may

[ok-sougo]

may she/her 19 asian physics major trying to get back into writing...

sfw + nsfw jjk centric blog—18+ characters only minors dni!

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recent works... toji can't find anyone but you attractive & to love me is to suffer me

© ok-sougo 2026

[fwrails]

NO college is actually NOT fun because where’s nerd gojo and quarterback toji and plug choso and punk geto and frat sukuna and chair of dept. nanami and assistant prof. shiu & graduate prof. higuruma and—

[ok-sougo]

to love me is to suffer me — gojo satoru

“you fuck me like you have something to prove.”

despite your teasing smile, satoru falters at hearing those words. the shower suddenly feels too small, too stuffy, and he feels cornered and trapped. even though he knows it wasn’t your intention, your words hit him right on the nose. for a moment, the sound of the shower running around you two is the only noise filling up the silence. he absentmindedly traces his fingertips over your shoulders, admiring the deep mauve color of the love bites littered from your neck to your chest—proof of his tendency to get carried away in bed.

“i do have something to prove,” he murmurs. it’s an admission of vulnerability—rare for him, even to you, the one person he loves and trusts most—but he disguises it with a cocky smile lest you suspect there’s something wrong.

“you’re already the strongest, satoru,” you say with a laugh, thinking he’s joking. “but i’m not—so it wouldn’t kill you to let me have the ability to walk on a regular basis.”

“no can do, baby. maybe i’m just too big.” he lets out a dramatic sigh. “some die of thirst while others drown. do you know how many girls would give anything to have a man who can satisfy them—”

“talk about other girls and your dick in the same breath again, and i’ll bite the thing off the next time it’s in my mouth,” you warn, but there’s no bite in your tone.

despite the playful banter he maintains with you, satoru does think he has something to prove. there’s a desperation in how he fucks, as if he’s saying, see? no one else can make you feel this way—so please, just put up with me a bit longer. 

he’s the “strongest”, yet in his eyes, you are so much stronger than him for being able to put up with everything that comes with dating gojo satoru. you’re always sharing him with everyone else; there’s always students to teach and missions to go on and people that need his help. your boyfriend is never truly yours alone, not even when you need him to be. satoru has been brushing off his own issues in exchange for the rest of the world’s for as long as he can remember, and he’s accepted that as part of his duty, the price he pays for being who he is. but he knows it’s unfair to ask you to accept that same treatment. dating the strongest means growing strong yourself, but satoru is terrified that one day you’ll decide that doing so isn’t worth the trouble, that he isn’t worth the trouble. and you’ll leave and find a nice, stable boyfriend who comes with less baggage and a safer lifestyle. 

if satoru were a stronger man, he might let you go, but you are the one part of his life where he allows himself to be a little selfish, no matter how much he might deem himself unworthy of you. but he certainly doesn’t think he’s worthy of your concern—therefore, he doesn’t dare complain to you about his life or responsibilities or struggles, and he keeps the more sordid details of being a sorcerer to himself. and when he’s with you, he showers you with attention and gifts and his infectious enthusiasm, hoping it’ll be enough to keep you. 

because what if he does open up to you fully and let you share his burdens and complaints with him, and one day the complaints outweigh the benefits of being with him and you decide he’s no longer that useful to you—and what has gojo satoru ever been good for, if not to be useful?

the concept of being “used” in a relationship has a negative connotation, but as someone who has only ever been valued for the tangible power he brings into the world, the concept of satoru’s love being enough to make you stay is practically unfathomable to him. 

so when he fucks you, he goes hard, like he’s trying to set a new record for your pleasure each time. it’s not even a conscious decision on his part, merely the physical manifestation of his insecurities. the way he forces you to whimper out broken cries of his name over and over to remind both of you who’s making you feel good; the way he times how fast he can make you cum on his finger or on his tongue and tries to beat his record each time; the way he blindfolds you to force you to place complete trust in him as he fucks you into oblivion—and ignores how the blindfold could be a metaphor for how he’s pulled the wool over your eyes on so many aspects of his life. he knows you probably think all of this is to stroke his already inflated ego. he’s happy to let you keep thinking that, because it’s far easier than admitting that beneath his cocky facade, there’s a painfully insecure part of him that not even he is strong enough to confront.

you tilt your head up at him, confused about his uncharacteristic silence, and his mind snaps back to the present. “you’re perfect, toru,” you tell him. it’s a sentiment he himself echoes on the daily, but now, it evokes a twinge of resentment in him. 

“i know,” he whispers. “that’s the problem.”

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[embodement]

everyone in jjk who dies still dies but they lipsync instead of fighting

happy pride!

[ok-sougo]

hiii, are you an ethel cain fan? :)

absolutely!! i love love love ethel cain

[ok-sougo]

to love me is to suffer me — gojo satoru

“you fuck me like you have something to prove.”

despite your teasing smile, satoru falters at hearing those words. the shower suddenly feels too small, too stuffy, and he feels cornered and trapped. even though he knows it wasn’t your intention, your words hit him right on the nose. for a moment, the sound of the shower running around you two is the only noise filling up the silence. he absentmindedly traces his fingertips over your shoulders, admiring the deep mauve color of the love bites littered from your neck to your chest—proof of his tendency to get carried away in bed.

