✮ soldier!toji hurts himself on purpose just to see his fav nurse.
“i have a feeling you're doing that on purpose,” you said.
you taped down the last bit of gauze and stepped back, wiping your hands on a clean towel. the cut looked nasty — a long, jagged line right above his belly button, the kind that stayed wet and shiny until you cleaned it and just kept bleeding no matter how hard you pressed on it.
that made three times that week.
on monday, it was his wrist — a deep cut that needed butterfly bandages, his skin scraped raw after getting caught on barbed wire. then it was his ribs, with a nasty black-and-purple bruise spreading over the cracked bone. you wrapped it so tight that he winced. and now, tonight, it was a knife wound to his stomach that only barely missed anything important.
you pressed the heel of your hand against the edges of the cut one last time, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingers and the slight give of the wound. he stayed quiet the whole time, sitting on the exam table with his legs spread, his chest bare and his gray pants hanging low on his hips. the lamp hummed above you.
you reached for the tray to put the bandage away, and that was when he moved. two big hands settled on your waist — warm and heavy even through the stiff white uniform — and he pulled you in until your hips bumped against his.
“mmm. maybe i do.”
“tsk. hands.” you glanced down at where he was holding you.
he didn’t let go. if anything, he pulled you even closer, lowering his head to your neck. he took a slow, deep breath, breathing you in like he couldn’t get enough, and a low, satisfied sound slipped out of him. a quiet hum that vibrated against your collarbone.
“hopeless,” you sighed, putting a hand on his chest and trying to push him back. he didn’t move an inch.
his hands started roaming. your waist. your back. the curve of your lower back, your hip, your neck. he pulled you closer and closer until there was basically no space between you, chest against chest, and you had no idea how he kept managing to get you even closer.
you pushed him again tiredly. mostly for show.
his lips found your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck, leaving a warm, wet trail on your skin. he gave you a little bite, his teeth dragging along the spot where your shoulder met your neck, while his hands slipped under your coat and his palms moved over the bare skin at your waist.
“toji.” you said it firmly, like you were scolding a dog. he pulled back just an inch, his lips still right by your jaw.
“i almost got myself shot tonight,” he said, all calm and lazy, “just because i wanted to see you. can’t you let a guy be happy for a minute?”
“you’re hurt.”
“i’m hard.”
you stared at the bandage. the fresh white square over the red line. and while you were still looking at it, still thinking, he made his move. his hands slid to your hips and lifted you like you weighed nothing, setting you down on his lap right there on the exam table. suddenly, you were sitting astride him, your skirt riding up over your thighs.
“no, you—”
“look at that baby.” he took you by the wrist, pulled your hand down, and pressed your palm flat against the hard, strained shape through the gray fabric. the size was impressive. you felt every inch of him. “look what you do to me.” a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“you're pathetic.”
“and you like it.”
he pulled his pants and underwear down, and his cock sprang free — thick, heavy, and hard despite everything, curving toward the bandage he clearly didn't give a fuck about. he hooked his fingers into your panties, pulled the fabric aside, and slowly ran his thumb over your folds, exploring. he found you already wet.
“mmm,” he hummed, filthy and pleased with himself. “all this for me, huh? soaking wet, and i’ve barely even touched you.” “shut up.”
“make me.” his hands tightened around your thighs, lifting and guiding you. the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and he held you there, teasing you. “come on, baby. take it like a good girl.”
you lowered yourself slowly. because he was hurt, and at least one of the two of you had some sense, and you wanted to be careful. you took him inch by inch, feeling him stretch you, and his head fell back with a broken moan.
“n-ngh—” you breathed, bracing yourself against his shoulders
you moved against him a little. gentle. you felt the edge of the bandage under your thumb, the warmth of the wound beneath the gauze. he gave you exactly two seconds to take your time.
then his hands suddenly tightened around your thighs, and he pulled you down, burying himself to the base with a wet, slick sound. a strained moan tore out of him, and he started moving you — lifting you, lowering you, bouncing you on his cock.
“faster,” he growled. “that’s it. god, look at you. look how pretty you look taking me.”
the room filled with sounds — the wet slap of skin, the slick sounds of your bodies moving together, your uneven breathing, his low moans. he lifted himself and caught your mouth, kissing you deep and messy, then dragged his lips down your jaw and neck, biting the curve of your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp.
“mm-mghmm,” he moaned against your skin, his hands digging into your thighs. “my girl. ah-ah — m-mmh — you’re so good, baby.”
he drove up into you, growling, biting, pulling you closer. his hands slid to your ass, kneading and guiding you, setting the pace, and he was everywhere — his lips on yours, your neck, your collarbone, leaving marks on your skin.
