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ᝰ.ᐟ your soft bf!toji is a total meanie in bed ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni
mean bf!toji spends the whole day being a total sweetheart—cooking you dinner, giving you soft kisses on the forehead, and holding your hand in public—only to completely lock the bedroom door, pin your wrists over your head, and look down at you with a dark, heavy stare that tells you the "nice guy" act is officially over for the night.
mean bf!toji is normally so gentle with his hands during the day, using his thumb to softly wipe a stray crumb off your face or tuck your hair behind your ear, but the second he gets you on the bed, those same hands are gripping your jaw tightly, forcing you to tilt your head up so he can admire how pretty you look when you're scared of him.
mean bf!toji loves to pamper you in public, happily carrying all the heavy grocery bags, pulling you to the safe side of the sidewalk, and letting you pick whatever movie you want to watch, all while secretly plotting exactly how he's going to make you cry and beg for mercy later that evening.
mean bf!toji is so hyper-aware of the contrast in his behavior that he uses it to mess with your head; he’ll lean down while you're trembling under him and whisper against your ear, “you like it better when i’m mean to you, don’t you?”
mean bf!toji ignores your whines and protests when he changes positions or pulls you around like a ragdoll. in daily life, he moves carefully around you so he doesn't accidentally hurt you, but in bed, he uses his massive size and weight to completely overwhelm you, letting you feel exactly how helpless you are against him.
mean bf!toji makes you beg for every single thing. even if he knows you're desperate, he will completely stop moving, prop himself up on his elbows, and stare at you with a smug smirk until you verbally ask for exactly what you want.
mean bf!toji loves slapping your pussy with his palm right before going in, loving the sharp, loud crack it makes against your skin and the way it leaves a bright pink mark that contrasts with his tanned hands. he’ll do it just to startle a loud gasp out of you, watching your thighs twitch as he tells you to open up wider.
mean bf!toji likes dragging the heavy, blunt tip of his cock up and down your wet slit, teasing you ruthlessly until you're begging him to just put it in. instead of giving in, he’ll slap his wet tip against your clit over and over, mocking the needy little noises you make and telling you that you haven't earned it yet.
mean bf!toji just laughs when you try to complain that he’s being too rough or too mean. he won't slow down; instead, his chest rumbles against your back as he grips your hips harder, driving into you with even less mercy just to prove that he rules the bed.
mean bf!toji loves leaving you completely ruined and breathless. he likes looking down at the mess he made of you—smudged makeup, tangled hair, and thighs shaking uncontrollably—while he casually rolls off to grab a drink, completely unfazed while you can barely move.
mean bf!toji will pull your hair back with just enough force to make your eyes water, forcing you to look directly at him while he pounds into you. he hates when you try to hide your face in the pillows or close your eyes; he wants to see every single expression of pleasure and overload on your face.
mean bf!toji uses verbal degradation as a tool to keep you completely flustered. he’ll call you a "good little slut," mock how loud you're breathing, or ask you why you're crying over a little bit of fun, his voice deep, raspy, and completely devoid of the warmth he usually speaks to you with.
mean bf!toji will deliberately overstimulate you, rubbing his thumb harshly against your clit while hammering into you, and when you start to sob because it's too much, he’ll just kiss you hard to muffle your screams and keep going right through your orgasm.
mean bf!toji flips the switch right back to being a doting boyfriend the next morning. he’ll kiss your bruised hips, bring you painkillers and breakfast in bed, and pull you into a warm, gentle cuddle—leaving you completely dizzy over how the man who was so beautifully cruel to you a few hours ago is now softly rubbing your back and calling you his baby.
“softenin' it,” your husband replied, his voice completely deadpan. he didn’t look up, his face carved into an expression of such absolute, scholarly focus you might have thought he was doing open-heart surgery rather than kneading your ass.
you’d been trying to get some rare peace and quiet, lying face down on the bed half-asleep, when the attack started. toji had the massive, beefy build of a pro athlete, a guy made wholly of dense muscle who had absolutely zero concept of "personal space"
yet, for the last ten minutes, those huge, scarred hands—hands that literally killed people for a living?—had been thoroughly squashing and massaging your ass with the obsessive devotion of a baker molding a piece of sourdough.
“softening it?” you repeated, the mere insanity of it wiping away the last of your drowsiness. “toji, it’s an ass, not a cheap steak. you’ve been doing this for ten minutes. let go.”
he was lying on his stomach right next to your thighs, his nose hovering close over your asscheeks. feeling suddenly frustrated, you planted your forearms on the sheets, trying to crawl away from... whatever he was doing.
and you couldn't even make it an inch.
a heavy, coarse palm slapped down on the small of your back, securing you to the mattress like a literal ton of bricks. when you twisted your neck to glare at him, you see that his stunning profile was pulled into a focused, childish pout. his emerald eyes stayed glued to his work while his other hand went right back to its aggressive squeezing, paying no attention to your feeble protests.
“keep still,” he grumbled, voice getting petulant like a boy refused candy “you’re messin' up the texture.”
“the texture?” a sudden rush of heat hit your cheeks—the result of your annoyance and being vividly aware of how his face was glued to your backside. “i am trying to sleep, you psycho. your hands feel like sandpaper.”
“then don't move and it won't scratch,” he reasoned in a plain tone as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
and yet, there was something weirdly mesmerizing about how engaged he was. he looked almost peaceful sitting there, if you ignored the thick fingers poking at your crack.
finally comprehending it was useless to fight a fatty bitch with two hundred pounds on his body, you collapsed face-first into the pillow, letting out a defeated groan.
“...if i see any bruises, you're gonna pay for it.”
that lazy, almost boyish grin finally shattered his straight face. toji didn't bother lifting his chest or moving back. he just rested his heavy jaw in his free hand, watching your clothed butt devotedly.
“can’t charge a guy who's broke,” he reminded, his deft fingers continuing their task. “now shut it. 'm not done tenderizing.”
𐙚 plug!choso x fem!reader | divider by @/cursed-carmine | mdni | m.list | art by @/_7undeed on twt
𐙚 “The fuck is your problem?!” “YOU’RE my problem!”After not seeing your plug Choso for a week, you give him attitude that he has no problem fixing for you.
It wasn’t often that you argued with 𐙚 plug!Choso. In fact, you didn’t really argue at all. So when you came over as you usually did, you were quiet while he fixed the blunt up in the pretty pink papers he gets just for you.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, how’s school?” He coughs, eyes flickering up to your face just to see you not even looking at him. Instead you were tracing circles on your thighs. He watched you shrug, which takes him back- the fuck?
“It’s been alright. The usual.”
Even your tone was off. Choso makes a face but he stares back down at the tray. Pink, hello kitty themed. The grinder he used was one he ordered just for you, pink and also hello kitty themed. Hell- he had a whole fucking set just for you when you came to smoke with him. Everytime was fine except now.
“…Alright cool.” He murmurs, “How many you wanna smoke today?”
“None. I want my stuff to go.” Your arms folded over your chest. Choso’s tongue licks alongside the paper before rolling, and he laughs. You look over at him- finally look at him. The whole set up pink, contrasting with his grunge-like attire.“What’s funny?”
“You’re funny.” He sets the tray down, inspecting the pink joint before grabbing his lighter and lighting the end. You watch as he his tips back, arm outstretched on the back of the couch as his body relaxes into the furniture. The end of the blunt entering his pierced lips before he inhales deeply, blowing the smoke out. “…I’m not doing that.” He leans back up, eyes dead locked on yours.
He watches the watch your brow twitches with that cute pout on your lips. “Cho, I’m serious.”
“So am I, princess.”
“I want my shit to go.”
“Now she’s cursing at me.” His eyes widen, smile on his face growing. Usually you bossed Choso around, he liked it, but he could tell something was bothering you and that this wasn’t an act. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” You smack your lips before rolling your eyes and getting up.
“If you’re not gonna do your job then I’ll go see what Sukuna’s sellin-“
I’m sorry? He pauses, the smile fading from his face.
“…Sit down, princess.” It wasn’t often Choso talked to you like that either. He spoiled you too much. He was always soft and gentle with you, hurting you was something he never wanted to do. His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you froze for a second before huffing and turning away from him.
Choso took another drag of the blunt, “Not gonna tell you again.”
“Then don’t.” And you had a smart ass mouth. “Stop acting like you give a fuck.”
“The fuck is your problem?!” Choso shouts. You flinch for a second before giving him the middle finger. He’s never raised his voice at you…well, in a serious manner, only at others who really, really got on his nerves. You’ve seen every side of Choso and how he was with others, not you.
But Choso knew you well, and he knows that you don’t like being yelled at. “You’re my problem!” You grab your bag, shuffling to put on your shoes.
“Princess-“
“Shut up Choso!” You bolt for the door, slamming it shut as you left. Choso stares at it for just a second in disbelief, playing the words back in his mind before he followed you out. You haven’t even left from in front of his door before he’s grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back in (and locking it).
He presses you up against the door, bros furrowed as he stared at you- down at you. “You wanna repeat what you said?” He questions. His breath fanned over your face. His face slightly red, you could hear the panic in his heart beat. He held your hands firmly but not tightly. You could definitely break free from his grasp. If you wanted to that is.
You could also tell that he was worked up by the way he panted. “Repeat what you said to me.” A demand this time.
“…Shut u-“
“Before that.”
“I…I’m gonna go see what Sukuna’s selling.” You swallow back a whimper. You watch as his lips twitch before he lets out a breath. He looks away for a second, in disbelief. Why would you, of all people on campus? Of anyone even remotely close in what Choso sold- fucking Ryomen Sukuna?
“Yeah?” The tone in his voice made your heart thump against your chest. You hadn’t heard it in a while. Choso’s face gets closer to yours, down by your neck. You didn’t even realize how hard you were breathing, his voice deep in your ear, “You gonna go fuck him too?”
“No-“
“That what you did while I was gone? Is that why you’re acting like a damn brat right now?” And you shudder, thighs squeezing together. “I leave for a week and suddenly you wanna have an attitude with me.”
“N-No- s’nothing like that.” His lips graze your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a small sigh of relief at his lips on you. He licked the spot, teeth grazing it before sucking. “Cho-“ You whine.
“Nuh uh, tell me you’re gonna go see Sukuna again.” Choso takes the skin between his teeth, humming as you squirmed. His lips felt gentle on your skin even when he teased you. He kisses the spot once more before letting your hands go, his eyes filled with annoyance, but Choso wasn’t one to dwell on things for too long, and he surely didn’t want to be upset with you.
Instead, he waves you off, turning away from you to sit back down in his spot on the couch. You watch him pick back up the neglected blunt and light it back up. You swallowed thickly, your breath heavy as you just…watched. The spot on your neck throbbed, knowing he left a hickey there that he’d usually get yelled at for.
His tired eyes drag over to you, low as he blew out smoke. “Go on, Y/N.” It’s been so long since Choso’s called you your actual name. The feeling cold in your chest as you bit your lip. You didn’t think he’d get that upset. “I’m not gonna charge you for anything since you didn’t smoke… If that’s all you can leave.”
Everyone knew that Choso and Sukuna were related in some way, but they didn’t like each other for plenty reasons, one being how they were technically in competition with each other.
You hadn’t see Choso in a week. Maybe your reaction was a bit petty over a man that wasn’t your boyfriend. A man who spoiled you with anything you asked for like it was nothing. Someone who smoked and fucked you and took you out afterwards. You talked everyday, but for a week the contact was silent.
Standing by the door, you found yourself picking at your nails. Choso was there when you got them done. He watches you before sighing, leaning back into the cushion. “Cmere.” Voice soft, gentle yet still laced with annoyance. He pats his leg, and you shuffle to take your shoes back off, walking back over to the couch, the rug soft beneath your feet.
“Take the blunt.” His hands rub over the curve of your hip. the moment you straddled him. You hold the joint between your fingers, knowing that Choso was the man you’d only ever buy from- except your services were free.
He watches your gloss covered lips take the pink blunt between them. Your eyes close instantly, the warmth clouding your lungs. Your body relaxes into his grasp like it always did. “That’s it..” He hums, scooting you up closer until he could feel the softness of your breast against his chest. His fingers graze your chin before his lips are on yours, smoke traveling from your mouth to his. You whine softly as he bites down on your lip. The kiss greedy- hungry. You missed him. He missed you. Choso lets out a grunt, his hand finding the back of your neck to pull you in deeper. The metal on his tongue flicking against the roof of your mouth.
Choso swallowed all of your whimpers, your clothed cunt rubbing against the fabric of his pants. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing until a loud smack ! has you pulling back and flinching with a yelp. “Cho-“
“You still mad at me?”
You bite down on your lip, looking down at his chest. “..Yeah.”
Without a word, Choso scoops you up into his arms, holding your legs around his waist while you held on tight- wrapping your arms should his shoulder. “What are you doing- put me down Choso!” You huff.