“i do have something to prove,” he murmurs. it’s an admission of vulnerability—rare for him, even to you, the one person he loves and trusts most—but he disguises it with a cocky smile lest you suspect there’s something wrong.

“you’re already the strongest, satoru,” you say with a laugh, thinking he’s joking. “but i’m not—so it wouldn’t kill you to let me have the ability to walk on a regular basis.”

“no can do, baby. maybe i’m just too big.” he lets out a dramatic sigh. “some die of thirst while others drown. do you know how many girls would give anything to have a man who can satisfy them—”

“talk about other girls and your dick in the same breath again, and i’ll bite the thing off the next time it’s in my mouth,” you warn, but there’s no bite in your tone.

despite the playful banter he maintains with you, satoru does think he has something to prove. there’s a desperation in how he fucks, as if he’s saying, see? no one else can make you feel this way—so please, just put up with me a bit longer. 

he’s the “strongest”, yet in his eyes, you are so much stronger than him for being able to put up with everything that comes with dating gojo satoru. you’re always sharing him with everyone else; there’s always students to teach and missions to go on and people that need his help. your boyfriend is never truly yours alone, not even when you need him to be. satoru has been brushing off his own issues in exchange for the rest of the world’s for as long as he can remember, and he’s accepted that as part of his duty, the price he pays for being who he is. but he knows it’s unfair to ask you to accept that same treatment. dating the strongest means growing strong yourself, but satoru is terrified that one day you’ll decide that doing so isn’t worth the trouble, that he isn’t worth the trouble. and you’ll leave and find a nice, stable boyfriend who comes with less baggage and a safer lifestyle. 

if satoru were a stronger man, he might let you go, but you are the one part of his life where he allows himself to be a little selfish, no matter how much he might deem himself unworthy of you. but he certainly doesn’t think he’s worthy of your concern—therefore, he doesn’t dare complain to you about his life or responsibilities or struggles, and he keeps the more sordid details of being a sorcerer to himself. and when he’s with you, he showers you with attention and gifts and his infectious enthusiasm, hoping it’ll be enough to keep you. 

because what if he does open up to you fully and let you share his burdens and complaints with him, and one day the complaints outweigh the benefits of being with him and you decide he’s no longer that useful to you—and what has gojo satoru ever been good for, if not to be useful?

the concept of being “used” in a relationship has a negative connotation, but as someone who has only ever been valued for the tangible power he brings into the world, the concept of satoru’s love being enough to make you stay is practically unfathomable to him. 

so when he fucks you, he goes hard, like he’s trying to set a new record for your pleasure each time. it’s not even a conscious decision on his part, merely the physical manifestation of his insecurities. the way he forces you to whimper out broken cries of his name over and over to remind both of you who’s making you feel good; the way he times how fast he can make you cum on his finger or on his tongue and tries to beat his record each time; the way he blindfolds you to force you to place complete trust in him as he fucks you into oblivion—and ignores how the blindfold could be a metaphor for how he’s pulled the wool over your eyes on so many aspects of his life. he knows you probably think all of this is to stroke his already inflated ego. he’s happy to let you keep thinking that, because it’s far easier than admitting that beneath his cocky facade, there’s a painfully insecure part of him that not even he is strong enough to confront.

you tilt your head up at him, confused about his uncharacteristic silence, and his mind snaps back to the present. “you’re perfect, toru,” you tell him. it’s a sentiment he himself echoes on the daily, but now, it evokes a twinge of resentment in him. 

“i know,” he whispers. “that’s the problem.”

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[ok-sougo]

i just binged your masterlist and i love how you write toji 🥹🫰

thank youuu i try my best to do my husband justice 🙏

[001x456]

people who don't experience hyperfixation don't know what it feels like to hyperfixate so much on something that it becomes not only your subject of obsession but also your source of happiness and literally the main reason why you still keep going; literal source of strength and life.

shoutout to my favorite fictional characters, favorite people, favorite ships, favorite movies, favorite tv shows, fanfics and archive of our own

[universalstarfly]

scarjo ruin my life. please.

find it right here

[dinaluv]

The age I had when I was reading the most outrageous disgustingly perverted graphic fanfics known to humankind.

[ok-sougo]

toji can’t find anyone but you attractive anymore. 

toji realizes he’s no longer attracted to other women and thinks there must be something wrong with him and his dick. because surely it’s not normal for him to have such a visceral reaction to your presence but not feel even a twinge of lust towards the woman sidling up beside him at the bar. hell, it took him three minutes to even notice the woman was there—he’d been so preoccupied smiling at your texts before shiu nudged him.

he glances at the woman. she’s objectively beautiful and seems bold and flirtatious, clearly interested in him as she flashes a wide smile and scoots closer to him. she’s the kind he’d have gone for without hesitation before he met you, the kind who knows what she wants and would give him a good no-strings-attached one night stand. he doesn’t even entertain that idea now, though—he finds the mere thought repulsive.

toji never used to understand how people could be in exclusive relationships and never have wandering eyes. he thought they were surely deluding themselves, lying just to appease their partners. toji was never really a cheater in past relationships, not out of morality but just because he couldn't be bothered, but he never expected himself to be unable to find others attractive. and he never believed you when you claimed that there was no one else you’d want to be with. in fact, he’d laughed, mostly because he had internalized all the hatred projected onto him as a child about being unlovable. even though he thought you were beyond perfect and far too good for him, he still didn’t see how one could just turn off their attraction to others like a fucking light switch. what red-blooded male wouldn't get excited or aroused at the sight of a beautiful woman? 

but it’s evident that he’s wrong, because he barely noticed the woman beside him pressing her tits to his arm because he was so preoccupied staring at the picture you texted him. it’s just a selfie of you, at your friend’s apartment for a girls’ night; the lighting is dim and the photo is a bit blurry as if you took it with a shaky hand—you’re probably tipsy—but you’re smiling and so so beautiful as always. in contrast, when he finally acknowledges the woman flirting with him and brushes her off callously, he feels nothing.

