oh, wait, it's lee! 9teen · she/her · infp · blk · gojo & toji feen · jjk-centric (n)sfw + suggestive blog -- this blog contains 18+ content so read the rules and post tags carefully! requests are ⤿open
to say you were a pilates warrior would be an understatement. offensive even.
it wasn’t just for the aesthetics, oh no, it was weekly. almost daily.
four times a week, sukuna watched as you’d dress yourself in a cute little athleisure get-up, kiss him goodbye, and leave for the next hour or two.
each time you’d come back refreshed, showered, and aching slightly, but the sensation got more addictive each time you went.
today was no different. you showered, got dressed, grabbed your things, and walked over to where he was sitting on the couch. lazily sprawled, one arm loosely draped over the back of the couch, the other scrolling through his phone boredly. a white beater clung to his muscular chest, and loose sweats on his hips.
he knew you were standing in front of him, but he didn’t acknowledge you until you took his phone straight from his grip, “going to pilates, i’ll be back in two hours.”
he looked up at you, a mixture of brief irritation completely washing away at the sight of you. “i know that woman—just go do whatever it is they have you doing.”
he huffed a laugh at something before leaning back, “i’ll bet it’s just some cute prissy shit like yoga, eh? probably isn’t even that hard. just fuckin’ matcha and matching sets.”
“oh yeah?”
“yeah.”
~
within the next thirty minutes, he was dressed in matching athletic clothing–you forced him to wear matching red sets, he surprisingly didn’t fight you on it–much. but you definitely earned a few hushed curses and a mutter about how you were so annoying, but you knew that last bit was a lie.
once you entered the studio, the receptionist greeted you with her familiar bright smile, “nice to see you again, you’ve been so consistent girl, i wish.” you both shared a laugh before sukuna entered and stood beside you. her face instantly dropped, swallowing a small gulp as she stared at sukuna.
“oh…uh..new guest?”
“my boyfriend.”
sukuna just stared at the receptionist with his natural scowl, beefy arms crossed over his chest. it only made him look more intimidating, i mean, the man was already massive.
you subtly nudged him in the ribs warningly. he rolled his eyes before replying with a gruff, “yeah, i’m her’s—can we just get on with this shit?”
~
the next thing he knew, he was on what he’d describe as a ‘modern torture machine.” which was really just a reformer machine.
you were beside him on your own machine and following along with the class and instructor like this was perfectly normal behavior.
just a regular tuesday.
“what the fuck…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as his large body tried to maneuver the machine—and by the sound of it, the machine was struggling just as much.
sukuna tried his best to follow along, bending himself into various poses and positions he’d never be caught dead doing—unless it was for you.
he could’ve sworn he heard a few snickers from you beside him occasionally. he’d just huff, roll his eyes, and push through it.
by the end of the class, he was sore and aching in places he didn’t know existed before today. walking in, it sheen in sweat, skin flushed, and a scowl that could intimidate a navy seal.
“never again, woman,” he gritted out. peaking down at the top of your head as you walked beside him, hand wrapped around his beefy bicep.
“mhm…” you hummed in that oh so ‘sweet’ cadence, and he already knew where this was going. lifting your head to meet those vermilion eyes with a small smirk playing on your lips.
you bat your lashes with mock innocence, one he saw right through. “so, next week we’re going to that solidcore class…right?”
he huffed incredulously, “fuck no.”
“good thing i wasn’t asking.”
and sure enough, next week, he was indulging in the next sadistic ‘fitness’ class you signed up for. matching sets and all, he even got matcha. not by his own free will.
a/n: yes, this is a reupload if you felt you've seen this before...it deserved redemption...
1k+ likes is insanity!!! I’m so grateful for all the love, especially on the nerdjo series and 'who's your daddy!' 🥹🥹 thank you all so much, it means the world. and for all the new follows, more coming soon, i promise. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
whoopsie? giving boyfriend!nerdjo a haircut gone...wrong?? ₍^. .^₎⟆
“whoa, whoa–wait, you did what?!”
were the first words that left satoru’s mouth when he realized the mistake his precious girlfriend had made.
“i...i didn’t mean to…”
you were lying out your ass, you definitely did.
the evidence was there, the damage done, and the very clear buzzed cut reflection of himself.
