother’s house with a dripping cunt. What kind of sick stalker are you?”

He curled those fingers deep, pressing hard against the front wall of your pussy, and your knees nearly gave. He held you up easily, finger-fucking you with brutal efficiency while his other hand stayed locked across your chest, keeping you pinned. The wet sounds of it were obscenely loud in the quiet night. When he added a third finger you moaned, high and broken, and he only pressed harder.

“Quiet. You’ll wake him. And if you do, I’ll make this so much worse.”

He pulled his fingers free. You heard the soft rustle of his own clothes, the heavy shift of fabric. Then the thick, hot head of his cock dragged through your folds once, twice, gathering your slick—and he thrust in.

Hard. All the way. No mercy.

The stretch burned. Choso was long and thick, the kind of cock that forced everything else out of your head. He bottomed out with a low, guttural sound and stayed there, hips flush to your ass, letting you feel every pulsing inch.

“This is what you get,” he growled against the back of your neck. “You come near my family, I use you until you learn. Until that obsessive little brain of yours understands boundaries.”

Then he started to move.

Deep, punishing thrusts that drove you up onto your toes against the brick. Every snap of his hips was controlled fury, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the dark. One hand stayed fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so your back arched; the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He fucked like he fought—precise, overwhelming, completely in control of the blood in his veins and the body he was currently ruining.

“Feel that?” he snarled between thrusts. “That’s me teaching you. You don’t get to watch. You don’t get to follow. You don’t get near what’s mine.”

You could only moan, broken and high, the words dissolving every time he bottomed out. The angle was perfect and merciless, the head of his cock dragging over that sensitive spot inside you on every stroke. Pressure built fast, hot and inevitable. Your walls fluttered around him. He felt it and only fucked harder.

“Already close? Pathetic. One good fucking and the little stalker is about to come all over the cock of the man she was spying on.” He reached around, long fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, rough circles. “Do it. Come. Show me how much you enjoy being punished for your obsession.”

The orgasm tore through you without warning—violent, full-body, walls clamping down hard around the thick length buried inside you. You sobbed into the brick, vision sparking. Choso didn’t stop. He fucked you straight through it, the overstimulation making you thrash and whimper, legs shaking so hard he had to hold you up with pure strength.

“That’s it. Milk me. Take every drop of the lesson.” His voice was rougher now, closer to the edge. “I’m going to fill this greedy cunt so full you’ll feel me for days. Every time you think about following someone again, you’ll remember this.”

He shifted, one arm banding around your waist to haul you back harder onto every thrust, the other still working your oversensitive clit. The dual assault was too much. A second orgasm started building almost immediately, sharper, almost painful. You tried to speak—please, too much, I wasn’t—but the only sounds that came out were broken moans and the wet, filthy slap of skin.

“Listen to you,” he mocked, breath hot against your ear. “Can’t even form words. Just a dripping hole for me to use until you understand. That’s all a little stalker like you is good for.”

He bit down on the side of your neck hard enough to bruise, hips slamming deeper, faster. The second climax ripped through you without mercy. You screamed into the brick, walls fluttering and squeezing around him in helpless waves. Choso cursed, low and almost wounded, and then he was coming too—burying himself to the hilt and pulsing deep inside you, thick ropes of heat flooding your cunt. He stayed locked there, grinding through it, making sure every drop stayed buried.

For a long moment the only sound was both of you breathing hard against the wall of his brother’s house.

Then he slowly pulled out. You felt the immediate rush of his come slipping out of you, warm and messy down your thighs. Your pants were still tangled around your knees. Your shirt was half-ripped. Your legs barely held you up.

Choso stepped back just enough to look at the mess he’d made. His dark eyes were still furious, but something else flickered underneath—confusion, maybe, or residual heat.

You dragged in a shaky breath, voice wrecked and barely above a whisper.

“I… I wasn’t following Yuji.”

He froze.

“I was following you,” you managed, still panting, still dripping his come down your thighs. “I wanted… everything about you. The brother was just… a way to get closer. To learn more. I never wanted to hurt him. I just… wanted you.”

Silence stretched. Thick. Dangerous.

Choso’s expression didn’t soften, but the pure killing intent in his gaze shifted into something darker, more complicated. He reached out, two fingers sliding through the mix of both of you still leaking from your used pussy, and pushed it back inside with deliberate, possessive pressure.

GETO SUGURU

You’d been circling him for months.

Not the public rallies. Not the smiling speeches about a better world for sorcerers. The quieter things. The estate on the edge of the city, high walls and quiet gardens, the place where Suguru Geto actually lived between performances. You wandered the perimeter at night like a ghost, memorizing the guards’ rotations, the soft glow of windows, the rare moments when he stepped onto a balcony alone. Obsession had long since stopped pretending it was anything else. You wanted to be closer. You wanted to be seen by him.

Tonight you finally were.

You had slipped in with the evening gathering, dressed like any other new follower, heart hammering so hard you were certain someone would hear it. The meeting room was large, candlelit, full of soft voices and reverence. You never made it to a seat.

A quiet attendant touched your elbow and murmured that the leader wished to speak with you privately.

The side room was smaller. Dark wood, low light, a single long couch and a low table. The door closed behind you with a soft, final click.

Geto was already there.

He stood near the window, black robes open at the throat, long hair half-tied, the same elegant, almost gentle smile he wore for the cameras. But his eyes were different up close. Sharper. Knowing.

“Come here,” he said, voice low and warm.

You obeyed before you could think. Your cheeks were already burning.

“I… I’ve admired you for a long time,” you started, the words tumbling out too fast. “Everything you stand for. The way you speak. The way you—”

“I know.”

Two words. Soft. Absolute.

He stepped closer, stopping only when he was near enough that you could smell the faint incense on his clothes. One long-fingered hand lifted, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’ve been walking the edges of my estate for eleven weeks,” he continued, almost fond. “Sometimes at dusk. Sometimes after midnight. You never crossed the walls until tonight. You watched the windows. You learned the guards. You waited until you could walk in as one of mine.” His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. “Such dedication. Such quiet, hungry patience. I find it… admirable.”

Your breath caught. Praise from him felt like a hand closing around your throat in the best way.

“I asked for you specifically tonight,” he went on, still soft. “Because obsession this pure deserves to be acknowledged. And because I decided I no longer wanted to simply be watched.”

His other hand settled at your waist, firm, guiding you backward until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the couch. He pressed you down to sit, then followed, kneeling between your knees with that same serene smile.

“You came here blushing and ready to recite every beautiful thing you think about me,” he murmured. “How sweet. How transparent.” He leaned in, lips almost brushing yours. “I’m going to fuck you until that pretty admiration turns into something far less polite. And you’re going to thank me for it.”

You didn’t get the chance to answer.

His mouth claimed yours—deep, controlled, devastating. He kissed like he preached: patient at first, then absolute. Tongue sliding against yours, teeth catching your lower lip, one hand sliding up into your hair to hold you exactly where he wanted. When he finally pulled back you were already panting.

“Clothes off,” he said quietly. “All of them. Slowly. I want to watch the little stalker who finally got inside.”

Your hands shook as you obeyed. Shirt. Bra. The rest. He never looked away, dark eyes tracking every inch of skin you revealed. When you were bare he made a soft, approving sound and rose just enough to shed his own outer robe. The body beneath was lean, powerful, marked with the quiet discipline of a man who had once been a sorcerer and now ruled something far larger.

He pushed you farther back onto the couch and spread your thighs with deliberate hands.

“So wet already,” he observed, two long fingers sliding through your folds without preamble. “All those nights outside the walls, and this is what you were imagining. Being called into a private room. Being praised. Being used.” He curled those fingers deep, pressing firmly against the front wall of your pussy until your hips jerked. “Good. I prefer honesty in my followers.”

He fingered you with the same elegant control he used for everything else—precise, relentless, watching every twitch of your face. When he added a third finger you whimpered, and he only smiled.

“That’s it. Open for me. You’ve waited long enough.”