The man says nothing, carrying you all the way to his bedroom. You’re immediately hit with the scent of soft vanilla, the room a mixture of him and the random things you had over- a hello kitty plush on his bed (the only plush on his bed), little figurines sitting on his desk that you’d got together on various trips, your strawberry lipgloss (that you thought you’d lost) sitting right there on his nightstand. He lays you down on the bed, body hovering over you.
His fingers trail up your thighs up to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down without a word, kissing moving down your body. Your panties were soaked, and you felt shy in his arms. “…Say something.” You try to close your legs but Choso shakes his head, prying them open wider. With a soft hum he pins your arms above your head with one of his hands, the other slipping into your panties.
“Need to fix this attitude of yours.” Choso kisses your forehead. His finger circles your wet clit as you whine, gasping softly. You stare up at him, the wrinkle between his brow deepening as he flicked your pearl faster. Taking his lip between his teeth, he adds another finger. “Cho…” You whimper, your breath picking up as your back arched slightly, legs opening wider. More, you wanted more.
“Feel good?” His fingers dip down between your slick folds, dragging the slippery mess up to your clit. “Y-Yes—!” You moan, your hands twitching in his grasp. “Yeah?” He whispers, your legs twitching. Slippery fingers pressed down on your clit.
“So wet for me..” Choso groans, his fingers rubbing faster. Your breath hitches, mouth falling open as another moan passes your lips. Your hips start sputtering, rubbing into the hand for friction. “M-Mhm- fuck— fuck Cho g-gonna cum.” Your high so close you could taste it, eyes closing as your body relaxed in his grasp. His touched that you longed for and it had only been a week. The heat building into your lower stomach as you whimper, awaiting the orgasm that never came.
Your eyes opened immediately. Choso pulls his fingers out of your panties, taking them into his mouth with a small groan. “Cho.“ You frown, eyes staring wide up at him. Watching the fingers in his mouth go right back to those panties.
“Yes princess?” He traces your clit teasingly through the fabric. Down to that waiting hole of yours, leaking so much that you couldn’t help the small noises you were making. “I-I didn’t cum.”
“I know.” He grabs hold of the wet fabric, tugging them to the side until a loud riiiiiip ! of the material shouts throughout the room. “My panties!— The fuck Choso-” Your hands tugging to be freed while you glared up at him.
“Shut up, I’ll buy you some more.” He huffs.
Choso was messing with you right? Trying to scare you from going to see Sukuna. It made perfect sense. Is that why he didn’t let you cum? …It had to be….
It was torturous. The way your legs shook, his palm rubbing against your clit while three fingers thrusted deeply inside of you- so deep they touched that pretty spot inside, curling.
“F-Fuck—!” Your back arched, but Choso kept you down. His brows furrowed in concentration, the wet sound filling his ears alongside your pleasure filled cries. Your pussy squeezed around the fingers, the squelches getting louder, but Choso knew your body well.
You hiccuped, small test slipping down your cheek as your orgasm neared for the fifth time. “You wanna cum?” He asks sweetly, softly above you, as if he was going to let you. Still, you whined, “p—please!” and for a second, Choso considered letting you have your way. You always got your way with Choso.
Your chest felt heavy. You couldn’t think of anything, nothing but the man whose fingers played between your legs. Sweat beaded your forehead. You were close..so close. Sniffling softly, you hiccup, biting down on your lip.
“You look pretty so pretty princess.” Princess. You realize just how much you missed him for that one week. How badly you wanted him to call you by the name he’d whisper into your ear everytime he fucked you like you were really his.
“Cum for me.” He pulls his fingers out, quickly rubbing them against your clit. Your body jerks, “Choso—fuck I-I’m—“ Your toes curl, a broken moan falling from your lips as your orgasm finally hits you “Fuck- fuckfuck-“ You were seeing stars, vision clouding through the overstimulation.
His fingers still caressed you sensitive clit as you felt your pretty pussy gush between your legs, making the creamy mess even messier. “There we go…thats my pretty girl.” Your body clinging to Choso’s voice as he touched you until the very last drop spilled.
You felt the cool metal of his lip piercing and the softness of his lips on your forehead, working down to your nose and finally to your parted lips. “You did so good princess.”
Choso makes quick work of his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room. “So perfect for me.” He murmurs, sliding the torn fabric of your panties down your legs. His lips kiss your thighs softly. He wipes the tears from your eyes, carefully slipping your shirt off and tossing it. “I-“ Love you, he wanted to say
He pulls your body gently into his arms as he laid on his side. The cool air of his room hitting your skin just the way you like, with his body cradling yours. He kisses your forehead, your head leaning into his chest, eyes fluttering shut.
When you woke up you were surrounded by Choso’s scent, but not the man himself. You rub your eyes, feeling around the bed. Changed sheets and covers, but your plush the same. “Cho?” You had on one of his shirts. When he didn’t answer you bit your lip, going into the living room.
“Cho?”
The smell of smoke hits your nose. You peek into the kitchen to see him leaned up against the counter, blunt hanging from his mouth with his eyes closed. On the stove was a pot with the isle on low. His eyes peel open, holding his arms open. You hug him tightly, tucking your face into his chest. “I made you something to eat. Want some rice and stew?”
“Mhm…”
“..Im sorry for earlier.” He murmurs, arm wrapping around your body, fingers running through your hair. “…Could you tell me what I did to make you mad?”
You tuck your face farther, the hand in your hair pausing. “You don’t have to-“
“Haven’t talked to you in a week.” You mumble, “I was overthinking is all.”
“Overthinking?” Choso puts out the blunt in his ashtray, pulling your body back to look down at you.
“Yeah.. I know we’re not dating, but I got really used to your company and then it just went radio silent so I figured you wanted to go back to just strictly business or you figured I started catching feelings and was pulling away and-
“Slow down, princess.” He puts the blunt out in the ashtray on the counter. “One, I asked you if I could be your boyfriend before I left. Two, I also told you I’d be in the mountains for Yuji’s birthday week without service…You don’t remember?”
You stood frozen, searching your mind for the memory of two weeks ago. The last time you hung out with Choso before he left you’d tried something new he had got a hold of. “I…fuck I have to stop smoking.”
He laughs, running a hand down his face. “Fuck, you…really had me nervous.”
“Nervous enough to edge me?” You huff, reaching behind him for a bowl, your stomach growling.
“Because why the fuck would you even mention going to Sukuna-“
“Why else?” You stick your tongue out, tapping the hickey on your neck.
tojis shy wife asking him if they can have a baby ♡
a/n: this is such a boring fic but whatever idc
youve been following him around the house for almost an hour.
soft little footsteps behind him while he moves from room to room, arms sneaking around his waist the second he stops moving long enough, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades while hes trying to do literally anything.
toji notices immediately.
hed noticed every extra second youve spent touching him today, every shy look, every time you open your mouth like youre gonna say something and then dont.
right now hes standing at the kitchen counter trying to pour himself a drink while you cling to his back like a sleepy cat, arms wrapped around his middle.
his hand settles over yours automatically.
"…you need somethin?" he mutters.
you shake your head against him.
"yeah?" he says, rough and unconvinced. "baby. then why you stuck t'me like glue?"
your grip tightens a little at that, face warming instantly when he glances back over his shoulder at you. you just go quiet again.
he sighs softly through his nose, setting the glass down before turning around fully, hands landing on your waist as he looks down at you properly.
"cmon," he mutters. "spit it out."
you hesitate so long he almost thinks you changed your mind, eyes dropping away from his while your fingers curl into the front of his shirt.
"…dont get mad" you mumble
his brows pull together immediately. "the hell would I get mad for?"
you dont answer, just stand there all shy and sweet, practically folded into his chest, and he can physically see you trying to work up the courage to say whatevers been sitting in your head.
"…can we have a baby?"
toji goes quiet, the question catches him off guard harder than he expected. his hands stay warm on your waist while he looks down at you, brows pulling together slightly as he thinks about it, thumb rubbing slow against your side without him realizing.
"..baby." he mutters after a second, voice gentler now. "thats a real big question."
you immediately look nervous after that, eyes dropping away while your fingers twist lightly in his shirt.
"..i know.." you say quietly.
the way you say it all shy and careful, like youre worried he will shut you down completely, like youve been holding this in your chest all night.
then you look back up at him with big eyes, a soft expression on your face. hopeful in that sweet little way that always gets him. toji exhales hard through his nose, one hand sliding from your waist up your back before he pulls you closer against him.
"…cmere," he mutters, almost like hes buying himself time.
you melt right into him immediately, arms tightening around his middle, and he rests his chin briefly against the top of your head while he thinks.
"…maybe." he says finally, low and rough.
your whole face brightens so fast it nearly makes him laugh. "maybe?" you ask softly. he glances down at you, already losing the fight seeing that look on your face.
"…yea." he mutters, thumb brushing along your waist. "maybe, sweet girl."
𐙚 — I’m the Type to Bend Over, Take all the D*ck !
𐙚 JJK men [GOJO+GETO, CHOSO, HIGURUMA, NANAMI, TOJI+SUKUNA] x fem!reader | artwork by @/thatsallitchief | divider by @/cursed-carmine | mdni | m.list
𐙚 If there was anybody on campus that everyone wanted to get their hands on, it was you. Luckily for some guys, their wishes came true.
𐙚 a/n: these are separate but if you squint hard enough they’re connected :p
𐙚 Satoru Gojo ! ft. 𐙚 Suguru Geto !
[blowjob, slight hair pulling]
It all started at frat!jo's party.
“Well aren’t you just the prettiest star with my cock in your mouth?”
Satoru’s hand had a fistful of your hair, holding you steady while he fucked that pretty throat of yours. He finally got his hands on you after trying for for-fucking-ever. Satoru liked pretty things, and the way his heart leapt the moment his eyes landed on you for the first time was cartoonish. And it seemed you were friends with everyone except him! Even his twin brother ?! But fuckkk it was worth the wait.
“Fuck- that’s a good girl take it.” Your eyes, your pretty eyes looked up at the white haired male while he stared right back down at you. He moans at the way your knees spread on the floor, skirt hiked upon your waist while your fingers teased that pearl between your legs. So wet, the eye rolling whimpers making your pussy throb. “Gonna c—um so deeep down your- fuck- throat star.”
Frantic fingers rubbed at your clit, hips rutting against the wet fingers. Saliva began to leak down your chin, tears caught up in your waterline. And Satoru…oh Satoru. Your hips sputter against your fingers- they didn’t feel fast enough to match the speed he fucked your throat. Pretty blue eyes rolled, mouth falling open as he pushed your head deeper onto his big cock, warm globs of cum filled the space while your pussy fluttered, swallowing every drop.
“Now Satoru, who throws a party and isn’t even present- woah.” The door opens, pretty boy Suguru Geto stares at the scene in shock. Now, he’s walked in on Satoru plenty of times, but the shocker was you.
You smack Satoru’s hand in your hair, his eyes shooting open as you released him from your mouth. “Sh-Shit star wait m’still sensitive-“ All 8 thick inches, pink tip leaking sadly at the loss of warmth
“Shut up! I thought you locked the door? Stupid.”
It’s Suguru who closes the door (after stepping in and locking it). “I got to say, I’m quite surprised to see you Y/N. Thought you didn’t like Satoru.” A teasing smirk raises on his lips, Satoru’s long arm wrapping around your shoulder, cock throbbing against your skirt.
“Was all just sexual tension, right star?” A slap to your ass has you scoffing.
“You come to join Suguru?” He asks excitedly, and that’s how you ended up with your skirt wrapped in Suguru’s fist while he fucked you into Satoru’s mattress like his life depended on it. The white haired man watching while he stroked his sensitive cock to match Suguru’s rhythm. Other than the beats of the music outside, the rhythmic thump ! thump ! creak-thump ! of Satoru’s bed showed. the poor wall behind it no mercy.
“Mmmhp- f-fuck slow down-“ Breathless broken moans pouring into the soft material below you. So wet that Suguru slipped in and out of you with ease, his thick cock head bullying that sweet spot inside of you. So deep that your pussy squeezed around him, the wet squelches of your pretty cunt messily painting a white ring around his cock.
“Hah— hahhh fuck Angel- y’feel so good..”
“S-Sugu-“ Your broken whines send Satoru’s thumb to cover his tip, cum threatening to spill over that pretty face of yours. Suguru shudders, eyes squeezing shut. His hand finds the center of your back, pushing you down to deepen your arch. “O-OH—!” Your body trembles, his biggg dick slipping even deeper into your waiting heat.
“Gonna cum so deep Angel- shit- shit— cumming…fuckkkk”
Fuck. Satoru wanted to take a picture at the scene, his cum splattering across of your face while Suguru’s cock was buried to the hilt as he filled you up, and you better not waste anything.