“holy shit…you actually...?” he trailed off, fingers running through the short strands as if they were a magician's evil play on an optical illusion. “thi-this isn’t a prank?”
you stood nervously behind him, the weapon of choice razor still in hand, chunks of porcelain locks on the floors, and a sheepish, subtle curve on your lips.
“i mean…it could be worse. right...?”
there was a long moment of silence at that; the incredulous expression behind his skewed lenses said enough.
satoru angled his head slowly in the small bathroom's mirror, processing what had just happened. how the hell had a 'simple trim' turned into a fucking buzz cut?
after what felt like an hour of silence, he finally turned to you, "you know what?"
you braced yourself, preparing for the reaction he'd been circling this entire time. and then--
"it's actually kinda hot..." he admitted quietly, pushing up the bridge of his frames as he looked back at his reflection, "it's not that short...and when it grows out..."
you then listened as he blabbered on and on about the psychosocial effects of his new cut and how scientifically it suited his bone structure better, bringing out 'his cheekbones more.'
baffled, you dumbly agreed, nodding along with each of the points like they were concrete, which they were--according to him, and science, of course.
"you know...this new look is getting me kinda hard..."
"pardon?!"
and before you knew it, he had you beneath him in a matter of minutes, sprawled out on his digimon sheets as he praised your cosmetology skills. listening to your needy whimpers while he fucked you senseless with a renewed confidence, all thanks to your little 'mistake.'
taglist: @biasangel @wifichann
want more nerdjo? join the taglist in comments! ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა
18+ mdni boyfriend!nerdjo headcannons . ݁₊ ⊹ .
more of him? giving him a haircut...gone wrong? or who knew he was such a freak...
boyfriend!nerdjo who’s not ashamed of letting anyone in a 5-mile radius know just how tight you have him wrapped around your finger. he’ll walk around wearing the dumbest, corniest matching couple shirts like it’s casual attire. strolling the mall hand in hand bearing a “i ❤︎ to finger paint” shirt while you wear the matching “i’m paint” pair. or his recent favorite, “i ❤︎ making ice cream” and “i’m ice” duo.
“what? they’re cool, plus it’s not like it’s really a secret…”
boyfriend!nerdjo who buys a shit-ton of things any time you tell him a new hobby you acquired. baking? he’s got already got a mixer, pans, mitts, piping bags, cute little knickknacks, and anything else you may need. crocheting? already bought all types yarn in the colors he knows you like, and sent tutorials. not to mention constantly praising each milestone and creation. he’s your number one fan…even if you get bored and find new hobby a week later.
boyfriend!nerdjo who would let you do quite literally anything to him if asked. like the time he left the nail salon with you in matching hot pink toes and didn’t complain once. or when he let you spontaneously cut his hair for the first time because you ‘felt like it’, which he trusted no one to do.
“uh, babe…are you sure you're doing it right?”
boyfriend!nerdjo who could yap for hours about his pokémon binder collection to you, explaining each card type, rarity, and how he’s spent twice his tuition on it. (he usually leaves out that last bit…).
boyfriend!nerdjo who brags about being way better than you in half the video games you play together–which he is. he’ll talk shit, gloat, and tick all the competitive boyfriend measures. yet you’ll always end up winning. to which he’ll lies and say he was ‘going easy on you’ or ‘wasn't using half his skills to spare you.’
boyfriend!nerdjo who loves cockwarming in bed while you play life simulator games together. he’ll watch you sit for hours and make you both in tomodachi life and sims in extreme detail. then do the most heinous things with your mii’s and sims.
"hey, babe…what’s that weird purple heart option mean?"
boyfriend!nerdjo who media-trained himself to be your personal photographer. getting the best angles and off-guard pictures for your social media accounts. that always brings in both admirable and envious commenters.
jaynokubzscouts: who the fuck is your cameraman??? this isn't fair.
chrollosleftnut: *SIGH* must be nice to be someone’s muse...
evilasslightskin316: dawg, this has to be ai, how are you this perfect?
franknocean: bro’s cameraman must get beaten if her pics aren’t pinterest worthy. lmfao.