He withdrew his fingers, slick and shining, and replaced them with the thick head of his cock. He didn’t tease. He sank in with one long, controlled thrust that stole the air from your lungs. The stretch was perfect, deep, overwhelming. He bottomed out and stayed there, hips flush to yours, letting you feel every inch while he studied your face.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Taking me so well. All that careful stalking, all that quiet hunger, and now you’re full of the man you watched from the dark.” He rolled his hips once, slow and devastating. “Praise suits you. So does this.”

Then he started to move.

Hard. Deep. Measured at first, then steadily more punishing. The couch creaked under every thrust. One hand braced beside your head; the other gripped your thigh and folded it higher so he could drive even deeper. Every snap of his hips forced a broken sound from your throat. He fucked like he led—absolute, deliberate, leaving no room for anything but him.

“You’ve been so patient,” he said between thrusts, voice still low and almost gentle even as he used you. “Walking my walls. Learning my patterns. Waiting for a way inside. I should reward that kind of devotion.” He angled sharper, the head of his cock dragging over that perfect spot inside you on every stroke. “Come on my cock for me. Show me how good it feels to finally be seen.”

The orgasm hit hard and sudden, your walls clamping down around him as you sobbed his name. He didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, the overstimulation making you writhe, and only when the worst of the shaking faded did he lean down and speak against your mouth.

“Again.”

He reached between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles while his hips kept pounding. The dual assault was merciless. A second climax built almost immediately, sharper, almost too much. You tried to speak—please, too much, more—but the only sounds that left you were broken, needy moans.

“That’s my devoted little stalker,” he praised, voice roughening at the edges. “Taking everything I give. Letting me use this body the way you’ve been imagining for weeks. You’re perfect like this. Open. Honest. Mine for the evening.”

He bit the side of your throat hard enough to mark, hips slamming deeper, faster. The second orgasm tore through you without mercy. Your back arched clean off the cushions, inner walls fluttering and squeezing around him in helpless waves. Geto cursed softly—the first crack in that perfect composure—and then he was coming too, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing deep inside you, flooding you with heat.

He stayed locked there for a long moment, forehead resting against yours, breathing controlled again even as his cock still twitched inside you.

When he finally pulled out, the rush of his come slipping down your thighs felt deliberate. He watched it with quiet satisfaction, then reached down and pushed two fingers back inside you, keeping everything where he wanted it.

“You did well,” he said softly. “Coming to me. Admitting what you are. Taking what I decided to give.” His free hand stroked once through your hair, almost tender. “But obsession this strong doesn’t simply stop because it was indulged once.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“You’ll keep coming to the gatherings. You’ll keep watching when you think I don’t notice. And when I decide I want you again, you’ll already be wet and ready the moment I call you into a private room. Do you understand?”

You could only nod, still trembling, still full of him, the praise and the hard fucking tangled so tightly together that you no longer knew which had ruined you more.

Geto smiled—that same serene, knowing smile—and pressed one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl. Now get dressed. The others will be waiting. And try not to look quite so thoroughly fucked when you rejoin them.”

He rose, already pulling his robe back into place, every inch the composed cult leader again.

You stayed on the couch a moment longer, legs still open, come still leaking, cheeks still burning—and the obsessive girl who had finally gotten inside his walls already knew she would be back the moment he allowed it.

Ⓒ𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑶---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

JJK MEN FAV KINKS !

including : gojo, toji, sukuna, choso, geto, higuruma, megumi (aged up), yuji (aged up), nanami.

CASE FILE #01

Target: Satoru Gojo

Observation : Blindfolding/ Sensory Deprivation + Overstimulation + Exhibitionism Tease

Gojo’s ego and playful sadism make him obsessed with taking away your sight so you’re completely dependent on him. He loves edging you for hours, forcing orgasm after orgasm until you’re a sobbing, oversensitive mess begging him to stop or keep going. The exhibitionism comes from him fingering you under tables or fucking you in semi-public places where someone could walk in.

He ties his blindfold around your eyes in the empty classroom after hours. “No peeking, princess. Just feel.” His fingers are already three deep in your dripping cunt, curling against your g-spot while his thumb tortures your swollen clit. You’re spread on the desk, legs wide. He doesn’t let you cum for what feels like forever, pulling back every time you get close, laughing at your whines. “So fucking desperate. Listen to how sloppy your pussy is.” When he finally lets you cum, he drops to his knees and sucks your clit hard while finger-fucking you through it. Then he keeps going. And going. Fourth orgasm has your thighs shaking violently, fifth makes you squirt all over his face and the desk. He stands up, cock out, and slams into your oversensitive hole while you’re still twitching. “Gonna fill this greedy cunt while you’re still cumming.” He fucks you raw and fast, one hand on your throat, the other pinching your nipples. You cum again around him, walls fluttering helplessly. He pulls out at the last second and paints your tits and face with thick ropes, then smears it into your skin. “Good girl. We’re not done—there’s still the rooftop.”

CASE FILE #02

Target : Toji Fushiguro

Observation : Spanking / Impact Play + Breeding / Creampie Obsession + Rough Manhandling

Toji is brutal and primal. He loves turning your ass and thighs red, leaving handprints while he calls you his slut. The breeding kink hits hard because he gets off on pumping you full and plugging you so it stays inside. Manhandling is constant—he throws you around like you weigh nothing.

Bent over the couch, pants ripped down, Toji’s huge hand cracks across your ass again and again until it’s burning crimson. “Count them, whore.” You’re dripping down your thighs by the tenth slap. He spreads your cheeks and spits on your hole before shoving his fat cock balls-deep in one thrust. The stretch is vicious. He fucks you like a machine, one hand fisting your hair, the other raining down more spanks. “Gonna breed this tight pussy. Fill you until you’re leaking for days.” Every thrust slams against your cervix. He pulls your arms behind your back and uses them as leverage to go even harder. When you cum, screaming, he doesn’t stop—just keeps pounding through it until you’re sobbing. He roars and buries himself to the hilt, flooding your womb with hot, thick cum. He stays plugged deep, grinding, making sure it takes. Then he flips you over and starts again, this time with your legs over his shoulders. “Round two. Keep it all in.”

CASE FILE #03

Target : Sukuna Ryomen

Observation : Pain Play + Blood Play + Degradation + Multiple Penetration (using his extra arms/mouths)

Sukuna is the ultimate sadist. He wants you marked, bleeding, crying, and thanking him for it. He uses his extra limbs to finger your ass and pussy at the same time while his main cock destroys you. Degradation is nonstop.

On your knees in his domain, Sukuna has two hands pinning your wrists, one around your throat, while another shoves fingers coated in your own slick into your mouth. His massive cock is stretching your cunt obscenely. A mouth on his hand bites your tit hard enough to draw blood, and he licks it up with a groan. “Pathetic little human, bleeding for me. Your cunt is clenching so hard—disgusting how much you love this.” He lifts you effortlessly and double penetrates you—thick cock in your pussy, two fingers (then more) in your ass while another hand slaps your clit. The pain and pleasure blend until you’re shaking. He bites your shoulder, drawing more blood, and uses it to slick his fingers even more. When he cums, it’s a flood, overflowing and dripping down your thighs. He keeps fucking the cum back in, laughing darkly. “You’ll wear my marks for weeks, slut.”

CASE FILE #04

Target : Choso Kamo

Observation : Breeding + Blood Manipulation during Sex + Possessive Marking + Edging/Cum Denial (on himself)

Choso is intensely obsessive. He uses his blood technique to make thin tendrils that tease your clit, plug your holes, or wrap around your throat. He edges himself for ages so when he finally cums it’s massive.

Choso has you in mating press, cock buried to the hilt. Thin blood tendrils circle your clit and slip into your ass, vibrating. “I need to fill you… breed you until you’re swollen with me.” He fucks you slow and deep, denying himself every time he gets close, sweat dripping down his face. The tendrils pulse inside you in time with his thrusts. You cum multiple times, squirting around him, but he holds back. “Not yet… not until you’re crying for it.” When he finally lets go, it’s explosive—thick, endless ropes pumping deep into your womb while he moans your name like a prayer. He keeps his cock and the tendrils inside, making sure nothing escapes. Then he starts moving again, already hard. “More. I need to give you everything.”

