𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ୨ৎ 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 ୨ৎ 𝓈𝒽𝑒/𝒽𝑒𝓇 ୨ৎ 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒶𝓃 ୨ৎ 𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸 ୨ৎ 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 જ⁀➴
𝐹𝒪𝑅𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅 𝒜 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒢𝐼𝑅𝐿
𝙄𝙛 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨, 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
will byers stan first human second
d e v o n
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

⁂
Xuebing Du

Love Begins

roma★
sheepfilms
Three Goblin Art
Game of Thrones Daily

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
trying on a metaphor
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Product Placement
occasionally subtle

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands

seen from Austria

seen from Nigeria

seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Czechia

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Brunei
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
@loveofagirl
𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ୨ৎ 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 ୨ৎ 𝓈𝒽𝑒/𝒽𝑒𝓇 ୨ৎ 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒶𝒶𝓃 ୨ৎ 𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸 ୨ৎ 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 જ⁀➴
𝐹𝒪𝑅𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅 𝒜 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒢𝐼𝑅𝐿
𝙄𝙛 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨, 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
A Quiet Need
Need this! Sammie moore x reader
The drive home was dead silent.
No music. No TikTok playin in the background. Nothing but the low hum of the engine and the sound of your nails tapping against the steering wheel every couple seconds.
Your jaw stayed tight the whole ride. That lady at your job had pissed you clean off today.
Every single time she messed something up, somehow it ended up on you to fix it. Like you supposed to magically pull answers out your ass or somethin. Half the time she didn’t even care to explain stuff right, then got the nerve to stand over your shoulder asking questions while you fix her mistakes.
“Can you hurry up with that?”
“Did you call them back yet?”
“I thought you already handled it.”
Handled what? You didn’t even know it existed till five minutes ago. You smacked the steering wheel lightly at the red light, sucking your teeth.
Then the phone buzzed again in the cupholder. Her. Of course.
You ignored the message. Just flipped the phone over face down and kept driving through the city streets while the orange streetlights flashed across your windshield.
Your head hurt.
Feet hurt.
Back hurt.
And the worst part was you still had to get up and do the same exact thing tomorrow like bills wasn’t waiting on nobody.
By the time you pulled into the apartment complex parking lot, you just sat there for a second with the car still running, staring straight ahead.
Too mad to cry.
Too tired to keep being angry.
Sammie always said he ain’t like you working.
Not because he thought you was lazy. Not because he ain’t respect you. He just felt like if he had it, then you had it too. In his mind, you stressing over bills while he was around made him feel like he wasn’t doing enough.
“You not supposed to be paying for nothing,” he told you one night after catching you trying to send him money for groceries. “That’s my job.”
And maybe on a regular day you woulda rolled your eyes at it. Told him he sounded old fashioned. Told him you could handle yourself.
But after the day you just had? You understood exactly why he said it.
When you walked into the apartment, the TV light flickered across the dark living room. Some basketball game played loud through the speakers while Sammie sat stretched across the couch, headset on, one leg hanging off the edge while the other rested bent beside him.
Comfortable.
Relaxed.
The complete opposite of you.
You kicked your heels off by the door with a tired sigh, rubbing the back of your ankle before dropping your purse onto the kitchen counter.
Sammie ain’t even notice you yet. Too locked into whatever his friend was yelling in the headset.
“Pass the ball, stupid ass”
You walked over without saying a word.
Then wrapped your arms around his neck from behind.
The movement shifted his headset a little. He grabbed one side, turning his head enough to see you.
Instant smile.
“Damn, there she go..”
But it faded some when he really looked at your face.
Then the way you was holding onto him.
Heavy.
Not clingy. Not playful. Just tired.
His hand came up slow, resting over your forearm where it laid across his chest.
“What happened?” he asked quieter this time.
“Dumbass boss,” you muttered, eyes closing while you let your weight sink against his shoulder.
He hummed softly like he already knew that was the answer before you even opened your mouth. His head leaned back against yours for a second while his thumb rubbed slow against your arm.
“Told you quit that damn job, girl.”
Your eyes rolled instantly, irritation slipping through the exhaustion.
“Well, boy, I got bills.”
That made him reach up and pull the headset off completely. A second later the game clicked off too, leaving the apartment quiet except for the faint noise of traffic outside.
He turned a little on the couch so he could look up at you better.
“No, lil girl,” he said calmly, grabbing your hand and pulling you around the couch toward him. “We got bills.”
The words hit different coming from him.
Not controlling. Not throwing money in your face. Just matter-of-fact. Like he really meant it.
Sammie pulled you down sideways onto the couch against his chest, one hand spreading across your back while the other rubbed up and down your thigh slow.
“I’ll pay every last one of ‘em if it mean I don’t gotta see you come home lookin like this every day.”
Your face pressed deeper into his shoulder without thinking.
Cause truthfully?
You ain’t even realize how close you was to crying till he said that.
Your lip started pouting before he could even say something back. Then tears started dropping.
Sammie eyes widened immediately.
“Aw, baby” he drug out slow.
He sat up careful, arms tightening around you before he picked you up easy and settled you onto his lap. One hand rubbed up your back while the other held your waist steady.
He pecked your lips quick.
“Baby, stop cryin.”
You shook your head hard, trying to wipe your face but more tears kept coming.
“I’m tired,” you whispered brokenly.
Sammie sighed deep through his nose, clearly trying not to let a million “I told you so’s” slip out right now.
“I know, mama. I know.”
His hand slid under your chin, lifting your head gently till you looked at him. His expression softened instantly seeing how drained you looked.
“But you know I don’t like you cryin either.”