𐙚 Choso Kamo !
[ sex while under the influence, smoking during sex, fingering, squirting ]
You’ve always been plug!Choso's favorite customer.
You never once had to pay for a damn thing, all he asked for was company while he smoked. Choso who liked you so much (just as much as about anyone) he bought you pretty pink papers to roll your weed up in.
“Stop..teasing Cho.”
Choso who spoiled you so much he called you Princess, and you didn’t mind. The same man who had his pretty lips wrapped around your lipgloss stained blunt. Red eyes low while he lazily rubbed the thick tip of his dick over your cum coated hole. Like the princess you were, you had that pretty back arched for him just the way he liked you to, pink lacy panties pulled to the side.
“It’s so wet princess..” He sighs, tilting his head back as he took a hit of the blunt, inhaling the smoke before passing it down to you.
See, Choso liked taking his time with you. Every movement he made during sex was calculated, he knew what spots made you scream, and he knew what spots would have you squirting all over his bed. Many people wanted you, but Choso had you. He didn’t want to date, just company while he smoked…and pussy.
With his focus on that pretty gaping hole of yours, ready to take him again, Choso fed you like you wanted- like she wanted. Low groan escaping his lips, your eyes closing feeling yourself make room for his big dick as you sucked him in. His hands trembled lightly at your hips, fingers digging into your skin. Inch by inch he pushed all those inches deep inside.
“Mmmfuck Cho-“ You gasp softly, your other hand fisting the sheets while he rocked against you steadily. Your lips kissed the blunt, inhaling the smoke. The moment you took that deep breath, Choso pulls allll the way out with a pop ! before shoving his cock all back in.
“Shitttt, Princess.” He whines, your warm gummy walls swallowing him, begging him to go deeper. But Choso knew what you wanted, he always knew. Shaky hands hold the blunt up towards him. The room stuffy with sex and weed. The slapping of skin echoing throughout as he pounded into that pretty pussy slow but so hard. “Need to fill you up hm?”
The blunt passed back and forth between you two, the pap pap pap sound getting louder by the second. “A-Ahh Cho——w-wait fuck-“ Your head was spinning, mouth agape while he hit that spot over and over again. Drool spilled from your lips, and Choso looked down with those red eyes…
You cry out, the blunt between you two gets put out by Choso so he could fuck you faster with no distractions.
The sight so pretty he wanted to take a picture. “Rub that pretty clit for me princess…that’s right- good girlll.”
Bite marks on the back of your shoulders (that he’d definitely get yelled at for later), your pussy sucking him in and creaming. That white ring getting bigger and bigger by the second. “Right there-“ You groan, fingers making quick work of the sensitive pearl between your legs as you leaked down your fingers.
“Mmm right here?” He smirks down at you, biting his lip while he angled for that spot— that spot he knew drove you crazy.
It only made him want to go faster. To cum inside of you again. “Wanna see this hole— mmph— dripping when m’done-“ Your eyes roll, a shuddering sigh as your body relaxes, a cool breeze pouring over you, your pussy squeezing around him- milking him.
“Th-There she is..” Choso buries himself inside of you, angling at that spot to pour alll of his cum into. “Hahhh fuck..” He lets his head fall back, letting out a soft groan as he planted his seed.
“Spread open, princess.” his voice soft in your ear, inch by inch of his slick coated cock pulling out from your leaking pussy.
“mmmph..” you hold your pussy open for him, his cum seeping out and dripping down onto the soft surface of his bed. Your fingers take a quick dip inside, a small sigh leaving your lips while you throbbing around the digits as more of his cum poured out. Choso always came a lot.
Choso stroked his cock at the sight. Both of you sensitive to the slight overstimulation. But you held it open for him, and his cock slips right back in and out, in and out as you tug gently at your clit. Your legs had a slight tremble to them, eyes squeezing shut while he rutted back into you.
𐙚 Nanami Kento !
[choking, squirting]
It’s always a hassle when you don’t want to go to the gym with 𐙚 med student!Nanami, after promising you’d lock in this time.
“M-M’sorry Nana- f—fuck s’too deep-“
“Hahh…You’re not sorry, sweetheart. You do this every week.”
Your poor couch wasn’t ready for the “at home” exercise Nanami had planned for you this week.
“Does it hurt?” He hums. The firm grip on the back of your neck loosened. Your breath unsteady as your legs shook with a wet globing mess of his cum mixed with your juices trailing allll down your thighs. Shaking your head, you hiccuped, the cushion pillow beneath your head caught majority of your cries and pleasure filled tears.
“Feels good…” You whine, pretty pussy squeezing around Nanami’s thick cock that was buried to the hilt inside of you.
“Yeah? Where does it feel good sweetheart?” He coos, voice soft in your ear. Nanami’s hips pull back, dragging his longgg cock with him until the thick head pops ! out of your pussy. He took a long swipe of his cum pouring from your hole before he thrusted back in all at once. You squeal, the grip on your neck tightening back to just the way you liked it- the way Nanami knew you liked it.
“Ri—-ight there- !” A sharp gasp is pulled from your body, Nanami’s hand finding a grip on your ass cheek to see the mess he was making. Sweet groans spilled. Nanami’s glasses began to fog. He throws his head back, biting down on his lip with a small smack ! of your ass that has your pussy squeezing around him.
“Yeah? You like when I fuck you here sweetheart?” Cock bullying your puffy pussy. You swear you could feel him right in your heart with the repeated thrust thrust thrust he poured into you. And fuckkk you were so wet, Nanami couldn’t help the loud whine dripping from his lips.
“—-um— gonna…gonna cum ‘gin Nana.” Your eyes squeeze shut. Your warning whimpers did nothing for the man pounding into you. He made it worse- thick fingers leaving your ass to that pretty pearl right between your legs. “Nana-“
“She’s taking me so well, sweetheart.” His thrusts slowed, fingers rubbing circles around your sensitive clit that has your hips jerking. “Listen to that…” The wet sounds echoing across your apartment alongside your moans would definitely be a complaint from your neighbor later.
The fingers worked at your clit. Pound after pound he poured into you, tugging at the sensitive nerve until he felt that wet splash onto his thighs. “Fuck fuck— fuck !” The loud broken whimper of your high came crashing down, Nanami’s fingers still rubbing- his cock still fucking into you while you squirted.
“Good girl, sweetheart.” His hand leaves your neck, his body feeling hot as he leaned over you, kissing the pretty tears away from those pretty eyes. “So good for me, hm?” He cums with a shuddering sigh deep into your womb. The warmth making you shiver, repeated kisses littering your cheek as you panted against the pillow.
“We’re going to the gym tomorrow. Right sweetheart?”
𐙚 Toji Fushiguro ! ft. Ryomen Sukuna !
[degrading: reader gets called a slut, blowjob, fingering, spanking, choking, public sex, anal]
Now, college is fun. You’re a smart girl who has good grades. A smart girl who likes to party and have fun also. But too much fun can cause you to get pulled over by your favorite policemen. Unfortunately, the moment you got pulled over this time you were fucked.
“I know this car. Damn, you must like getting pulled over doll?”
“Tsk tsk. Brat, can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
The taunting voices of 𐙚 police officer ! Toji and 𐙚 police officer ! Sukuna had you sighing as they knocked on your window.
Sukuna lets out a laugh, the both of them leaning on either side of your door— Toji taps the window with a smirk on his face. You let your windows down as you leaned your head on your steering wheel.
“What is it this time? You high?” Sukuna asks, straight up as he peered into your window. It wasn’t your first time getting pulled over by the two- in fact it’s always them when you get pulled over, and fuck they loved their job a bit too much when it came to you.
“No sir…” Which wasn’t entirely a lie, you were high but you’re sober now from how long you were over at Choso’s…
“Mmmhm. So why’re y’swervin like that this time of night, doll face?” Toji gruffs out as he shakes his head, tapping the roof of your car. “Cmon get out, you know the routine.”
Sukuna watched as you unbuckled your seatbelt, and he opens the door for you. The pink haired man’s flashlight flashed into your car as per the protocol, but you all knew they weren’t really going to arrest you.
Two of Toji’s thick fingers beckon you forward. His eyes trailing up your exposed legs curiously, a smirk curling in the corner of his scarred lip. It really wasn’t a good time. You were in really short shorts with one of Choso’s t-shirts that was a bit big on your frame that it exposed your bite mark littered shoulder, and the faint hickey’s littering your neck. No bra.
And then he got a realll good look at you. Your face flushed in embarrassment (and something more), your lips puffy looking, and most importantly…you squeezed your thighs together. Even Sukuna caught on and gave a knowing look to his partner.
“Hiding somethin’?” Sukuna’s deep voice from behind you sent shivers down your spine.
“No sir, Officer Sukuna.” You squeak. His body walking around yours as he looked you up and down, curious brow raised. Toji snorts, patting his shoulder as the taller man joined his side.
“Who was it this time? That Gojo boy?”
“Or is it the uhh- shit- what’s the long haired ones name?”
“Suguru Geto?”
“Yeah that one.”
The two cops laugh, beginning to talk about how much Satoru got on their nerves and how many parties they’ve had to give warning to. You roll your eyes, shifting in your step. “It was neither.”
Toji licks his lips as their focus turns back towards you. “Alright doll face. Sure I don’t need to check between those legs this time?” You bite your lip at the footsteps nearing you again. His thumb grazes your chin, tilting your head up and fuck he smelled good.
“I’m sure, Officer Fushiguro.” Your voice sweet, innocent sounding just the way everyone hears it while you bat those pretty lashes….Except Toji knew it was bullshit the moment you started acting sweet. His eyes narrow. Pulling back from you he starts walking to their car, talking Sukuna on the shoulder. The taller man pulls you in by your waist.
“What I tell you ‘bout lying brat? Hm?”
The road was dark apart from the orange hue of the campus streetlights nearby. Your body was hot as you whimpered against the dark hairs resting at the base of Toji’s cock, bent over with your legs spread, Choso’s cum leaking down your pussy while Sukuna spreads the soft skin of your ass open to watch.
“Lost your damn mind, doll face.” His big cock stretching your fucked lips, his hand finding your hair and tugging. A loud smack ! to your ass as you squealing around the twitching muscle, pre cum sliding down your throat.
Toji finds a slow steady rhythm at first, and oh…those pretty eyes looked up at him. “That’s it…take it.”
“You spoil her too much.” The man behind you huffs at his partner. Toji tugs at your hair, pulling a moan right out of you while he smirked.
“Shit- can’t help it. She’s s’pretty —heh- with my dick in her mouth. Aren’t you doll face?” He groans, saliva dripping down to his heavy balls that slapped against your chin.
You hear the clink of Sukuna’s belt being unbuckled, those thick fingers caressing your clit, making you shiver as you rolled your hips slightly for more friction. However, cum still dripped from that pretty pussy. “Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” He curses before those two fingers slip into your hole with ease- with familiarity. A loud squelch ! echoed throughout the dark road as he curled them inside of your heat.
“Fuckin slut.” And his fingers reached deep, causing you to squirm. You whine, hips pushing back. “Mmmph ‘Kuna-“ Your moans muffled. Your hand found the thick of Toji’s thighs to steady yourself while he fucked your throat.
“Tch, he pumped you full too.”
He adds another finger, the trio working you open. When it came down to Sukuna and Toji, you genuinely had to brace yourself. Toji’s cock slips from your mouth for you to take a breath, “Tongue out.” His hand holds your chin, watching your mouth fall open.
“That’s a good girl.” He stroked his cock with the collected spit. Two long strokes of his deep pink cock, the tip thick and almost red. Two thick veins underlined it down to his base. He tapped it against the flat of your tongue. Your tongue licks the dribble of pre cum, kissing the gorgeous tip. You hear Sukuna let out a soft groan behind you, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers fucked you faster.
“right there-“ you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut for a. “p-please m’so close ‘Kuna—“
“Gonna take care of you doll face.” Like they always did.
“Let us show you grown men fuck.”
“You’re really hardheaded. Thought I told you I didn’t want this pussy to be filled the next time I fucked you?”
Your head leaned back onto Toji’s shoulder, his big hand squeezing around your throat. “Sh-Shit— ahh- ah please!” Fast fingers rubbed at your clit. His cock fucking into the welcoming hole of your ass, while Sukuna’s big hands held your thighs spread wide open.
“Please what?” His hips slammed into yours, biggg cock stretching out the gummy walls of your pussy wide.
“Can’t take it-“
“Oh you can take it.” Toji huffs in your ear, the flushed head of his cock slipping in and out… in and out with ease. The sticky mess acting as lubricant between your legs. Your legs that shook violently in Sukuna’s grasp.
“M-Mhm..feels s’good don’t it?”