CASE FILE #05

Target : Geto Suguru

Observation: Corruption / Innocence Play + Public Teasing + Collar & Leash + Cum Eating

Geto loves turning you into his perfect little slut, especially if you start shy. He’ll collar you, parade you on a leash in private, and make you clean his cock after he’s fucked you.

Geto has you collared and leashed, crawling to him. “Look at my pretty girl, already soaked.” He fingers you in front of a mirror so you watch yourself fall apart. Then he fucks your throat until tears run down your face. He bends you over and rails your pussy, pulling the leash tight. “Swallow every drop later.” After pumping you full, he pulls out and makes you suck him clean, tasting both of you. “Good girl. That’s what corrupted little pets do.” He fingers his cum back into you while you suck, then makes you cum again on his tongue while wearing the collar.

CASE FILE #06

Target : Hiromi Higuruma

Observation : Office / Power Exchange + Light Bondage (ties with his tie) + Slow Build Tease + Aftercare Obsession

Higuruma is controlled until he snaps. He loves tying your wrists with his tie behind your back while he’s still half in his suit, fucking you over his desk.

Late night at the firm. Higuruma bends you over his desk, wrists bound with his tie. He eats your pussy from behind until you’re dripping, then slides in slow and deep. “Stay quiet. Someone might still be here.” The threat makes you clench harder. He builds it torturously slow, then suddenly fucks you hard, hand over your mouth. You cum hard, biting his palm. He fills you with a low groan, then spends forever aftercare—kissing every mark, cleaning you gently, whispering praise while he holds you.

CASE FILE #07

Target : Megumi Fushiguro

Observation : Shadow Play / Tentacle-like Shadows + Possessive Biting + Quiet Intensity

Megumi uses his shadows to restrain you or tease your clit while he fucks you. He’s quiet but leaves bite marks everywhere.

Shadows wrap your wrists and ankles, spreading you open on his bed. Megumi thrusts in deep and steady, shadows vibrating against your clit. He bites your neck and chest hard, marking you. “Mine.” The intensity builds until you’re shaking. He cums deep, shadows keeping you in place as he rides it out.

CASE FILE #08

Target : Yuji Itadori

Observation : Strength / Lifting + Marathon Sex + Praise + Face Sitting

Yuji’s super strength means he can fuck you against a wall while holding you up for ages. He loves when you sit on his face and ride it.

Yuji lifts you like you’re nothing, back against the wall, cock spearing up into you. “Fuck yes, just like that—ride me.” He bounces you on his dick for what feels like hours, praising you nonstop. “So good, so fucking pretty when you cum.” You squirt down his abs and he just keeps going, switching positions until you’re both exhausted and covered in cum.

CASE FILE #09

Target : Kento Nanami

Observation : Daddy / Sir Dynamic + Orgasm Control + Sensual Spanking + Stockings & Heels

Nanami loves when you call him Sir or Daddy. He controls exactly when you cum and loves you in expensive lingerie and heels.

You’re in black stockings and heels, bent over the bed. “Count them, baby girl.” He spanks you red while fingering you, stopping every time you’re close. “Not yet.” When he finally fucks you, it’s deep and perfect. “Cum for Daddy.” You shatter around him and he fills you, then makes you keep the heels on while he eats his cum out of you for round two.

Ⓒ𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑶---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

new theme completed !!!! maybe my fav theme ever (fem!Shidou is my spiritual awakening)

[fayelero]

new theme 💋

[xchosos-wifex]

writer bingo! I tag @madamechrissy @lilithkleia @yoonsucks @jazzthatonewriterchick @lostinsmut @rengoatku @6x-x9 +anymore

Original is down there <3

[rengoated]

This was super fun!! Also made me realise I need to finish loads of wips

Npt 🏷️ @hangenism @fushihearts @satoriee @swvness @torupng @kamislop @tokkushin @toruii + anyone else who wants to join!!

[satoriee]

thank you for the tag!! i <3 being included

🏷️ npt because all the pressure’s on me rn: @ac1dmeow @faerieschronicles @16spades @gyarujo @fayelero @yorikae @vngelisse @neotoru @fukiouh @cinnamongirlsev @grotesquevi @purrtoru @lesmerri @liahcharms @yutootired @neotoru + anyone who wants to join!!

[fayelero]

thank you for the tag girlie !!

my tags 🏷️ @torupng @bloomflix @t0jisbunny @gojover @6x-x9 + tag along !!!

[torupng]

pinterest tag game: lyrics, color, character, place, outfit, aesthetic.

thank u for the tag @oncasette ily <3

these all surprisingly suit each other very well LMAO

no pressure tags: @rengoatku @kamislop @neotoru @infinictus @moviecritc @fancy-possum @waltzingphantoms @vianawaits + anyone who wants to participate!

[rengoated]

Thank you for the tag bby!

Pinterest tag game — lyrics, colour, character, place, outfit, aesthetic

Can you guess my fav colour? I know Pinterest can lol

npt 🏷️ @hangenism @fushihearts @kamislop @tokkushin @6x-x9 @valberryboos @swvness @louistxq + anyone else who wants to join!

[valberryboos]

THANKS FOR THE TAG dawnnn

pinterest tag game : lyrics, color, character, place, outfit, aesthetic ♡

no idea why i got sua 🤕 this is very accurate suprisingly😭

tags: @satolune @yorikae @toruii @mimimochis @revolvingsaturn @kenyudotcom @suganoms @bloomflix (mb if you were already tagged btw..)

[toruii]

TY for the tag val (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

pinterest tag game : lyrics ⸝ color ⸝ character ⸝ place ⸝ outfit ⸝ aesthetic !

inaccurate cus i don’t relate to mizi at ALL :c

💌 @bbunsflix @katsuiki @kashun @bigtrashland @blushryo @torumaii @sugurusbeloved @indiewritesxoxo @pillsatoru + anyone else <3

[sugurusbeloved]

thank u for the tag bb !!

pinterest tag game — lyrics, colour, character, place, outfit, aesthetic

✉️ @mimimochis @yorikae @neotoru @kireampie + anyone else who wants to join ♡

[mimimochis]

thx for the ppl who tagged me ^^

npt: @6x-x9 @megumisrighttoe @whispersingojo @utterlyobsessedprincess + anyone who wants to participate

[6x-x9]

thank you cuties @!rengoatku and @!mimimochis for the tag!

pinterest tag game: lyrics ⋆ color ⋆character ⋆ place ⋆ outfit ⋆ aesthetic ⋆

npt : @lostinsmut @paninsoup @mainstarv @shiruigami @sugurusplaything @yummidumplingss @liahcharms @xchosos-wifex @torumaii @atelphobist @kamoslover @veiledbulletz 🫶🏽💕 + anyone who'd like to take part!!

[liahcharms]

── 𖤐 So cute! Thank you my most beloved sweetest nymph 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

pinterest tag game: lyrics 𖤐 colour 𖤐 character 𖤐 place 𖤐 outfit 𖤐 aesthetic

tags (with pressure): @aliienangel @onasweetsouthwind @soupydumplings @satoriee @jazzthatonewriterchick @lilithkleia @yoonsucks @sugurusplaything @milkysea-02 + all the other maidens 🌷

[satoriee]

thank you for the tag !! >⩊< feeling #honored

pinterest tag game ─ lyrics ⋮ color ⋮ character ⋮ place ⋮ outfit ⋮ aesthetic

── yoshiki what are u doing here even i never looked u up. scarily accurate thank u pinterest. anyone is welcome to join because i’m feeling too awkward to tag🫰

[fayelero]

- joining in !!!