“haa-ah — n-ngh — i’m close, toji, i—”
“yeah?” he rasped. “then come on my cock, baby. let me feel you squeeze me.”
you moved harder, faster, your thighs burning, his cock filling you again and again. his hand found your clit, his thumb rubbing it in tight circles, and you broke with a ragged cry clenching around him as you fell apart. he didn’t let you stop.
his hands tightened, his fingers digging into your thighs, and he thrust into you deeper, harder — pushing as far as he could, burying himself all the way.
“m-mngh — fuck yes—” he shuddered beneath you, coming inside you with a long, broken moan, and you felt him pulse and tremble deep inside you.
for a while, there was nothing but breathing.
he leaned back against the exam table, his chest rising and falling heavily, one hand still holding your thigh. his other hand came up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear — stupidly gentle after everything that just happened.
then he gave a lazy smirk and glanced down at the gauze.
“i’ll get another cut at training tomorrow,” he said. “something that’ll keep you busy for a while.”
you smacked him in the chest making him laugh and pull you closer anyway.
jjk stuff! — i couldn't find the artist pls dm me if you know
synopsis: streamer!choso has a pervy crush on his dorm neighbor: the schools sweetheart!reader
__
summer felt wrong without you.
he tried to ignore the silence of being in his room instead of the dormitories--really, he did. he did so much as to fill his schedule with games, streams, scrolling through reels, anything to keep his mind from wandering where he know it shouldn't but damnit, he missed his next-door neighbor dearly
it wasn’t like the two of you were friends—no he didn’t miss you like that, he missed seeing you in that skimpy little school uniform just a few rows ahead of him, flashing that beautiful smile of yours as you laughed with shoko when you got confused, your skirt riding up those pretty soft thighs when you shifted in your seat, the shimmery pink of your lips and god how pretty you looked when you applied your gloss.
and he knew you were out of his league by miles and miles so he shouldn't bother noticing things like that
but what he missed most wasn't even class
it was living next to you in the dorms
seeing you rush into the hallway to grab some water in nothing but your short little sleep shorts and a white tank top that showed your pretty perked nipples through it—god he hated himself for it, he really did! he didn’t ever want to make you uncomfortable because he really did care for you!
and he hated this part of himself
you trusted the space you were in, comfortable and safe
and here he was, memorizing, watching, listening to things he had no right to.
he'd run his hand down his face trying to force his mind to anywhere but you but--it never really stuck
he doesn’t know when it started, whether it was when you first talked to him in class with the same warm smile you wore for everyone else—or if it was that night
the one he should've forgotten about but god it was all he could think about
he had been up late cramming for a physics project, papers scattered everywhere the only sounds that late usually were his notebook pages flipping and the occasional frustrated groan until he heard it--
soft broken breaths muffled through the wall
he told himself he was hearing things until it got louder, needier
"...shit," he breathed out staring at the wall--your shared wall
he should've put headphones on, went to bed, anything! but instead he crawled into his bed with his ear against the wall you two shared--his heart pounding with every small sound that so barely slipped through
god, he imagined what you looked like trying to chase that high all by yourself when he knows he could make you feel so good
how pretty you probably looked with your desperate fingers fucking in and out of you, your other hand probably squeezing your tits, pinching at your sensitive peaks desperately, chasing a wave of pleasure he knows he could so easily give you
he pictured you with your lacy bra just barely pulled to the side with pathetic tears streaming down your face, riding into your own hand with your thong just pushed to the side
fuck.
he shouldn't be thinking about you like this
you--who smiled at him in class, treated him like everyone else, who made him feel seen, who had no idea what was running through his head right now
a desperate whine came from your side and his room suddenly felt too small, too hot
"m'sorry" he said breathlessly into the air as he tugged his boxers down, almost tripping over himself as he eagerly ran to his bed, laying with his ear practically glued to the wall to hear as much of you as he could, wrapping around himself slowly
another muffled whine came from your room and he couldn’t hold back anymore
his head tipped back against his pillow while his hand fisted around his straining cock, pumping himself teasingly, rubbing his puffed tip smearing pre all over his pretty pink tip, already dripping all over his abdomen
“ahh-ahh fuck—m'sorry y/n--m'sorry!”
tears streaming down his face as he pushed himself through it, listening to your voice through the walls--he looked a pathetic beautiful mess
“f-fuck pl-pleasee—” he whined into his quiet room, a choked cry following. his brain felt like it was short-circuiting and the only image it could think of is the one he was hoping to one day be on top of one day
and that was the night it started
the night he stopped trying to pretend he didn't need you
--
now he may have felt like a pervert, but you weren’t much better over the summer
the day you found his livestream you clicked on it immediately without thinking, sure you'd seen him in class with those sexy nerdy fucking glasses, and the way his plaid pants hung a little too low when he lounged around the common room
you wanted to get to know him, he was your neighbor after all, so you figured maybe this way you could get to know some of his interests, or more of who he really was, not that quiet boy in the back of class who had a clear strain in his pants every time you even looked his way, not that you minded, you found it adorable
so you spent the summer watching his streams and everyday you watched you felt yourself wanting to know him more, to talk to him, to have him. so when school rolled back around you wasted no time, he would be yours in at least some way this year, because god knows you were tired of watching girls thirst over him in his comments, and of trying to reach your peak with your pathetic toy: he'd do much better
you hadn't meant for it to get this bad--but you weren't really complaining
what started as pure curiosity at the beginning of summer turned into something you couldn't stop--an addiction
because choso was nothing like what you expected
sure you knew he was quieter, yeah and a little awkward at times, but there was something else too. the way he focused and furrowed his brows with that stupid eyebrow piercing he gave himself, how he mumbled to himself as he played talking the viewers through his gameplay--and god was it attractive
you told yourself it was harmless at first--background noise while you kept yourself busy to get to make a new friend! but instead it felt like you were watching him.