He kissed you once.
“We can figure it out.”
Another kiss.
Your eyes closed automatically, your breathing slowing while his thumb stroked your cheek.
“You gone quit that job.”
Another kiss this time deeper, rougher, making your fingers tighten slightly in his shirt.
“And you gone be happy.” A smack landed against your ass, making you jump a little before his hand settled there rubbing over the spot right after.
-
I have Long days at work and a toxic man yall please I need this soon.
i wanna write but i have like nooo motivation for anything
Even though he would never trade your relationship for anything, the day Rugby!Simon proposed was not his proudest moment.
Put him in front of a thousand flashing cameras that will have his face plastered on every global sports news outlet and the most intense thing he'll feel is a simmering irritation. But the feeling of that little black box sitting in his hand makes his vision start to vignette if he thinks about it too much.
(It's so small, sitting in his hand, the ring inside even smaller. Yet the weight of it, the image of it on your hand, is immeasurable.)
The day he finally decides to ask you was the product of months of agonizing over it. Should he just hand the box to you? Just ask, not even include the ring? Fuck if he knows. He never thought he'd get this far, never thought he'd find you in any lifetime let alone this one.
He's not sure he actually makes a decision, but he finds himself picking a random day on one of the morning walks you take together when the weather allows.
Simon has been so caught up in his head that he doesn't realize how weird he's been acting all day, weirder than usual at least. He especially doesn't notice the worried looks you've been shooting him.
He's spoken maybe one complete sentence all morning and has maybe blinked twice, his mind fully anchored on the black box shoved in the recesses of his pocket.
He walks beside you rigid as an ironing board, marching like he's going to war. Eventually, you hover your hand over his arm, slowing to a stop.
"Si, are you oka--"
"I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore."
Silence.
"W-what?" He can barely hear you over his pulse thundering in his ears. It's the tone of your voice that truly reaches him. Small, a little scared. It churns his gut even more and there is a moment when he's genuinely concerned he might actually hurl.
"No. I mean--" He curses so low under his breath all you hear is him growling like a dog at himself.
He turns his back to you, hands fumbling in his jacket pocket. The box gets stuck and he's there flailing around, nearly ripping his jacket trying to get the bastard thing out.
And when he turns back around, sees your precious face, sees the woman whose side he never wants to leave, he drops to his knees.
Not the one. Both of them.
He doesn't realize.
Simon opens the box so fast he nearly tears the lid clean off. The ring that has been haunting him for months glinting from the cushion inside. He looks up at you with his huge brown eyes, more anxiety in them than you've ever seen. His dry throat clicks when he swallows. His mouth opens and all he can get out is:
"Please?"
Looking back on it, Simon has absolutely no idea why you agreed to marry him after that display. But every day he sees that ring on your finger, sees the one tattooed on his, he is overcome with the certainty that he'd go through every pain and misery in his life all over again if it meant that he could call you his wife.
➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
✧.* CHAPTER 6 || The More The Merrier
[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, smut, & fluff.
[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.3k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
——"SUCH A GOOD FUCKIN' SLUT," Geto groaned out to you, voice slightly strained and laced with raspiness.
The man is just perfect right now. You're in his apartment now, sitting prettily right in between Geto's muscular thighs. He couldn't even make it to his damn bedroom, he dragged you into the living room and started undoing his belt before you could even process anything.
So I can come back to this
⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. you’re kento nanami’s crazy wife . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹
tags :
@ydkobitoo @gloryyofthesnow @in-aa @elenathriel @elixoq @bl0g-d0ll @monacosprince @aschwppes @sweetpea-jay @rllyobsessedgirlie @nyanglock @onlyfanfictasies @jasminelee324 @aikuute @tojisoneandonly1 @miy0risworld @palanggaa @eloise-doukakis @meinaserenade @itswhoo @gahh346951t7 @chososleftnip @toesucker59 @reyna-notbeomgyu @mangothegiant @itzeeeee @kociluvsatoru @whispersofrealms @satorugojo-is-hot @ag-zio @getosuguwife @pjselee @chickyyy511
He’s so cute
𝜗𝜚 you're only supposed to be doing your job as he requested- but what happens when it turns out that trueform!Sukuna is actually… a slut for praise?
more like this
ೃ࿔*:・
The sharp smell of the ointment ordered freshly from the mortar and pestles of the nearby apothecary cleaves through the humid air of the room, steam curling upwards from heated water to dampen the ends of your hair and lap at soft, naked skin.
Silks lie in a pool at your bare feet, dropped to the floor at Sukuna’s request- you assume the King of Curses doesn’t enjoy being the only naked one, even if the steam hides his hulking body mostly from view. And even if you've seen it all before.
Your palms tremble as you dip into the ointment again, the cooling sensation doing nothing to quell the nervous beating of your heart. You’ve touched him before, in more intimate places than just his back, but this feels different somehow.
Maybe it’s the way you’re the one touching him as you see fit, and not the other way around. Maybe it’s the clear imbalance between your job title and the actions of current.
As a concubine, perhaps this is not your intended position. Perhaps the men and the elderly councillors they represent would prefer you to remain as is, hidden away inside rose scented corners, as a body wrapped in silk, while a trained maid takes care of this. But you were requested specifically- as always.
18+. minors dni. rue bennett definitely has the sort of strap game that has you face down sobbing into the bed— especially if you were mouthing off to her before? she’s mean enough to make you work for it, watches you bounce yourself back onto her dick. she leans down, chest pressed against your back only to murmur “yeah, see? there you go. good girl, show me you fuckin’ want it.” she lets out a cocky, airy laugh when you whine out daddy. “feels good, huh, baby? you like that shit?” you can only respond with a whiny sob when her arm finds its way around your neck.