PINTEREST TAG GAME — lyrics ; color ; character ; place ; outfit ; aesthetic

—> yeah, I’m a unicorn bitch / @moviecritc @bloomflix @gojover @neviye

[fayelero]

JJK MEN FAV POSITIONS !

including : gojo, toji, sukuna, choso, geto, higuruma, megumi (aged up), yuji (aged up), nanami.

CASE FILE #01

Target: Satoru Gojo

Observation :

Gojo Satoru is all about control mixed with playfulness, that cocky, untouchable vibe where he wants to see every reaction on your face while he ruins you. His favorite position is missionary with your legs over his shoulders. It lets him pin you down, fold you in half, and stare right into your eyes while he pounds deep. Personality-wise, Gojo thrives on that god-complex shit—he loves being the strongest, the one who can make you lose it completely, watching your eyes roll back as he hits spots no one else can. He gets off on the intimacy mixed with dominance, teasing you the whole time because he can’t shut up.

You’re spread out on his massive bed, the one with those stupidly soft sheets that smell like his expensive cologne. Gojo’s already got you soaked, fingers and tongue having worked you over until you’re shaking. He pushes your knees up high, folding you like a pretzel, your ankles by his ears. “Fuck, look at you,” he grins, that blindfold long gone so those insane blue eyes lock on yours. His thick cock slaps against your clit once, twice, before he sinks in raw, stretching you wide in one brutal thrust. You gasp, nails digging into his back as he bottoms out, balls deep.He doesn’t give you time to adjust. Hips snapping forward hard and fast, the wet smack of skin on skin filling the room. “So fucking tight, baby—taking me like you were made for it.” Every thrust grinds his pelvis against your clit, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He leans down, biting your neck, sucking marks while he rails you. Sweat drips from his white hair onto your tits as he speeds up, pounding so deep you feel him in your guts. “Eyes on me. Yeah, just like that—gonna make this pretty pussy cream all over my cock.” Your legs tremble, orgasm hitting like a freight train, walls clamping down hard. Gojo laughs breathlessly, fucking you through it, not stopping until he’s spilling hot and thick inside you, groaning your name like it’s a curse. He stays buried deep after, kissing you sloppy while his cum leaks out around him.

CASE FILE #02

Target : Toji Fushiguro

Observation :

Toji Fushiguro is raw, selfish, and brutal— a mercenary who takes what he wants without apology. His favorite is doggy style, specifically with your face shoved into the pillows and his hand fisting your hair. It fits his personality perfectly: dominant, animalistic, no bullshit romance. He loves the power of mounting you like a bitch in heat, slapping your ass red, watching it jiggle while he destroys you from behind. Control and the view of your arched back and dripping pussy? That’s his shit.

Toji’s got you on all fours in some cheap motel room after a job, clothes barely off. His massive, veiny cock is already leaking pre-cum as he lines up behind you. One big hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, the other yanks your head back by the hair. “Ass up higher,” he growls, voice rough. You obey and he slams in, no warning, stretching your cunt wide open in one vicious thrust. The burn is intense, his thickness splitting you apart as he bottoms out with a grunt. He sets a punishing rhythm right away—deep, hard strokes that make your tits swing and the bed creak. “Fuck, this greedy little pussy’s sucking me in,” he snarls, spanking your ass hard, the sting blooming hot. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust, wet and filthy. He leans over you, chest to your back, biting your shoulder as he rails deeper, grinding against that spot that makes you scream. “Louder. Let me hear how much you love getting fucked like a slut.” Your arms give out, face pressed into the pillow, drool soaking it as another orgasm rips through you, juices squirting around his cock. Toji doesn’t slow, just fucks you harder through it, cursing under his breath until he pulls out and paints your ass and back with thick ropes of cum, smearing it into your skin with his palm. “Good girl.”

CASE FILE #03

Target : Sukuna Ryomen

Observation :

Ryomen Sukuna is pure domination and sadistic pleasure—the King of Curses who views everyone as beneath him. His favorite position is full nelson, holding you up in the air like a toy while he fucks up into you. It screams his personality: complete control, manhandling you effortlessly with those four arms, making you feel small and helpless while he wrecks your body. He loves the way it lets him choke you, bite you, and fill you without mercy.

Sukuna has you suspended in his domain, but really it’s just his bedroom turned into a fuck den. Two arms hook under your knees, pulling your legs wide and back, locking behind your head in a full nelson while the other two grip your throat and waist. His monstrous cock—thick, ridged, and way too big—prods at your entrance before he yanks you down onto it. You cry out as he impales you, the stretch burning deliciously as he forces every inch inside your clenching pussy. “Fucking pathetic how wet you get for me,” he laughs darkly, bouncing you on his cock like a fleshlight. The position has you completely at his mercy, gravity helping him slam deeper with every thrust. His hips snap up brutally, ridges dragging along your walls, hitting your cervix over and over. One hand tightens around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make stars burst behind your eyes. “Scream for your king.” Drool runs down your chin as he fucks you senseless, your pussy gushing around him. He bites your neck hard enough to draw blood, licking it while pounding harder. Your orgasm crashes hard, squirting down his balls, but he keeps going, using you until he floods your womb with hot, cursed cum that feels endless. He doesn’t pull out, just keeps you impaled, laughing as you twitch.

CASE FILE #04

Target : Choso Kamo

Observation :

Choso is intense, protective, and deeply emotional—blood manipulation ties into his possessive, almost worshipful side. His favorite is mating press, folding you completely while he stays buried deep and grinds. It matches his personality: wanting to be as close as possible, claiming you fully, filling you with everything he has like he’s marking his territory forever. He’s needy and focused, obsessed with breeding you.

Choso’s got you on your back in his dark apartment, legs pushed all the way up so your knees are by your ears. He’s heavy on top of you, cock already throbbing inside after eating you out for what felt like hours. “Need to be deeper,” he murmurs, voice husky, before slamming forward. The press has him so deep you swear he’s rearranging your insides, his thick length pulsing against your cervix. He fucks with slow, powerful strokes at first, grinding his hips in circles, making sure you feel every vein. “So good… taking all of me,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked. Then he loses it—thrusts turning desperate and rough, the wet squelch of your pussy loud as he pounds. Blood manipulation? He uses a tiny tendril to tease your clit while he rails you, overwhelming every sense. You cum hard, walls milking him, begging him to fill you. Choso snarls, hips stuttering as he pumps load after load deep inside, staying pressed tight so nothing spills. He kisses you messily through it, whispering how you’re his, forever.

CASE FILE #05

Target : Geto Suguru

Observation :

Suguru Geto is calculated, charming, and a bit twisted—cult leader energy with a soft spot for you. His favorite is cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, but he takes control from below, guiding your hips. It lets him watch you ride, hands free to choke or slap, fitting his manipulative yet seductive personality. He loves making you work for it while he dictates the pace.

Geto sits against the headboard, cock out and hard. You straddle him reverse, sinking down slowly onto his length with a moan. “That’s it, take every inch,” he purrs, hands gripping your ass, spreading you wider. Once you’re seated, he starts thrusting up hard, forcing you to bounce. He sets a brutal rhythm, one hand reaching around to rub your clit, the other slapping your ass red. “Faster, baby. Show me how bad you want my cock.” You ride him desperately, pussy creaming down his shaft as he hits deep. He pulls your hair, arching your back, biting your shoulder. “Look at you, my perfect girl.” The angle grinds your g-spot perfectly. You cum screaming, clenching around him. Geto flips you to face him mid-orgasm, fucking up harder until he fills you, cum leaking out as he keeps thrusting through the aftershocks.

CASE FILE #06

Target : Hiromi Higuruma

Observation :

Hiromi Higuruma is tired, justice-obsessed, and unexpectedly intense in private—methodical but feral when unleashed. His favorite is spooning that turns rough, him behind you with a leg hooked over his. It fits his low-energy but deeply passionate personality: close contact, able to whisper filthy things while controlling the depth.