“damn, fushiguro,” one of his friends remarks. “didn’t even give her a chance. you never do to anyone who tries to hit on you these days. she was real pretty and way into you.”

“fuck off,” toji retorts, suddenly feeling bitter as he realizes he’d much rather be home with you right now than in this crowded, dingy bar. god, what have you done to him? “i have a girl now, remember? i’m not gonna go around leading on other women.”

“shit, you’re still with her? like, exclusively?”

“fuck else would it be? we’ve always been exclusive,” toji grumbles, annoyed that anyone would imply that you were just a casual fuckbuddy to him. 

“you’re really settling down?” his friend laughs, looking around to make sure the rest of the group heard him right. “i get busy and don’t see you for a few months, and you completely change. never thought i’d see the day where fushiguro could stick to one girl for longer than a month. what’s her secret, huh?”

“i don’t fucking know,” toji growls. “it’s just the way shit is now, okay?”

“this really the same guy who said ‘over my dead body’ when i told him how one day he’d feel the same way for a woman as i feel about my wife? the same guy who told us he wasn’t cut out for dating and that girlfriends were too much of a burden?”

reminded that he did in fact utter those reprehensible words, toji becomes filled with worry as he realizes just how much he’s changed since dating you. changed for the better, undoubtedly, but it scares him nonetheless. “am i fucking broken? did she break me?” he mutters to himself, sounding genuinely nervous.

shiu bursts out laughing. “she tamed you for sure.”

toji scowls at them. his mind is reeling as he tries, for a second, to imagine if he hadn’t met you and just kept living the way he previously did—recklessly and selfishly, as if the world owed him something for the pain it’d caused him. as if he was justified in being a douchebag to everyone, be it his targets or friends or women he hooked up with. he can hardly reconcile that he was that type of person not even a year ago. he thinks about how he is around you, how gentle and patient he is—and how naturally it feels to act that way around you. and he realizes that that mellowness has seeped into his interactions with everyone else, too. he makes small talk with local business owners when running errands. he says "thank you" to customer service workers and even tips somewhat generously. he makes an effort to smile at people he passes in the street ever since that one time you told him that everyone is probably scared shitless of him because of that grumpy expression he always wears.

what the hell have you done to fushiguro toji? 

if you were to ever leave him, how would he cope? he can’t imagine going back to his old self—that version of toji is essentially dead now. but he can’t imagine staying the way he is without you. you’ve changed him so much that his current identity might as well be tied to yours. 

it’s a terrifying thought to think of the only source of happiness and love he’s ever felt in his life disappearing at any given time. it’s scary that his well-being is so dependent on another person. he wouldn’t be able to move on from you, he just knows he couldn’t.  

he must be voicing these thoughts aloud because shiu nudges him and says, “that's the whole fucking point, idiot. you're not supposed to let her get away.” 

he’s just stating the obvious, really, but toji sits up and stares in awe at shiu as if he’s given him an epiphany. the other man just scoffs and exchanges a knowing look with the others. 

toji’s still thinking about this whole situation when he holds you in his arms that night. he sleeps on his side, spooning you, crushing your body against his and reveling in the way you fit against him so perfectly. he thinks he only likes his body when it's closely intertwined with yours. he wants to tell you all the things he's thinking, about how he realized he could never get over you and that he might not ever be attracted to anyone else ever again. but he knows you might overthink it and interpret it as him implying that this indifference to other women is a new development and that he's been lusting over others for the entirety of your relationship thus far. and that couldn’t be further from the truth—he truly hasn't and can't imagine he ever will.

the more toji dwells on this, he realizes that getting hit on isn't entertaining or an ego boost anymore–it's just a burden, especially when he imagines you seeing it happen and feeling hurt. he’d never want his sweet girl to feel insecure about your relationship because you have nothing to worry about. why would he look for shallow attention somewhere else when you're the only person who has ever cared to see him, understand him, and love him anyway? how could his eyes wander to other women when he’s blessed enough to have the most beautiful one in the whole world in his arms every single night? 

maybe it's time to finally buy that ring that’s been at the back of his mind. because toji knows that there’s no one else out there who’s worth giving up what he’s built with you—and he wants you to know it.     

i feel like this could be a great prequel to an angsty toji fic i plan to write sometime soon...