you started paying attention to the little things
the way his glasses slipped down his nose when he leaned in to focus, the way his voice dipped slightly when he got tired, and how his shirt rode up just enough when he stretched to cover what you wanted to see most
and you realized it had become a problem when you noticed the comments
something you didn't expect to bother you
it wasn't like you knew him or had any right to be jealous, but you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the comments pointing out things you had already noticed
"he's so cute"
"is he single???"
"say my name on streammm"
all of them fucking annoying--they didn't know him like you did
even if your definition of knowing him wass just watching him on stream night after night, or talking to him briefly in class, or seeing him walk into his dorm late at night
it still felt like something to you
so by the time summer ended you weren't just curious anymore
you were set on it.
on him.
--
"hey!!" shoko chased after you in the dorms "you ready for tonight? welcome back party at toru's place!" she wrapped her arms around you excitedly, but your arms were wandering, hoping the room arrangements would be the same as last year
"helllooo y/n c'mon what's up" she snapped in your face playfully with a laugh "seriously, you good? you seem like, dazed--are you high?" she whispered
"no-no no no sho! sorry i'm just trying to see the room arrangements but yes, party tonight got it!"
suguru was waiting across the hall with a cigarette resting between his lips glancing at shoko
"now i thinkkk you have someone waiting for you, maybe those frat hookups weren't nothing" you teased shoko and nudged her lightly with a laugh as she rolled her eyes and left you for suguru, which was perfectly fine with you because you had a gameplan for your first week: get to know choso!
now his gameplan was a littlee different, he had spent the last week of summer researching the best ways to please you, emotionally and physically, so he didn't disappoint you when he finally had the chance.
he paced around the dorms hoping they'd still be the same just to see you lounging around in the common room, in those baggy jeans that hugged your hips just right and that tight tank top that showed you off, fuck you were beautiful--and he couldn't take it! he rushed into his dorm room and slammed his door before you could've noticed the pink of his cheeks or the bulge in his pants, and that's when he heard a faint knock
"choso?" you called out softly from the other side of the door
fuck.
so sorry for the long hiatus i was in such a writing slump and got so caught up with life, this is my first time doing anything 18+ so pleaseee be easy on me LOL but leave tips if you have any MWAH <3
Y’know how some woc say they can tell when the x reader isn’t necessarily “for them” because the fic will say “her cheeks turned red” or “Her face looked pale”
I think for me an underrated sentence that makes me think “Yeah the reader isn’t me fr” is when the writer makes a scene where her and said character are taking a a shower and she causally starts to wash her hair or the character washes her hair for her and then they just get out and move on
Ima be honest wash day is a whole ass process, not just grabbing some shampoo and and slapping it on my head girl I have to detangle it, shampoo, deep condition, leave the conditioner in my head for 30 minutes to an hour , wash that off, section my hair, blow dry each section, put on leave in conditioner, braid it up, throw on a scarf and bonnet—
…idk it’s really not a big deal but everytime I read it I just laugh abt it LMAOOO
When the writer says we the reader are a blood sibling of a character. Step siblings, yeah i can see it, but aint no way my blackerican self could be siblings to Gojo and be his little sister.
1: When the writer says the reader is clenching her fists so hard they turn white.
Never in my black years has that happened, but i mean they have turned redish…(?) from doing so.
2: When the pictures of the header are yk…not black women i alr know who the reader is, because its one thing to put a picture of a girl but u cant see her because of the angle or clothes, only like her figure or silhouette and its another when shes fully showing.
⟡ ݁˖cw.Boyfriend!Choso :: fingering :: p in v :: tummy bluge :: c-pied :: cum smearing :: choso has a high sex drive!
The afternoon sun filters lazily through the half-drawn blinds of your living room, casting warm golden stripes across the worn fabric of the couch where Choso has you now, bent over the armrest like you’re nothing more than his favorite toy he couldn’t wait to play with.