Late night after a long day, Higuruma presses against your back, cock sliding into your soaked pussy from behind. “Relax… let me take care of it,” he murmurs, but soon his hips snap forward hard. Arm hooked under your knee, spreading you wide as he fucks deep and steady. The position lets him grind slow then fast, hand snaking to pinch your nipples or rub your clit. “So fucking wet for me,” he groans, voice rougher now, thrusting harder. You push back, meeting him, the slap of skin echoing. He bites your neck, pace turning punishing as he rails you. Your orgasm hits, pussy fluttering. He follows, burying deep and cumming with a low moan, holding you tight as he pulses inside.

CASE FILE #07

Target : Megumi Fushiguro

Observation :

Megumi Fushiguro is reserved, serious, and intensely loyal—shadows and control freak tendencies. His favorite is standing against the wall or pinned against a surface. It matches his personality: quick, dominant when he lets go, the thrill of claiming you anywhere.

Pinned to the wall after a mission, Megumi hikes your leg up and thrusts in hard. “Quiet,” he hisses, but fucks you like he needs it. Deep, controlled strokes turning frantic, hand over your mouth as he pounds. “Mine.” You cum hard around him, he fills you with a muffled groan.

CASE FILE #08

Target : Yuji Itadori

Observation :

Yuji Itadori is energetic, kind, but a total beast in bed— straightforward and enthusiastic. His favorite is prone bone, you flat on your stomach while he covers you. It fits his playful yet overpowering physicality, loving to smother you with his body.

Yuji flattens you on the bed, cock sliding in from behind as he covers you completely. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, thrusting hard and fast. The weight makes it intense, every stroke deep. He bites your shoulder, pounding relentlessly until you’re both cumming messily, him flooding you.

CASE FILE #09

Target : Kento Nanami

Observation :

Kento Nanami is precise, disciplined, and secretly very dirty—workaholic who unleashes after hours. His favorite is slow, deep missionary that builds to intense. It matches his controlled personality turning hungry, savoring every second.

Nanami on top, tie still loose, sliding into you slow and full. “Look at me,” he commands, thrusting deep with precision. It builds until he’s slamming hard, grunting filthily. “Good girl—take it all.” You cum clenching, he follows with a deep groan, filling you perfectly while kissing you through it.

Ⓒ𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑶---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

hi!! i wanted to binge your masterlist but it seems like none of the links are working? :( if you changed your username, it might be because of that because tumblr doesn’t update them automatically

Omg thanks ! I’ll do an update babe mwah <3

[fayelero]

is it true you're using Ai to write stories?

I saw the post on @theburnbookuser calling me out and honestly? It’s fucked up.

I posted something vulnerable : just how silence sounds different when you’re carrying heavy shit, how touch and trust and sleep feel when everything’s raw. That wasn’t AI. That was me. I write my own words, from my own chest. I don’t use AI for my stories or my feelings.

Sending writers to a hate page just because you think their prose is “corny” or doesn’t fit your vibe is genuinely toxic. It’s not critique. It’s not “keeping it real.” It’s piling on someone who’s already putting personal parts of themselves out there. If you don’t like my writing, cool : just keep scrolling. There’s zero need to drag people through callout accounts like this.

To the person who submitted it: next time say it to me directly instead of anonymously feeding a fucked up writer hate page. This kind of shit makes people want to stop sharing anything about them, even me.

Anyway. I’m still here, still writing. But literally wondering if I should continue. If you fuck with that, stay. If not, the block button exists for a reason.

Thank you

[fayelero]

edging husband!gojo’s pretty dih

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the faint silver glow of moonlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains. The clock on the nightstand read well past 2 AM, the world outside silent except for the occasional distant hum of a car. You and Gojo Satoru had been married for two years now—long enough for the passion to burn hotter, not dimmer. He was sprawled beneath you on your king-sized bed, the sheets tangled around his long, powerful legs, his usual blindfold discarded on the floor. His snowy white hair was a mess, damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. Those piercing blue eyes—Six Eyes dimmed with raw pleasure—were half-lidded, locked on you with a mixture of adoration and desperation.

Your hand was wrapped firmly around his cock, slick with lube and his own precum. He was rock-hard, throbbing violently in your grip, the thick length of him flushed deep red at the tip. You’d been stroking him for what felt like an eternity—slow, teasing pumps at first, then faster, tighter, twisting your wrist just the way he liked. His hips bucked erratically into your fist, but you kept control, pinning one of his thighs down with your free hand.

“F-fuck… baby…” Gojo’s voice cracked into a high-pitched whimper, his head tossing back against the pillows. His chest heaved, abs clenching visibly with every stroke. “You’re killing me here. I can’t—ahh—can’t take it anymore…”

You smiled down at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his collarbone while your hand never stopped moving. Up and down, up and down, thumb swirling over the sensitive head on every pass, spreading the leaking precum until his entire shaft glistened. He was so sensitive already, veins pulsing under your fingers, the slit at the tip weeping steadily. Overstimulated didn’t even begin to cover it—you’d edged him twice already tonight, bringing him right to the brink before slowing down, and now he was a trembling, moaning mess.

His free hand fisted the sheets, knuckles white. The other reached for you, fingers digging into your hip as if grounding himself. “Please… wife… I’m losing my mind. It’s too much—nghh!” Another broken moan tore from his throat as you squeezed tighter at the base and stroked up with a deliberate twist. His cock twitched hard in your palm, jumping like it had a mind of its own.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his skin fever-hot under your touch. Sweat beaded along the sharp lines of his V-cut, sliding down toward where your hand worked him relentlessly. Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive—reduced to whimpers and gasps beneath his own wife. The power dynamic made your core throb with heat.

“Look at you,” you murmured, voice low and teasing against his ear. “My big, strong husband… falling apart just from my hand. You’re so pretty when you whimper like that.”

He let out a wrecked sound—half-laugh, half-sob—as his hips jerked up again. “Y-you’re evil… so fucking evil. I love you—shit—love you so much but I’m gonna—ahh, fuck, I’m right there again—”

His thighs trembled, muscles taut and straining. You could tell he was teetering on the edge for the third time, his balls drawn up tight, cock swelling even thicker in your grip. But you didn’t stop. You stroked faster, firmer, the wet, obscene sounds of skin on skin filling the quiet room. His moans climbed higher, turning into desperate, breathy whimpers that went straight to your pussy.

“Baby—baby, please— I can’t hold it—nghh—too sensitive—fuck, it hurts so good—” Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of his eyes, those beautiful lashes clumping together. His whole body arched off the bed, Six Eyes flickering with cursed energy he couldn’t quite control. Infinity was down completely; he was bare and vulnerable to every sensation you gave him.

You leaned down, licking a stripe up his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat. Your hand kept pumping—twist, squeeze, glide—relentless. His cock was leaking so much now it dripped down your fingers, coating your palm, making every stroke smoother and louder.

Then, without warning, you shifted lower. Gojo’s eyes widened as he realized what you were about to do.

“Wait—wait, love, I’m already—oh god—”

You didn’t wait. You wrapped your lips around the swollen, oversensitive head of his cock and sucked.

The reaction was immediate and devastating.

Gojo’s entire body seized up. A raw, guttural moan ripped from his chest—loud enough you were glad the house was empty. “FUUUCK—!” His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing deeper into the wet heat of your mouth before he caught himself, trembling with the effort to stay still. But you took him deeper anyway, tongue swirling around the head, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed down.

His hand flew to your hair, not pushing or pulling, just gripping like you were his lifeline. “Baby—your mouth—holy shit, it’s too much—I’m— I’m—” The words dissolved into a string of broken whimpers and curses. You could feel his cock pulsing wildly against your tongue, the veins throbbing as you worked him with long, slow drags of your mouth. Your hand continued stroking the base he couldn’t fit, twisting in rhythm with your lips.

Overstimulation hit him like a wave. Every suck, every flick of your tongue made him jolt and cry out. His abs contracted so hard they looked carved from marble. Sweat poured down his temples. Those blue eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering as pleasure bordered on pain.

