Trigger warning: his home is really, really dirty.
A stupid note: this is absolute filth, I’m sorry. But I was going through it yesterday and I thought of this… I hope this isn’t crazy…
At first, he stopped matching his socks. For some reason, all of the missing halves seemed to magically disappear when he swore he put them both in the hamper.
Then his toothbrush started to gunk up. The subconscious thought to wipe it off started to evade him, leaving the damn thing crusted blue.
The stupid vent in the bathroom stopped working, and he didn’t really give a damn about fixing it. He could still shower. Though the bottom of the tub started to look… kinda nasty?
While washing the blood off himself from another mindless workday, he looked up, and what did he see on the ceiling? Mold. Water droplets tinted orange left sticky marks on the plaster, softening whenever the room got more humid, then hardening whenever he left.
He can't remember the last time he washed his sheets. Whenever he remembers he can’t, he buys new ones with the money he received from whatever cougar he was fucking at the moment. He’d fuck her at her place only, of course. The old sheets get washed when he feels like it.
After the sheets, the mismatched socks turned into buying more socks, which didn’t work out well because he’d lose those, too. He got so frustrated by not finding pairs that he stopped washing his clothes altogether. His nose grew blind to the musty, warm smell.
He’s always buying groceries with the intent to start cooking, but he just never seems to get to it. And when he does, he’ll either pick at it then and leave the plates up on his dresser, or he’ll eat it all and leave it in his bed next to him, all while he mindlessly watches horse raising on his janky ass TV. Can he get a new one? Yes. But this is the one you bought for when you guys first moved into this apartment. It was when you guys were dirt poor after he cut off his family for you. He just had to keep it.
It was always you. Walking his neighborhood, he thinks of how you loved going to that shoddy-ass pizza place 2 minutes away because you never felt like waiting for delivery. The little park nestled in the arms of the apartment buildings that you would coo at, excited for when you two would have kids.
And it’s not like you were the only one who did most of the cooking, or the cleaning, for that matter. But now, he’s apathetic towards the thought of wanting to remove all of the stupid junk he has accumulated on his kitchen table. Just thinking about lugging all of his clothes to the basement laundry room makes him tired.
Don’t even get him started on the rest of the apartment. Now it’s hills of bullshit. Weapons on the peeling leather couch, some still dirty with the crust and guts of his victims. Gun cartridges littering the floor— and boy, there are a lot of them.
The worm is slithering around there, somewhere.
Betting cards, receipts, dirty and clean napkins— all sorts of other paper scraps are jumbled together on the kitchen table. He doesn’t know how it got so bad.
He returned to killing. It felt, well, it felt like feeling nothing at all. That was good; that’s what he wanted. Because he can’t bear feeling much of anything anymore.
He can barely walk through his room. It’s filled with piles of everything: filthy clothes, clean clothes, horse racing general admission tickets, stamped out lottery cards.
And he can’t bear to look at his son, because it’s like he could remember you telling him:
“Meg looks so much like you,” with a pretty pout after.
And then he retorted:
“Not all the way; he has your eyes.”
Which was one of his favorite things about you. To the point, he kept every picture of you so he could see your smile all the time— even the duplicates. Then he started saving the mail he received with your name on it, and the post-it notes you left him. It all began to pile up; dust and debris from the floor caked the lower papers and envelopes with a yellowish soot. He can’t bring himself to look at it, but he can’t get himself to throw it away.
He lives like a fucking slob.
When he steps outside his house, it’s like he’s breathing in for the first time. Then he’s stuck holding his breath for the cherished hours he’s out because he realizes— the dread of it rising with the elevator as he reaches his apartment floor— that he’s coming back to a home without you.
He only makes it so far, holding the exhale for him to shimmy through the hell he’s living in to his bed, where he passes out.
Rengoku x f!Singer!Reader, Sex, Kyo's a bit pathetic icel, established relationship
Word count: 2.3k
Author's yap: Haha ok I am back for a little- sorry pooks college has been kickin my ass but enjoy xoxo
Tonight
Long distance is hard. Real hard. But when you’re on the road for work, there’s not much you can do. You need money right? Well, it’s more about your dream– Kyojuro would never stop you from following that dream. So here you are– a well-renowned provocative singer hitting the road for her first ever tour. You were so excited at the beginning. Your first ever tour! This would do wonders for your career. You never anticipated that you’d be gone from him for damn near 4 months. 4 fucking months. It was fucking awful.
Now, don’t get me wrong– you adore going on tour. But it would be 20043505834 times better if you could have your partner in crime by your side. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take off work.
“When’ll you be home?” He would ask.
“Soon,” is what you would say.
Soon my fucking ass.
You missed him so fucking much. The facetimes and texting weren’t enough. You needed to be with him– you needed to be in his presence. You wanted to see his smile, run your fingers through his hair– feel his body heat on yours. Instead you’re travelling all over the fucking place from stage to stage, singing anywhere and everywhere. It was getting to the point that you were getting so tired of your own songs that when you can’t take it anymore, you just turn your mic to the audience and have them sing it for you– let yourself recoup a bit. Maybe it’s the spotlights’ heat frying your brain (because they’re actually hot as shit), but you were getting so sick of this.
Fuck do you miss your blaze-eyed man.
Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been fucked in so long. So fucking long. And the moment you realize that, it feels like your attitude has amplified– and you’re doing your best to keep it in check. You’ve never realized how much it regulated your mood until you were without it. And now you’re trying not to cuss at fans who don’t take your personal space seriously– taking deep breaths so you don’t tweak when your costume has a slight malfunction. You’re trying to be pleasant– you really are. But tours are fucking stressful, man. And everyone could see how it was getting to you. Well, maybe not the needing to be fucked part, but the stress.
"Why didn’t you guys just sext?" Asks the audience. IMPOSSIBLE!
Every fucking waking moment you have is spent rehearsing. When you’re not rehearsing, you're finally using this time to eat– making sure to call Kyo so you guys could have some sense of normalcy. Calm questions about each other’s day. Your texting sessions are sporadic and inconsistent. Then you sleep with what little time you have left in the 5-star hotel room of whatever city you’re in. You were too tired to even masturbate. You sing sex songs, for fucks sake. And you can even get any.
So, when you get back into your city, you’re practically bouncing off the walls in your car (earning some glances from your chauffeur), thinking about all the things you’re going to do with Kyojuro when you get home. All the things you’re going to do to him.
When you finally pull into the long driveway, you can see Kyojuro open your front door, wearing a white tank-top and fuzzy pajama pants.
Your own home has a sense of unfamiliarity to it. With every glance though, the unfamiliarity melts away and you’re hit with a feeling of nostalgia. Your dark brown couches with a blanket tossed over the back of one– the pictures of you, Kyo, and the two of you together all on the wall. Your album sitting on top of the fireplace– he put it there when you bought your first copy home. He was so proud of you that he wanted to put it somewhere everyone could see.
He’s lit candles– actually no. You squint closer and see they’re the fake candles; he knows that you would be afraid of one of the many falling over and setting the house ablaze. The only real fire in the area comes from your fireplace, which has glass doors to contain it. The mood he’d set is cozy, romantic. You know he’s trying to be romantic, but all you can think about is fuck fuck fucking.
“Kyo..” You turn your head to look at him as he gently guides you through your shared home with his hand on the small of your back to the living room. You can hear music coming from the kitchen; signs that Kyojuro probably cooked up some comfort meal of yours. Sweet. Cute. But fuck the food– no you don’t mean that. Not really. Kinda. Yeah you do.