It started so innocently, just a quick coffee run down the block, his hand in yours the whole way, that low sleepy voice of his murmuring about how good the caramel drizzle smelled on your latte. But the second you stepped back through the door, something in him snapped. Maybe it was the way your skirt swished around your thighs when you walked, maybe the way you licked a stray bit of foam from your lip, or maybe it was just the constant, gnawing hunger he carries for you every single second of the day.
Choso Kamo has always been a man with a terrifyingly high sex drive, and today is no exception. His cock is already out, heavy and leaking, the fat veined length of it slapping against the curve of your ass the moment he shoved your skirt up around your waist.
Your panties are still on, cute little cotton ones that hug your pussy so sweetly, but he doesn’t bother pulling them off completely. Not yet. He’s too impatient, too hard, the thick head of his cock already glistening with precum as he presses it between your cheeks, grinding slow and sticky.
“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he growls low against the shell of your ear, voice rough like gravel and honey all at once. One big hand lands on the small of your back, pushing you further down so your tits squash against the armrest and your ass lifts higher for him. “Wider. Yeah, just like that. Fuck, look at you.”
You obey without thinking, thighs parting as much as the position allows, heart hammering in your chest because you can already feel how soaked you’re getting just from the heat of him. Choso tugs your panties down with two fingers, not all the way, just enough so the fabric catches right under the fat of your thighs, trapping them there like a lewd little harness. The cool air hits your dripping cunt and you whimper, already clenching around nothing.
His long fingers slide through your folds without warning, two thick digits parting your slick lips and rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit before dipping inside. “Shit… you’re so wet already,” he murmurs, almost entranced, pumping those fingers in and out with wet, slick sounds that fill the quiet room. “Did the coffee make you this messy for me? Or were you thinking about my cock the whole walk home? Haah- Good girl. Such a good fucking girl, dripping all over my hand like you were made for it.”
You moan into the cushion, hips twitching back against his touch because it feels too good, too much. Choso pulls his fingers free, shiny with your arousal, and wraps them around the base of his cock instead. He rubs the fat, leaking head along your pussy, teasing your entrance, smearing his precum and your wetness together until everything is slippery and hot. The veined shaft drags heavy between your folds, catching on your clit with every slow rock of his hips.
He tries to push in then, really tries, but his cock is so thick, so unreasonably big, that even with how drenched you are the blunt head struggles against your tight hole. Choso groans deep in his chest, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other guides his dick, pressing forward with steady pressure. “Fuck… relax for me, pretty. Let me in mhnph- you can take it, you always take it so well.”
The stretch burns in the most delicious way when the fat head finally pops past that first tight ring of muscle. Your gummy walls flutter wildly around him as inch after thick inch sinks deeper, forcing your pussy to open up around the sheer girth of him.
He’s bullying his way inside, slowly but relentless, until your tummy bulges visibly from the sheer size of his cock pressing against your insides. You can feel it, that obscene swell right under your navel every time he rocks forward, the head of his cock kissing so deep it makes your eyes roll back.
Choso’s free hand snakes around to palm one of your tits through your shirt, squeezing the soft flesh before his fingers find your nipple and pinches it, rolling the sensitive bud until you’re whining loud and broken. “That’s it… feel me stretching you out? Your little pussy’s gripping me so tight, sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He starts fucking you then, proper deep strokes that drag his fat cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing with every thrust. Your walls clench and ripple around him, gummy and hot, milking his length as he bullies that massive dick into your soaked cunt over and over. The bulge in your tummy moves with him, a constant reminder of just how deep he’s reaching, how completely he’s owning your body right now.
You’re cumming before you even realize it’s building, a sudden sharp wave that crashes through you and leaves your thighs shaking. Your pussy spasms hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as slick gushes out around his shaft. Choso curses under his breath, hips stuttering for a second before he fucks you through it, grinding deep while your walls pulse and cream all over him.
“Fuck, baby, just like that… cum on my cock, good- ngh- fuckin' girl. So pretty when you fall apart for me.”
He doesn’t last much longer after that. His thrusts turn rougher, more desperate, the veins along his thick length pulsing as he chases his own release and with a low, guttural groan he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your pussy, painting your gummy walls white. He keeps moving through it, shallow little thrusts to work every drop inside you until he’s spent.
Only then does he pull out, slow and careful, the wet pop of his cock leaving your stretched hole making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Strings of his cum and your mixed arousal cling to his still-hard length as he watches it drip from your puffy pussy lips. Choso strokes himself once, twice, milking the last heavy spurts of thick white cum straight onto your exposed cunt, watching it coat your swollen folds and clit in messy streaks.
Satisfied, he tugs your panties back up with gentle fingers, pulling the fabric snug over your cum-filled pussy so the cotton traps everything inside. The wet spot blooms instantly, warm and sticky against your sensitive skin. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, voice low and lazy now that the edge is taken off.
“Better,” he murmurs, still half-hard against your thigh. “Now we can finish our coffee… unless you want round two before it gets cold.”