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[ok-sougo]

i got a man, but i want you! 

ex!toji eats you out.

toji: this ur new friend, huh?

attached to his text is a screenshot of your instagram story, posted barely five minutes ago. it’s a photo of you and a man who toji presumes must be your new boyfriend.

toji doesn’t want to believe you’ve already moved on, but given the fact that in the photo you're holding a bouquet of roses and you’ve tagged the man's username with a heart emoji, he doesn’t see any other explanation. and that makes him feel pretty pathetic because after four months, he’s still hung up over you.

god, you look good in that photo. if only you didn’t have some sleazy-looking scumbag draped all over you. really, what could you possibly see in him? it might be toji’s jealousy talking, but there’s no way that guy is good enough for you. not that anyone is good enough for you in his mind.

you: i thought i blocked you everywhere??

toji: we both know you’d never do that. did u post that photo hoping i’d see it?

you: bold of you to assume i still think about you that much 

okay, so what if you did feel a bit of satisfaction knowing toji was still stalking your social media and was bothered by the sight of you with another man? him being jealous is much preferable to him finding out that you’re miserable in your new relationship and your new boyfriend isn’t a terrible guy—just truly clueless on how to make you happy, be it emotionally or in the bedroom or in essentially any aspect of a relationship.

but you're far too prideful to admit to toji that you miss him. 

toji: hard for me not to think of you when you purposely left half your panties and bras over at my place when we broke up. nice little reminder of what we had

you: it was an accident. as if i would purposely leave my clothes in the possession of a perv like u.

toji: you even left that cute red set… remember, the one i fucked u in in the changing room at the store when we bought it?

you have to take a step back and reevaluate your recent life decisions because quite frankly, it’s just sad that toji’s text—and the memory evoked by the text—got you instantly wetter than your boyfriend has in the entire time you’ve been dating.

toji: you haven’t asked for any of ur shit back, does ur new bf not appreciate lingerie?

you: ok well now i’m asking for my shit back. 

toji: why? gonna wear it for your new bf?

you: yeah probably. just drop it off at my place pls.

toji: no, i think i’ll keep them. still smells like you.

you: omfg toji stop smelling them????

toji hasn’t changed a bit; he’s still as stubborn as always. you should've known he wouldn't listen to anything you asked of him. which is how you end up driving to his apartment with only the intention of getting your clothes back (or so you told yourself), only to come to the realization—upon seeing a shirtless and smirking toji answer the door—that your feelings for him haven’t changed a bit either.

“look who it is!”

“give me back my fucking clothes, fushiguro. and put some on while you’re at it,” you add, trying not to ogle his bare torso.

he opens the door wider, raising an eyebrow to beckon you in. even though you know this is a horrible idea, you step inside, observing that he's kept all the furniture and decor you'd picked out for him.

“had i known a few texts were all it took for you to come back, i would’ve tried it a lot earlier,” he muses, still looking at you with that shit-eating grin on his face.

“oh my god,” you roll your eyes. “you are still so fucking full of yourself.”

“you used to love being full of me, too,” he replies, voice laced with innuendo. he laughs at your flustered expression. “you know, i can’t believe you’re not embarrassed to post your little boyfriend on your instagram. that guy looks like a fucking one-pump chump. no way he knows how to give it to you good. does he?”

“of course you’d think that’s all that matters,” you retort, but of course he notices how you don’t deny his statement. “forgive me if i don’t want to get into the details of my current sex life with my ex. can you just give me my clothes?”

toji nods but doesn’t move. you’re about to say something snarky when he remarks, “i hate the way he looks at you.”

you laugh in disbelief, shaking your head. “he’s literally my fucking boyfriend. you aren't anymore.”

“unfortunately.” he tilts his head and stares at you. “i miss you.”

you chew on the inside of your lip and stare at the ground, knowing if you look at him you’ll likely fold instantly. just being in toji’s presence is intoxicating. but your efforts to resist him prove to be futile, as he takes two steps forward until your nose is practically brushing his bare chest. “fushiguro,” you warn.

“would he even appreciate how pretty you look in all that lingerie?” he murmurs. “tease you through the panties like i would—like i did? would he talk you through it while you’re crying on his fingers, then clean you up with his tongue?”

you close your eyes, trying to picture your boyfriend doing that for you, but your mind only conjures up memories of toji. you don’t even notice you’re pressing your thighs together. 

“does he treat you well?”

toji’s voice has taken on a softer tone now, and you can’t tell if he’s asking in general or just sexually. either way, the answer is the same. you can’t bring yourself to lie to him. “he's fine.” 

“what about her?” your eyes snap open, and you see toji kneeling down in front of you. he’s now referring to your pussy, and both the implication and the sight of him on his knees makes you clench around nothing. “does he worship her like she deserves?”

reluctantly, you mumble, “no.”

you can recall a total of three times that your boyfriend tried to eat you out—all within the first month of you two dating, back when he put in some modicum of effort into the relationship. not that he was able to make you cum even with all his effort.

you don’t even have to look at toji to know that his expression is victorious. “knew it,” he says smugly. “knew you looked pent up.”

if only he knew just how much. in the three months you’ve been dating your current boyfriend, you can count the times he’s made you cum on one hand.

toji’s hands slide up your thighs almost reverently, stopping just at where the hem of your shorts begin. “shit, can ya hear that? she’s practically purring for me already. missed me too, hm?” you let out a breathy exhale when his fingers skim the waistband of your shorts, about to pull them off, but he hesitates. 