“Yes—! Yesohfuckohfuck”
They found a steady fast rhythm that had you hiccuping. The sounds of skin slapping and your incoherent moans echoed throughout the dark road. Anyone could drive by and see you being fucked by them.
Toji’s groans were loud in your ear. “Takin’ us s’good doll face…like a goood slut.”
“To—ji!” You whimper.
His grip on your neck loosening, “Yeah? You like that pretty girl? Like us fillin’ you up?” and he coos, bringing his fingers to your lips, “Spit.”
Saliva drips down your chin, the gathered spit going straight between your legs. You yelp, hips bucking as the feeling rushes over you. The wet splash between your legs splattered, only making them go faster.
Sukuna lets out a warning grunt. His face a light shade of pink, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Gonna fill you up the way I want to. Understand brat?”
“mm-‘hmm” You whine out, lips parting, your moans growing louder by the second. Between the cocks filling your holes, the fingers rubbing your clit, and the hand around your throat- fuck you could do this for days.
“Dont ever let me catch you like this again.” Sukuna’s voice was hot in your ear, Toji’s chuckle following after. Your insides were so warm. Letting out a breathless moan, you relax against Toji’s chest. Your holes full as they pulled out.
…and as a safety precaution, Sukuna drove you back to your apartment while Toji drove your car there.
𐙚 Hiromi Higuruma !
[public sex, pussy eating]
𐙚 law student!Higuruma abided by campus rules- any rules for that matter. He did things fairly by the law, he was a future lawyer after all.
“I—oh fuck-!” Sometimes, he didn’t. Very rarely.
His hands were hot on your thighs as he held them up, your back against the cool polished wood of the table. Front and center in the campus courtroom used for mock trial. Hiromi found his face buried comfortably between your legs.
His tongue lapped at your slick coated folds, moaning at the taste. Higuruma loved being between your legs after all. The way he ate you out with care, his nose rubbing against your clit. Your pussy dripping with saliva and your juices.
“You taste heavenly, have I ever told you that my sweet girl?” The way he ate you with care, the smell of your body oil filling his nose while he dove deeper into your heat. His tongue took a long stripe up to your clit, carrying your juices with it while he sucked on that pretty pearl.
“Hiro— ah-ah-“ You whimper, withering in his grasp. Your hand found his hair, pulling him in deeper. His tongue slips into your hole, your warmth welcoming him, and he groans. Your slick made a mess of his chin, his lips, and his nose.
“Mmfuck sweet girl. Tase’ so good.” His eyes close for a second, just taking in you. Fuck you drove him crazy. He lets up for just a bit, big eyes staring up at your skirt. You were still in your outfit, panties pulled to the side while he tongue fucked you.
“M’so close Hiro…f-fuck keep licking there.” The sloppy sound of Higuruma salvaging his meal echoed throughout the large empty room, sky dark outside. You were in there after the building closed for the day after all, even after the janitor did his rounds.
Two of his fingers slip there way into your hole making you squirm. He curls his fingers alongside his tongue, pressing up against that sweet spot inside of you. Your legs shook.
“Give it to me…You know what I want.” He spits a fat glob into your hole, fucking it right into you as as he panted, smug smile on his lips as he loosed his tie. You let yourself fall apart, his fingers reaching deeper into your pretty pussy.
“Gonna cum Hiro-“ You whimper. Higuruma’s tongue latches back onto your sensitive clit with such a loud nasty suck. “Ohh oh fuck- shit- shit- Hiromi!”
He still sucked on your pearl as you squirted. His fingers still fucking sloppily into your pussy, the wet squelch getting wetter by the second. You whine, pushing his head away, you pussy throbbing from the hard wave of your orgasm.
Table wet beneath you, legs spread wide open after Higuruma stands up straight to look down at your panting body. His tongue swiped across his lips. Painfully hard cock straining his pants. His thumb traced sweet circles on your inner thighs, cooing softly. “Such a good girl…mm I have to reward you now, don’t I?” His warm body leans over yours, wet kisses trailing up your body until they landed on your lips.
You whine, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him in closer. He rutted against your unclothed pussy, groaning softly into your mouth. “On your stomach.” He taps your thigh gently.
Now, Higuruma made sure you stayed out of trouble. You were his sweet girl after all. He took care of you in the best ways that he could while keeping up with his studies. He didn’t worry about any other guys, because Higuruma knew the way he made you break had you coming back to him each and every time.
“This is what you wanted, am I right?” His hips slam against your ass, the grip on your hips firm but gentle. Your hands held on to the front of the table, as you look back at him. His tired eyes were closed, head tilted back in pleasure, adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. Higuruma’s hair was tousled from the way you pulled on it, and his face a sweet shade of red.
“Just- just what I needed Hiro…” You moan, lips falling open. It was no secret that Higuruma’s dick was big, dark and pretty, long enough to kiss that spot inside of you and farther with every thrust. And your pussy loved it. Loved the feeling of being full of Hiromi Higuruma’s cock, the top law student of his class.
“Yeah?” His hand comes down on your ass with a smack ! making you moan louder.
“Yes—fuck yes!”
“You’re always running back to me Sweet Girl.” He deepens your arch, pushing the center of your back just a bit before he picked up pace. Smack ! Smack ! Smack ! the room echoed. Higuruma swallowed all of your broken moans. Your legs shaking, the grip on the table turning your palms white.
His hand rubs your back, to your shoulders, to the front of your neck. You yelp as he pulls your head back, your mouth open as pleasure filled tears slip from your pretty eyes. “Look at you…so beautiful.” He shudders. “Want me to cum inside?”
You’ve never said yes more quickly in your life. You could feel him deep inside, bulging your stomach. Higuruma lets out a groan, hand hot against your neck. “Rub your clit for me sweet girl, wanna cum at the same time.” He grunts, his deep groans like music to your ears.
Fingers rub at your slik coated clit, your pearl tingling with every thrust- with every touch. Your whole body buzzed, eyes rolling. “M-Mgonna cum— fuck fuck I f-feel it- Oh-!”A loud moan is ripped from you with one final thrust from the man, his cock buried to the hilt as he cums deep inside of you, fucking every last bit into that pretty pussy.
He pulls out once soft, not even the slightest drop of cum spilling. “Hold it in.” The hold on your neck softens, and you lay your head on the table, body tired. Sweet kisses litter your back as you panted.
sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.
and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.
after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.
he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.
a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.
“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.
and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.
some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.
finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.
your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.
but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.
“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.
but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.
“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.
and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.
ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml
Your boyfriend had been agitated all day, constantly stumbling over his words and sweating an abnormal amount. He had asked you out on a date — a fancy one at that — complete with a walk along the beach at sunset.
“Cho, are you… feeling alright?” You causiously glance at him, trying not to sound too concerned. He was currently standing up stiffer than a board, legs moving almost mechanically as you walked along the sand.
He jerked his head towards you, “Y-Yeah, yes! I mean — uh — bloated, yes!” You couldn't help the smile that crept its way onto your face at his nervous rambling. What had gotten into him today? “Alright, baby, whatever you say.” You shake your head, a soft giggle escaping you.
Choso’s face morphs into a love-sick smile at the sound of your laugh. God, he was whipped. Choso increased his strides to catch up to you as you continued your walk down the beach, occasionally stopping together to stare out into the ocean.
An orange light cast over the water, golden hour gracing you both with a warm breeze that had his bangs flying around his forehead. You snorted as you watched the strands fly straight up while he ogled you, “Cho, stop staring. You’re embarrassing me,” you chided.
He shrugged, “Can’t help it, you’re so beautiful.”
The two of you walked until you came across a path made of wooden planks that led straight into the water. It was decorated with shells and seaweed from high tide. “H-Hey, love, um, why don’t you… Take a photo — yeah, a photo!” Choso grinned awkwardly at you, sweat beading at his temple as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Sure… why are you being so weird today, Cho?” You questioned, cocking a brow at your boyfriend. He stuttered out a pathetic excuse of it being too warm, which in turn made you playfully scoff at him before turning around and capturing a picture of the sunset on your phone.
It was truly magnificent, though the camera lens didn’t capture the way the sun bounced off the water, shimmering in the warm light as the sand took on a more yellow hue. Or the way the sky faded into the prettiest orange shades you had ever seen.
“Cho! You need to look at — oh my goodness!”
You had turned back to make sure Choso was looking at the sunset, and now you were met with him, down on… both knees?
Choso held a small box, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping it. “I, uh, I — I mean you — no will you?” The words were leaving his mouth faster than he could process them, his cheeks burned red, and his hands shook as he stumbled over the speech he had practised a million times over with Yuji.
You stood there, mouth agape, as your brain processed what was going on. “I had this w-whole thing planned,” he stuttered out, “I wanted to do a-a speech, but you’re so perfect, and nothing describes my love for you a-and I forget to breathe when I’m with you.”
Before Choso could stop himself, he blurted out, “i love you more than words could describe… marry me?” His eyes met yours, warm and full of adoration. The box trembled in his hands as he swallowed thickly.
You felt tears brim in your waterline, despite him being a nervous wreck, Choso still somehow managed to salvage this. He knelt there, still sweating buckets, down on both knees with teary eyes, “Just say yes… please?” His voice cracked in the last word.
The sight was adorable — heartwarming even.
“Yes, Choso, of course I do!”
As soon as the words left your mouth, Choso leapt up and tackled you into a bone-crushing hug, littering your face with kisses. “I’m — mwah — so — mwah — happy.” He gushed, leaning back to stare into your eyes.
You grinned up at him, “Is that why you were so nervous today, baby?” Choso rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Kind of? Well, yes. But what if you said no? Or told me to jump off the pier?” You burst into a fit of giggles, “Choso, why would I tell you to do that?”
“It’s a what if!”
“Well, I didn’t. I would love to marry you, Choso.” As if your words pulled some kind of trigger, tears began to slip from his eyes.
“Why are you crying?” You cooed, thumb gently swiping the tears from his cheeks.
distracting toji while he's on the phone...♡ (rough!toji x sweet!fem reader)
tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.
its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.
"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."
meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.
your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.
"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.
you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.
the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.
then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.
his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"
by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.
youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.
the silence on the other end of the call stretches.
"...you still there?" the guy asks.
toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.
"yeah." he says "keep talkin."
but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.
toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.
A loud knock interrupted sleep, well your attempt at falling asleep. You turn over, eyes peeking at the clock on your side table, 2:12AM.
A knock rings through your room once more, slower this time, heavier, as if whoever was standing on the other side of the door was putting their weight into it.
You groaned, running your red-rimmed eyes and dragging yourself out of bed and towards the door. Who was up at this time? There's no way your neighbours were out this late and locked themselves out — especially not on a weeknight.
You straightened your night shirt and shorts, the shirt wasn't even yours, it still smelt of him yet you couldn't bear the shame of returning it.
“Satoru?”
Gojo swayed in the doorway, tall frame hunched beneath the dim hallway light. His white hair was a mess, cheeks pink from alcohol and the cold night air. His designer jacket smelt of cheap alcohol and expensive cologne.
And his usually bright, blue eyes looked… wrecked as if he hadn't slept a wink in days.
The moment his eyes met yours something in him cracked.
Before you could even question him on why he was at your dorm at this hour he slumped into your arms, his large frame nearly knocking you over. “Missed you… S’much,” he slurred into your hair, nuzzling his face closer and inhaling your shampoo.
Something in your stomach twisted. You shouldn't be bitter about it, not really, it's not like you two were official or anything. But it still hurt.
It hurt because he was the first guy to really see you, not just as the ‘quiet kid’ or the ‘nerd,’ Satoru saw you for you, despite being a frat brother, all those late night drives, those cafe study dates, even the lingering kisses.
Then one day he stopped answering your texts, started avoiding you in the library, and eventually told you he had lost feelings on some random Tuesday.
You cried for an entire week, beating yourself up for believing he would want to be with you.
“Satoru,” your voice came out shakier than intended, “are you drunk?”
“Only jus’ a little.” he slurred out, drool starting to pool at the corner of his mouth. “Why are you drinking, I thought you didn't like it?” He giggled at your words, “You always know me too well, pretty girl.”
He stayed clinging to you, backing you up until he was fully inside your dorm and the door clicked shut behind him. It was silent for a moment — except for Gojo’s breath in your ear, then something wet dripped onto your neck.
“Ew are you drooling —” you pulled him off you, finally meeting his gaze again, a soft gasp escaped you, “— why are you crying?” His eyes were redder now, soft tears spilling onto his pale cheeks.
He hiccuped, pulling you closer once more. “I lied… I messed up s’bad, I didn't get bored, fuck I could never get bored of you. You're so funny, and pretty, and you smell really good. Like a cupcake.” His rambling continued as fresh tears welled in his eyes.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself not to look away. “Then why did you do it?”
“M’stupid, that's why.”
“I know that, but that's not an answer.”