“whiny little mess— so fucking mean before, but now i’m daddy. too fuckin’ easy, baby.” she always starts to ramble when she’s fucking you, talks filth into your ear relentlessly. it does nothing but make you clench around her strap. “shouldn’t even be giving it t’you right now, fuckin’ brat.” you cry out when she crooks her hips in a way that lets her get impossibly deeper in you, your hands grabbing at the arm around your neck. “i’m sorry, daddy, ‘m sorry— gonna be better, i promise,” you babble. it’s bullshit— you and her both know it. it’s why she loves this, though. getting to watch you curse her out and jab your little fingers at her chest… all while knowing she gets to fuck the attitude out of you once you’re done bitching at her.
Megan cooked for that man’s family, spent holidays with him, brought his favorite artists out for his birthday, bought a house with the man, expensive gifts, had him in such good graces with female fans bases—
JUST TO CHEAT. NOW KLAY THOMPSON IS PUBLIC ENEMY #1
#MADASF!!!
➽────── gojo…is down horrendously. ──────❥
access the verse here!!
gojo does not handle the rejection well.
he's slumped across the couch in the frat house the following morning, one arm draped over his eyes, the other dangling off to the side, phone lighting up beside him every few seconds because he keeps unlocking it for no reason.
there's nothing on it. nothing he cares about, anyway.
no new notifications from you, no mysterious appearance of your contact, no divine intervention.
just the same empty screen, again. and again. and again.
he hasn’t moved in ten minutes.
“he’s dead,” toji says from the kitchen, pouring himself coffee like this is a normal tuesday.
“tragic,” geto replies, scrolling on his phone. “cause of death?”
“ego collapse,” toji says.
gojo groans into the cushion. “i can hear you.”
“good,” toji says. “then hear this. she’s not into you.”
gojo lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “i just need to see her again.”
"she's not into you, bro," toji says flatly. "how many times do i have to say it?"
“you watched one conversation. i have plenty of time for redemption.”
“you introduced yourself like an idiot,” geto shrugs. "good luck."
"i didn't introduce myself properly," gojo snaps. "that's the problem."
"oh, sorry," toji deadpans. "you announced yourself."
gojo throws a pillow at him.
right then, choso comes down the stairs, already dressed. "i'm going to my girlfriend's," he says quietly, pulling on his shoes.
three heads turn, and gojo stands up so fast it's almost alarming. "is y/n gonna be there?"
choso hesitates. "maybe? she was there when i texted this morning."
gojo's already halfway across the room. "i'm coming."
"no you're not," toji says immediately.
"yes i am."
"you're not invited," geto adds.
"i'll be quiet," gojo insists. "i'll be normal."
toji laughs. "you don't know how to do either of those things, dumbass."
gojo ignores him, already grabbing his coat. "choso. please."
choso blinks at him, stuck between concern and confusion. "i don't know if that's—"
"please," gojo repeats, hands clasped together. "i'll do anything."
"anything?" geto asks, delighted.
gojo shoots him a look. "not you, you dumb fuck."
"...i don't know if that's a good idea," choso says carefully.
"i'll sit in a corner. i won't speak unless spoken to. i'll—"
"that's a lie," toji cuts in.
"i'll try," gojo says, desperate now. "just let me come."
choso looks at him and sighs, grabbing his keys. "...fine."
twenty minutes later, gojo is standing outside the apartment door trying to look normal.
he fails immediately. he runs a hand through his hair. fixes his shirt. checks his reflection in the black screen of his phone. wipes his hands on his jeans.
“relax,” choso mutters, knocking.
“i am relaxed,” gojo says, voice too tight.
the door swings open and choso’s girlfriend beams. “hi, cho!”
then her eyes flick to gojo. her smile widens, just a little too knowingly. “oh,” she says. “hey!”
“hey,” he says, suddenly very aware of his posture, his face, his entire existence. she steps aside to let them in, then glances over her shoulder toward the living room and smirks.
“y/n, you have a visitor,” she sing-songs.
gojo follows her gaze to where you’re on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone.
your eyes land on gojo. there’s a beat, and your expression flattens in real time. "...oh."
you glance at your friend who's already watching you like she’s about to enjoy this.
you roll your eyes. hard.
“hey,” gojo says, trying for casual and landing somewhere near painfully obvious. “funny running into you again.”
“you followed your friend to his girlfriend's apartment,” you say. “this isn't a coincidence.”
choso’s girlfriend snorts and disappears into the kitchen, holding choso's hand, before she gets dragged into it.
traitor.
gojo hovers awkwardly for a second before sitting on the edge of the couch, leaving a respectful gap between you.
you don’t look at him again.
he waits, and waits. “...so,” he starts.
“so,” you echo, still scrolling.
“you left early.”
“i had stuff to do.”
he shifts awkwardly. “you could’ve said bye.”
you glance up, unimpressed. “to who.”
him.
he swallows. “to people.”
“i said bye to people i wanted to say bye to.”
ouch.
from the kitchen, there’s a muffled choking sound that is definitely choso’s girlfriend laughing into her hand.
“you’re mean in the morning too, huh,” he mutters.
“you showed up uninvited,” you reply calmly. “what did you expect, a welcome basket?”
he exhales softly. “can i make it up to you?”
you finally look at him properly, eyes a little cold and unblinking. “make what up to me?”
“last night,” he says. “i sounded like an idiot. i—i can do better.”
“was that you trying?”
“no,” he says quickly. “last night was a rough draft.”
you stare at him for a second then look back to your phone. “nice.”
he smiles despite himself. “can i get a second draft?”