Your legs are still trembling, panties soaked through, skirt bunched uselessly around your waist, and all you can do is breathe out a shaky little laugh because you already know exactly how the rest of the afternoon is going to go. Choso’s high sex drive never really settles. Not when he’s got you like this, marked up and claimed and dripping with him. Not ever.
black americans really rule the world. as a carribean gyal imma always give em credit cus black americans really got the entire world copying their swag & i absolutely hate it that people act disingenuous & obtuse about that. i love u black americans.
In which sukuna gets shy and forgets how to speak when you fix his chain in front of his frat brothers
A reference to this series
It’s a friday night.
You had come over to the frat house after class, by now it was normal for you to randomly show up. It was the end of the week, with your body and mind both sore and tired from all the work you’ve done all week , eyes heavy, you went straight to sukuna’s room, plopped on his bed, and drifted to sleep.
How many hours had passed since you fell asleep , Three? Four? You don’t even know , you sit up , rubbing the sleep out of your eyes , with no signs of sukuna around, your throat is so dry it feels like thorns are pricking at it.
Now you were downstairs looking for water.
Unbeknownst to you, everyone’s already there ,
The second you stepped into the kitchen, Shoko noticed you first.
Then Sukuna.
And just like always, something in him changed immediately.
He’d been leaning against the counter beside Toji and Geto, lazily picking apart some story Gojo was telling while half the room listened in amusement. Tattoos stretched beneath the sleeves of his black shirt, rings catching against the fluorescent kitchen light every time he gestured.
He looked Confident and Sharp-edged. Like he always did.
Then his eyes landed on you and as soon as they did,His posture straightened subtly.
The tension in his jaw eased.
Like his entire nervous system recalibrated.
You walked over quietly, still sleepy enough that you barely noticed everyone watching. Sukuna’s gaze followed you the entire way until you stopped in front of him.
“You okay?” he asked immediately.
“Mhm.” Your voice came out soft from exhaustion. Then your eyes caught on the silver chain hanging crooked beneath the collar of his shirt. “Your chain’s twisted.”
“Huh?”
Without thinking much of it, you stepped closer.
Conversation around the kitchen slowly faded.
Your fingers brushed lightly against the cool metal resting against his throat as you fixed the clasp, carefully straightening where it had turned sideways against his skin.
And Sukuna went completely still and no,
Not in a dramatic way.
But the kind where someone forgets how to function entirely.
His hand tightened slightly around the cup he was holding while he stared down at you, breathing quieter ,shoulders stiff beneath your touch.
Gojo blinked. Then blinked again.
“No fucking way.”
You didn’t even notice.
You were too focused on fixing the chain properly, fingers brushing against the warm skin of his neck every few seconds.
“There,” you murmured finally. “Better.”
Silence.
You looked up confused.
Every single person in the kitchen was staring.
Toji looked moments away from losing consciousness laughing. Geto had physically covered his mouth trying to hide a grin while Shoko watched like she’d just witnessed a rare astronomical event.
Gojo pointed directly at Sukuna.
“HE’S BLUSHING.”
Your eyes snapped back upward instantly And there it was.
Faint pink dusting across Sukuna’s ears and creeping slowly over the bridge of his nose while he looked at you like his brain had short-circuited.
Your lips parted slightly to say something,
“…wait.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered towards Gojo without taking his eyes off you once.
That only made everyone laugh harder.
“Oh this is BAD,” Geto said through laughter. “He’s gone.”
“To think,” Shoko sighed dramatically, “the campus plague finally domesticated.”
“Fuck off.” He told them.
But there was no bite in it.
Not really.
Because you were still standing close enough for him to feel the warmth coming off your body, your fingers lightly resting against his chest after fixing the chain.
And Sukuna looked wrecked by it.
You smiled , you just couldn’t hold it in.
“Aww,” you teased softly. “You’re embarrassed?”
His eyes narrowed immediately, but it lacked its usual sharpness.
“Don’t start.”
“You’re literally red.”
“I am not.”
“You kinda are,” Toji interrupted giddily.
Gojo looked ready to pass away from excitement. “I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS MAN EXPERIENCE HUMAN EMOTION.”
Before you could say anything else, Sukuna suddenly grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you against his chest.
A small startled sound left you as his arm settled around your waist instinctively, keeping you tucked against his side like proximity itself calmed him down.
“Enough,” he muttered lowly.
But when you tilted your head up at him, smiling still lingering on your lips, the blush deepened anyway.
And the kitchen absolutely lost its mind.
“HE GOT SHY.”
“THIS IS INSANE.”
“Somebody take a picture.”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Gojo announced dramatically.
Sukuna flipped everyone off immediately.
Yet even while doing it, his thumb rubbed absentminded circles against your waist beneath the hoodie.
Like touching you had already become second nature to him.
He had learnt to be gentle with you at all times, which was kinda shocking for someone like him, but he did.