“I made dinner… now I know that you probably have more refined tastes now–”
You can’t help yourself; not when he looks like that. His eyes stuck to your face, pretty hair pushed back by a zigzag headband with his thumb caressing your back. Everything he does, even though it’s not inherently sexual. Anything and everything he does sets you off. You’re running like a faucet off of the mere scraps he’s giving you.
“Kyo can we fuck now? I’m so ready to do the cutesy fun things with you. Really, I am– but let's save that for tomorrow. Tonight, I want to fuck.” You step closer to him till your bodies are squished together. You trace a finger on his large pec.
“...Is that ok?”
You can feel his heart beating out of his chest.
You don’t know why; he’s fucked you before. Plenty of times. Maybe he’s forgotten what that’s like, just how you’ve forgotten your home. That breaks your horny little heart. It also makes you throb, surprisingly. The thought of him having to get acquainted with your cunt– have to remind himself how to work your pussy. You are dripping.
And that’s how you end up in your bedroom with your dress hiked up around your waist, panties pushed to the side exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt, and his pajama pants dangling around his ankles while he holds his shirt with his chin.
He’s a completely different animal when he’s fucking you- your backside’s exposed to his bright eyes. You’ve forgotten that unfortunate fact when you were out on the road, living off of flashbacks and wet dreams. It’s not that he’s rough- he’s just cocky. Like he knows that no one else could fuck you as good as he does. And it’s true.
Now when he’s up on you, cock resting between your ass cheeks with his stupid little smug grin, you’re kind of wishing that you went through with the dinner before you got to the show. You mistook the racing of his heart for hesitance, when in reality, it was excitement.
Fuck- he’d jack off to your performances every night he gets home from work. He felt like such a damn pervert– one of those fanboy losers that would never have a chance with you, let alone feel the touch of a woman. Moaning out your name with his pathetic whimpers while he masturbates to your pretty little costumes. Gripping his fucking shaft as tight as he can to mimic the squeeze of your cunt while he scrolls through video after video of you singing at your concerts. Bucking up faster when you hit a particular note or part in a song that just has his mind reeling- he swears that he has a voice kink for you and you alone.
There’s this one song in particular that you have that gets his hand going from the tapered rosy tip to the thick shaft as quick as a lightning strike. The one that you said reminds you of him– that you made for him. Fuck, it gets his dick throbbing harder than anything ever has before. Seeing you whine all the way to the floor while you sing, sliding your body across the floor in a sensual manner while you look out into the crowd. Singing about how he makes you feel– the standard sex song of your heavily sex-themed album. And that one is all his. Watching that specific performance has him whining and panting like nothing he’s ever known. And it’s always gotten him to shoot his load by the time the song is through.
Every little grind of your hips in your choreo– the way you feel up on your body in the 3rd song– or that riff that you do to close out the show. That’s been his routine for the past 4 months. Work, rut to you, sleep. Now he finally has you back in front of him.
Palming and caressing your ass- cherishing the feeling of your bare skin on his fingertips, seeing how your pussy glistens underneath the artificial candlelight. He’s missed this. So much. The way you subtly tried to grind yourself back on him- just having you in bed period. He would never get enough of it.
“Sing for me, baby. Come on- gimme that private show you’ve been promising.” Your eyes can’t help but roll back at his little quips while he rolls his hips into your ass. He’s tearing you apart so good; you could cry from how good you feel. And you do– tears of gratitude and satisfaction streaming down your face as your boyfriend slowly fucks you through the night.
“I- I-”
“‘You- You’ what, pretty? Hm? You feel good?” Taking one of his large hands, he spreads your ass a bit more to see his cock getting coated with your essence. He lets out a small hum of amusement, fiery hair cascading down his muscular shoulders. He doesn’t even wait for you to respond.
“I know you do.”
He takes the tip all the way out, then pushes in till he’s buried to the hilt- it has you keening. Your toes are curled, and if it wasn’t for his other hand pressing down on your lower back, you’re 95% sure that your arch would be no more.
The noises that the both of you are making would get you multiple noise complaints if you were in an apartment. It seems that Kyo’s a bit louder than you, even.
“Fuck- like that, please Kyo-”
He’s humming your song for him while he gives you thorough and deliberate strokes. He’s lost in his own little world, happy to be one with you once again. Watching himself go in and out and in and out- holding your waist so you don’t run. Feeling you pulsate around his cock in tandem to the beat of the song in his head- fuck it’s almost too much for him. But he doesn’t want to fill you yet- not when there’s so much to make up for. Not when the show has just begun.
“I’ve be- fuck- I’ve been dying to g-get a performance from you-” he pants, mind a blur as he tries to continue talking while thrusting, “-And a little ‘I-I’ is all I get?”
“Nooo…” You whine. You’re trying- you really are. But when he feels that good inside you, what can you do?
“Give your- your biggest f-fan more than that-”
He places his entire body-weight on you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he fucks into you that way. He’s rambling- you wonder if he gets off on hearing how pathetic he sounds for you like you do.
“Give the- the man that fucks hi-himself to videos of you for hours more- for hours hours hours hours shit- You know that I do that, right? You know how fucking sexy you are? Hmm?”
His body heat, his panting, him speaking- he has you feeling so fucking good, you can’t even put it into words. But you sure do try- whimpering and moaning your praises into the pillow.
“Yea- Oh my fucking-” Goddamn, you’re never going on tour again. You don’t care how much they’re paying you. They could give you a billion dollars on a plate and you’d…
Ok so you wouldn’t refuse, but you would be a bit bummed to leave.
“That’s better, pretty baby.”
“Kyo- I-” You cut yourself off as his dick hits a spot that has you on cloud nine.
“Fuck, yea. Moan my name like that baby come on, gimme more-”
He reaches down, shoving his hand between your legs to play with your clit, and that does it in for you- cumming almost embarrassingly fast, but you’ll chalk that up to it being so long. Your cunt clamps down on him and you release a high-pitched moan, fisting the sheets as he fucks you through your high.
“That’s the note I wanted to hear- oh fuck-” Just as he feels you climax he follows, shooting his cum into you and not letting up his pace until both of you are spent. Until his load is fucked thoroughly into you- where it belongs. He slows his motion when he feels you come down, practically slumped in the sheets.
“How many songs are in your album, pretty?”
Asking as if he doesn’t already know.
“Thirteen.” You stutter out, mind scrambled, but also extremely content.
“Thirteen. Ok.”
Pulling out, he lays down on the bed, bringing one of his hands to rest on your twitching body. His dick sturs back to life, looking unaffected by the coitus that you two engaged in literal seconds ago. He strokes it with his other hand, almost bucking up into it.
“Come sit on my face, baby. I wanna taste us.”
Slowly, you rise up and make your way to straddle his head.
“Nasty.”
His arms slide underneath your thighs, keeping you in place for when you inevitably try to run from his devoted tongue.
“One down, Twelve more to go. I’m touring all of you tonight.” You whine helplessly, overstimulated but still excited for more despite it all. He gives your creamy cunt a teasing lick from your entrance to your clit while looking up at you.
Reminder for when he “saves” it. He was the one who wanted this, and now he gets to be the hero and win favour with young constituents. Don’t give him the credit for fixing his own problem.
oh i need that bitch to die, PLEASE TELL ME READER MOVES ONNNN😭
THIS IS FRYINGGGG ME-
But I think that once I finish the album, I might do an EP to continue it? Ion wanna sound so ambitious, since this album projects a bit large, but if there are favorites, I'll write continuations for them for the EP.