“convincing pitch,” you say dryly.
he leans forward slightly, earnest. “just give me, like, one chance to not be that guy.”
“i’m good.”
gojo sits there, blinking like he got hit with cold water. “do you—uh—have instagram?”
“no.”
“no like, you don’t have it? or—”
“no, i’m not giving it to you.”
he winces. “your number?”
“no.”
“snap?”
“no.”
“email?”
you stare at him. “are you serious right now?”
“i’m being thorough.”
“you’re being annoying.”
“i can be less annoying if you give me one of them.”
“or,” you say, “you could be less annoying by leaving me alone.”
he runs a hand down his face. “listen, i—i just wanna see you again.”
“you’re seeing me right now,” you deadpan.
“give me a chance?”
“no.” you shut your eyes like his presence alone is a nuisance and grab your bag, standing up. “i’m leaving.”
gojo straightens instantly. “what? why?”
“because i have things to do and you’re giving me a headache.” you give your friend a quick thanks and wave bye to choso, heading for the door.
“i’ll walk you,” gojo says.
“you don’t need to.”
“i want to.”
“i don’t want you to.”
“i’m going to anyway.”
you stare at him. he stares back, smiling widely.
so annoying.
you roll your eyes again and he follows immediately as you walk out.
the elevator ride is quiet for exactly three seconds. “you sure i can’t get your number?”
“pretty sure.”
“just pretty sure?”
“entirely sure,” you correct, glaring at him.
"okay, but—just one thing," he tries again, hovering over you. "anything. please, i'll take anything."
"take the hint," you say.
"i'm ignoring the hint," gojo replies. "you're killing me, y/n."
“you’ll live.”
“i don’t think i will, actually.”
you press the button for the ground floor. “okay.”
when the doors ding you step out and he follows, walking beside you insistently. "one more chance," he tries.
"no."
"one coffee."
"no."
“if i give up, will you at least feel bad?”
“no.”
“wow.”
you keep walking, he keeps pace. “okay, new deal,” he says quickly. “if you give me your instagram, i will shut up. completely. never bother you again.”
you stop and turn, something flickering across your face. “you swear?” you ask.
“swear,” he says immediately.
you study him for one long second then sigh.
“fine,” you mutter, pulling out your phone. “if i give you my instagram, you'll shut up?”
his face lights up. "yes."
"completely?"
"completely."
"no talking?"
"silent," he vows.
"forever?"
"i mean—"
your eyes narrow and he backtracks, stammering. "yes. yes, forever, silent."
you recite your handle. "...yeah. and there's an underscore there."
he types it in carefully, nearly fumbling his own phone as he pulls it out.
"thank you," he says quietly, ducking his head down.
you turn to leave, and you barely make it four steps.
“…hi,” he calls after you.
you stop, slowly turn your head.
he smiles sheepishly. “i lied. you know i can't stay silent.”
you give him a last look before turning around.
he stands there for a second after you disappear out the building doors, like his brain needs a moment to catch up to what just happened. he looks down at your instagram, where his follow request is pending. you've got a private account.
your instagram is right there. literally right there.
“…holy shit,” he breathes. he practically floats back to the elevator, his whole body buzzing in excitement. eventually he stumbles out, makes it back down the hall, and pushes choso's girlfriend's apartment door open with energy.
she takes one look at his face and immediately starts smiling. “oh my god.”
“i got it,” gojo says, absolutely giddy. “i got it.”
“you’re glowing,” she laughs, shutting the door behind him.
he doesn’t even respond to that, just drops straight onto the couch, sprawled out, holding his phone up like it’s sacred scripture. “i got her instagram,” he repeats, to no one and everyone at the same time.
choso, standing nearby, blinks at him slowly. “…okay.”
“no, like—” gojo sits up, shoving the phone toward him. “look.”
choso leans back slightly like the phone might explode. “i believe you.”
“she gave it to me,” gojo insists, like this is the part that matters most.
“after you begged?” choso’s girlfriend asks sweetly.
“i did not beg,” gojo says immediately. “i negotiated.”
choso’s girlfriend raises a brow. “mm. what were the terms of this negotiation?”
“she said if she gave me her instagram, i had to shut up.”
choso actually laughs. "gojo, i just don't think she likes you."
"she hates me," he says fondly, hearts radiating out of his eyes as he leans back onto the couch. "she hates me so much."
eventually, even gojo runs out of reasons to sit there refreshing the same screen like it owes him something. he pushes himself up off the couch, stretching once, phone still glued to his hand. “alright, i’m gonna head back.”
choso nods, already half-turned toward his girlfriend. “yeah, okay.”
there’s a pause, then choso clears his throat, not looking at him. “i’ll… stay a bit longer.”
his girlfriend immediately bites back a smile.
gojo looks between them once. “…oh,” he says.
choso goes a little red, his girlfriend giggles.
gojo lifts both hands. “no, yeah. stay. absolutely. take your time. take…all the time..” he’s already halfway to the door, shaking his head with a grin. “have fun. be safe. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.”
“that’s not a high bar,” she calls after him.
“it’s a respectable bar,” he shoots back, already slipping out.
the second he pushes the door to the frat house open he's announcing triumphantly, "i got it!"
toji, sprawled across the couch, doesn’t even look up. “you got what.”
“her instagram,” gojo says.
that gets geto’s attention immediately. “she gave it to you?” he asks, brows lifting.
“yeah,” gojo says, already grinning again. “obviously.”
toji snorts. “that was fast.”