“Yes—yes—fuck, just like that—your tongue—nghh—gonna cum—baby, please let me cum this time—I’ll do anything—your husband’s begging—” His voice cracked on the last word, turning into another high-pitched whine as you took him to the back of your throat and swallowed around him.

You hummed in response, the vibration shooting through his length. Gojo nearly screamed. His legs shook uncontrollably, heels digging into the mattress. One hand left your hair to clutch at his own chest, nails digging into his skin as if to anchor himself against the onslaught.

You pulled back just enough to speak, lips brushing the slick tip. “Cum for me, Satoru. Fill my mouth. I want to taste my husband losing it completely.”

Then you dove back down, sucking harder, faster, one hand pumping the base while the other gently rolled his balls. The intensity was overwhelming—for him and for you. His cock was so hard it felt like steel wrapped in velvet, twitching and jumping with every heartbeat.

Gojo’s moans became constant, incoherent. “Love—you—fuck—mouth so perfect—too good—can’t—ahh—ahh—!” His hips stuttered, chasing the heat of your throat. Tears slipped down his cheeks now, not from sadness but from the sheer overload of sensation. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure.

You felt him swell impossibly thicker. His balls tightened further in your palm. With a final, broken cry that echoed through the bedroom—“I’m cumming—baby—fuck—!”—he shattered.

Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your mouth. Gojo came harder than you’d ever seen him, hips jerking erratically as pulse after pulse shot down your throat. You swallowed greedily, not pulling away, milking him through every wave. His whimpers turned into soft, wrecked sobs of ecstasy, body convulsing under you as the overstimulation prolonged his orgasm into something almost torturous.

Even after the main spurts faded, you kept sucking gently, drawing out every last drop, tongue cleaning him through the aftershocks. Gojo twitched and moaned softly with each pass, oversensitive and boneless, his hand weakly stroking your hair now in gratitude.

Finally, you pulled off with a soft pop, licking your lips as you looked up at him. He was a gorgeous wreck—chest rising and falling rapidly, skin flushed pink all the way down to his navel, eyes glassy and unfocused, a lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at his lips.

“Fuck… you’re gonna be the death of me, wife,” he rasped, voice hoarse from moaning. He tugged you up gently, pulling you into his arms despite how spent he was. His lips found yours in a deep, messy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. “But what a way to go. Give me… ten minutes. Then it’s my turn to ruin you until you’re the one whimpering.”

You laughed softly against his neck, curling into his warm, sweaty body as the late-night quiet settled around you both once more. The moon kept watch outside, but inside, the heat between you was only just beginning.

Ⓒ𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝒀---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

gojo is a perverted neighbour !

The city lights hummed softly against the night sky, casting a faint, ethereal glow through the high-rise windows of your apartment building. You lived on the 12th floor, in a sleek one-bedroom unit that overlooked the bustling streets below. The building next door was close enough that, on clear nights, you could almost reach out and touch the glass of the neighboring windows. That’s where Gojo Satoru lived.

He was impossible to miss—tall, lean, with that signature shock of white hair that seemed to defy gravity and those piercing blue eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses during the day. You’d seen him in the elevator a few times, exchanging polite nods and half-smiles. He was charming, cocky, always dressed in expensive casual wear that hugged his athletic frame. But you had no idea just how much of a pervert he was. Or how fixated he’d become on you.

It started innocently enough. Gojo had moved in a few months ago, and from his living room window, he had a direct, unobstructed view into yours. Your curtains were often forgotten, especially on those warm summer nights when the AC struggled and you craved the cool breeze. He noticed everything: the way you moved around your space in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties after a long day, the curve of your hips as you stretched, the way your hair fell messily over your shoulders when you let it down.

But it was the nights you touched yourself that truly broke him.

The first time it happened, Gojo was lounging on his couch, scrolling through his phone with the lights dimmed low. His apartment was minimalist—black leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, a faint scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air. He glanced up casually, and there you were.

Your bedroom light was on, curtains wide open. You lay sprawled on your bed, legs parted slightly under the thin sheet that had slipped down to your waist. One hand trailed lazily over your stomach, dipping lower. Gojo’s breath hitched. He froze, phone forgotten in his lap.

You were beautiful like this—unaware, lost in your own world. Your fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties, and he watched as your back arched just a fraction. A soft sigh escaped your lips, audible even through the closed windows if he strained. His cock twitched in his sweatpants, hardening instantly at the sight.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his usual playful smirk twisting into something darker, hungrier. He didn’t look away. Couldn’t.

He palmed himself through the fabric, squeezing the growing bulge as he leaned forward on the couch. Your hand moved in slow circles beneath the panties, the outline visible as the thin material tented and shifted. Gojo’s hand mirrored yours, slipping inside his pants to wrap around his thick length. He was already leaking precum, the head slick and sensitive.

You moaned quietly, eyes fluttering shut as you pushed a finger inside yourself. Gojo stroked faster, his grip firm, thumb circling the tip just like he imagined your tongue would. The way your thighs trembled, the subtle rock of your hips— it was intoxicating. He imagined what you’d sound like if he were there, buried deep inside you, those pretty lips parted around his name.

He came hard that first night, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist as your body tensed and shuddered through your own orgasm. You didn’t see him. The lights in his apartment stayed off, his figure shrouded in shadow. But he saw everything.

It became a ritual.

Gojo started timing his evenings around yours. He’d leave the lights low, position himself just right on the edge of his bed or couch—close enough to the window for the perfect view, far enough to remain invisible. He was meticulous about it. A pervert with a plan.

One particularly humid Thursday night, you came home from a frustrating day at work. The tension in your body begged for release. You kicked off your heels, peeled away your clothes until you were bare, and didn’t bother with the curtains. Why would you? The neighboring building’s windows were dark, or so you thought.

Gojo was already there, waiting. His cock was half-hard in anticipation, heavy in his hand as he stroked lazily, eyes glued to your window.

You climbed onto your bed, propping yourself up against the pillows. The city lights painted soft highlights across your skin— the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the smooth expanse of your thighs. You started slow, teasing yourself. Fingers tracing your collarbone, down between your breasts, pinching a nipple until it pebbled under your touch. A soft gasp left your lips.

Gojo’s breath grew ragged. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered to the glass, his voice low and rough. “Touch those pretty tits for me.”

His strokes matched your pace. When you cupped your breasts, squeezing them together, he tightened his grip around the base of his cock, veins bulging under his fingers. He was long and thick, the kind of size that would stretch you deliciously if he ever got the chance. Precum dripped steadily now, slicking his palm as he pumped.

You spread your legs wider, knees bent, giving him a full view of your glistening pussy. Your fingers dipped down, parting your folds, circling your swollen clit. Gojo groaned, leaning closer to the window, his free hand bracing against the glass. The cool surface did nothing to temper the heat building in his core.

You slipped two fingers inside yourself, curling them just right, and your moan echoed faintly. Gojo imagined it was his name on your tongue— Satoru, please, harder. He jerked himself faster, hips bucking into his fist, the wet sounds of his hand filling his silent apartment.

Your pace quickened. Breasts heaving with each breath, thighs quivering as you chased that edge. Gojo’s balls tightened, pleasure coiling tight in his gut. He wanted to ruin you. To climb through that window, pin you down, and fuck you senseless while you screamed for him.

You came with a sharp cry, back bowing off the bed, fingers buried deep as your walls clenched around them. Juices slicked your thighs, shining in the low light.

Gojo followed seconds later, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spilled over his hand and onto the floor. Thick, pearly strands painted his knuckles and dripped down. He kept stroking through it, milking every last drop, eyes never leaving your spent form as you panted and relaxed against the sheets.

Nights blurred together in a haze of obsession.

Gojo learned your patterns. Tuesdays you were slower, more sensual—using a toy sometimes, that pink vibrator that buzzed against your clit while you fingered yourself. He’d match it stroke for stroke, edging himself until you finished, then letting go in explosive release.