Sukuna x f!Reader, fwbs, best friends, Sukuna's a dick, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex
Word count: 1k
Author's yap: This is the start of the "NOT Over It" series! Should I have started with Over It first? Possibly. But this is my writing project, and I'm gonna do what I want <3
Fun Girl
And now you’re stuck here feeling shitty. And stupid. All because you decided to fall for your guy best friend. Who you know is a dick. You thought maybe, just maybe, that you would have the chance to get with him- to be in a real relationship with him besides the friends-with-benefits relationship that you have while he’s in between girlfriends, and you’re not distracting yourself with flings and short relationships. You thought that because he’s kept you around, you were different. News flash to you: you’re not. And now you’re wishing that you’d never even asked him about that possibility.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
The two of you were sitting in his car, coming back from the movies. He wanted to see some random action movie, and you would follow him to the ends of the Earth, so of course you went with him. You’re sitting in the parking lot of the movie theater in comfortable silence, both of you just scrolling through your phones, not really ready to return home yet.
“You know the girl that I was talking to?”
Oh great. You rolled your eyes, shifting to rest your head on the closed window as you responded, while you continued to scroll through your phone. Trying hard to not show him how much hearing about his prospects bothered you.
“Which one?”
“I’m ghosting her. She’s hot, but talking to her is boring. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.”
“Ryo you’re a dick.”
“A 10-inch one.”
“It’s smaller than that.”
He hits your leg in response. You shrug, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His body is facing you, his arm resting on the steering wheel.
“What?”
“You think I'll end up alone?"
Your heart jumps a bit, taking this opportunity to subtly hint at something. Who knows, maybe it would work?
You scoff. “Well at this point, the only girl you’re gonna end up with is me.” You say, trying to sound absent-minded. Sukuna doesn’t even let that sentence, that possibility, hang in the air for a moment before he shoots it down.
“You know there’s no way in hell that’s happening, right?”
You could practically hear your heart cracking, feeling it crumpling in on itself.
“Jesus, I was just saying.” You say quickly, trying to collect all of the shards of your heart before the hole is too big. Maybe you can glue it back together. He’s harsh- you know this. Don’t let it get to you.
“I’m not saying we’d be in a relationship or anything-”
“Oh yea fuck no. Sorry,” he says, in a way that you just throw the pieces you’ve collected up in the air, damning them all to hell, because you know that whatever he says is going to be devastating as he continues, “but I’d never date you. Ever. You’re not what I’m into.”
You were stunned. Looking back, you don’t know why you were stunned. You know this man. Certified womanizer, number 1 hoe. He’s noncommittal, selfish, rude, arrogant, abrasive. You knew this. So why were you so shocked?
“Oh, so I’m cool to sleep with, but not for a relationship?” You can feel your throat closing up, but you refuse to let him see you get emotional over this.
“We… have fun.”
“Fun?”
“You can’t tell me that you don’t have fun when we fuck.” He looks straight out the windshield, this conversation unconcerning to him.
You guys fuck?
It’s such a harsh way to put it. You hoped he would be softer about it- maybe salvage your feelings. You’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake. His kisses would be so tender as he slowly pushed into you, like he was taking care to not split you apart. The slow fucking and reassurance, the words of encouragement. Though it never lasted long before he’s thrusting into you like he hates you (which now, you’re wondering- does he?), you thought that those first moments were the most important. That they were his true feelings. Dumbass.
“I’m not your type, but you fuck me. How does that make sense?” You finally turn to look at him, your anger and tears combating each other to see which one holds out the longest. Your anger is winning, thankfully.
“Please don’t tell me you’re getting in your feelings about this.” He’s fucking smiling. Rolling his eyes, as if you’re getting worked up over something simple. Because to him it is simple. Sex is simple to him. He gets his rocks off fucking the shit out of anything that moves, and then he moves on.
“I don’t want to know about all of the guys that my girl’s been with. It’s emasculating.”
“Oh, so you can slut around, but there’s an issue with me having a past?”
“No, there’s not. Because I’m not into you, so it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re such a fucking-”
Immediately you hop out of his car. You quickly start to walk to the sidewalk near the theater, keeping your eyes glued to your phone as you scroll to book yourself an Uber home quickly. Your vision is blurring, but you don’t stop looking at your phone, not giving a damn if cars are rolling through the lot. You may be an emotional wreck, but you won’t allow any man, no matter how in love with him you are, to tell you that he’s using you to your face. You can hear him call out to you- you can picture him leaning on the top of his car with that stupid grin, calling your name as if he doesn’t understand why you would be upset.
You’re that undesirable?
But Ryomen Sukuna sees no issue with his past sexual escapades. His charm, and his ability to sweet talk any woman is attractive.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
And that leads you to where you are now, sitting in the dark of your room, sniffling and deleting everything in your Photo’s hidden folder.
OMG A LITTLE HALLOWEEN DRABBLE WOULD BE SO CUTE TOO- if you can’t tell I’m getting more comfortable on here, and just like having outlets to yap- but yes Halloween/October works- maybe 1 a week?? I dunno let’s see how this goes…
So I’ve decided that I’ma do a little album-type thingy. I have 2 album projects I wanna do- and it may take me a minute cuz I do have to finish my works on AO3 (and do college), but I do intend on finishing them all.
First album will be Over It by Summer Walker (lit rally based my name and pfp offa it), and next will be Kaleidoscope Dream by Miguel (because I’m obsessed). Let’s see how this goes!
Suguru x f!Reader, fwbs, modern au, Sugu’s a whore and so are you, mentions of vaginal sex, cunnilingus
Word count: 1k
Author’s yap: I started this with no direction but the song Harem by Miguel (the lomf), so let’s see if this gets posted or drafted for eternity. If so, the pt.2 will be in the works.
Harem
Suguru Geto has a thing for pretty things.
He can’t help it. He collects them, hoards them, and even if he never looks at them again, he takes comfort in knowing that they’re his. This is applicable to everything in his life: money, jewelry- women.
Modern-day concubines- his roster’s never ending. And he knows that with a simple text they’ll be over at his, ready to show him what pretty things do. Relationship or not. At first, they try to act like they’re above it- above cheating on their partner. But they always end up coming back to him on their hands and knees and stay in that position until he’s done.
He loves the pretty things and the pretty things love him. It’s almost every day that he adds one to the list.
So, of course, when he sees you sitting by your lonesome on the subway train, head swaying to the music you’re listening to, he of course has to have you.
He sits down next to you, body fully turned towards you with his arm resting on the back of the seat. He touches your shoulder lightly, like he’s perfected, so he doesn’t frighten you.
“Oh, hello.” You say, courteously, giving a cute little smile that just sends Suguru’s mind reeling. You’re so pretty.
It doesn’t take him long to secure your digits and have you in his bed by the weekend, pretty little cunt squelching around his cock while he tells you just how entranced he is by you, holding your face in his hand to make sure he sees every single facial expression you make for him. You’re not easy, no- but pretty things attract pretty things, and both of your interests were evident from the start. The way your brows are knit so tightly, eyes fluctuating between squeezing shut and rolling back in your eye sockets with little “oh oh oh!”s pouring out of your mouth, his thumb hooked inside of it. A gorgeous little thing you are- especially when you’re cumming, legs twitching on his hips while his other thumb rubs your clit frantically. Talkin you through it, reminding you how much you deserve to cum- you’re so pretty, you need to cum for him.
…
You’re too pretty. He tries to think- has he ever met a girl this pretty before? Is there anyone in his collection that calls his attention like you do? Of course, he thinks that of every pretty thing the first time he sees them. Then the awe and lust subside, and they become another part of the collection. But, he’s starting to get worried when he keeps thinking about you. And you’re the only girl that he’s being fucking consistently in a while. It’s terrifying. To him, at least. Seeing you walk out of his bedroom with his shirt on, nothing else, and your bonnet- since when did you get that comfortable being over at his? Heavy steps over to his fridge to grab some water while he looks at you from his couch. Giving him a little peck on the cheek, telling him you’ll see him next Saturday.