“i told you,” gojo shoots back, dropping onto the armchair this time, leaning back like he just won something. “i said i’d see her again.”
geto hums, watching him carefully. “and?”
“and nothing,” gojo says, waving a hand. “we talked. she insulted me like five times. it was great.”
toji finally glances over. “you’re smiling.”
gojo immediately wipes it off his face. “i’m not.”
“you are.”
“i’m not,” he insists, failing completely because the smile is already creeping back.
geto laughs quietly. “did she seem thrilled about giving it to you?”
gojo drops onto the couch, restless. “she told me to shut up.”
“romantic,” toji mutters.
"w—wait." gojo sits up so fast he almost drops his phone. “she accepted.”
geto raises a brow. “already?”
“don’t say ‘already’ like it hasn’t been the longest wait of my life,” gojo snaps, but there’s no bite to it. he’s already tapping into your profile.
your page loads and gojo's eyes scan it slowly, taking in every detail like he’s afraid he’ll miss something. “…holy shit,” he breathes.
geto leans over slightly. “what.”
gojo doesn’t respond. he scrolls, one post to another. there aren't many, but every single one hits him like a punch to the chest. you're laughing on one, head tilted back, sunlight catching on your face.
gojo's never seen you laugh like that. you're beautiful.
you in another, dressed up, looking directly at the camera with that same unimpressed expression you gave him. you, blurry in motion in one photo, mid-step, still somehow perfect.
gojo just stares. “she's beautiful,” he mutters.
“let me see,” geto says, leaning closer.
gojo tilts the phone away immediately. “no.”
geto raises a brow. “why not.”
“because,” gojo says, already scrolling again.
“because what,” geto presses, leaning in anyway.
gojo angles the phone even further out of reach, twisting his body like he’s shielding classified information. “because you don’t need to see.”
toji finally sits up a little, interest piqued now. “oh, now we definitely need to see.”
“no, you don’t,” gojo says quickly, thumb still moving, eyes glued to the screen like he might miss something if he blinks.
geto tries to peek over his shoulder. “you’re acting weird.”
“i’m not acting weird.”
“you’re hunched over your phone like a dragon guarding treasure.”
“okay, first of all, dragons are cool,” gojo mutters. “second, back up.”
toji leans over the back of the couch, glancing down. “damn.”
gojo jerks the phone away instinctively. “don’t—”
“nah,” toji cuts in, already grinning. “she’s bad.”
“she’s not ‘bad,’” gojo snaps immediately. “don’t say it like that.”
geto pauses, eyebrow lifting. “like what.”
“like that,” gojo repeats, vaguely annoyed now. “just—don’t.”
toji smirks. “what, we’re not allowed to acknowledge she’s hot?”
"she's beautiful, okay? shut up."
geto watches him, something amused flickering in his expression. “interesting.”
gojo doesn't hear him. he's so lost in his little world, gazing at your pictures with a loopy grin. it’s not just that you’re pretty.
he exhales slowly, eyes never leaving his screen. “i like her,” he says finally.
toji groans immediately. “oh my god, we lost him.”
you don’t think about gojo the whole way home.
okay, maybe you think about him a little. it’s hard not to think about him after he begged for your instagram.
you sigh, dragging a hand over your face once you get to your apartment. “so irritating.”
your phone buzzes in your hand and you already know who it is.
other half: no way other half: NO way you gave it to him 😭
you roll your eyes, already typing.
you: i didn’t give it to him you: he begged
three dots immediately.
other half: mhm
you: shut up
you open instagram, purely for research purposes. you hesitate for half a second before opening his profile. “…oh.”
okay.
so.
this is what he looks like when he’s not standing in front of you being unbearable.
you scroll slowly. annoyingly slowly, because your brain is taking in details. he's good looking. stupidly good looking. unfairly so.
pictures with friends.
pictures at parties.
pictures where he’s clearly aware he looks good.
the comments are all the same, too. girls. so many girls. heart eyes, fire emojis, variations of 'marry me' and 'ur so fine'. you make a face.
other half: i knew it btw
you: knew what
other half: that you were into him
you: absolutely not
other half: you gave him your instagram
you: after he begged
other half: you could’ve said no
you: i DID say no
other half: and then you said yes
you: he was being annoying you: i wanted him to stop talking
other half: mhm other half: and now you’re on his profile
you freeze. “…she’s so nosy,” you mutter, immediately typing.
you: i’m not
other half: liar
you look down at his profile again, thumb hovering over one of his pictures. you zoom in slightly without thinking, onto his stupid face and stupid smile and stupid blue eyes.
you: he’s just you: objectively attractive you: it’s not that deep
other half: sure
you narrow your eyes at the screen.
you: i don’t like him
other half: okay
you: he’s arrogant
other half: mhm
you: and annoying
other half: mhm other half: he’s down bad btw
your brows pull together.
you: what
other half: like…bad bad other half: he came back here looking like he won the lottery
you blink.
something small and weird flickers in your chest.
you: that’s embarrassing
other half: for him, yes
you: good
you can't help but smile a little.
taglist <3 :
@your-nightmaredoll @eiaf4uwn @authortheclown @universalstarfly @candytoothless @maliciousmountainprophecy @hyperfixation-dot-gov @fallensoxul @ydkobitoo @cutiepie14 @pompomballsfromouterspace @just-moix @perfectly-myself23 @sluticzxtss @v4mp1r3b4tzz @wolf-monkey @kjovn @gloryyofthesnow @creamofsneky-blog @tojirin @undedin @valberryboos @notanimpokay @tsnataly @ssushi @frickpickle @glitt3rpuss @hannahzg8 @pinkmanz-grl @artbligh @tairyuu @luvs-angel @raendarkfaerie
scary dog privilege w/ megumi fushiguro | fluff tw: harassment ; violence (all very vague)
living in tokyo, you’ve grown accustomed to the nightly gauntlet of the lone commute via foot: unwanted stares, slurred “hey, cute girl,” and the occasional “come join us, yeah?” from men drifting along the sidewalks. aggravating to say the least, yet largely harmless—provided the pace stayed brisk and eye contact remained nonexistent.