His head dropped forward until his forehead rested against yours. “The guys got to my head,” he admitted quietly. “They said I’m wasting my ‘potential’ and could pull that hot girl Shoko hangs out with.” He took a gasping breath, face contorting into one of disgust, “but she isn't hot, she's just not a nerd like you. But that makes you hot.”
You had to bite back a laugh, forcing a serious expression as he continued. “They said you're clingy, too serious but I loved that about you. You're perfect for my stupid self.”
“It really hurt me, what you did.” Your voice felt small, as if your throat was tightening.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them. “You don't know how it felt,” you choked out. “Like I was some hobby, or some prop you kept around.” Gojo’s mouth twisted into a deeper frown, “Don't say that —”
“It’s true.”
“No it's not.” His voice came out desperate this time, yet somehow firm.
He cupped your face carefully, like he thought you might break apart in his hands. “You meant everything,” he said shakily. “That was the problem, I let them convince me that being utterly whipped for you was a bad thing.”
You stared at him through your tears, and a soft sniffle filled the silence.
“A-and I tried to ignore them, o-or tell them that I didn't care about you like that, but I do.” He gave a soft laugh, words sloshing around his mouth as he slipped further into his drunk haze.
Another tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, swiping it away. “I wanted to answer your texts, to see you in the library at lunch — hell I wanted to come over,” he whispered, “I knew I fucked up.”
He was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I got hammered just to tell you this, y’know? I hate drinking but you're worth it.”
His eyes searched yours desperately. “Kept thinking about your laugh and your stupid jokes you make and the way you steal my clothes—”
A choked laugh escaped you despite yourself and Satoru’s expression softened at the sound. “There she is,” he murmured.
You shook your head, crying harder now. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah…but I’m your asshole…?” He looked down at you hopefully, “Ew, don't make it weird.” You laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes.
A tiny smile tugged weakly at his mouth. He swayed dangerously, alcohol still humming in his veins, “Let's get you to bed, Satoru.” You caught the mischievous glint in his eyes, “Don’t be a freak, I mean to sleep.” You watched his face fall then brighten up once more, “Can we sleep together —” He straightened when he saw your stern gaze, “— not like that.”
You guided him to your bedroom, he kicked his shoes off messily near the door and practically collapsed into your bed with a dramatic groan that almost made you laugh again.
“God,” he muttered. “The room is spinning.” You rolled your eyes, tossing over some of his clothes that you had stole forgot to return. “Hey, keep your eyes to yourself.” He muttered as he not-so-gracefully shimmied out of his jeans.
You climbed into bed beside him, the second you did, Gojo opened his arms. You hesitantly curled up next to him, the feeling oddly familiar.
“M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair, his eyes fluttering shut and sleep began to take him.
“I know.”
He pressed a wet kiss to your forehead, finally succumbing to the after-effects of the alcohol.
He's going to be in for it tomorrow when you ‘ran out’ of painkillers for his hangover.
a/n: thank you @ingydingyy for the request I hope I did your idea justice <3
♡ sukuna realizes that he does get jealous after all. . .
series masterlist
sukuna will say this very seriously, he does not get jealous. the emotion itself is beneath him.
that is until yuji coming home from school, jumping in place.
“i made a friend today!!”
“you did?” you ask. “so what are they like?”
“his name’s megumi and he likes dogs and dinosaurs too and he traded me his pudding because i gave him my chocolate!”
yuji keeps talking without stopping.
“and he’s really quiet but he laughed when i scared a pigeon away and megumi said maybe we can go to the park together and can we please please please—”
“ji— okay, okay,” you laugh. “slow down.”
his eyes widen instantly. “really?!”
“if megumi’s dad says yes, sure.”
yuji cheers.
later that week you end up exchanging numbers with megumi’s father after pickup.
toji fushiguro, he introduced himself— pretty tall, scar across his mouth, seems normal enough, though.
the playdate gets set for saturday afternoon, and sukuna seems pretty indifferent to it or at least he pretends to.
“you’re taking yuji to the park?” he asks while scrolling through his phone.
“mhm.”
“so, who’s the kid— or more like, you know their parent?”
“well.. a little?” you say thoughtfully. “toji fushiguro.. i think?”
“…fushiguro?”
you blink. “hm? you know him?”
“used to run in similar circles.” sukuna looks deeply annoyed already. “guy’s a pain in the ass.”
“well.. he seemed nice?”
“that’s because the guy likes pretending.”
you snort. “you’re dramatic, it’ll be fiiine.”
“i’m serious.”
“baby, i’m going to a playground. not a nightclub.”
sukuna looks at you for a long second, then sighs.
“fine, do what you want.”
which, surprisingly, he actually means— he fully intends to let you have your little park day in peace.
because really.. what could happen?
apparently a lot.
because now sukuna’s standing outside a convenience store a few minutes away while staring at his phone with growing irritation.
he just cannot stay at home while knowing you’re out with that damned black-haired man, so he lasts another three minutes before getting back in his car.
meanwhile, you’re sitting at the park bench while yuji and megumi run toward the playground together.
“be careful!” you call after them.
toji sits beside you a second later holding two juice boxes and an iced coffee.
“kid asked me to bring extras,” he says, handing you the iced coffee.
“thanks!”
“don’t mention it.”
for a while it’s easy and comfortable, you talk while the boys play. mostly about school— how both boys have been doing, how megumi apparently refuses to sleep without his stuffed wolf, how yuji always has endless energy no matter what.
“so.. that your kid, right?” toji asks eventually, nodding toward yuji.
you smile. “well no.. but technically my nephew.”
“could’ve fooled me.”
you shrug slightly. “he does feel like my own, though.”
“clearly.”
talking to toji is surprisingly easy, the guys laid back, which is probably why the next thing out of his mouth makes you second guess.
“you single?”
oh..
but before you can even answer, another voice cuts in.
“no, she‘s not.”
you look up immediately.
sukuna stands there behind both of you wearing all black with sunglasses pushed into his hair.
he looks weirdly calm, which means he definitely heard enough to annoy him.
toji glances between both of you once before leaning back slightly.
“oh! what are you doing here?” you say surprised.
“was just getting something to drink.”
“from the park..?”
“eh, crazy coincidence.”
toji snorts quietly beside you— big mistake, because sukuna’s eyes immediately slide toward him.
“fushiguro.”
“ryomen.”
you can absolutely feel the tension in the air.
you look between them slowly. “oh my god.. you actually know each other.”
“unfortunately,” they say at the exact same time.
yuji spots sukuna from across the playground and immediately lights up.
“UNCLE KUNA!!”
he abandons megumi and runs across the grass at full speed before slamming directly into sukuna’s legs.
sukuna just rests a hand on yuji’s head. “now get off me brat, you’re sweaty.”
“we were racing!”
“that so?”
“i won!”
megumi finally walks over, hands shoved into his little pockets.
“yuji cheated..” he says quietly.
“did not!”
“you pushed me!”
you’re trying not to laugh while yuji now clings to sukuna’s arm, and you get up to approach both.
toji watches the interaction for a second, then he looks back at you.
“…damn my bad,” he says finally. “cute little family you got there.”
sukuna goes quiet for a second, then his arm hooks around your waist possessively.
“exactly,” he says. “know where you stand, fushiguro.”
⋆˚࿔ SYNOPSIS When your boyfriend is too chicken to break up with you, he sends his nerdy twin to do the dirty work. The leather jacket is a decent touch, but the personality is a dead giveaway. Instead of getting mad, you make him your personal tutor. As the lines between you blur, you realise you're falling for the man behind the glasses, leaving your ex to wonder exactly who is getting replaced.
⋆˚࿔ nerd!satoru x figure skating!reader
⋆˚࿔ cw: college au. idiots in love. academic stress. hurt/comfort. suggestive themes. smut. dry humping. tags will be updated.
part 1 wc: 4770 series masterlist main masterlist
The air in the dorm room felt crowded, as if Toru’s ego had expanded to fill every square inch of the space, leaving no room for Satoru to breathe. It was a dizzying mix of scents, the metallic tang of hairspray and that strong cologne Satoru wore like armor. It was a scent that demanded you notice it.
Satoru leaned against the doorframe, his chest tightening as he watched the whirlwind of his brother’s departure. Toru shoved a pile of designer hoodies, black, white, into a suitcase with a series of Zip. Thud. Shove. Every movement was harsher than the other.
Toru reached for his ear, tugging a silver hoop through the lobe with a practiced, careless grace.
"Look, Satoru, it’s simple," Toru sighed, finally turning. For a split second, it was like looking into a distorted mirror. They had the same blue eyes, the same sharp jawline,. His gaze kept darting toward the digital clock on the desk, the red numbers bleeding into the dim light.
"You just have to put on the jacket," Toru continued, his voice taking on that persuasive tone he used when he wanted a favor. "Do the hair. Show up at the rink and tell her it’s over." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if he were swiping away a notification on a phone. "Tell her I found a model or that I’ve moved on. I just don't have the energy for the devoted boyfriend performance right now, and my flight leaves in an hour."
Satoru felt a surge of nausea. His knuckles turned a ghostly white as he gripped the spine of his textbook, the hard edges digging into his palms. "Toru, this is cruel," he said, his voice vibrating with a rare spark of heat. "Even for you. She’s a person, not an assignment you can just delegate because you didn't do the required reading."
Toru’s eyes went flat, the way they did right before he won an argument. He stepped forward, invading Satoru’s personal space, the metaphorical distance between them feeling larger than ever despite their identical height.
"You owe me one, remember? Unless you want me to just text her 'we’re done' and block her number. At least this way, she hears it from a face she knows." Without waiting for an answer, he snatched his signature leather jacket from the bed and tossed it. The heavy, scent-soaked material hit Toru’s chest like a physical blow. "Don't mess it up, brother."
At 2:00 PM, the light filtered through the high, frosted windows in beams, hitting the white surface with a blinding glare of the ice rink.
Satoru’s eyes were screaming. The contacts Toru had forced him to wear were dry and scratchy, a constant reminder that he was currently living a lie. Without his glasses, the world was a smudge. He stumbled slightly on the concrete stairs, his boots clattering too loudly in the hollow space.
Then, the world seemed to sharpen. He saw you.
You were a blur of motion, a shadow spinning in the dead center of the rink. Your headphones were on, sealing you away in a world of rhythm that only you could hear. You moved with a terrifying, disciplined precision, launching into a double axel. For a heartbeat, you were suspended in the air, graceful, lethal before your blade cut back into the ice with a sound like a diamond scratching glass.
You carved a wide, elegant arc across the ice, surging toward the barrier. You stopped inches from the wood, the spray of ice crystals hitting the toes of his shoes like tiny diamonds. You pulled your headphones down, letting them rest around your neck.
Your gaze was a cold, sharp sweep. It made Satoru feel like a specimen under a microscope. He tried to adjust the leather jacket, tried to channel Toru’s arrogant stance, the way his brother leaned against walls as if he owned the building.
"What are you doing here, Satoru?"
The name hit him like a physical strike. His heart did a frantic, uneven dance against his ribs. He hadn't even opened his mouth. He was wearing the jacket, the jewelry, the cologne, he was a perfect physical replica of the man you were dating.
"I... urm..." he stammered, the cocky persona evaporating instantly. "How did you...?"
"Toru doesn't come here," you said, your voice indifferent but sharp as a razor blade. "He finds the cold unflattering. And he certainly doesn't look at me with guilt in his eyes." You leaned against the railing, your eyes narrowing as you took in his trembling hands. "If your brother is too much of a coward to say it himself, then consider the message delivered. Tell him we’re broken up. From this second."
You’d known Toru since freshman year. You knew every inch of his ego. And you knew, within three seconds of seeing this man walk through the door, that the soul behind those blue eyes was much, much softer.
Satoru’s shoulders slumped. The lie was dead before it even started. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking at his shoes. "I really didn't want to do this. He... he just wouldn't listen."
"Save it," you snapped, turning to skate away. "You weren't going to apologize if I hadn't known."
"No, that’s not true," he called out, his voice cracking with a rare flash of spirit. "I’m still sorry. I hate this. I didn't want to hurt you."
He watched you skate away. Toru had always called you judgemental , but Satoru saw something else, a girl who was fiercely protective of her own time and dignity.
A week later, the world felt as gray as the campus concrete. The meeting with the Dean had been short and devastating. “Academic excellence is a requirement for this scholarship,” she had said. Between the heartbreak and the grueling hours at the rink, your focus had fractured. If you didn’t fix your Physics grade, you wouldn't just lose your spot on the team, you’d lose your future.
That desperation led you to the back of the lecture hall. You waited until the room emptied, leaving only one person behind.
Satoru was methodically packing his bag, sliding his notebooks into his bag with precision. He looked like himself again. The cologne-soaked ghost of Toru was gone, replaced by the boy with the thick, black-rimmed glasses and the soft, oversized hoodie. He looked approachable.