Fridays were desperate. You’d come home late, strip frantically, and fuck yourself hard with three fingers, hips grinding against your hand like you were riding a cock. Those nights, Gojo stood right at the window, pants shoved down to his ankles, fucking his fist with brutal intensity. Sweat beaded on his forehead, white hair sticking to his skin. He’d whisper filthy promises into the darkness: “One day I’m gonna fill that tight cunt up, make you mine. You’d look so good creaming around my cock, baby.”

He took photos—discreetly, with the flash off, zooming in on your arched back, your parted lips, the way your pussy dripped when you were close. He jerked off to them during the day, in his office bathroom or the back of his car, imagining your scent, your taste.

You remained blissfully unaware. Or so he thought.

Ⓒ𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝒀---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

would you ever write something with fratkuna? i just recently found you and i love your fratjo x shy!reader fics!!

yesss I took time on this one, I made Sukuna super duper bombastic attractive ;)

frat!sukuna x shy!reader…?

The bass thumped through the walls of the Sigma Chi house like a second heartbeat, vibrating up through the sticky floorboards and into your bones. You stood near the edge of the crowded living room, nursing a lukewarm cup of whatever punch someone had spiked too heavily, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Parties like this weren’t your scene. Too loud, too chaotic, too many eyes. You were the girl who preferred quiet library corners and oversized hoodies, the one who blushed at compliments and avoided the spotlight at all costs.

Yet here you were. Again.

Because of him.

Sukuna Ryomen. The walking, tattooed embodiment of every warning your friends had given you about frat guys. Pink hair cropped short on the sides and messy on top, crimson eyes that seemed to cut straight through bullshit, and a body built like a god who’d decided to slum it on campus. He was the vice president of the house, the one who threw the wildest parties and somehow kept the chaos from imploding. Everyone knew his reputation—quick temper, quicker smirk, girls throwing themselves at him like offerings. You’d sworn on your life you’d never fall for one of them. Never.

But Sukuna made breaking vows feel inevitable.

You felt him before you saw him. A shift in the air, the way the crowd parted just a little. He was making his way through the room, towering over most people, black compression shirt stretched obscenely tight across his broad chest and thick arms. The fabric clung to every ridge of muscle, the short sleeves digging into his biceps like they were fighting a losing battle. A silver chain glinted at his collarbone, disappearing beneath the shirt.

His eyes locked on you immediately. That slow, predatory scan from your sneakers up your legs, lingering on the way your simple sundress hugged your waist, before settling on your face. You felt your cheeks burn.

“Lost, babe?” His voice was low, rough, cutting through the noise like it was made just for your ears. He stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the beer on his breath. Not drunk—just buzzed. Controlled.

You shook your head, clutching your cup tighter. “Just… people-watching.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into that smirk that always made your stomach flip. He leaned down, lowering his head so his mouth was level with your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The height difference was criminal. “Can’t hear you over this shit. Speak up, princess.”

Your heart hammered. He always did that—ducking his head like your words were the only ones worth straining for. It made you feel seen. Important. Dangerous.

“I said I’m people-watching,” you repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. Straightening slightly, he scanned the room once before those crimson eyes dropped back to you. “You’re not watching people. You’re hiding.” One large hand came up, fingers brushing lightly against your elbow before sliding to your waist. Not grabbing hard—just enough pressure to guide you, to claim space. His palm was hot through the thin fabric of your dress, fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hip. “C’mere. You’re with me tonight.”

Your breath hitched. He was so good at this. At making you melt without even trying.

He steered you toward a worn leather couch in the corner, already occupied by a couple of his frat brothers and some girls. The second Sukuna approached, the energy shifted. One of the guys—Mahito, you thought his name was—had been laughing loudly, arm slung around a girl. His eyes flicked to you, then to Sukuna’s hand on your waist, and the laugh died.

“Move,” Sukuna said simply. No bark, no snarl. Just flat command. He controlled the anger you knew simmered under his skin so effortlessly. Jaw tight for a split second, a flicker of that dangerous temper, then it smoothed out as he looked down at you. His jaw clenched visibly, the sharp line of it flexing as he held your gaze. Like he was biting back whatever instinct told him to snap, all because you were there.

The others scattered without protest. Sukuna dropped onto the couch, legs spreading wide in that shameless manspread that should’ve been illegal. Thick thighs straining against his dark jeans, one arm draped along the back of the couch. He looked like a king on a throne. He tugged you down beside him, close enough that your thigh pressed against his. His hand never left your waist.

“Relax,” he murmured, thumb stroking slow circles over your hip bone. “No one’s gonna bother you.”

You swallowed hard, hyper-aware of every point of contact. The heat of his body, the way his shirt had ridden up just slightly when he sat, exposing a tantalizing strip of toned, tattooed abdomen. Ink swirled over his skin—patterns that disappeared beneath the hem. When he stretched one arm overhead casually, yawning like the party bored him, the shirt pulled tighter. His biceps bulged, veins standing out, the fabric stretching to its limit. Another inch of his stomach revealed itself, the deep V of his hips teasing you.

Holy shit.

You tore your eyes away, but he noticed. Of course he did.

“Eyes up here, babe,” he teased, voice dripping with amusement. He guided your hand then—casual as anything—taking your smaller one in his much larger grip and placing it on his thigh. High up. “Or here. Whichever you want.”

Your face flamed. His thigh was rock-hard under your palm, muscle flexing slightly as he shifted. He didn’t let go immediately, instead tracing his fingers over the back of your hand, directing you to squeeze lightly. “Like that. Good girl.”

The praise hit you like a shot of whiskey. You were supposed to be immune to frat guys. Their charm was fake, their interest fleeting. But Sukuna wasn’t just charming—he was intense. The way he looked at you like he was memorizing every shy flutter of your lashes. The way he’d tease you relentlessly but never push too far. No kisses yet. Just this slow, torturous build that had you aching.

Across the room, another guy—some random from a different house—started heading your way, clearly eyeing you. Sukuna’s posture changed instantly. He didn’t stand or yell. Instead, he pulled you closer, arm wrapping fully around your waist now, fingers digging in with just enough pressure to anchor you against his side. His jaw clenched again as he stared the guy down, a silent warning. The intruder faltered, turned away. Sukuna’s lips brushed the top of your head for the briefest second—not a kiss, just a claim.

“Mine to look at,” he said lowly, only for you. “They know better.”

You shivered. God, you hated how much you loved it.

The night blurred into more of the same delicious torment. Sukuna kept you tucked against him, occasionally leaning down to catch your quiet comments, his breath fanning your ear, lips ghosting but never pressing. When someone bumped into you too roughly, spilling a bit of drink, Sukuna’s hand tightened on your waist, knuckles whitening for a moment. You saw the flash of anger in his eyes—the kind that could start fights—but he exhaled slowly, controlled it, and simply wiped the drop from your arm with his thumb. Gentle. Precise.

“You good?” he asked, voice rough but soft for you.

You nodded, biting your lip. He smirked, using his free hand to tilt your chin up with a single finger. “Words, princess. Use ‘em.”

“I’m good,” you whispered. “Because of you.”

His eyes darkened. That jaw flexed again as he looked down at you, towering even while seated. He guided your hand once more, this time sliding it higher on his thigh, holding it there as if daring you to explore. The muscle jumped under your touch. His shirt had ridden up further from all the shifting, exposing more ink and the trail of dark hair disappearing into his waistband. When he stretched again, slower this time, both arms overhead, the compression shirt molded perfectly to his chest and arms, every cut of muscle on display. You couldn’t help staring.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, voice a dangerous rumble, “and I might forget I’m being patient.”

Your pulse raced. You were falling. Hard. Every tease, every guiding touch, every possessive flex of his body chipped away at your resolve. You’d sworn never to fall for a frat guy. They were trouble. But Sukuna wasn’t just trouble—he was a storm you wanted to drown in.

Later, as the party thinned, he walked you out to the porch for some air. The cool night breeze did nothing to calm the heat under your skin. He leaned against the railing, pulling you between his spread legs, hands settling firmly on your waist again. Thumbs stroking the undersides of your ribs. He lowered his head once more, forehead nearly touching yours, listening as you rambled shyly about your classes, your day, anything.