And when you reached up one more time to flatten the collar of his shirt, Sukuna leaned down automatically without even realizing he’d done it.
The room erupted so loudly someone from upstairs yelled asking if a fight broke out.
Everyone was enjoying this way to much.
Meanwhile Sukuna buried his face briefly against the top of your head, muttering,
“You’re never coming downstairs with me again.”
You could only laugh a little because you know that’s far from the truth.
You'd always heard horror stories of friends staying the night at each other's houses and not knowing how to work their showers. You'd also considered yourself smarter than the average cookie because that has never happened to you. Most showers seem self explanatory.
And then, you stay the night at your boyfriend's for the first time and take a look at his stupidly expensive shower.
You eye the four knobs that control temperature and the dozen jets, two waterfalls (one higher, one lower (what is the lower one for?)), the removable showerhead and what you're assuming is the rainfall head. The symbols on the knobs may as well be hieroglyphics, giving next to no insight on how to turn this mother fucker on without being soaked immediately by the jets.
You don't even try. You wrap yourself in a towel and walk back into the adjoining bedroom, shaking your head with your eyebrows raised.
"Satoru, what the fuck is that?" you ask, motioning behind you to the bathroom.
"A shower..?" he says, looking up from his phone. His eyebrows furrow in his own confusion.
"Yes," you reply through grit teeth. "How do I turn it on?"
"Oh!" He jumps up from his bed and crosses the room to you, placing a hand on your hip and a kiss to your lips as he leads you back into the bathroom. "Why didn't you just say that, love? I'm more than willing to show you."
Satoru opens the glass door and steps in the shower, dragging you along with him. He points at the individual knobs and explains each of the symbols, explaining which is best for which occasion - the misters for when you're hot, rainfall for normal showers, waterfall for when you want to feel like you're lost in the jungle and it's been a week and you're losing hope of being found, etc.
You're giggling by the time he finishes his spiel and he's got his own 1000 kilowatt smile plastered on his face and turned on you.
"So what'll it be tonight?" he asks, clapping his hands together. "The waterfall is a personal favorite."
"A normal shower, please."
"Can do, baby." He kisses your cheek and sets the shower to your preferred setting. "The temperature control turns the water on," he says, stepping out of the shower.
Your towel drops to the floor just as he's exiting, the sound making his head crane back around to catch a glimpse of your ass before you step into the fog of the shower.
"You know, on second thought," he says, grabbing your attention as his shirt joins your towel. "Maybe we should shower together. Just in case you have questions."
choso is a firm believer that pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything.
it’s not something he’s ever said out loud, not in those exact words, but you see it in the way he kneels at your feet when your evening slippers are pinching, in the way his hands steady your ankles as he slides them off.
you see it in the careful, reverent way he unties the laces of your dress at night, his knuckles brushing your spine, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.
"cho, i can do that myself," you protest for the hundredth time, reaching for the hairbrush on your vanity. you’ve just returned from a work dinner, your face aching from smiling, your scalp tender from the weight of your responsibilities.
"don't be like that," he says softly, taking the brush from your hand. he’s already behind you, his reflection meeting yours in the mirror. he’s wearing a simple black sweater now, his pigtails undone, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. "let me help you."
"you’re going to spoil me rotten," you murmur, but you’re already sinking back against him, your eyes drifting shut as he starts working the brush through your hair in slow, even strokes. the bristles scrape gently against your scalp and you make a small, involuntary sound of pleasure.
"that’s the point," he says, his voice low. he sets the brush down and reaches for the cloth and cleansing oil. "you're too beautiful to even lift a finger, baby."
he’s wiping the rouge from your cheeks now, the kohl from your eyes. his touch is so gentle, so methodical, like he’s polishing something precious. you let him tilt your chin up, let him clean away the day’s mask. when he’s done, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"cmon, bed." he commands. not harshly—never harshly—but with the quiet authority of a man who knows exactly what you need.
you stand, your hand in his, and let him lead you to the mattress. he undresses you slowly, layer by layer, the silk pooling at your feet. when you’re down to your thin shift, he pulls back the covers and tucks you in like you’re something fragile.
"sleep," he whispers.
but you catch his wrist. you’re not sleepy. not anymore. the tiredness has shifted into something else, something warm and heavy low in your belly.
"stay," you plead.
he hesitates. "you’re tired."
"i want you," you clarify, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. "but i’m... i’m exhausted. but— but i want you— but i don't want to do anything—"
something dark flickers in his eyes. understanding. hunger. devotion.
"then don’t," he says. he climbs onto the bed, fully clothed, and crawls up your body until he’s hovering over you. "don’t do anything. don’t even think. just let me make you feel good."
"choso—" you start, already feeling guilty, already reaching for the hem of his sweater.
he catches your hands and pins them gently above your head. his fingers twine with yours, pressing your palms into the pillow.