“listen. if you’re in a loving relationship and don’t want to ruin that, tell me to stop right now. we can forget this ever happened. i don’t want to get in the way of you two, if you really love him.” toji looks up at you and grins. “but i suspect if you did, you wouldn’t have come here in the first place, now, would you, doll?”

you mean to form a coherent sentence—something like, “you're totally correct, i don't love him, my boyfriend is totally clueless on how to make me happy, not to mention how to make me cum, and i just posted him on insta to make you jealous and i think i really miss you too and please don’t stop”. but all that comes out of your mouth is a pathetic whine of toji’s name.

instantly, your panties and shorts are pulled down and discarded. toji picks you up and places you on the counter, spreading your legs. you’re positively soaked; it would be embarrassing if you weren’t so comfortable with toji, comfortable in a way your boyfriend has never made you feel before.

“are you going to fuck me?”

you don’t expect toji to burst out laughing. “so impatient. how deprived are you?”

your cheeks flush. “shut the fuck up!”

toji leans forward and softest of kisses on your lips and then down on your inner thigh. “i’m not making fun of you, baby. just think it’s so cute how desperate you are.” his lips ghost over your throbbing clit. “missed hearing you beg for me.”

you hope he doesn’t notice how his words are making you increasingly wet—but given that he’s hovering an inch from your cunt, you’re sure he knows. “fuck, toji, stop teasing me.”

he presses a kiss to your clit and you whimper. it’s the first time in months that something other than your own hand or a vibrator has even grazed your clit. 

“my poor baby,” he coos, directing his words at your cunt.  “she’s been so neglected, huh? dripping so much before i’ve even touched her.” he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire and jealousy—you recognize the look he got when others hit on you in front of him, back when you were dating. “does your boyfriend not eat you out or something?”

you feel embarrassed admitting the truth, even though it’s clear toji expects the answer. “n-no.”

“what a fucking idiot.” 

you don’t get a chance to reply before toji buries his face in your soaking cunt, dragging it down the length of his face. his tongue laps at your folds hungrily, licking up all of your juices. your hands burrow in his hair, gasping. no sex toy could ever replace the feeling of toji’s mouth on your pussy, nor the sight of him going down on you. 

you miss feeling so wanted. toji always ate you out like you were his last meal—but this time there’s a desperation that wasn’t there before, because he knows this could really be the last time he gets to do this. he’s devouring you like he has something to prove. you’re so sensitive, having not been touched properly by another person in months, and toji knows this. you try to close your legs around his head in an attempt to slow him down slightly, but toji uses his hands to keep your thighs apart, bringing one thumb to your clit to rub it gently. 

“too much, toji,” you sob, even as your hips buck forward into his greedy mouth. “oh my god, so good, fuck, i missed this, miss you-”

toji’s cock throbs in his pants at your words. he latches onto your clit, sucking on it, while he slips one thick finger inside you, then another, scissoring them until you scream out in pleasure. 

“you ever think about me when he fucks you?” he lifts his head briefly to make eye contact with you.

“sometimes,” you pant. “but then i get disappointed when—oh, right there—when he can’t make me cum.” you roughly push his head back down into your pussy. “always have to get myself off with my toys. had to buy a dildo—ah, fuck—the same size as your cock so i could try to—ngh—pretend it’s you.” oh god, what are you saying? if you had half a mind to think about what you’re saying, you’d be embarrassed at what you’re admitting to him. toji licks a long stripe up the length of your pussy, then uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart, admiring the sight. “man, what kind of ungrateful bastard lets all this get away?” he punctuates his words by suddenly sliding two of his fingers back into you and curling them meanly.

“you did,” you tease through your moans.

“i know, baby,” he says remorsefully, not pointing out that it was you who’d broken up with him. like he wasn't the one who spent every day after your breakup wondering what he did wrong to make you leave him. “i was a fucking idiot, leaving my girl in such negligent hands. but never again.” his fingers slip out of your hole, leaving you pulsing and clenching around nothing. you look down to see him pulling down his pants and freeing his thick cock, already throbbing and leaking pre-cum for you. he begins to roughly fist his cock with one hand, the other hand rubbing your clit while his mouth continues its ruthless ministrations on your dripping cunt. “god, he doesn't even know your favorite flowers are lilies.”

your voice breaks around a moan. “w–what?” then you remember: oh. you were holding roses in that photo you posted.

the realization that toji’s remembered everything about you—from your favorite flowers to how you like your pussy eaten to where that spot inside you is that has you seeing stars—nearly sends you over the edge. your grip on his hair tightens, but he only lets out a slutty moan in response. 

“best fuckin’ meal ever,” he moans, deep voice sending vibrations into your cunt. “tastes like home. mmm.”

oh, he's so fucking pussydrunk, but you're not much better, crying out, “so good! fuck, missed your mouth—always making me feel sooo good, 'm so close already!”

“yeah? i’m better than him?” he challenges.

“best i’ll ever have,” you affirm. instantly, you’re rewarded with his lips suckling on your clit and the sensation combined with his moans and his fingers inside you feels oh-so-good and so familiar that you find yourself crying out, just from instinct, “i love you so fucking much, toji—” you’re oblivious to toji cumming the moment he hears those words. he lets out a long groan and stills for a second, then begins fucking his tongue in and out of your hole while still thrusting his fingers inside.