You stepped into his line of sight, blocking the light. "If you were really serious about making it up to me," you said, your voice steadier than you actually felt, "consider this the way. I need a tutor. Specifically for Physics."
Satoru froze, a strap of his bag halfway over his shoulder. He blinked, his eyes appearing huge and startled behind his lenses. For a moment, he just stared at you, his brain seemingly catching up to the fact that you were actually speaking to him.
A soft, betraying pink crawled up his neck and settled in his cheeks. "Tutor you?" he managed to ask, his voice an octave higher than usual.
"I'm at risk of losing my scholarship," you added, leaving no room for him to argue or offer pity. "7:00 PM. The West Wing of the library. Come if you want to." You didn't wait for an "okay." You turned and walked out, feeling his stunned gaze lingering on your back like a physical warmth.
The library was a tomb of hushed whispers. You were tucked into a corner booth, hunched over a textbook, a steaming vanilla mocha sat by your elbow, but it had long since gone cold.
"That's not quite right."
The voice was soft, appearing right by your ear. You hadn't even heard him sit down. Satoru leaned over, he pointed a long, steady finger at your notes.
"Check your constants here," he murmured, his face so close you could see every speck in his blue eyes. "It’s h-bar, not h. If you don't use the reduced Planck constant, your uncertainty principle calculation is going to be off by a factor of 2pi."
You stared at the scribbled numbers, the symbols blurring together. The frustration of last week bubbled up. "I don't understand," you admitted, your voice cracking just a fraction. "None of this makes sense anymore."
And for the next hour, the world narrowed down to the scratching of lead on paper. Satoru was a natural teacher. He didn't get annoyed when you asked for clarification. He noticed the way you tapped your pen against your chin when you were stuck, a small, rhythmic tic.
The library's ventilation kicked on, blowing a draft of icy air across the table. You shivered, pulling your arms tight against your chest.
Suddenly, a weight settled over your shoulders. It was warm and heavy. You looked up to see Satoru standing there in just his graphic t-shirt, having draped his hoodie over you.
"The ventilation here is terrible," he whispered, his ears turning a vivid, brilliant red as he quickly sat back down and avoided your gaze. "And you can't focus if your core temperature is dropping. It’s basic thermodynamics. Energy diverted to maintaining heat is energy taken away from cognitive function."
You looked at the sleeve of the sweater, then at him. You didn't say thank you but you pulled the hoodie tighter, burying your nose in the collar for a fleeting second.
"Listen, I’m still so sorry about earlier," Satoru said, his pen hovering over a diagram. "Toru... he didn't tell me the truth. He described you as someone who... well, someone who wouldn't leave him alone. I was wrong to judge you based on his ego."
You felt a sharp, familiar sting in your chest. You set your mocha down, the plastic lid clicking. "I asked him questions about his day because I thought that’s what people in a relationship did. I didn't realize that caring was the same thing as an interrogation. What's wrong with wanting a boyfriend to show up to his own anniversary dinner?"
Satoru’s pen stopped mid-graph, his voice thick with disbelief.. "He missed your anniversary?"
You looked Satoru in the eye, wanting him to see the hurt Toru had caused. "I sat at that Italian restaurant for two hours on our anniversary while he was at a frat mixer three blocks away. He didn't even text. When I found him, he told me I was being demanding."
"I don't think you're high-maintenance at all. I think Toru just doesn't know how to look at the things that actually matter."
In the weeks that followed, the loud, chaotic frequency of Toru was replaced by the steady, low-humming presence of Satoru. Twice a week, he would wait for you at the rink. He’d be holding a styrofoam cup, the cardboard sleeve damp from the steam.
"Vanilla mocha," he’d say. "Extra shot. You looked like you were losing the war with gravity this morning."
You’d wrap your frozen fingers around the warmth, wondering how Toru hadn't known your favorite drink after three years, yet Satoru had memorized it in a few days.
One night, the library was closed for maintenance, so you were studying in your dorm. The room was a mess of sticky notes and open laptops.
You came out of the bathroom, drying your hands, but froze at the threshold of the room. Satoru was sitting on your bed, his phone pressed to his ear. The volume was up so high that the voice on the other end felt like a physical intrusion in your private space.
“YO! Did you see the video I sent?" Toru’s voice was unmistakable and slurred.. "I'm at this house party. Man, I met these two girls who think I'm a literal sculpture. Anyways, how’s the skater? Did she cry? Please tell me she didn't get snot on my leather jacket. That thing cost more than her skates." The laugh that came made your skin crawl.
Satoru’s head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, he looked like he was watching a car crash in slow motion. The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale.
“Uhh... yes, Professor. Yes, I’ll send that lab report soon,” Satoru stammered, his voice trembling as he frantically fumbled for the end call button. His lie was pathetic, a flimsy shield against whatever just happened.
The silence that followed was suffocating. It was heavy and smelled of the betrayal you thought you had moved past. You didn't scream or react in any way.. You just walked over to the bed, your movements robotic.
“You’re a terrible performer, Satoru,” you said softly. “Both times now. So maybe stop trying to cover for him and just stick to physics.”
Satoru sat rigid in his spot, his phone still gripped tightly in his hand. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the walls.
You picked up your highlighter, the yellow ink staining the page as you began to work again.
The cafe was a sanctuary of amber light and the comforting smell of coffee. Between them, two vanilla mochas sat like peace offerings, the foam dusted with cinnamon. The steam rose in identical, lazy curls, swirling together in the center of the small table, connecting their separate worlds.
Satoru’s eyes flickered from the drink to her face. For the first time in a while, a soft, genuine tug pulled at the corner of his mouth, a real smile that reached his eyes, crinkling the skin behind his glasses.
“Maybe I ought to give this a try, too,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a warmer register that made the hair on her arms stand up. He took a tentative sip, the sweetness a stark contrast to the bitter black coffee he usually drank to keep himself awake. “I usually stick to the basics, function over form, but clearly, you have superior taste. It’s... actually quite good.”
Satoru traced the rim of his paper cup with his thumb, his expression shifting from guarded composure to something animated and raw as he started talking about his love for gaming.
“It’s not just about the buttons or the graphics,” he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, intense tone people use when they’re sharing a secret they’ve kept locked away. “In a strategy game, the universe is governed by logic. There are rules. If you work hard enough, if you learn the mechanics and account for the variables, you can protect everyone. You can actually win.” He looked down at the table, his fingers stilled. “When I’m deep in a build, I feel like I finally have a grip on the world. It’s a closed system. It’s... satisfactory.”
He looked up suddenly, a self-conscious flush hitting his cheeks as he realized how much he’d revealed. “I probably sound like a total nerd. It’s just a lot of sitting still and overthinking.”
She didn't laugh. Instead, she leaned forward, her hands tracing invisible patterns on the scarred wooden table as if she were marking the ice with her blades. “No, Toru. I get it. It’s about control, isn't it? The world is loud and messy, but your world has a rhythm.” She looked at him, her eyes bright with a sudden, shared understanding. “For me, it’s the exact opposite of sitting still, but the feeling? The feeling is exactly the same.”
“I was seven the first time my mum brought me to the rink,” she said, her voice softening as she drifted into the memory. “I remember stepping through the heavy doors. The air was so cold it felt like breathing in tiny glass needles. It hurt, but in a way that made me feel awake.”
She closed her eyes for a second, and Toru found himself holding his breath, watching the way the cafe light caught the bridge of her nose.
“But then you push off,” she continued, her hands moving gracefully over the table. “There’s this specific sound, a crisp hiss of steel cutting through ice. In those minutes, the gravity changes. You don't feel like you’re in this world anymore. You’re just... gliding. Freely. No one can reach you there.”
“The expectations, the noise, it all just fades into the background,” she whispered, her smile turning wistful. “When I’m mid-rotation, the world loses its edge. It becomes a blur of colors, and the only thing that’s real is the bite of the skate and the rhythm of my own lungs. It’s the only place I’m actually me, instead of the girl everyone expects me to be.”
Satoru watched her, his own drink forgotten and cooling. He’d seen her in crowded lecture halls, and he’d seen her standing beside his brother like a trophy, but he realized with a jolt of clarity that he had never actually seen her until this second.
“A blur of colors,” he repeated softly, nodding as if he were memorizing the phrase. “I think I’d like to see that sometime.
For the first time, the air felt lighter. He listened to her with an intensity that made her feel like the only person in the room, his gaze never wavering, his blue eyes finally steady.
Three weeks later, the afternoon sun cut through the campus windows. Satoru rounded the corner to meet her after her afternoon seminar, but his pace faltered.
There, leaning against the lockers, was a guy from the soccer team. He was a carbon copy of Toru’s brand of charisma, the athletic slouch, the expensive team jacket, and a smirk that suggested he owned the very air people were trying to breathe. He was blocking her path, his shadow sprawling over her like an eclipse.
Satoru’s chest tightened, a physical constriction that made it hard to swallow. He searched her face for discomfort, but she was wearing a small, polite smile.
The sensation that hit him was involuntary. It was a sharp, jagged heat that soured into a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. Was this jealousy? The thought was terrifying. He had no claim to her. But as he watched the soccer player lean closer, invading her space, Toru felt like he was watching a rare manuscript being handled by someone who couldn't even read.
For a split second, Satoru considered retreating. He could go to the library, hide behind a stack of books, and nurse his bruised ego in the silence he was used to. He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't the guy who won the girl.
Then, she looked up.
Her eyes bypassed the athlete’s smirk entirely and locked onto his. “Satoru!” she called out. Her voice bright and unmistakably relieved.
The hollow ache in Satoru’s chest vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of light. He watched, mesmerized, as she deftly sidestepped the athlete, leaving the guy mid-sentence as she hurried toward him. The soccer player’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting from smug to genuinely baffled as he watched the girl choose the quiet guy with the glasses over him.
Satoru didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the lingering heat of jealousy, or maybe it was the way she looked at him like he was a lighthouse. When she reached him, he stepped into her space boldly and pulled her into a short, firm hug.
He could feel the coldness of the hallway air on her jacket and the faint scent of vanilla mocha that always seemed to linger around her.
“Hey,” he said, his voice steadier and deeper than he felt. “Ready to go?”
“Uhh, hi,” she chirped, a soft, beautiful flush creeping up her neck. She stepped back, looking a little dazed, before turning to lead the way toward the library.
Satoru glanced back over his shoulder. The soccer player was still standing there, jaw clenched, looking like a man who had just realized he’d lost a game he didn't even know he was playing. Satoru felt a dizzying, giddy sense of triumph as he turned back to her and matched her stride.
The kitchen of Satoru’s shared apartment with Toru was a battlefield of flour, steam, and Shoko’s cigarette smoke drifting in from the open window. Suguru Geto, ever since he found out Satoru was tutoring you, decided you all needed to have a bonding day and that a homemade meal was the only cure for stress. He was currently leaning against the fridge, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched Satoru meticulously dice carrots into perfectly equal cubes.
"You're prepping dinner, Satoru, not performing surgery," Suguru teased, his voice full of mischief.
"Precision matters, Suguru." Satoru muttered, though his ears were pink.
Because the kitchen was designed for two people and currently held four, the counter space was limited. You found yourself squeezed into the corner with Satoru, your shoulder pressed firmly against his. There was only one large cutting board left, forcing you both to share the wooden surface. Every time you reached for a potato, your hand brushed against his. The contact was brief, a flicker of skin against skin, but it sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with the heat of the stove. Satoru shifted his weight, making more room for you, his presence a steady hum at your side.
From her perch on the counter, Shoko took a long drag of her cigarette, careful to blow the smoke outside and squinted at the two of you through her tired eyes. She traded a knowing, silent look with Suguru. The kind of look that said 'Look at these two idiots.'
"So," Shoko started, her voice lazy. "Is the genius here actually teaching you anything? Or is he just reciting the laws of motion until you fall asleep?"
"He's a great teacher," you said, not looking up from your work, though you could feel the heat rising in your face. "He makes the complicated stuff feel... simple."
Satoru’s knife stopped moving. He stared intensely at a carrot, his face darkening into a deep, unmistakable crimson.
"Oh, he's definitely dedicated," Suguru chimed in, his eyes glinting with a predatory kind of amusement. "I don't think I've ever heard Satoru talk about 'maximum penetration depth' with quite so much... passion. It’s all he’s been focused on for weeks."
Satoru cleared his throat loudly, the sound a bit strangled. He knew exactly what Suguru was implying.
The heavy ceramic pot on the stove suddenly hissed, the broth bubbling up and threatening to spill over the sides. In a flash of shared instinct, both you and Satoru reached for the lid.