The two of you aren’t in a relationship, mind you. You both know that. You have your consorts, and he has his. But he just can’t help thinking about you while he’s balls deep in Pretty Thing #23, or accidentally moan your name while he’s cumming on Pretty Thing #12’s back. While eating out Pretty Thing #1, he even imagined it was you- missing the way you taste on his tongue, lapping at her like it was you. Doin everything he can to maybe dig your taste out of her, but of course, it wouldn’t work.
Out of all of his pretty possessions, you’re just you. Not Pretty Thing #1838382984478288472819, but you. Just Pretty. Pretty girl, when he’s wanting you real bad.
You’re too damn pretty.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Bzzt!
“Fuck, Suguru-”
Oh- someone just texted him. His phone’s usually always on DND, except for one person. Reaching over Pretty Thing #7’s body, he grabs his phone from the nightstand which such haste it sends the poor girl hurling forward, a loud moan leaving her mouth from his entire length being shoved into her with no warning.
“Suguru- oh shit ‘m fuckin cumming!” She desperately circles her clit, legs shaking and face covered with spit.
It’s a text from you! He quickly unlocks his phone (also while mumbling some lazy words of encouragement for the girl twitching on his cock right now) and reads your message, his face practically pressed into his phone.
You: Come over pls
Something in him does somersaults- happy that you’ve picked him out of the lineup to warm your bed tonight. Takin his other hand, he uses it to massage Pretty Thing #whatever’s ass, slowly pulling her back onto him while he types his reply back to you.
Suguru: Be there in 15. In the shower this time.
He pulls out, the girl accepting his absence with a soft moan. Tiredly, she turns around to look at him with a big smile.
“You didn’t finis- oh, you have to go?”
She sounds disappointed, looking up at him while he’s damn near dressed already, stepping into his slides and fixing his hair, elastic in his mouth as he smooths it into a half-up half-down.
“Yea. Sorry, baby. It’s urgent.”
She pouts, which would have probably made any other man say fuck the urgency and get right back in bed with her, but Suguru’s not that man.
“Sorry.” He leans down, giving her a quick peck on the cheek while he fishes his keys out of his hoodie pocket. “I’ll call you.”
He steps out onto the stairs outside of the girls apartment, head deep in his phone.
Pretty Thing #7.
He slides her contact to the side, and deletes it. He sighs.
“Fuck, another one crossed off the list because of you.”
He unlocks his car, and gets in, doin 80 in a 35 to your place.
Nepo-baby!Gojo x f!Reader, Gojo’s a loser/desperate, Modern AU, Masturbation (Gojo), slight public masturbation (tbh it’s just Satoru being down bad)
Word count: 4.5k
Author’s yap: Ok ok ok so- I started this when the lack of AC in my dorm was frying my brain, and it gave me an idea. Now I’m freezing my ass off and fantasizing about the heat. This isn’t too smutty, but if I’m still into this, I might expand… Enjoy pooks <3
Dive In!
It’s hot as shit outside, and you know what that means: the college rec center pool’s gonna be packed.
Every god-forsaken year, the Earth teeters a bit too close to the Sun just around the time that students are moving those obnoxious highlighter-colored carts up and down the streets carrying their belongings. Everyone’s wiping their foreheads, a content sigh when they step into the lobby of the dorm building. This doesn’t last too long, unfortunately. Because as soon as you step onto a resident floor, let alone an actual dorm room, it’s like Satan pulled apart his ass cheeks and sandwiched you right in between ‘em.
Hot as shit and there’s no AC, so for the very unlucky majority who didn’t bring a fan (as instructed by housing, who don’t live under these conditions, mind you), they’re stuck sizzling in their dorms, hopelessly opening their dusty windows for wishing for any semblance of a draft to come in.
It’s miserable. But luckily, there’s a solution! And no, it’s not fighting someone’s mom for the last desk fan in Target.
It’s the university’s recreational pool! Open to all students, it’s like a gift from Heaven (or a college alumni). Everyone, and I mean everyone, is there.
It’s like a big pool party (albeit indoors)- everyone’s got some sort of appendage in the water, trying to cool off. A few girls have their towels set up on the side, lying on their stomach as they scroll on their phone or read a book. A couple of people brought a beach ball- tossing it around. You're sitting on the side chatting with your roommate, Shoko, kicking your feet into the water, as she leans on the rim of the pool, hair up in a clip.
“I don’t get why they haven’t installed any AC units- or even central air.”
“If they even think about renovating, G. Hall will literally fall into smithereens.”
Shoko jokes, resting her chin in her hand as she looks up at you, tiredly.
“As if the Gojo clan wouldn’t be able to donate more money for a renovation. That’s pocket money for them.” You yawn, drained too. The heat is tiring. Especially after the two of you just finished setting up your dorm together for the third year in a row- this time, without your parents to help y’all. Y’all were burning up, and you needed to cool down- real bad.
You do a scan of the pool. Some familiar faces, others not so much. The school’s big as shit, and you keep to yourself and your group- you don’t need to know everybody. Yuki’s in the water with her boyfriend, playing chicken with some other people. She’s got a death grip on his pigtails, almost as if she’s steering him around, smothering his face between her thighs. A guy named Kento- your study partner from last year- is over by the stairs to the pool- wanting to be in it, but not completely submerged. He seems to be enjoying his time by himself. Ino and his boys are the ones hitting around the beach ball, splashing around in the extremely crowded pool.
“Look at all of our sorry asses…” You mutter, sighing as you sip on a drink you brought.
“When I didn’t want summer to end, I wasn’t talkin about the heat. But whatever. 2 more weeks being in the 8th circle of hell, and it’s back to our regularly scheduled progra- oh my-” Shoko stops mid sentence, her eyes glued to something as she hits your thigh profusely.
“What- what? Yaga in a jock strap?” You finally turn and see him (Shoko side eyes you- why would you want to look at Yaga in a jock strap). The man, The myth. The… nuisance.
“I thought he was too good to come here and hang with the common folk.”
“Maybe he wanted to cosplay as a broke college student like the rest of us for a day.”
Satoru Gojo- ultimate legacy, trust fund baby, nepo spawn, and just all-around spoiled brat. And he’s proud of it. Wearing blue Versace swim shorts and his sunglasses indoors, which only works for him with his scary ass eyes, he saunters into the place, expressing unbelievable childlike wonder at the sight of the pool.
“So this is what a public pool is like!”
“You don’t have to sound pretentious.” Suguru quips, walking in front of his best friend to scan the area. It’s crowded as a bitch in this place.
“I’m just- amazed, that's all. And you come here by yourself?”
“No. With other friends. Because I’m likable.”
Satoru frowns at that, shifting his beach chair under his arm uncomfortably.
“And it’s not like you’d come.” This was true. Under normal circumstances, Satoru wouldn’t step foot in this place. The water wouldn’t be good for his skin. But, when his pool’s getting renovated, he figures that he has no choice. He thought that there would be 5, maybe 10 people there. Well, he now knows he was wrong; almost all of JJU: Tokyo is here. And he’s now also made aware of the fact that most students don’t have AC.
He follows behind Suguru as he leads them through the crowd of bodies, the heat radiating from them all damn near breaking Satoru out into a sweat.
“Here- and lean that chair up against the wall or something. It’ll take up too much space.” Suguru says, as he hunkers down on the floor, scooting up to the clearing at the rim of the pool. He smooths the back of his hair up, readjusting his ponytail, sighing when his legs hit the water.