most of it tapered off once megumi fushiguro started accompanying your walks. you chalked it up to the simple social logic that a male companion acts as a deterrent for drunks, opportunists and pervos alike. the thought never crossed your mind that megumi’s resting expression is actually terrifying to the average passerby; why would it? when your boy is nothing but soft sighs and gentle touches in private.
tonight, however, the walk back from the cinema is interrupted by a trio of men, loitering outside. crude comments are hurled your way, heedless of the fact that your boyfriend is right there beside you, your arm looped through his while his hands remain tucked in his pockets. and while megumi seems peeved, you both opt for silence, quickening your pace with the tacit agreement that confrontation isn't worth the energy.
“hey,” he says suddenly, stopping short in front of a familymart. he pulls a few bills from his wallet and presses them into your palm. “go get yourself something. i’m going to check the alley.”
you stare down at his hand, which is still covering yours. as if reluctant to let you go.
“…what for?”
a slight tilt of his chin indicates a dark, narrow gap wedged between two apartment buildings. “might be a nest of fly heads there. won’t take long to exorcise.”
-
by the time the cashier is bagging your chips and soda, the earlier unpleasantness has already begun to fade. it’s only a glance through the glass storefront that brings the memory rushing back. across the street, illuminated by the jaundiced glow of a streetlamp, stands that spiky-haired silhouette of the one you so adore. two men lying crumpled on the pavement, the third (made recognisable by the red sukajan) is attempting to crawl away as megumi advances with unnerving calm.
...oh. so nobara wasn’t exaggerating when she said megumi supposedly beat up bullies in his middle school.
geeked vs locked in twin
JJK P☆RN LINKS 5
CONTAINS: creampie, breeding, fingering, pussy eating, m!masturbation, f!masturbation, boob sucking, size difference, anal penetration, & squirting. p1 p2 p3 p4
SATORU GOJO
۶ৎ vid you sent him whild he's away
۶ৎ pussy slaps
۶ৎ fav meal
۶ৎ he loves it when u moan
۶ৎ he's a sucker for tits
KENTO NANAMI
۶ৎ bouncing on his cock
۶ৎ creampied so good that ur pussy was spasming
۶ৎ taking it like a good girl
۶ৎ prof nanami giving extra points?
۶ৎ nanami being the gentle guy he is
TOJI FUSHIGURO
۶ৎ anal fucking
۶ৎ bathroom sex
۶ৎ squirtfest
۶ৎ heavenly backshots
۶ৎ toji's how to finger 101
RYOMEN SUKUNA
۶ৎ pounding from behind
۶ৎ fingering b4 going out
۶ৎ daily breeding session
۶ৎ usual weekends
۶ৎ and he scored again
CHOSO KAMO
۶ৎ he couldn't wait till you guys got home
۶ৎ teasing
۶ৎ buried between your thighs n slurping
۶ৎ define wet
۶ৎ stroking his huge cock
tw : simon fucks you till you piss yourself.
your cunt gushes obscenely with every deep thrust of simon's hips, both of your arms behind your back with a single large hand of his.
his cock, heavy and pulsing inside of you, thumps against your cervix each time he humps your ass, sloshing around the old loads of his cum that he already dispensed within your pussy.
he has you on your knees, chest against the bed, your nipples stiff and dry from the constant stimulation. its painful, he's had you come several times around him, finding enterainment in the way you so easily can gush around him with a flick of his fingers on your clit.
"shiimon," you slur out, muffled in the sheets damp with your slick and tears and other fluids. simon stops his ruthless pounding on your cunt, opting for a harsh grind balls deep against your cervix, teasing the already battered and bruised tissue.
"tha's tha shit huh, baby?" he says lowly, almost out of breath. "enjoyin' yourself?"
you whine at his teasing, attempting to hide yourself into the ruined pillows before simon is slapping a heavy hand onto the sensitive flesh of your asscheek, already red with his hand print. he can be so mean sometimes.
you're not given a warning before simons laying his entire 250 pound pure hardened muscle of a body onto your much more sensitive and fragile one, screaming helplessly as the last inch of his cock that you always struggle to take slides in forcefully, pressing painfully against your cervix as if he was on a mission to break it and pass through into your womb.
if only.
with his body weight fully on top of you, youre given no choice but to go limp and flat against the mattress, your tummy and breasts digging into the material. simon lets out a throaty moan when your cunt squeezes around him, cock twitching upwards into what feels like must be your guts as you messily cum on his cock, your juices leaking out around him and creating an even bigger mess on his and your thighs.
"thats it girl, good girl," he praises, his hips tight against your ass. he leans down, his chest against your back so he can lay open-mouthed kisses against your earlobe, relishing in the way you shiver and attempt to squirm away from the overwhelming stimulation.
simon begins rocking his hips once more, slowly. feeling your walls open and close with every in and out of his movement. the peace is there for a moment, you're quiet and almost comatose from how good he's fucking you until simon becomes discontempt with your silence and hes angling his hips and pulling out until his tip is hardly inside of you and slamming back inside to the hilt.
its with the new angle that your back is forced to arch, pressure elevated to your lower tummy and as result your bladder.
its then that you begin to really panic. thrashing wildly and sobbing for simon to stop, clawing at his hand that is holding yours.