"no, sweetheart." he says, his mouth brushing your ear. his voice drops, rough and reverent. "you don’t do the work. you never do the work. you just lay there, princess, and let me take care of you. let me please you. let me—" he grinds his hips down, and you feel how hard he is, straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you gasp. "—let me do everything."
he releases your hands only to finally pull his sweater over his head. you watch the muscles of his back shift in the warm light of your tablelamp, the old scars, the lean strength. when he turns back to you, he’s already unlacing his trousers, pushing them down, kicking them off.
he kneels between your thighs, his dark eyes raking over you. "open up," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing your shift higher. "be good for me, okay?"
you spread your legs, trembling. he’s already so hard, the pink tip flushed and wet, and he wraps his hand around himself, stroking once, twice, his eyes never leaving your face.
"you don’t even have to move," he says, leaning down, caging you in his warmth. "i’ll do all the work. i’ll get you ready. i’ll make you feel so good. all you have to do is look at me. can you do that for me, princess? can you let me love you?"
"yes," you breathe, your voice cracking. "yes, choso, please—"
he kisses you then, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your toes curl. his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding you already wet, already aching. he doesn’t make you ask, nor does he make you work for it. he just pushes two fingers inside you, curling them, stretching you open while his thumb circles your clit.
"that’s it," he praises against your lips, feeling you clench around him. "that's my girl. just lay there and take it. let me get you ready for my cock."
you moan, your head falling back against the pillow. he’s relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. you try to rock your hips, try to chase the sensation, but he stills you with his free hand on your hip.
"no, angel." he says, his voice firm. "don’t move. let me. i want to feel you squeezing my fingers while you just lay there and let me fuck you open."
you whimper, your hands gripping the sheets because he won’t let you touch him. he’s leaning over you, watching your face, watching the pleasure overwhelm you, and his expression is something almost feral. like this—serving you, controlling your pleasure, doing all the labor—is exactly where he wants to be.
"look at you," he breathes, his fingers moving faster, harder. "so pretty. so perfect. you're doing so well, baby. letting me make you cum. can you do that for me? can you cum on my fingers like a good girl?"
"choso!" you sob, the pressure building, your body tensing.
"there she is," he croons, his thumb pressing down. "cum for me, make a mess of the sheets."
you break, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you cry out. he rides you through it, his hand moving slower now, drawing out every wave until you’re shaking, boneless, your hair fanned out across the pillow.
before you can catch your breath, he’s moving. he hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wide, his hands sliding up to grip your hips. he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your still-pulsing heat.
"now," he says, his voice rough with restraint. "i’m going to fuck you, and i’m going to make you cum again. and again. until you can’t think. until you can’t even remember your name."
"please," you gasp, your hands reaching for him again, wanting to touch, to hold.
he catches your wrists and presses them back into the mattress. "no," he says, his eyes dark. "be good, or i'll stop. understand?"
you nod, dizzy, your body still throbbing.
he pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, filling you completely. the stretch burns so perfectly you cry out, your back arching off the bed, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your hips.
"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "so warm. so tight. and you’re just— letting me use you— shit—"
he starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has you seeing stars. he’s doing all the work—his hips rolling, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you. you try to move, try to meet his thrusts, but he growls and pins you harder.
"stay still," he orders, his voice strained. "let me do this for you. you had a hard day. you smiled at people who didn't deserve it. now you just get to lay here and take my cock. that’s all. that’s your only job."
"ch-choso!" you sob, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. it’s too much, the pleasure, the devotion, the way he’s using his body to serve you. "i love you— hic!— i love you so much—"
"i know," he breathes, his thrusts speeding up, becoming harder, more desperate. his skin slaps against yours, the bed creaking, but he never lets you move. he holds you open, holds you down, fucks into you with a single-minded focus that’s entirely about your pleasure. "and i love you more. god, i love you so much more."
his hand slides between you again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. you’re so sensitive from your first orgasm, every touch is electric, overwhelming. you can’t move, can’t do anything but lay there and take it, exactly like he wants, and the helplessness of it, the sheer luxury of being cared for so completely, sends you over the edge again.
you cum with a scream, your walls clamping down on him so hard he chokes, his rhythm faltering.
"that’s it," he gasps, fucking you through it, chasing his own release now. "atta girl. just— shit— i-im gonna—"
he thrusts deep one last time and stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes with a broken groan against your neck. you feel the heat of it, the way he spills into you, marking you, claiming you, all while you lay there trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, his weight pressing you into the mattress.
for a long moment, neither of you moves. he’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin. slowly, carefully, he pulls out and collapses beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. he’s still panting, his heart hammering against your ear.
"okay?" he whispers, his hand stroking your hair again, back to the gentle, domestic touches.
you nod, boneless, drifting. "more than okay," you murmur. "felt so good."
"that’s the point," he reminds you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything."
you smile against his chest, your eyes already closing. "then i guess i’m just going to have to let you do it again tomorrow."