Yea… Satoru’s not doin that. He brought this chair, and he’s gonna use it, spatial awareness be damned. Ignoring all of the dirty looks he gets from people, he sets his chair right next to his friend (who is pretending not to know him) and sits, reclining with a dramatic sigh that only Satoru could argue was authentic. He crosses his legs and puts his hands woven behind his head, looking up and basking… in the industrial light.
“You can’t tan under this IKEA lighting.” Suguru says, not even bothering to look in Satoru’s direction.
“Yea- well, what do you propose that I do?” Satoru can feel himself getting slightly irritated with this public pool shit.
“Get in the water. That’s what we came here for, right.”
Satoru clumsily folds up his chair, not even bothering to go lean it against the wall in fear that he’d lose his sliver of access to the water (he doubts that Suguru would save it for him right now to be honest). Slowly but surely, he eases himself down into the water, holding his breath. He can already feel that he’s goin to need several bubble baths (extra bubbles) after this. He even closes his eyes, wading in the water and trying to get comfortable.
And then Satoru jumps into something. With a slight jolt, he looks over his shoulder and he’s gobsmacked seeing you look back at him, glasses threatening to fall off his dripping face.
He quickly gathers himself, pushing his glasses up then running his hand through his hair. And then he subtly recoils, realizing he just let that filthy shit in his scalp.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Shoko’s got a shit-eating grin on her face, as you look at this man, somewhat horrified. Never did you think that you would ever meet this man face to face, but here he is- back to leg. And he’s hot- I mean, not in the physical way (well, you don’t think he’s bad looking but-) he’s quite literally hot to the touch. It’s abnormal- his body temperature’s like magma.
“Sorry.” He gives you a faint smile, the right dimple he has showing slightly.
“No worries.”
There’s a period of silence, and you take this opportunity to try and turn back to your friend, but he pipes up.
“I’m Satoru, by the way. What’s your name?”
You turn to look at him, gears turning in your head as your decide whether or not you want to give him a fake name or-
Yuki calls your name from the center of the pool and you almost curse at the timing.
“Wanna hop in this round?” She calls, Choso’s hands on her thighs to steady her while her hands are cupped around her mouth, calling out to you. Choso brings them closer.
“No, I’m ok. I don’t have a partner-”
“I’ll be your partner.” Satoru practically has stars in his eyes. "If... you want me to be, though. I'm a stranger, so- so stranger danger…”
Oh brother, he’s rich and a fuckin loser.
"So you wanna play, rich boy?" Yuki asks him, completely neglecting the shudder that both you and Satoru do in response to his whack ass comment. Shit, even Choso winces in response, trying to regulate his usually very expressive face just in case Satoru sees, tells his clan, and Choso’s scholarship ends up revoked.
Satoru manages to stammer out a yes, though followed by him saying he understands if he wasn't invited to play.
"This is not kindergarten- you can play with the big kids." She jokes, hopping off her boyfriend's shoulders and into the water.
"I'll be your partner for this round, if that helps. I’m good at it, don’t worry." You're absolutely elated that Yuki offered herself- you're not sure if you would have been able to team up with Satoru. You and Choso are cool, exchanging a grin as you hop off of the ledge of the pool, plowing through the water over to him.
"Ok...."
"..."
"How do you play chicken?"
Good grief.
“I’ll teach you, then.” Yuki wades over to Satoru, and his lips contort into a nervous grin. He just prays that he doesn’t embarrass himself (anymore than he already has) in front of you.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Satoru ain't shit at playing chicken.
“I’m best friends with a bubble boy…” Suguru mutters under his breath, running his hand painstakingly over his face as he watches Satoru look like a cat in water.
Any splash to his face, and he's completely selling, allowing Yuki to fall off (much to her dismay) or giving you and Choso enough time to make y'all's way over to them to attack. It was to the point that your body was completely dry, save for your feet. Slowly but surely though (after like, 5 rounds), he begins to get the hang of it, getting over his disdain for this rancid water touching his face and accepting the fact that he'll have to do several deep cleanings of his pores when he gets home.
He's actually starting to have fun- settling more into the atmosphere and letting his competitiveness show. And you're not minding it. You were dreading having to interact with him at first, let alone play a game with him because you thought that he would be a dick, but you were wrong. Well, not exactly wrong- but he was less dicky than you thought.
“Ok- time to switch for the next round!” Yuki says with a smile (which looks slightly elated, in your opinion) as she hops off of Satoru’s shoulders.
“Hm? We don’t stay with the same partners every round?” Satoru asks- something you were also thinking. For once you too seem to be on the same page about this game.
“No! We switch every round.” What a goddamn liar. She’s just tired of losing because the pretty princess is scared of getting his face wet.
This means that you’re stuck with the pretty princess. Fuck.
You slowly climb down Choso, who is simultaneously welcoming his girlfriend with open arms. Satoru’s mind is moving a mile a minute with every little ripple of water to inadvertently send in his direction.
You make your way over to the ledge of the pool, hoisting yourself up, and by Heaven- Satoru can see your ass jiggle out of his peripheral and he almost seizes. You turn around, and sit on the ledge, just looking at him. And he swears he’s getting closer to going into cardiac arrest with every second of him being the center of your attention.
“Come here-” You beckon, motioning for him with your hand. He nods helplessly, trying not to look too desperate with how fast he’s moving to you.
“Now I’m not as good as Yuki, so if we lose, it’s not entirely on you this time.” You smile, scooting up, placing your legs over his shoulders. Good lord does this man smell… expensive. It’s good. I’m not talking played out Dior Savauge, I’m talking Hermès, Dolce and Gabbana. You’re a sucker for a good smelling man. Even if this one is quite literally the most dramatic man on Earth.
“I’m not good at all, so anything you do I’ll watch with awe.” He places his hands on your thighs- jeez, his hands are big.
You laugh, thinking he’s joking. He’s not.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
You shift nervously on Satoru's shoulders, while Satoru is quite literally in Heaven- though, he would prefer it if his face were the other way. He has never been this close to a woman outside of his family, so this entire interaction was rocking his small little world. He's keeping his hands on your thighs while his mind is completely mush, his ears are flushed. It’s like as soon as you got on his shoulders, his ability to comprehend anything said to him was decimated.
“Satoru- Satoru!”
You call to him as Choso and Yuki splash towards you, Yuki’s face wearing a huge smile now that she’s got the upper hand. You call him again, and all this bumbling buffoon can manage to say to you is “Uh-huh, u-uh-huh.”
(Shoko runs to the bathroom, almost peeing herself from laughing too hard.)
Fuck it- thinking quick, you grab a hold of his hair, trying to Remi-Ratatouille him around. And surprisingly- it works!
Left you go!
Right- to the riiiighhhhhhhhttttt-
Satoru has no fuckin idea what’s going on right now. He’s just happy to be here, a grinning mess while you pull him around the pool, narrowly avoiding Yuki, who’s maniacal laughter trails behind the two of you.
It’s like riding a horse the way he thoughtlessly follows your pull.
“Satoru- are you ok?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at your opponents. You’re hoping that your teammate will stop being so useless, gain back consciousness, and help you the fuck out.
Getting desperate, you palm the side of his face, shaking it. Suddenly, he stops moving, and it’s like his breath is caught in his throat- a sound was caught in it? You don’t know what happened, because the next thing you knew, Yuki and Choso came crashing into you, causing you and Satoru to fly into the water.
Gasping for air, you paddle in the water, eyes burning profusely. Satoru comes up soon after this, and you glare at him.
His cheeks are flushed, as he lets out deep, heavy breaths. “Sorry..” Is all he could seem to muster out, giving you a nervous grin.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Satoru’s starting to get the hang of it. Ok maybe not really- but he’s more active at least. You appreciate that, as well as the banter he’s contributing. His socially inept demeanor is slowly dissolving, and he’s flinching less and less at the water.