"s-simon! 'm gunna pee!" you cry, face hot as summer sun from pure embarrassment.
simon only scoffs, smiling lightly at your panicking. but he doesnt move. he instead uses his forearms to hold himself up, using his weight and slamming his hips against your ass with a lewd "plap plap plap".
youre wailing at this point. his ruthless thrusts force your tummy against the mattress, the immense pressure of his tip plunging against your cervix, proves to be too much for you. youve taken everything he's given you, letting him wear you like a fleshlight until youre nearly bursting at the seams, but this is too much.
"simon!" you warn one last time, sobbing and trying to push yourself upwards and away from him. with one final aimed thrust to your cervix, the dam breaks loose, your eyes rolling to the back to your head as you tremble and your muscle contract painfully as you cum once more, except instead the water isnt a small trickle and instead its a long stream of your piss.
simon just moans, long and loud, tipping his head back, continuing his thrusts. he flushes at the lewd sight of you twitching so cutely, pissing yourself from cumming too hard from his efforts.
he bites at his lips, humping weakly against you some more before hes pulling out, wet squelches audible as he pulls his engorged cock from the tight confines of your pussy. if you werent fucked nearly to the last inch of your life, you would feel the mattress dip underneath simons heavy weight as he shuffed towards your face, jerking his cock noisily over your face, his eyes glued to the puffiness of your eyes and cheeks, the wetness from your tears and the clear defeat in your bones, tipping him over the edge and at long last cursing your name as his cock spurts several hot ropes of his potent cum over your adorable face.
—cod masterlist.
Me next Simon!
♡ husband!satoru’s genes are just too strong ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
part 2
you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on your very obvious baby bump, the other clutching the newest ultrasound.
“i’m done,” you declare.
across the room, satoru pauses mid taking his shirt off. “done… with pregnancy? because i feel like that’s a little late.”
“with your genes,” you snap, glaring at the photo. “they’re ridiculous. actually unfair.”
he snorts, walking over. “nothing i can do about that, sweetheart.”
you shove the ultrasound toward him. “explain this.”
he looks at it, then at you. “…that is a baby.”
“that is you,” you correct immediately. “again. for the third time.”
he hums like he’s considering it. “we don’t know that.”
“we do,” you insist, growing more emotional by the second.
“we have two already, toru. two tiny versions of you running around with your face, your hair, your stupidly pretty eyes—what am i even contributing?!”
I giggled
fratboy!sukuna asking for kisses and hugs
+18. mdni. fem!reader. college au. fluff, smut. based on this post.
a/n. thank u so much for 2k followers! here's a little gift, I hope y'all like it <33
he does it so often it’s muscle memory at this point.
you could be on your way out of his room for your lecture—car keys in hand, already halfway to the hallway—when his voice cuts across his room where he is seated in front of his pc. he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“give me a kiss before you go.”
not can i get.
not come here.
just like you forgot something essential. like walking out without your phone. or without kissing him…right now.
you sigh, already turning around.
he doesn’t even look up from his screen until you’re right there, tilting your face up, and then he leans in—quick, satisfied—like there, that’s better. now you can leave.
he smirks, gaze turning back to his game. “i’ll pick you up later to grab lunch.”
you roll your eyes despite the thrumming of your heart as you walk out of his room.
you’re on the couch of his family home, legs tucked under you while you scroll on your phone, the tv playing something you’re not watching.
he drops beside you with a heavy thud, the entire cushion dipping toward him so you naturally slide into his side with one arm immediately hooking around your shoulders, dragging you into his side.
“c’mere, gorgeous,” he mutters, already pulling you against his chest. “give me a hug.”
“you’re literally already hugging me.”
“yeah,” he says, squeezing tighter anyway. “but you need to put your arms around me too.”
you giggle, hands sliding across his back as he sinks on the couch with you, going limp against you, letting out a long, grounded exhale like you’re a human weighted blanket.
you’re in the frat kitchen when he’s passing through on his way to grab a drink as you cook ramen for movie night, his movements lazy and loose-limbed. he pauses, opening the cap of his drink as he looks at you, eyes stopping on your cherry tainted lips. then holds eye contact.
“…kiss.”
you scoff, arching a brow. “that wasn’t even a sentence, ‘kuna.”
he waits, shrugging one shoulder as if to say the words are irrelevant because the outcome is inevitable because you end up leaning over the counter to peck his mouth.
“good,” he nods, the corners of his lips tugging up, like you just completed a task correctly, and keeps walking.
you watch him dumbfounded, not knowing whether you want to kiss him again or smack him across the face.
you’ve barely made it out of his room after a heated makeout session—your lips swollen, brain still foggy and very much late for your morning lecture—when he catches your wrist before you can escape.
he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking completely unbothered by the chaos of your schedule.
“hey,” he rasps, tugging your arm just enough to throw you off balance and back toward him
“what?”
“kiss.”
he says it with a flat, monotone delivery, but his gaze drops to your mouth, heavy and dark and you know that what he is thinking is anything but flat.
“you just—”
“kiss.”
and you do it again, because apparently that’s your life now.
you barge into his room, door wide open as you hold a paper above your head, the biggest grin on your face. sukuna doesn’t even blink at the thudding of his door against the wall.
“i did it! i passed the last interview for my internship!” you exclaimed, excitement and happiness dripping from your voice.
sukuna is already on his feet, arms open as he kisses you briefly, nose brushing as you bounce on your toes, unable to contain your joy.