“need you to cum,” he pants. “need you to coat my tongue with your cum right-fucking-now.”

the sheer amount of desperation in his voice is just enough to send you over the edge. “‘m cumming!” your orgasm is overwhelming—your best one in months. toji keeps overstimulating you through your climax, causing more juices to spray onto his face, but he doesn’t care. all he’s focused on is making you cum so hard that you won’t think about going back to your pathetic boyfriend again. 

you’re so sensitive that all the overstimulation sends you straight into your second orgasm. you’re sobbing from the pleasure, feeling like you could pass out from how good it is, but your hips are bucking involuntarily into toji’s face, rutting against him and smearing your cum all over his nose and mouth. once you’ve come down from your high, toji’s pace slows, turning to gentle kitten licks to lap up all the wetness from between your thighs.

he slowly straightens up, looking at you lying on the counter, shirt ridden up to expose your perfect tits, heaving as you catch your breath. “you are so fucking beautiful.”

he looks almost ethereal, too; hair messy, lips red and wet with your slick, eyes no longer filled with lust but rather love. you reach out to take his hand, lacing his fingers with yours before guiding his hand over the swell of your breasts. “remind me again why we broke up?”

“you said something about me not being the best person for you and how you wanted to see other people—stupid shit like that.”

“right…”

“i know i’m not good enough for you at all, but…” toji leans down towards you, smiling, “my replacement—god, there’s no way that fucker can be considered an upgrade from me, right?”

“i swear, i was planning to break up with him soon, even if this hadn’t happened.” 

“still, i just don’t know what you could possibly have seen in him in the first place, i mean have you even looked at—”

you groan and slap a hand over your forehead. “you’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“you really have horrible taste in men.”

“not true,” you say, looking fondly at him. “not true at all.” 

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[ok-sougo]

"just the tip" — kamo choso

choso has this endearing habit of clinging to you while you’re sleeping. his front pressed flush to your back, maximizing the surface area of his body that’s touching yours.

the only problem is that this position leads to him waking up hard more often than not. really, can you blame him, with the way your ass is always rubbing up so nicely right on his cock? how could he not get an erection?

he feels a bit ashamed of how horny he is. you two already went multiple rounds earlier that evening, but now he’s desperately rocking his hips into you, hoping to alleviate the ache between his legs. unsurprisingly, the motion jolts you awake, and you whine out a weak protest.

“sorry baby, you just look so pretty like this,” he whines into your neck. 

“go to sleep, cho,” you mumble. he must truly be a pervert because the sound of your sleepy voice only further turns him on.

he responds by thrusting his hips forward once more, and the sound draws a gasp out of you. you shift, awake now but still groggy. the movement pushes your ass back into his now leaking cock, which is twitching angrily in his boxers. "you're really not helping the situation here," he murmurs.

“this is the third night this week this has happened, cho,” you protest with no conviction at all. “and we both need to get up really early tomorrow.”

“can’t sleep like this,” he argues. “i’m so hard, baby. fuck, just need to feel your pretty pussy around me real quick. my hand doesn’t do it for me anymore now that i have you.” he cants his hips forward for emphasis, causing you to let out a breathy moan at the delicious friction. 

“just the tip,” he begs, hands gripping your hips so tightly, waiting for you to give him the go-ahead. “please. i’ll be so good. please? really quickly?” 

he sounds so pathetically needy that you concede. “ok, baby. just the tip though.”

he’s shaking in anticipation as he frees his cock, giving it a few rough strokes. he’s so hard it’s painful, but he still teases himself a little, rubbing his precum all over his reddened tip. “just the tip,” he whispers, reminding himself more than you. but when he pulls down your panties and sees how you’re already leaking, so pretty and all ready for him, he knows he isn’t going to be able to stop.

he nudges his tip between your folds, watching as his essence mixes with yours. “baby, you feel how wet you are? pussy’s dripping for me.” 

usually, he would take time to prep you, but you’re so soaked that he thinks you must want this as badly as him. he pushes in another thick inch, waiting for you to protest—but the only sounds in the room are his heavy grunts and the squelching of your pussy as it practically sucks him in.

“fuck, oh god, she’s so tight,” he says in awe, staring at where your bodies connect. no matter how many times he sees it, he’ll never get over the sight. “so gorgeous.” he rocks his hips back and forth ever so slightly. he feels his orgasm building up embarrassingly fast, but it’s not enough for him.

he pushes halfway in without warning, and he feels your cunt twitch around him, struggling to accomodate his girth. so much for “just the tip”. “choso…”

“baby, pretty please, let me fuck you,” he begs. he sounds near tears from how bad he needs this. “need to fuck you so badly. you’ll let me, won't you? you always make me feel so good.”

you feel yourself getting increasingly aroused, despite how tired you are. you were foolish to think that either you or choso could stop at just the tip. “fuck—we really shouldn’t—”

he bottoms out anyway and lets out a loud groan as you whine at the stretch. he reaches over to rub at your clit to alleviate the pain.