You’re actually having a lot of fun with him.
“You guys can’t keep running forever!” Yuki yells, getting kind of frustrated from how the two of you keep slipping out of her grasp.
“Oh really? watch us.” Satoru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he splashes around to put more distance between y’all, causing you to squeal.
“Satoru if I fall- go slow!” You say in between laughing fits.
“Just hold on, and you won’t!”
Maybe you too had a fighting chance with this. Actually- you think you might win at least a round or two.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
You two lost. Miserably. Yuki’s a fucking beast, and Choso’s the definition of an immovable force. You guys could only get away from them for so long- let’s not forget the pool’s crowded as shit. Y’all didn’t stand a chance. But hey- Satoru’s not too bad. Maybe he was just having a rough time adjusting to talking to people who don’t have a networth of $1 million+. But it was fun, you can not lie.
Satoru’s laugh is airy while he allows you to get off of his shoulders, listening to you teasing him for his performance. You shuffle yourself back onto the ledge of the pool next to Shoko, who seems to be in deep conversation with Suguru.
“I never thought that someone could be that bad at Chicken.”
“Hey- I prefaced this entire thing with the fact that I didn’t know how to play.” He laughs again- he’s so giggly right now, removing himself from between your legs and going to the area next to you, places his head in his hand while he looks up at you.
“Yea, but that bad?”
“Mention it again and I’ll have a meeting with Financial Aid about you.”
The both of you crack up.
…He’s kind of pretty- somewhere in the game he pushed his sunglasses up onto his hair, wet strands of white sticking to his forehead.The sight of his smile warms you up a bit inside. When he’s down here with the common people, he’s a pretty cool person to be around.
“I can see why you don’t come here often, then.” You say, tiling your head towards him.
“Ah, well, I usually just go to my par-” Satoru’s voice dies off. How about he doesn’t talk about his privilege for a bit. Cosplay a normal college student for a little- at least with you. He wants to relate to you- to get to know you on all levels- as much as humanly possible.
“I… just didn’t see a purpose for it before. But this was fun.”
“A sign for you to come more often, then.”
“Will you be here?”
You smirk. “Why, so you can get our asses whooped in a game again?”
He grins, right dimple once again making an appearance.
“Just asking- the poop- pool- pool. Fuck. The pool’s nice.” He sighs- covering his face in embarrassment, cheeks swelled up with blood.
“Sorry. Waterlog.”
You burst out laughing- his slip up and awkward responses are starting to grow on you. It’s cute.
“Well I’m sure that you have AC, so you don’t have to worry too much about being hot and sticky in a room.”
“Mmmwell,” He takes a breath, “I wouldn’t mind being hot and sticky with- hm.”
He pauses, letting his embarrassment settle in. “I’ll stop trying to talk now.”
This gets another giggle from you. “You could just say that it would be nice to see me again.” You adjust your bikini bottoms (haha) up on your hips, and then place your hand to your side to lean closer to him.
“It would be, yes.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to see you, either.”
“Satoru. We gotta go-” Suguru stands up from the ledge with a stretch. “We needa go grab groceries for the apartment.”
Satoru groans. He swiftly hoists himself up out of the water effortlessly (he hopes that you were watching, thanking the lord that he constantly worked out at the apartment gym) and quickly grabs his chair, holding it in front of himself.
“I’ll see you- and the pool again.”
“Mhm.” You wave him bye while he trails behind Suguru out of the pool room.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
He came in the pool.
He. Fucking. Came.
Sperm swimming in the chlorine.
He doesn't even know how it happened. With every tug of his white tufts, his dick throbbed and twitched, rubbing against the fabric of his swim shorts in a way that was driving him mad. He was already fighting for his life with having your pussy pressed up against the back of his neck. And the way that you called his name- Oo, it was dizzying for him.
Next thing he knew, your hand was on his face, and he was biting the shit out of his tongue trying not to moan, knees buckling while he shoots into the water.
And you smiled at him!
He practically talked Suguru’s ear off (nothing new) in the car about it while on the drive back to their apartment. Besides the cumming in his pants part- nah, he’s taking that to the grave. He was just so giddy about the day. His first flirtatious interaction with the opposite sex! How exciting!
“Yea yea I get it she’s so pretty, you get hard thinking about her, and you come in your pants just thinkin about her. Can we get out of fantasyland and go into Trader Joe’s now?”
Suguru rolls his eyes, looking out the passenger seat window, his arm hanging out. Satoru flushes.
“Why would anybody cum in the pool?”
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
But yes, where was he? Oh yea, his hand’s fisting his cock.
He doesn’t know how his hand ended up there.
Oh, he was so pathetic today. He couldn’t even speak normally to you, let alone touch you without short-circuiting. And the way you looked at him. Like he was an absolute idiot- he’s never had anyone look at him like that before… except Suguru but it’s not the same. In a weird way, it turns him on. At least he redeemed himself slightly in the end, while he was subtly rubbing himself against the pool walls, the small dips in the tiling making the friction so much more enjoyable.
What a fucking loser, getting off to the sound of your voice- and in a public place? Your pretty little laugh did wonders to him. And to be under your gaze with such scrutiny- ohmygod he was so happy he brought that chair, using it to cover his hard-on as he smiled at you like an idiot, following behind his best friend like a preschooler going back inside after recess.
He loved seeing how you adjusted your bathing-suit, nipples becoming erect as soon as you got out of the pool. The way that your pussy was a flimsy cloth away from coming into real contact with him- he is swimming in his thoughts right now.
And you smelt so good- it’s definitely nothing he’s ever smelt before (because he’s been close to any woman that’s had a scent worth below $200). The smell is just so- you (he plans on driving to every single fragrance store to pinpoint said scent so he can spray it on his pillow to smell while he plays with himself).
There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to have you splayed out on his bed with his head between your thighs, eating you out until you’re frantically calling for him, a tight grip on his hair the way that only you can do. Fucking his hand while you moan, for him- he’d go bankrupt to hear it. He would make you feel good- he knows it- he’ll make it his life’s mission. The little stutters and quivers you’d make when you would get close, pleading for him to make you cum. And don’t even get him started on how he would feel when his cock sinks into you. He’s confident that he wouldn’t last any longer within five minutes. As soon as he pushes past the rim, he’d be shooting ropes. So he’d have to eat you out first to save the little slivers of his dignity that he has left.
He wonders- would you think he was big? Would you struggle taking him? Fuck, seeing you whine and moan, begging him with cute little “slow down”s and whimpering about how good he’s stretching your cunt.
He’s so stuck up in the way that your hands entangled themselves into his hair- fuck- he lets out a helpless whine as he continues his fuck sesh, moving his hand upupup, the ring of precum chasing his hand with each stroke. You used his body with little regard to how he would feel- not like he cared. You could use him however the hell you’d like. Fuck, his dick was aching with each tug.
And you got in that water.
He’s filthy- just so- so depraved for the way that that makes him harder, causing him to stroke himself faster. You were practically bathing in his cum, albeit unknowingly. How fucking nasty is that? He pictures you accidentally swallowing it- what would it be like watching you actually take it? Would you replicate your teary, chlorine-stung eyes while you were on your knees for him, throat fucked-out, tongue lolled, and waiting for his cum?
With that, he’s seeing stars, shooting comets onto his satin sheets, utterances of “Oh fuck”s and “I’m cumming”s, and finally, with a sigh, says your name while his lower torso twitches from the sensitivity, accompanied with the cool breeze his fan is blowing onto his handless cock.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“The amount of emails we’ve been getting about the heat is starting to get a bit concerning, I must admit.” One of the chairs of the university says, mouth full of food.