“congratulations, baby. i knew you would kill it,” he says like it was obvious, a grin on his own on his face as his hands settle on your waist. “give me a hug.”
and you hug him, tight and full of enthusiasm while you ramble his ear off about the place you will be making your internship, how it would look on your resume and so on.
he just hums, face already nuzzling your hair, pressing a tiny peck on your hairline, arms holding you tight against him.
you’re both in his room, supposedly studying together but you are the only one actually trying to do work.
sukuna is…present. yeah. that’s about it.
you’re halfway through reading a paragraph when his foot nudges yours under the desk but you ultimately decide to ignore it. he nudges again, harder this time.
you keep reading, starting again because he distracted you from reading your notes when the chair beside you creaks as he shifts.
“…give me a hug.” his voice says that he is demanding rather than asking but you are too busy with the words in front of you to care.
you don’t look up, highlighting a sentence on your notebook. “i’m studying.”
“so am i.”
“you’re on your phone.”
“i’m studying you.”
you finally glance over, unimpressed, blinking slowly at the sight in front of you.
he’s already got one arm lifted expectantly, eyebrows raised like well?
you stare at him for three whole seconds before scooting your chair over so he can wrap himself around you from the side.
he hums satisfied, using your shoulder as a chin rest while he goes back to scrolling his phone and you just sigh, eyes going back to your notes, unconsciously leaning your head against his because you are just as needy of affection as him.
thirty seconds later—
“…kiss.”
you know there is no way back from this habit when he does it mid argument.
you’re mad. like—actually mad. so mad that sukuna actually shuts his smart mouth as he looks at you —arms crossed, pacing his room while he sits on the edge of the bed as you rant about something he definitely did.
“and another thing—”
“kiss.”
you freeze mid step, fingers twitching against your arms.
“…what?”
“kiss,” he says again, like it’s going to fix the fact that he forgot your anniversary dinner or ate the last of your snacks or whatever crime he committed this time. whatever.
“i’m literally yelling at you right now.”
he furrows his eyebrows. “and?”
“i’m mad at you, sukuna!”
he shrugs because what has that to do with him having a kiss? “…still. kiss.”
you stare at him in disbelief when he pats his thigh once, like he’s calling over a cat.
you hate that it works. you hate that you march over anyway. you hate that the second your lips touch his he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you closer.
and you hate even more that when you pull back, he looks smug.
“there,” he mumbles, pecking your lips once for good measure. “you feel better.”
“i don’t.”
“…hug?”
and definitely his favorite time to ask for a kiss is this.
his tongue is lapping at your folds, thoroughly gathering your sweet juices and spreading them along your slick pussy, suckling at your clit when he feels your thighs tremble around his head.
he looks at you from under his eyelashes, fingers playing with your nipples as your twitch below him. he knows you are near.
“kuna—please! i’m close.” you moan sweetly, head thrown back as you push him back to you, grinding against his face and he smirks, loving seeing you this needy.
he complies, pressing his tongue flat and starting to messily make out with your pussy, slurping, sucking and completely smitten with every sound you make.
when you come, he cleans you up until you are practically dry, kissing your thighs.
he looms over you, bracing his weight on his forearms, trapping you between his chest and the mattress and he looks down at you with that insufferable, heavy-lidded smirk, his thumb reaching out to trace your lower lip, dragging a bit of your own moisture across your skin.
“give me a kiss, baby,” he rumbles, his voice dropping into that low, scratchy register that vibrates straight through your chest. “taste yourself on me.”
“you’re obsessed with telling me what to do,” you whisper, though you’re already tilting your head back, your heart doing that familiar, frantic thrum against your ribs.
“yeah,” he mutters, leaning down until his nose brushes against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “and you’re compliant. now, kiss.”
and just like always, you find yourself reaching up, pulling his head down to close the gap, tasting the salt and the sweetness of yourself on his tongue as he hums into the kiss, sounding thoroughly, smugly satisfied.
there is nothing better than this.
What do you think about Yuuji being so engrossed in fucking you that he accidentally let Sukuna out?
🛞 FLIP THE SWITCH ✩ yuuji itadori ft ryomen sukuna .ᐟ
🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 yuuji always maintains a good grip on his emotions. for his friends, for his old teachers, for you. he has to, in order to protect the ones he loves from sukuna. except for the one time he doesn’t. (3.1K)
🏁 safety car ! ⋆ not safe for work ⋆ smut ⋆ eighteen plus only. curses au, sorta canon compliant, characters in 20s, established relationship, dubcon, marking, cheating (kinda?), implied violence, rough sex, unprotected sex, jujutsu sorcerer yuuji itadori, sukuna & fem reader.
── © tteokdoroki ╱ 2026.
i feel like yuuji always does his best to make sure he’s in control around you. he’s pretty good at keeping sukuna in check usually, around his old teachers and his friends — but around you he works overtime. there’s a constant fear that the king of curses will jump out and maim you… it’s all sukuna really talks about. how he’s so excited to taste your flesh, pull you apart maybe even wreck that sweet hole of yours if yuuji lets him slip.
it’s why he keeps his emotions in check too. you never fuck angry, you never stay angry at one another in case sukuna sees a crack in your sweet boyfriend’s resolve and does his best to break free — trickling through the teeny tiny emotional wound before the two of you’ve had a chance to patch things up. sukuna’s always watching though, waiting — he almost knows your body as well as itadori does since he’s seeing the world through his eyes, anyway. you love being full, two fingers reaching for the back of your throat whilst two more play with the gooey mess lathered over your clit. sometimes, you like it soft and tender — on your back while the brat moves languid and slow as if he’s trying to carve his way into the depths of your body and live between each one of your ribs. he might as well enjoy the show.
Heheheheh