Your hands met squarely over the steam-slicked handle. His palm was large and warm, completely covering yours. The world seemed to stall. The sound of Suguru’s laughter and the clink of Shoko’s lighter faded into white noise. You didn't pull away and neither did he. You stood there in the steam, connected by a pot of soup and a feeling that was becoming too big to ignore.
Satoru’s gaze flickered down to your joined hands, his chest rising and falling in a ragged breath.
"I've got it," he whispered, his voice vibrating in the small space between you.
As you finally pulled back, your heart hammering against your ribs, you caught Shoko smirking into her drink. Suguru had started humming a low, annoying tune. The kitchen felt smaller than it had ten minutes ago, the air thick with a new weight that neither of you knew how to put back into the box.
The sky had turned dark by the time you finished your last lecture. The moment you and Toru stepped through the heavy doors of the department building, the clouds finally broke.
"The new cafe is five blocks away," you said, watching the water bounce off the pavement. "We'll be soaked before we hit the corner."
Satoru looked at the rain, then back at you, his expression unreadable behind the glare of his glasses. "Maybe... you could stay at my dorm," you suggested, "Just until the rain gets lighter. We can study there."
The walk to your dorm was short, but the air between you felt charged, as if the lightning outside had followed you indoors.
The dorm room was small, making his presence feel twice as large. You were sitting side-by-side at your desk, the drumming of the rain against the window providing the only soundtrack. Satoru leaned over to point out a complex line of text in the textbook and his hand brushed against yours.
Usually, he would pull away instantly. But today, he stayed. His skin was warm, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. The room felt suddenly stiflingly hot, the tension from the kitchen with Suguru and Shoko still hanging over you.
As he began to explain a diagram, you leaned in closer, close enough to catch the scent of clean laundry. He could clearly smell your perfume and the closeness seemed to short-circuit his brain. His voice faltered, then stopped altogether. The silence that followed was heavy, vibrating with everything neither of you was saying. Slowly, Satoru set his pen down on the open book.
"Are you going to finish the explanation?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm outside.
Satoru turned his head. His blue eyes were dark, focused entirely on your mouth. "I can’t... I can't right now: he admitted, his voice rough.
He reached out, his hand trembling as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of your jaw making your breath hitch. When you finally leaned in, the kiss started off slow, a tentative exploration of lips, testing the waters to see if the other would pull away.
But when you pressed closer, the spark ignited. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier. Satoru pulled back just long enough to rip his glasses off his face, tossing them blindly onto the desk, before crashing back into you with a desperate kind of intensity.
Satoru’s hands, which were usually so steady, were shaking as they found your waist. In one sharp, decisive motion, he pulled you off your chair and onto his lap.
The air left your lungs as you straddled him, your knees hooking on either side of his chair. The sudden weight of you seemed to break whatever remained of his composure. His head was thrown back, the sharp line of his throat exposed as he let out a jagged, broken moan that you never thought you’d hear from the quiet Satoru.
His eyes were blown wide, his pupils dilated until they almost entirely swallowed his irises, leaving only a thin ring of blue. He looked shattered, almost as if his logical brain couldn't compute how the dry friction of denim on denim could ignite a reaction this good.
Satoru’s breath hitched, a jagged sound in the quiet of the room. He began to heave upward against you, his movements desperate and uncoordinated. Every time his hips met yours, the rough, heavy fabric of your jeans created a searing, electric heat that made your toes curl. You needed that pressure, you needed the grounding weight of him as the world began to blur at the edges.
You were shaking in his arms, your fingers digging into the muscle of his biceps as your forehead pressed against his. The only sounds in the room were the frantic, uneven gasps for air.
Driven by a sudden need, you gripped his shoulders tight and leaned in to crush your mouth against his again. This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was messy, desperate and loud, filled with the small whimpers and guttural groans that neither of you could hold back anymore.
"I can't—" Satoru gasped, the words breaking off into a sharp, pained hiss as you shifted your weight against him again.
He buried his face in the sensitive crook of your neck, his hot breath ghosting over your skin before his teeth grazed you. His hands, large locked onto your hips, his knuckles white as he pulled you flush against him making your back arch, forcing a faster, more frantic pace.
“S-Satoru…” you gasped, your voice breaking as a wave of heat finally crashed over you. Your body shuddered violently, your strength failing as you slumped against his chest.
Not a second later, a low, broken groan ripped from deep in his throat. His grip on your hips tightened until it was almost bruising, pinning you to him as he finally came apart. He let his forehead fall heavily against yours, both of you trapped in a haze of adrenaline, the air between you thick with the sound of your shared, burning breaths.
notes:
divider credits: @sisterlucifergraphics
Pic from pinterest!
choso being soft with you even when he's the one in control ᝰ.ᐟ 18+ mdni, fem!reader
“i can take these off for you, baby?” choso’s deep voice silks through your eardrums, your lips wetting with saliva as your eyes flutter to a close and you nod, mind melting into a puddle of fantasies while you yearn for all he’s going to do to you.
long fingers hook under the band of your soddened panties, his breath warm as his open mouth ghosts over the unblemished skin of your neck. It won’t last for long though, choso takes pride in garnishing your skin with endless examples of his love for you—examples anyone else who pines for you will be able to recognize with ease.
your hips lift for him. you’re silent in your compliance but immediate and it makes him groan, sharp canines grazing just below your jaw while the space in his sweats depletes with each passing second.
a knee wedges between your trembling legs to part them as he comes to hover over you, watching you writhe beneath him need, like you need his touch to be able to breathe.
“cho…” you whine.
“i know, babygirl. you’re being so patient.”
he applies pressure just where you want it and a gasp chokes from your throat, back bowing and nails sinking into the vein ribbed skin of his forearm. a large, gentle hand caresses your cheek, just before his deft thumb dips into the shaky ‘o’ your mouth has formed.
“yeah… there’s my girl.”
the sound of your delicious little whines are muffled as your lips come to a close, but it’s worth it when he sees the look in your eyes as you look up at him, wet tongue swirling, saliva glistening around his thumb just like it does on his cock every time you sink to your knees for him and suddenly he’s starting to second guess his plan of taking his time with you, but he keeps on. because you come first, always.
he can’t help but admire you like this, letting his head weigh to the side when he sighs, “you’re so pretty.”
your throbbing, slick moistened clit rolls over the area above his knee when he tenses his leg and you squeal, eyebrows bunching in the middle, a desperate plea for him to give you more than what you’re getting.
he kisses his way down your torso, low-lidded intense eyes never breaking contact with yours, a dampened trail of his affection left from his descent. he stops just at your navel, tonguing at the skin there because he knows it drives you crazy, his theory only proven as your hand cards through his hair. you’re near tears and he hasn’t even done anything.
“choso, please…”
“alright alright, m’sorry,” he chuckles lowly, whispering “was just havin’ a lil’ fun.”
licking his lips, he positions himself to lay on his stomach, a full view of your glistening cunt on display and you shudder when he all but growls. it’s primal and feral, has you clenching around what you wish was something. his pupils blowing with that blood thirsty glint he always gets when it comes to you.
he’s got the underside of your thighs in his hands, keeping them open for him because he hates to be interrupted when he eats. nose scrunching slightly as he takes a large inhale, holding the air of your enthralling scent in his nostrils before he exhales loudly, eyes slamming shut to steel himself.
“god, you smell so good… can i taste you, baby? please?”
you’re not sure why he’s asking, the answer is always the same. definitely maybe just to hear that impatient split of your voice when you muster out a response, or to witness the pool of arousal that seeps down between your cheeks and onto the sheets below you because he asked you so nicely. his tongue is already licking impatiently at the slick smeared skin of your inner thigh, like he can’t help himself, eyes that of a man hungry and starved and it only makes you wetter for him.
“say it.” voice soft yet stern in his demand, you whine,
other people never get it right, in his opinion. there’s always a vowel that’s too drawn out, or a consonant that’s pronounced too sharply. he only ever smiles and nods when people say his name like that — it’s fine, sure. but it’s not right.
it’s become something very particular for him.
it’s not sah-toe-roo.
he’s also heard sahh-to-roo.
and some people will extend those vowels past their welcome.
but you? it glides off your tongue like honey.
sa-to-ru.
he likes the way it gets all sharp on your lips when you’re mad at him. satoru would never admit it to you, but sometimes he’ll piss you off on purpose whenever he’s in the mood to hear how you sharpen the consonants like knives when you're telling him off.
“what?” the sorcerer sits back in your office chair, the faintest traces of a completely intentional grin on his face.
he’d come in early for once in his life for this exact purpose; satoru knew you always came in devastatingly punctual, so he’d make sure to greet you the best way he knew how to make your morning: by sitting in your office and kicking his feet up on your paperwork.
you loved things clean. it’s cute. he wants you fucking messy, though!
and you’re seething so adorably, with your face all scrunched up and your shiny eyes narrowed. “does this look like your office, gojo?”
nope. not what he wants to hear.
satoru sits up abruptly, making a show out of glancing around the room, before letting out an exhale of a laugh. “you know, all the offices look suspiciously similar. might wanna bring it up with the higher-ups.”
“get out.”
“did you get enough sleep last night?” he tilts his head, feigning concern. “you’re being awfully rude about this.”
the way you narrow your eyes makes satoru wish he could see them glitter with crystallized tears, with his weight on top of you as he slides his tongue between your thighs—
you suck in a breath past pretty lips. “i’m not in the mood. yaga has me on the clock. please just give me this, gojo.”
please, you say, and it makes him smile smugly. satoru loves hearing it (although he’d love hearing it beneath the dark of a particularly low-lit bedroom), but he needs more. needs your voice to wrap around his name like you own it.
“plead nicer. unfortunately for you, i’m in the mood.”
“fuck, no.”
he leans further back into your chair. “didn’t hear you. sorry?”
“satoru.”
there it is. sa-to-ru; just the way he likes.
on other days, even when you’re rendered all sheepish and embarrassed at one of his jokes, satoru just can’t get enough of the way you say his name.
this time, your tone dulls around the edges, always muttered under your breath in front of important people when he’s threatened to embarrass you with something he’s said — it’s soft and small and stern all at the same time, dancing through the air like warm fucking breeze in the winter. he just wishes you wouldn’t be so quiet about it; if the sorcerer had a choice, he’d have your voice on repeat.
he already does, in a way.
it’s why satoru’s taken to teasing you specifically whenever you have faculty meetings in front of the higher-ups, or whenever you’re particularly engrossed in a lesson with your students, just to see you when you’re caught off your game and a tiny bit upset.
satoru loves you when you’re pouting, loves when your lips press flat into a thin line or when the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, like you’ve got a retort on the tip of your sweet tongue but won’t let it slip for your own sake. so fucking considerate all the time.
you’re unbelievably gorgeous when you’re so composed.
and you let that sweet little breath of his name slip from your mouth when he’d push you a little too far during your class with your first years on reverse cursed technique. your eyes fixate on the ground, lips downturned, as satoru’d just gotten all of your students to laugh at a little jab towards your explaining methods.
“satoru.” you chastised in a small mumble, “let’s talk after my class, please.”
sa-to-ru.
god, that little whisper will be in his dreams tonight.
he’ll hear it over and over again and wish you’d mumbled it right against his earlobe, because no one else ever deserved to hear your voice like that.
“that’s awfully secretive, sensei. what’s so important that our beloved students can’t listen in on it, hm?” he knows what you’re getting at, of course.
but truthfully, he just wants to see your face contort with that fiery little expression, the same one he wanted to mouth at every inch of until nothing was left but pure bliss.
and satoru’s not shy about the way his heartbeat picks up when you nudge yourself a tiny bit closer, just to make sure he’s the only one who can hear what you say next. just so that your voice is only for him.
as it fucking should be.
the sorcerer’s hand just about brushes your hip, and save him if it isn’t taking everything in him to make sure he doesn’t grab you and pull you into his side like he has the right to do so.
“i don’t want my beloved students to hear me threaten to kill their sensei right here,” oh. satoru’s mind goes deliciously numb.
he grins, the edge of his mouth upturning slowly. “i’d love to see you try.”
you frown a tiny bit more.
“what exactly do you get out of pissing me off all the time?”
well.
⭑.ᐟ
satoru knows well enough that he adores your voice when it’s wrapped around his name.
but he’s decided that he loves it best when it’s completely breaking, paired with the gorgeously suffocating feeling of the skin of your thighs pressed into his fingertips and wrapped around his lips.
he loves when his name is exhaled, high-pitched and whiny like sugar, while his tongue paints a stripe across the wetness coating your lips, swirling circles around your pretty clit.
maybe he liked it the most because it’s how he’s always wanted to hear you say his name — it’s just that you’d always been too fucking stubborn, so insistent on hating him that you’d never stop to think how good you’d taste coating his mouth with your slick.