All of the important figure heads of the college are sitting at the Gojo family’s long dinner table, conversing like the old buddies they are. It’s a usual thing for them to do, where they chat about stupid, unimportant uppity-rich people things, like school funding or whatever.
“What do you think we should do about this?” The housing chair directs this question to Satoru’s father, who opens his mouth before his son interrupts quickly, voice booming in the confident air that he learned to develop with people in (or slightly below- not too far below) his tax bracket.
“My friend’s in the dorms say that the dorms are pretty cool- It’s cold in there, even.” Satoru says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders while he pushes his wagyu around on his plate.
What a fuckin liar, but it’s the cross he’s willing to bare in order to see you again. Bikini covering the parts that make his mouth water, fanning yourself from the heat- hot and bothered, just like him. It’ll be worth the possible pimples he’ll get.
With this, the big-wigs frame their decision around this.
“Oh, really? It’s already so cold…”
“it would also mean that we would have to expand the budget.”
“The students should be fine without AC. If anything, the pool is open.”
Satoru looks down, smiling to himself.
If the students of Jujutsu University: Tokyo knew that the only reason they’re not getting AC units is because Satoru Gojo, all-around nepo-baby, spoiled brat, and pussy-whipped loser wants to have a chance to see the girl he fucks himself to at the pool again, they’d barbeque and skewer him alive.
Mating press, slight Tetris! babble, established relationship, breeding (slightly)
Author’s yap: ok ok so I basically sat and watched this Tetris tournament on TikTok and I got inspired… possibly one of the more unserious things I’ve written, but that’s ok!!
————
Tetris! is boring as shit.
How could someone sit there in front of a rickety old 8-bit, shitty quality game and have fun for hours? It was stupid.
Well, that was before you started dating an 8-time Tetris! champion. Now the game is absolutely amazing- a Heaven sent.
Chosou Kamo’s a man of few words. Even when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out (you were in the same humanities class), it went like this:
“Hello, we- ………date?” The blush saturated his cheeks as he twiddled his thumbs while remaining eye contact.
Oh, those thumbs.
He’s cute, and you’ve been ogling him a bit (a lot) during class, so of course you took up his offer, regardless of how ill-planned it was.
Next thing you know, you’re at his place- always watching him prep for a tournament he’s competing in. Whether it’s an actual controller or on his pc- he practices for hours- at least 3. His hair is in his usual messy pigtails as he chews the inside of this right cheek.
Next Tetrimino is an O- he moves that to the left-most end of the field. Then it’s a T- he flipped it so it fits nicely into this little slot he had created with some past pieces. He gets an I- his face lights up as he gleefully moves it to the right-most end of the field, sliding it into the perfect position and boom: Tetris!
A line of 4 disappears with this completion, and the game continues, his fingers moving at rapid paces to keep up. His eyes flicker to you, to make sure that you saw his victory, then back to the game.
You must admit, when he first told you he was a multi-time Tetris! winner, you damn near laughed at him. You wouldn’t do it in his face- but you definitely have scoffed thinking about it before.
“Hi- oh yea this is my boyfriend. Oh what does he do? Well he’s a Tetris! Champion!”
Your peers would look at you sideways.
But you couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they think now. You’d scream it from the rooftops actually. He’s made you scream a lot more embarrassing things than that.
You owe Tetris! your sex life. Truly. In your vows, you might give Tetris! a shoutout. Because the way that this man knows how to work his fingers- it’s unnatural. How he works his everything- jeez he’s Heaven sent.
————
“Baby, I need an opponent.”
You sit up to look at your boyfriend. He’s sitting in his gaming chair, still working away at Tetris, while you lie on his bed, scrolling on his phone.
“Why don’t you call up your frien-”
“Play with me.”
You freeze. This was the first time he’s ever brought this up. You’ve been coming over for 4 months now, and never once had he asked you to play with him.
“You know I don’t really know anything about Tetris!, right?”
“I’ll teach you. I just need to practice for tomorrow against somebody. It will help get me in the mood.”
It sure as hell did help him get in a mood. Sitting in his lap, he hands you his other console, makes sure you’re ok, and presses play. His console rests on your lap, while you hold yours up a bit.
…
And he lost.
…
Because how the flying fuck did you two end up on the bed?
Lock down: When a Tetrimino is put into a place where it’s no longer moveable. Kinda like how you are now.
Choso supports himself on your bent thighs with knees damn-near touching your ears as he towers above you, sweaty strands of hair still sticking to his face as he keeps eye contact. There’s no possible way you could escape this- even if you wanted to.
Then, he does his next signature move: Hard Drop. When a player drops a Tetrimino right into Lock Down from its starting position- no alterations.
Well, save for the fact that he had you line him up with your cunt, he’s by the book.
Who knew that Tetris! players would be so good at multitasking? With every stroke, he plays with your clit like he’s moving pieces- this Tetris!-junkie really doesn’t quit. He keeps it at a steady pace, steady force. All the way to left field- down. In the middle- he lets it wait for a little bit before he moves it to the right and down. It’s dizzying.
The way his dick is stretching you, and how his lithe fingers work to bully your clit into submission, you felt like you were levitating.
Then he starts fucking drawing the Tetriminos on your clit. You swear you’re actually in Heaven, the angels singing choruses of Tetris! hymns and praises while perched upon fluffy white cumulus clouds. Your mouth is in a permanent “O” position.
He definitely felt you clench around him- he lets out a breathy moan- louder than the noises he was already making. He has an airy type of grit in his voice every time you have sex- one of the many things that you love about this man.
Chosou leans close to your right ear, deepening the position as he speaks:
“Z, I, L, O, J…”
Before you know it you’re creaming- babbling random nonsense that you definitely don’t remember, but definitely know it was embarrassing. Cumming from him saying letters? How pathetic. But you don’t give a goddamn fuck.
You dig your fingers into your own flesh, since you were propping yourself up properly.
Chosou kisses your cheek and your neck as he continues to fuck you through your high.
He finally succumbs to his own desire, pumping everything that he has inside you with a soft, yet kind of whiny moan.
From that moment onwards, you vowed that you will never disrespect Tetris! again.
Slightly NSFW- sexual activities are only mentioned. Still, minors and ageless bios stay away from this pls!!
This is based off of the song Imported by Jessie Reyez and 6LACK. I was blasting that all while writing (and not studying for finals).
Oh, and I drew the pic…
☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ *:.｡. o .｡.:*☆
He doesn’t know why he’s getting so sad over this. It happens all the time. The girl that he loves finds some guy at a party, then they head home together, leaving Chosou a wreck. He knows it’s not fair, and he should have moved on a long time ago, but he can’t.
It’s hard to move on from someone you love- especially when she’s telling him “I love you” back. But she doesn’t want to make it official- she knows that this man will literally walk on his hands and knees to appease her, and she acts like he’s just some guy. It aggravates him to high hell, but he’s still hopeful about her.
This night was no different. She came with Chosou, and she’s leaving with another man. He can see her chatting this guy up from across the room in the house party. She’s batting her lashes up at him, playing with her hair, letting him feel all up on her. Chosou’s seething- you can practically see the steam rising from his head. With every bass boosted beat of the music in the house his heart is being torn to shreds. But she’s made it pretty clear that the two of them aren’t together- at all. He’s beginning to realize that they never will be.
“You look pissed as hell.”
A voice from behind him says, as (presumably, the owner of said voice) snakes an arm across his shoulder, leaning over the back of the chair to talk to him.
He peels his eyes off of ‘his girl’ and gives his attention to the voice.