Footballer!Gojo who points at you after ever goal- but he aIso points at whomever he disIikes after every miss. Though it isn’t often, who can miss whenever he points at some rivaI coach named Toji Fushiguro? Footballer!Gojo who ceIebrates way too much after every win—and the media absolutely Ioves it. He throws his sweaty jersey your way, he throws air kisses, he attempts to cIimb up those stands- coach Yaga has to hold him back. Footballer!Gojo who namedrops you in every single interview - so much so that they start making compilations of it online. Take a shot every time Gojo mentions you in one post-match interview? Hospital.
firefighter!Toji gets injured on the job and suddenly finds himself at your mercy
Toji had suffered a concussion and a fracture to his right leg while saving two people from a burning building, and somehow, being put on bed rest was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him.
You walked in from a quick grocery run to find him halfway across the living room, crutches barely holding him up while he dragged himself toward the couch making you nearly drop every bag on the floor “Toji!”
He looked up, completely and infiruatingly unbothered “What are you doing?” You grabbed his arm before he could take another limping step “You’re not supposed to be walking around!”
“Sick of the bedroom, wanted the couch” he said, like that was more than a reasonable explanation.
“Oh my God, you’re so damn hardheaded” You guided him the rest of the way to the couch, where he dropped down with a satisfied exhale. His injured leg stretched across the cushions while the other hung off the side, and you immediately adjusted the blanket over him.
“Did you take your afternoon meds? Does your leg hurt? You were walking on it—”
“Yeah, yeah, I took ’em” Toji leaned back against the armrest, far too entertained by your concern. The fractured leg barely registered as more than an inconvenience to him. To you, it had been the worst phone call of your life.
He still teased you about crying all over his hospital bed that day, unable to understand why you were so upset when he’d survived just fine.
“More importantly, what time you picking up the brat from judo?” he asked, hand settling on your thigh out of nowhere.
You looked at him sideways “Around five. Why…?”
“Why” he repeated, like the question amused him. His hands moved to your waist, and before you could react, he was pulling you down onto the couch with him, maneuvering you between his legs with too much ease for an injured man “you been treating me like a porcelain doll for weeks” he said, grinning up at you “I broke my leg, the rest works just fine”
“Toji, the doctor said–” You began but he cut you off with a scuff
“Just say you don’t wanna put in the work” The grin didn’t waver “Wouldn’t expect much else from a pillow princess anyway”
You knew better than to fall for his provocations, but this was just too much, even for you.
And Toji couldn’t have possibly anticipated such a complete 180 from you. His doting personal nurse from just a few hours ago now had him shaking, face flushed and twisted into a mix of pleasure and frustration “Fucking hell… ha—I can’t” he blurted out in that rough, raspy voice of his.
Your grip on his aching cock loosened slightly so as not to push him over the edge just yet “You need to hold it in a little longer. Come on, you can do it” you cooed, cruelly stroking his twitching dick nice and slow, relishing the thick string of precum that dripped onto his stomach.
“I told you I can’t, woman!” he groaned, his voice breaking. He immediately regretted raising his voice when he felt your thumb glide along one of his veins before pressing against his urethral opening “B-baby, wait… if you press there—ngh!”
His head shot back when you applied more pressure to the sensitive spot, his words catching in his throat as his eyes widened at the strange sensation “Oh, now it’s baby, huh?” you teased, leaning in until your lips brushed against his neck. “You wanna cum that badly?” Toji had never nodded faster in his life.
You hummed, pulling back to get a better look at him. God, he looked delicious. His cheeks and ears were flushed a pretty shade of pink, eyes glossy, lips trembling “You sure? Use your words” You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you.
“Fuck! Please, okay?” he gasped “I wanna cum” The words clearly burned on the way out, but what other choice did he have?
“Alright then, since you asked so nicely" You could see the relief wash over his face immediately. Poor thing had no idea what was waiting for him.
Toji was lightheaded by now, incoherent words and shameless moans slipping freely from his mouth. His calloused hands gripped at your thighs in a desperate attempt to slow you down as you continued bouncing on his oversensitive cock, warm cunt hugging him so tightly like you were trying to milk him dry, which you were “Ah—I can’t! Fuck! Fuck!” he cried, feeling himself cum again, filling you up for the third time now.
“Wow…your loads aren’t getting any smaller” you breathed, readjusting yourself as you leaned against his chest “you’re real pretty like this, you know?" You grinned, but Toji didn’t seem interested in compliments at the moment.
“s'nough… can’t…” he managed between quick breaths, eyes dropping to where the two of you were connected, his pelvis coated in your juices and his cum “You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you?” you reminded him.
Toji cursed himself for not seeing through your little scheme sooner. As soon as this leg healed, he was definitely getting payback. Tenfold.
But for now, you were going to enjoy hearing that cocky asshole beg again and again until you overstimulated that stubbornness out of him.