“’m sorry, so sorry,” choso whimpers, not feeling guilty at all when you feel this perfect around him. “you’re so good to me, i don’t deserve you. if you knew how it felt to be inside you—fuck, if you could feel how tight and warm you are, you’d understand why i’m like this all the time.” the hand on your clit moves up your shirt to grope at your tits, rubbing one nipple between his fingers until it hardens.

his thrusts increase in speed, encouraged by your whimpers of pleasure and the sound of your juices squelching around his cock. he gets lost in the pleasure, rambling, “need you to move in with me. so i can fuck you like this every single night—oh, you just clenched around me, shit. you like that idea? want me to wake you up every morning with my cock inside you?”

your answer comes in the form of moaning his name as his tip perfectly nudges that sweet spot inside of you. “fuck, not gonna last long,” you cry out.

“me either, baby. i’m so close,” he groans. he lifts your leg slightly, adjusting the angle so he repeatedly hits your g-spot, wanting to make sure you cum before he does. “this pussy’s milking me, she’s just begging to be filled…”

you’re practically sobbing from the pleasure, pussy still so sensitive from having been used by him earlier that day. “gonna cum soon,” you warn.

“shit, me too.” he looks down at the creamy rings forming around the base of his cock. “gonna cum inside, ok? need to fill you up.” his thrusts become sloppier, more desperate as he nears his release. 

when you cum, it’s so messy, squirting around his cock as you call out his name in broken whines. he’s quickly cumming inside too, painting your walls with ribbons of white. he keeps thrusting through both of your orgasms despite the overstimulation. once you’ve stopped convulsing around his cock, he stills inside you.

“feel so full,” you mumble. your orgasm took so much energy out of you that he practically fucked you back to sleep.

choso looks at the sheets beneath you two, which are surprisingly clean given how intense both of your orgasms were. the bulk of the mess is inside of you, with his cum slowly beginning to leak out. 

“gonna clean you up now,” choso murmurs. you nod, eyes closed, expecting him to get up and fetch a towel as usual. instead, you feel him shift down the bed and settle between your legs. 

“cho?”

“like i said, i’m gonna clean you up,” he says, mouth hovering right over your cunt, two fingers pushing back any of his cum that leaks out back in. “please? can i eat you out?”

so much for getting a good night’s sleep.

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[ok-sougo]

“so, what did doja cat say about big noses?”

face sitting w/ higuruma bc we all know that man is an eater

“so, what did doja cat say about big noses?” higuruma asks you.

"excuse me?" your eyes bug out and you choke out a laugh.  “wait, where did you hear about that?”

“sorry, i couldn’t help overhearing a bit of your conversation with your friend yesterday.” hiromi has a genuinely puzzled expression on his face. “i heard you mention me, and i couldn’t help my curiosity.”

now that you think about it, you do remember making an offhand comment to your friend about that, sparing the details of your fantasies about what you’d like to do on his nose and instead settling for saying, “doja cat’s right about big noses.”

you must be incredibly perverted, you think. higuruma has been nothing less than a gentleman in the short time you’ve been dating him—including in bed. everything about him is polite. always prioritizing your pleasure, never suggesting anything you could be remotely uncomfortable with.

he’s so polite yet all you can think about is using him for your own pleasure; many a night, you’ve touched yourself to the thought of riding his face, grinding on his nose, your juices soaking his mouth and chin.

“oh,” you stutter, trying to play off your embarrassment. “doja, um… just said she likes big noses. thinks they look good. i was just telling my friend that, y'know, you're really handsome.”

“is that so?” he smiles teasingly at you, looking at bit puzzled. “that's not all though, is it? i searched up what she said, honey. you don’t have to be shy about it.” he watches your cheeks flush and your eyes bug out. “i don’t know a more eloquent way to express this, but… would you be interested in sitting on my face?”

even though this had started out as your fantasy—or so you thought—hiromi seems to be even more eager than you are to do this. 

you’re hovering over his face, reluctant to fully sit on him. his breath is hot, fanning over your dripping cunt. “sit,” he practically begs. “please. i want to make you feel good.” hiromi is a giver, you know that—but the way he’s palming himself through his pants so aggressively that you’re starting to suspect he wants this just as bad as you do.

he grabs your hips and practically shoves you down onto his face. he groans loudly, your cunt muffling the noise. your thighs buckle around his face.

“fuck, i don’t want to hurt you,” you say, voice cracking around a whimper.

“you won’t,” he insists. his hands settle on your ass to drag your sopping cunt down the length of his face repeatedly, and he groans at the taste. god, it’s so hot when he takes control like this. he begins by gently licking your entrance, lapping up your essence like he's a starved man and your pussy is the sweetest ambrosia. the tip of his tongue pokes out to tease the entrance of your hole, and you gasp, hips bucking forward involuntarily, causing his hooked nose to bump against your clit.

you begin to lose yourself in the sensation, nudging your clit into his nose again and again, letting out such pretty whimpers that hiromi’s cock throbs painfully in his pants. your fingers perch in his hair, grounding yourself and allowing you to admire his face at the same time. he looks just as fucked-out as he does when he’s inside you—as if your pleasure is getting him off too. 

you pull on his hair without realizing, and you’re rewarded with a deep moan vibrating into your pussy. and to think you had been worried he wouldn’t be into this. “tastes so sweet,” he murmurs. “so damn pretty and wet for me.” his words send vibrations onto your cunt, causing you to shiver in delight.