Every word he absorbed like it mattered. His jaw tight with restraint, eyes half-lidded, body radiating that coiled power. When another brother called out something crude from inside, Sukuna’s grip tightened, pulling you flush against him for a second—chest to chest, your softness against his hardness. He shot the guy a look that could kill, then turned back to you with a softer expression.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, voice low. “You’re not like the others. That’s why I can’t stay away.”

Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady thunder of his heart. No kiss. Not yet. But the tension was thick enough to choke on—the promise of it hanging between you like a live wire. His fingers flexed on your waist, guiding you even closer, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck lightly. Teasing. Always teasing.

You were ruined. Completely, utterly melting for this frat boy who controlled his demons for you, who showed the world you were his without a word, who made every casual movement feel like sin.

And you didn’t want to be saved.

The night stretched on, filled with more stolen moments—his manspread inviting you back onto the couch, his stretch revealing more skin you wanted to trace, the way he’d clench his jaw and look down at you like he was barely holding himself back. Each one chipped away at your oath until it lay shattered at his feet.

Sukuna Ryomen had you. And he knew it.

Ⓒ𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝒀---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

toji’s weakness : pussy

Toji Fushiguro had never been the type to put in extra effort for anyone—least of all in bed. You knew that from the start. Your boyfriend was a selfish, arrogant bastard who took what he wanted with that signature smirk, his scarred body moving like a weapon even when he was buried inside you. He’d fuck you hard, leave bruises on your hips from his grip, growl filthy praises in your ear while chasing his own release, and then roll over with a grunt once he was done. Foreplay? Optional. Going down on you? Practically unheard of in the early days.

But something had shifted. Slowly at first, then all at once. Toji discovered he craved the taste of you. He loved reducing you to a trembling, soaking mess on his tongue more than almost anything else. It fed that massive ego of his—watching you fall apart because of his mouth alone, your thighs clamping around his head like you were trying to crush him, your voice breaking as you came again and again. He was a beast about it. No mercy, no holding back. Just raw, hungry devotion to making you squirt and scream.

Tonight was no different.

You’d barely made it through the door of your shared apartment after a long day when Toji’s large hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you toward the bedroom. His green eyes were dark, predatory, the scar at the corner of his lip twitching with that dangerous half-smirk.

“Missed this pussy,” he muttered, voice low and rough like gravel. He didn’t even bother with pleasantries. No “how was your day,” no kisses on the mouth. He shoved you back onto the bed with one powerful push, your back hitting the mattress as he dropped to his knees at the edge like a man starved.

“Toji—wait—” you started, but the protest died in your throat when he ripped your panties down your legs in one brutal tug, not even bothering to fully undress you. Your skirt stayed bunched around your waist, shirt still on. He didn’t care. His focus was laser-sharp on the glistening folds already wet for him.

“Shut up and spread your legs,” he growled, gripping your thighs with calloused hands and forcing them wide apart. The cool air hit your exposed cunt, making you shiver. Toji’s breath ghosted over your sensitive skin as he leaned in, inhaling deeply like your scent was the only thing grounding him after whatever hellish job he’d come back from.

You knew the routine by now, but it still made your heart race every time. The man who rarely ate you out in the beginning was now addicted. His ego wouldn’t let him admit it outright, but the way his cock strained against his pants while he stared at your pussy said everything.

He started slow—just to torment you. His broad tongue dragged a long, flat stripe from your entrance up to your swollen clit, savoring the taste with a deep, guttural groan that vibrated straight through you. “Fuck… always so sweet for me,” he murmured against your folds, the vibration making your hips jerk.

Then the beast came out.

Toji buried his face between your thighs like a man possessed, his mouth latching onto your clit with obscene suction. He sucked hard, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves while his thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling you even closer. Your hands flew to his messy dark hair, fingers threading through the strands as your back arched off the bed.

“Oh god—Toji!” you cried out, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head. He loved that. A low, pleased rumble escaped him as your legs squeezed the sides of his scarred face, the stubble on his jaw scraping deliciously against your inner thighs. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he pressed in harder, his nose grinding against your clit while his tongue speared into your dripping hole.

He ate you out like he was trying to devour you whole—messy, loud, and relentless. Wet, obscene slurping sounds filled the room as he licked and sucked, alternating between fucking you with his tongue and lavishing brutal attention on your clit. Spit and your arousal coated his chin, dripping down onto the sheets. He was making a complete mess, and he didn’t give a single fuck.

Your hips bucked wildly against his face, but his strong arms locked around your thighs, holding you in place like iron bands. He was in control. Completely. “That’s it, baby,” he snarled between long, filthy licks. “Squeeze my fucking head. Drown me in this pussy.”

You were already close—embarrassingly fast. The contrast always got you: the same man who would pound you selfishly for his own pleasure was now moaning like a whore into your cunt, eyes half-lidded in pure bliss as he worked you over. His tongue curled inside you, stroking that spongy spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Toji—fuck, I’m gonna—” Your warning cut off in a broken sob as the first orgasm crashed over you. Your thighs clamped down hard around his head, muscles trembling as you came hard on his tongue. He didn’t stop. He never stopped. He lapped up every drop of your release like it was ambrosia, growling hungrily as your walls fluttered and clenched around his invading tongue.

But he wasn’t satisfied with one.

He kept going, pushing you through the aftershocks and straight into another build-up. His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers leaving marks that you’d feel for days. He sucked your clit back into his mouth, tongue moving in fast, relentless circles while two thick fingers suddenly pushed inside you, curling viciously against your g-spot.

The stretch, the pressure, the wet sounds—it was too much. You screamed his name, back bowing off the bed as another orgasm ripped through you. This one was stronger, squirting messily against his face. Toji groaned in satisfaction, drinking it down without hesitation, his fingers pumping faster to draw it out.

“Good girl,” he rasped, voice muffled but dripping with smug pride. “Look at you, soaking my face like a slut. You love this, don’t you? Love when I eat this pretty cunt like it’s my last meal.”

You could barely form words, reduced to whimpers and moans as he continued his assault. Sweat slicked your skin. Your hands yanked at his hair, torn between pushing him away from the overwhelming sensitivity and pulling him closer. Toji chuckled darkly against your folds, the sound sending fresh sparks up your spine.

He shifted slightly, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders so your thighs pressed even tighter against his ears. The new angle let him go deeper, his tongue thrusting in and out while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit. He was lost in it—eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration, completely devoted to the taste and feel of you coming undone.

Minutes blurred. Orgasms stacked on top of each other until you lost count. Three. Four. Five. Each one more intense than the last. Your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streaked down your cheeks. Your entire body shook uncontrollably, thighs quivering around his head as he refused to let up.

Only when you were a limp, sobbing mess—barely able to twitch—did Toji finally pull back. His face was drenched, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. That arrogant smirk was back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking far too pleased with himself.

“See? Told you I take care of my girl,” he said, voice rough from use. He climbed up your body, caging you in with his massive frame. His cock was rock-hard and leaking against your thigh, but he didn’t push inside yet. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you messily, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You kissed him back weakly, still trembling. “You’re… such a liar,” you managed to whisper between gasps. “You said you don’t do this shit for me.”

Toji laughed, low and dangerous, grinding his hips against yours. “Shut up. I do what I want. And right now…” He nipped at your bottom lip, green eyes gleaming with fresh hunger. “I want to make you cum on my tongue again before I fuck you stupid.”

He was already sliding back down your body, ready to bury his face between your thighs once more.

Because for all his selfishness, Toji Fushiguro had one undeniable weakness:
Your pussy on his face, your thighs squeezing his head, and the broken, beautiful sounds you made when he ate you like a starving beast.

Ⓒ𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎---𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

[fayelero]

ONGEGE CONGRATS BABESSS I MISSED U POSTING

THANKS ANON ❤️❤️❤️