It’s you. Your hair’s done up- you’re wearing a tube dress with necklaces and other jewelry adorning you. Lipgloss is shining. You’re smirking at him. He’s never seen you before- ever.
He doesn’t respond to you. Instead, he just looks at you blankly, then back at the girl he came with, dancing with another man.
“You like her, huh? In love with your best friend?”
That annoys Chosou a little bit. They’re not best friends- they’re… they…. Fuck he doesn’t even know. He takes a sip of his alcohol, just trying not to send his mind into a spiral.
“I get it. Happens to the best of us.”
Chosou would really prefer if you left him alone to wallow in his own self pity, but it seems that you have no intention of doing that. You haphazardly rub his chest, trying to comfort him.
“Thank you for- thank you for coming to my party.” You slur, smiling warmly.
Great. A drunk hostess. Not that he also wasn’t tipsy- it’s just that he’s sitting down, and he’s focusing all of his sobriety on his love.
And this is your house. It must look so nice when it’s not full of a bunch of mid to late 20-year olds getting wasted as fuck and destroying the place.
“Thank you for having me…”
“Of courseeeee,”
He side eyes you, as you place your head in your other hand.
“You’re too cute to be here upset about a girl.”
You grab the back of his head, which startles him, a tinge of red dancing across his cheeks as you move his head to look around.
“Take aaaa look at all of the possibiliessss.”
You’re referencing all of the people in your home right now. He doesn’t doubt that there’s some beauties in your humble abode, but they’re not her.
When you let go he looks back up at you, rubbing the back of his head clumsily. Now he’s really looking at you. Before he was so focused on his girl that’s not his girl, but now that he’s really really looking at you-
You’re bad as fuck. Real bad. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or the fact that he’s been ignoring his heart skipping beats like it’s beatboxing ever since you came to pester him. He hasn’t felt this feeling for anyone but her in a long time.
You pick up on his staring, looking him up and down. Then you say, with a sly grin:
“Maybe I can offer some help…”
He stiffens, and it’s noticeable. You let out a small hum, seemingly happy with his reaction, running the hand wrapped around him along his chest.
“Come with me.”
You take said hand and grab his jaw, turning it towards his situationship.
“You really want to sit… and watch in agony?”
He gulps, feeling his heart squeeze even harder, watching this girl on the verge of kissing the random man of the night.
“Your eyes are so easy to read.”
He looks to his side, and sees you leaning over further, damn near falling onto the couch to look at his face.
“At least for now, I can help you forget.”
His face is burning up, and he’s feeling dizzy. Maybe it’s the drink? Or his situation? Or how close you are to his face?
“If you’re not down to fuck, that’s fine too. We can have fun other-“
“I want to fuck.”
The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even process what he was saying with the little control he had.
You let out another hum in satisfaction with a grin.
“Shit- ok then.” You kiss his cheek sloppily, then stand back up behind the couch, waiting for him so you guys can go.
He stands up, looking at ‘his girl’ then back at you over his shoulder. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, looking at him. Obviously undressing him with your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek.
Your confidence and unabashed ogling is something he’s not used to.
Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but he likes it. Maybe it’s the punch you’ve brewed up for this party, but he’s starting to remember it’s nothing serious between him and ole girl. Perhaps it’s the drink, but he hopes you grip his hair just as roughly as you were doing before, whether he’s eating you out, or you’re riding.
You’re here- for the night, at least. It’s been so long since he’s had sex.
For once, his mind isn’t on her.
Maybe the best way for him to get her out of his head is to get inside of you- at least for the night.
Armin, Connie, Eren, Jean, Onyakopan, Reiner headcanons with reader
SFW & NSFW - Minors and Ageless blogs please leave this alone
ARMIN A. - Good Form
You were always confused why the fuck your friend would talk about his exes begging for him back, wildin about what he’s doin. He always seemed so embarrassed about it when his phone would be blowing up while you guys were out with friends. Once, he asked you to grab his phone, and a message came up. Usually, you wouldn’t look too deep into his phone- but it happened to be open to a chat from a girl. You almost dropped the damn shit.
It was a video. He was eatin the fuck out of some girl’s kat. The way that he was lookin up at the camera with those dazed eyes. His tongue lolled, forearms wrapped around her shaking legs- damn. Then went right back to work all while this girl is screaming in the back ground. Your hand went to your mouth so fast.
She texted:
“I miss you. Don’t tell me you don’t miss this too.”
He replied:
“Please leave me alone! And delete that video, it’s embarrassing…”
That lil dweeb is a freak-
You shut his phone off and hurried up to give it to him, trying to make your lack of eye contact seem normal. Especially since Good Form was playing in the background now. Specifically: “And when he eat the cookie, he got good form”
CONNIE S. - Beez in the Trap
Yk that goofy ass dance that 2 Chainz does behind Nicki? Yea that’s Connie. All the time. Every day. And you’ll feel his presence- just acting stupid behind you- but it’s best to not give him the attention. He comes with you to the beauty supply? Bein a weirdo. Payin at the grocery store? He’s moonwalking behind you, alarming the poor cashier. He’s lucky he’s cute.
“Connie if you don’t quit shakin ass behind me and act normal, thank you.”
“I’m not doing anything.. you must be imagining things.” He says, as he ‘subtly’ slinks back to his spot on your left.
The corner store cashier is just sick of it all today.
EREN Y. - Starships
He heard it for the first time while he was waiting in your room for you to get ready. Too embarrassed to ask you what the song was, he shazamed it, and now acts like he found it on his own.
If he’s not the one driving- he’s sticking his head out the window or standing up in the sun roof just feeling the breeze whilst belting this song. He’s lucky that there’s people to hold his legs, cuz homeboy would have been flew out of the car. It’s his favorite song ever- and he’ll say it proudly. He’s not about to let people shit on his tastes. This man is prideful- he dgaf what anyone says.
“Yeagar if you stick an appendage out the window, you might as well lose it cuz I’m not saving you anymore.”
JEAN K. - Your Love
Real suave guy. And the girls he pull is a testament to that. He views himself as a knight in shining armor. He thinks he’s the samurai in the music video… Ever since one of his lovers showed him the song, he’s resonated with it.
They ask if he knows a Nicki song- he says this one. Then Eren proceeds to dog him for it.
He tries to defend himself- swears Nicki is talkin about him. That’s where you have to check him.
“Boy- she is talk about a man with waves and a durag. Get serious before you piss me off.”
ONY - Needles
Drives a Maybach. Blaring music with the car bounce. Everybody wants to carpool with him, and he usually lets them (except for Connie, cuz he spilt Fanta Orange in his shit just after he came back from getting his car detailed). He definitely fucks people in his back seat. Just because of the fact that it’s a Maybach and he can get away with it- when the car is bouncing, people will never know if he’s getting his rocks off, or if he’s just flexing.
As soon as Pink Friday 2 dropped, and you played the song during a carpool somewhere, he now plays it at least 10 times a day. Full blast. Maybach bouncing off the walls.
“Boy nothing about you is shy. And at this point, your life’s a pile of needles-”
You begrudgingly get in shotgun, and say hi to everyone in the back.
REINER B. - Roman Holiday
Hb is crazy let’s not forget. He’s a workaholic. Came home stressed from work, and his just ranting and raving, and you tryna be the good partner, you’re tryna soothe him. Whether it be suggesting therapy, giving him head, or cuddling, man needs to chill.
This song is just his mental when he’s going through his day to day. I don’t even think that he would know what the fuck this song is, let alone know any of Nicki’s work (shameful).
“I don’t have any medication. Are you saying I should see a psychiatrist? And who the hell is Roman?”
stormborns
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