you bite your lip and grind down harder, panting, as hiromi begins fucking his tongue in and out of you. the pleasure from the stimulation and the sheer intimacy of this position nearly drives you crazy. “f-fuck, feels so good!” you whine. the curve of his nose hits you just right and his tongue is relentless. your hands still gripping his hair, you rub your cunt all over his face, admiring the sight of him soaked in your slick. just as fucking beautiful as you’d imagined. 

you’re humping his face hard until he takes control again, holding your pussy down onto his mouth so hard you suspect he must be suffocating. he practically french kisses your pussy, making out with it, worshipping it. it’s all so incredibly messy, the sight of your usually composed boyfriend becoming completely undone underneath you. 

you feel his lips wrap around your clit and he begins to suck on it, causing you to moan loudly as your grip on his hair tightens, which in turn makes him moan like a whore. you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. hiromi redirects his focus to your aching hole, and you resume humping his nose. “hiromi, oh my god, i’m so close,” you ramble. “so good, so good. please, please don’t stop, keep going—oh, fuck!”

all you can focus on is the pressure building up steadily in your stomach. you’re so so close, you need to cum so badly, he’s making you feel so good. you think you might die if he stops his ministrations now. you swear his tongue is fucking deeper inside you than before, deep languid strokes licking your velvet walls. the additional friction from the bump on his nose overstimulates your sensitive clit. you rock your hips onto his nose recklessly before you still suddenly as your orgasm crashes over you.

you soak his face, crying out his name incoherently. he forces you to ride out your orgasm, his hands on your ass rocking you back and forth on his face. hiromi’s hips buck up as he also cums, completely untouched, just from your moans and the taste of your release on his tongue. 

after you’ve come down from your high, you look down as his drenched face and let out a shaky laugh. “oh, wow, i really made a mess out of you, didn’t i?” 

“in more ways than one.” he gestures to the prominent stain on the front of his pants, where he’d cum inside his boxers. “come on, sit back down, please. i’m not done with you yet.”

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[saintshigaraki]

it’s low key crazy how fuckable toji is

[ok-sougo]

“hypothetically, could i sue you for breaking my heart?” 

law student higuruma!!!! x reader

you’re sprawled out on hiromi's bed, attempting to study while he sits at his desk reading his civil procedure textbook. you inch towards the end of the bed and tap his shoulder. 

“yes, honey?”

“i’ve been thinking,” you start.

“always a good sign.”

“...you know how when someone goes through severe emotional distress, the same areas of the brain light up as if they were experiencing actual physical pain? it’s called the social pain overlap theory. anterior cingulate cortex, insula—all the heavy hitters.”

“i didn’t know that, actually. i can only imagine knowing it will make me feel guilty every time i get into an emotionally stressful situation now.”

you lean in conspiratorially and beam at him. “exactly. see, that’s reason number—oh, i don’t know, two hundred forty-three thousand five hundred—why we can’t break up. because if you dumped me, my brain would literally think you, say, took away my kneecaps.”

hiromi pauses from his reading altogether. “okay, that’s a horrible visual. and you don’t need to keep track of all 243 thousand reasons; i’m not planning on breaking up with you, ever. even without you providing very convincing reasons not to do so.” he swivels his chair around to face you, beckoning you over to sit across his lap. “do you know how adorable you are?”

“i’ve been told.”

“people react the same way to emotional pain as physical torture,” he muses after a moment of silence, shaking his head. “wow. now you made me feel bad for any distress i’ve caused my exes. why does the human brain have to be so dramatic?”

you laugh, wrapping your arms tighter around his torso. “if you dumped someone? i don’t think that kinda response from the brain would be an overreaction at all, actually.” then, without missing a beat, you add, “wait, something just occurred to me.”

“uh-oh. this can’t be good,” he teases.

“so emotional pain lights up the same brain regions as physical pain. and both emotional distress and physical abuse are punishable under law…” 

“…sweetheart, are you about to say what i think you are?”

“could i sue you for breaking my heart?” you ask earnestly, looking like you’ve just stumbled on the theory of relativity.

he casts a wry glance at his law textbook and shakes his head, holding back a grin. “you know what? i would never have thought of that. but unfortunately, that’s not how the law works right now. i’m afraid you can’t.”

“emotional damages are a thing, though? people sue for distress!”

“it’s a decent point,” he says. “emotional distress can be compensated, but usually only when linked to another wrongful act, like negligence or intentional harm. the tricky part is proving that the defendant’s conduct was outrageous and meant to cause severe emotional harm. that’s a pretty high bar.”

“well, you’re the future lawyer. i’m sure there’s some legal loophole. you should at least try to make my case. just think about it. jury sees my poor anterior cingulate cortex lit up like a christmas tree, i’ve got fMRI scans for evidence, maybe an expert witness—boom, i win. you pay me damages in the form of… eternal affection?”

hiromi shuts you up with a quick peck on the lips. “babe, i chose to pursue law so i could avoid scientific jargon as much as possible. with what you just said, you’d put a jury to sleep—not to mention me.”

“fine, there goes my backup plan,” you tease. “whatever. we’re not breaking up, anyway, so this was a hypothetical.” you snuggle up tighter in his lap, fingers moving to bury themselves in his hair. “but you have to admit, it was a good idea.”

you have no idea how long i waited for him to be animated, i need that man carnally

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[nanaslutt]

higuruma is finally here so if u need me, i’ll be bouncing on it until i drain all the fluids from his body❤️