“sa-ah-toru,” you keen as satoru’s tongue dips past the edge of your soaked hole, curling inwards deliciously, moving slow like he’s savoring every fucking drop.
god, he’s hungry — but he’ll die if he goes too quick and can’t taste you ever again.
and if he grips the back of your thighs just a little bit harder when you sing his name like that? he simply can’t help it. he waited too long for this.
sa-to-ru.
you taste just as sweet as you sound.
you’d burst into his office this morning, bemoaning the fact that satoru hadn’t showed up to the previous briefing with principal yaga, of which ended with yaga blaming it on you. you’re bursting with rage, all up in his face, and it’s all a blur from there until your panties are hooked over your ankle, he’s getting on his knees in front of your office chair, wrapping your thighs over his shoulders, and lapping at your pretty cunt.
he hasn't gasped for air; he’s been too enveloped in your scent to care about breathing. he’ll devour you until no one else can. until all that pretty voice of yours knows how to sound out is sa-to-ru.
satoru narrows his tongue, bullying the muscle deep and slow, down to where you couldn’t have thought possible to reach. his eyes are hazy, half-lidded as you tug at his winter locks, shoving him further into your weeping pussy.
“mmph— fuck,” you pant out, eyes screwed shut as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you at a torturous pace. “fuck— gojo, ‘re going too slow—”
“hmm?” he hums into your clit, sending shockwaves straight up from your core. the sorcerer’s gaze meets yours from under the glimpse of your tits beneath your unbuttoned polo.
he loves you composed, he really does — but you look perfect when you’re all messy, just for him.
his lips glisten with your wetness as he grins. “i'll go faster if you say my name properly, beautiful.”
“h—huh?” your words trail off into a candied whine as he pads his finger just against your entrance, smearing the wetness that covers your folds and popping it into his mouth.
you’re so sweet. fuck, why are you so sweet?
“say my name.” he repeats, his voice cheerful yet rough, the tiniest bit of grit around the edge. “remind me how much you love me, gorgeous.”
your eyes still manage to narrow, even as they glitter with needy frustration. “fuck you— mmh!”
satoru simply frowns against the inside of your thigh as he abruptly bullies the first inch of his finger past your entrance, hissing at how tightly your walls were clamping down on him. his mind goes blurry, swirling with thoughts of how delectable you’d look with your thighs around his hips, bullied open and clamping like a vice down on his cock—
he pulls his finger out with a shudder, cooing at the little pout that forms on your lips. “poor baby. if you can’t handle it, you know, we can stop here. if you want.”
“w— what?” you breathe out, eyes wide and glossy like the thought was insulting. “no, please — please, need you, satoru…”
sa-to-ru.
and you’ve drawn out that last syllable like you want him dead.
“again, sorry?”
“satoru!” you squeal impatiently, and he obliged, simply because he’d never say no to you when you sound like that.
the white-haired man groans, biting down on the inside of your thigh and relishing in the way it makes you whine, all high-pitched and finally sweet on him.
his fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out and moulding you to shape around his skin. you’re dripping down his palm, and satoru’s mesmerized by the sheen of slick that coats his hand as he pounds his fingers in and out of you steadily.
“shit— so pretty here for me, huh?” satoru whispers reverently, as if speaking directly to your pussy and not to you. “just as sweet as that mouth of yours. just as tight too.”
your hands are making a home for themselves in his hair, hips chasing his thick fingers, grinding yourself further into them like he wasn’t deep enough already. your perfect fucking voice isn’t helping the sorcerer’s case either — he swears he loses every semblance of control he has, bit by bit, at each breath of his name leaving your lips, garbled and slurred and destroyed.
“s’toru, satoru,” your mouth drops open, eyes screwing shut as he curls his fingers right into that spongy spot, office chair creaking as your body slumps back into it. “it’s so— fuck, ‘ts so—”
he laughs breathlessly. “yes, gorgeous?”
“it’s so— oh!”
satoru cherishes everything you have to say, he swears he does.
but he also cherishes the way your lips look, all glossed with drool pooling at the corners, when he leans forward and circles his tongue over your clit in mean little motions, lapping at the sensitive skin in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers. you’re a whining, squirming mess — struggling to stay upright, thoroughly desecrated on the office chair you’d chewed him out just weeks ago for stealing.
satoru hisses as your fingertips tug at his locks, so fucking drunk on the taste of your soaked cunt amidst the lewd sound of his fingers slapping against your sex.
“listen to that,” he rasps out, pausing to let the squelch of your pussy speak for itself before laughing dazedly against your clit. “she’s screaming my name too, isn’t she? so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you?”
your bleary gaze peeks down at him, eyes questioning amidst the pleasure. “s—satoru, you asshole, stop talking to my— mmh!”
before you can protest, his mouth is diving back in. soft lips latch around your clit, and satoru’s painfully hard at the sound of your voice cracking around the syllables of his name, your throat thick with pleasure at the overstimulation. he doesn’t let up; the white-haired man sucks harder at the sensitive bud, all while scissoring his fingers deep inside of you as if mapping you out.
for when his dick goes inside you, of course.
“it’s t—too much,” you complain in a mewl, eyes blurry with forming tears, “satoru, please, please, ‘m so—”
“fuck, take it, gorgeous,” satoru gasps out against your pussy, lips drenched in your taste. “keep talking to me — shit, you’re tight — let it all out for me, okay?”
satoru’s mind had blanked out a long time ago. between the way your lips form his name in one strung out moan, and the way you taste sweeter than any candy he could’ve ever asked for, he’s starting to wonder if he’d died and gone to heaven.
your voice tangles with the filthy squelches that resound through the cramped space of your office, and he swears nothing could ever be better than this.
except for the way you sound saying his name while you cum.
“i’m— i’m—” you gasp, and satoru takes that as a sign to clamp his lips around your clit and suck, curling his fingers up against your g-spot until — “satoru!”
he’s never heard anything so perfect before. his gaze flicks upwards as you orgasm, watching the way your face scrunches up as your cunt tightens unbearably around every inch of his fingers. satoru’s transfixed by your stupid voice, something out of a porno curated by an angel, and if he’s hoping he’s ruined you with his fingers alone, you’ve ruined him with just the sound of your voice breaking.
your breaths are heavy as you come down from the high; soft and warm, sound waves radiating off of you like sunlight. satoru presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, and you finally peer down at him.
“still mad at me?” the sorcerer grins.
your eyes narrow as soon as you’re back to life. “yes. yaga chewed me out for something that wasn’t even my fault, satoru.”
sa-to-ru. the white-haired man pauses against your inner thigh, raising an eyebrow up at you with something hungry in his eyes. because as soon as you say his name, he decides he’s not fucking done with you yet.
“i’m sorry, gorgeous,” satoru mumbles, giving you a faux-apologetic glance before mischievously pressing a kiss to your clit, watching how your eyes widen. “i guess I’ll just keep going until you forgive me.”
“w—wait!”
satoru gojo really likes the way you say his name.
and he’ll keep making you say it until you know it too.
campus heartthrob and resident fuckboy GOJO SATORU shocks everyone by going exclusive with you
gojo satoru settling down was as unlikely as catching the hour hand of a clock moving.
notorious for being a lady's man , he had it all going for him. he was all bedroom eyes and cheesy smiles that can make anyone's knees go weak. he was full of loud laughter and nonchalant swagger.
like he didn't give a damn.
cigars for breakfast, skipping lunch to attend classes if he felt so, hard liquor with his frat boys and a different woman in his bed at night—for dinner of course.
he had the face, he had the body, he had the charisma. none could blame the poor souls who wanted a taste, even for just one night.
and satoru. oh. satoru was just a guy. who was he to turn away the beautiful ladies? he didn't chase after them, it was just his luck that they came to him first.
then he caught his first glimpse of you. at his party, looking so out of place that made his eyes zero in on you. not even a cup in your hands. looking so good that it made him want to do something bad.
so he slid up to your side with his usual confidence. started a conversation he could hardly care about. and ultimately, was shocked into silence when you hit him with a "sorry, that pea in your bed is going to bruise my back".
rejected him.
rejected him.
and thus began satoru's chase. the chase for your heart.
the local campus gossip forum ruminated , 'the heartthrob, gojo, has been caught getting rejected by unknown woman. the university has since, seen a rise in the number of women left unsatisfied as gojo's bedroom door has been closed for shocking reason. is a reform on the way? is exclusivity on the horizon? '
heads turned as the usually absent satoru was seen attending classes almost to the point of regularity.
gasps rang out when someone leaked a picture of him handing you flowers. red. roses.
so awfully cliche that you couldn't even blame your past self for the disgust on your face in the aforementioned leaked picture.
women raged when a video of him begging you while chasing after you on the sidewalk surfaced in the stories of satoru's frat bro's.
the man who was known for being as careless with his words as people are with their phones after a year, was suddenly mindful of his vocabulary.
when before, smirks and winks were handed out to the girls so easily—now they were reserved just for you it seemed.
and the crazy part of it all? you made him run. you made him grovel. you made him fix his failing grades. made him fix his fillipiant attitude.
and made him take 2 hiv tests.
made him give a damn.
but you couldn't change his cliché-ness. he was a sappy romantic. he snuck candy in your stationery, climbed up your window ledge and left flowers in your hair when you weren't paying attention to him.
he even started gifting you books which you had talked about in that first meeting. at the frat party. and that was when you caved in. not enough to let him in your bed. but enough to go out with him.
the frat boys tripped over themselves when they caught satoru in a white formal shirt and black slacks. a red rose in his pocket. the picture of a lover boy. the change was not sudden, he had been chasing after you for months . but it was shocking nonetheless.
and satoru. oh. satoru was in love. the goodness tasted way better on his tongue than cigar smoke. your perfume on his clothes smelled better than nightly sex.
and your hand in his made his heart race faster than any orgasm he had ever had.
he never imagined himself to be tamed by a woman. yet here he was. and he had no regrets.
not when people all around him gaped at your fingers scratching the hair at his nape.
not when his boys hollered at the tattoo of your name over his heart.
and certainly not when you finally let him in your bed.
he still had a long way to go though. to prove that he was there to stay. to prove that he was exclusive to you.
so as he lay stroking your back as you slept on his chest, he planned the perfect little outing to take you on the next day. (and ways to woo you so that you would invite him to your bed again)
❥ olderbf!kuna sees you without makeup for the first time (cw: shyinsecure!reader)
you were standing outside of your boyfriend’s apartment, waiting patiently, you held onto the strap of your overnight bag with so much emotion.
it’s your first time spending the night at his place. you hear his footsteps get closer. you anxiously take out your phone and get a quick good look at your appearance, i mean, you might lose your virginity tonight?
shit.
you’re completely barefaced. not even a coat of mascara. you look like a complete mess.
before you could dig something out of your bag. sukuna was towering over you. “hey” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitched at the sight of you.
you don’t speak at first—you don’t even look him in the eye, your eyes glue themselves to the ground.
the shame and embarrassment you felt burned. it felt like your face was on fire. so many thoughts kept crossing your mind.
would your boyfriend still have feelings for you if he knew how you really looked?
would he still be attracted to you if he saw your body bare.
would he still hug and kiss you?
would he still find you beautiful?
would he even want to be around you if he saw all your imperfections?
would ryomen sukuna still love you if he saw you..?
you nervously chewed at your bottom lip, blood threatened to show.
“brat.” he lifts up your chin. “why are you hiding your face from me. what’s the matter?”
your eyes fill with salty tears that threaten to fall at any moment “i- can’t you see? i’m n-not pretty.” your eyes still don’t meet his.
sukuna felt his heart drop all the way down to his feet. you don’t think your beautiful?
how could you not see the beauty you carry within yourself?
you’re the most precious thing to him ever.
you’re his pretty girl.
“is that what this is about? sweetheart c’mon” he pulls you inside, flush against him, your face presses against his broad chest, his palms rub soothing circles on your hips. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry— sniffle— you have to see me like this.” your fingers clutch onto the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
your warm tears seep through. soaking the fabric.
“stop apologizing and look at me, let me see your face.” you slowly lift your head up, fully staring into his red irises.
“you are so incredibly precious to me, it pains me to know you feel that way about yourself—how can you not see the beauty in yourself ?” his thumb gently caresses your face, wiping all those sad tears away.
“and ‘m not the only who sees it y’know? you got no idea how many stares you get from everyone around you.” he smirks “just the other day that guy was hittin’ on you thinkin’ he stood a chance tch.” you give him a sweet smile, tugging him closer. “you really should be more cocky.” he pokes your cheek.
“thank you ryo. i’m sorry if this upset you, or caused you any trouble.” you mumbled quietly.
“you just keep on apologizing? you sure are a damn pathetic brat” he laughs mockingly, ruffling the top of your hair.
you smile, burying your face into his chest. “don’t make fun of me kuna!”
pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive
to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.
he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.
your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?
"what? i literally look-"
his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.
you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"
he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.
he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."
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