clitorology: is that satoru’s shadow in the back??? he’s lucky i’m not behind allat…
boyfriend!nerdjo who shares a minecraft world with you, letting you build the village and care for the animals, while he always mysteriously does some ‘off cam’ mining. (he somehow got full diamond amor on the first night).
boyfriend!nerdjo who’s roommate swears up and down that he sees you more often than he does satoru since you’ve gotten your own spare key.
boyfriend!nerdjo who loves wearing matching spiderman shirts, socks, and mugs with you. not to mention you’ve watched the entire marvel universe 10 times together already.
boyfriend!nerdjo who always remembers the smallest details about you that you would never notice yourself, and will say the dumbest shit just to see you laugh.
boyfriend!nerdjo who makes sure your birthdays are always the day where you're the happiest in the room—never letting you even think about dropping a tear.
boyfriend!nerdjo who refuses to let himself come first during sex. always making sure your satisified before even considering his own relief.
“you’re coming first—“ he panted, punctuated by another sloppy thrust of his thick length and adjustment of his fogged lens, “don’t even try to argue with me, pretty girl.” when he felt your walls begin clamping around him satoru groaned, “God, that’s it…atta girl...”
𝜗𝜚 streamer!toji “forgets” to end stream and fucks his girl live on cam !
the stream is supposed to be chill.
just toji, shirt half-open, controller in hand, low lighting casting shadows over his stupidly pretty face while chat spams emotes like their lives depend on it. he’s leaned back in his chair, one leg bouncing, jaw set in that lazy, cocky focus he gets when he’s winning without even trying.
“y’all are actually ass,” he mutters into the mic, thumb flicking the joystick. “i’m playin’ with one hand at this point.”
chat explodes instantly.
honeykatsu: ONE HAND?? PROVE IT DADA
tohru-tales: do it w ur dick out then 😓
kkunai: bet he’s stroking w the other hand rn
smartieblast: i’d lose to him on purpose
tojibunnyy: someone sedate me i’m ovulating
you snort from behind him, padding into frame in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and sleep shorts, lip gloss still shiny from earlier. you weren’t even trying to be seen, just came to steal his drink, but chat catches it immediately.
sunnylovesdiluc: WHO IS THAT??
deeplytwistedrealm: HELLOOO??
chuuchuumii: SLEEPOVER POV LET’S FUCKIN GO
ellabstmut: WIFEYYYY
toji doesn’t even turn around, just huffs out a quiet laugh under his breath. “relax,” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “that’s my girl. stop barkin’.”
you roll your eyes, circling around the chair anyway, stealing his drink before dropping into his lap like it’s second nature. sideways, comfortable, your legs draped over his thigh while his arm wraps around your waist without thinking— big hand settling low, thumb idly tracing your side.
“hi chat,” you mumble, sipping his drink like you own it.
urfavemabes: HI BBY !!!
1ana22: MOMMY????
crybabyrizz: LET HER PLAY >:(
rxnn018: MA’AM, SIT ON HIS FACE
reiapologist: SHARE HIM W THE REST OF US WTF
“y’all need help,” you snort, shaking your head.
toji smirks, squeezing your hip once. “they’ve been gone.”
you settle against him, half-watching the game, nearly zoning out, until the donation sound cuts through everything.
ding!
toji glances at the screen— and pauses.
it’s subtle, but you feel it. the way his hand stills on you, the slight shift in his posture.
“…yo,” he says slowly.
you lean back just enough to read it too.
$100 donation:
“$100 if you spit in her mouth right now.”
you burst out laughing immediately, head tipping back. “what the fuck is wrong with you people.”
chat absolutely loses it.
shylartojiiii: DO ITTTTT
menchichew: NO BALLS TOJI 💀
bluexberries267: $100 IS $100 BRO
spltbtch: RENT DUE
bunnymacaron: DO IT DO IT DO IT
“ignore them,” you say, still laughing. “they’re actually insane.”
toji doesn’t answer right away.
and when you look up at him, really look, you realize he’s not laughing anymore.
his eyes are darker now. focused. calculating.
“toji,” you warn, already narrowing your eyes. “don’t—”
his hand slides from your waist up to your jaw, fingers firm as they tilt your face toward him. your breath catches a little at the sudden shift, the way his thumb presses into your cheek, forcing your lips apart just slightly.
“open up, princess,” he murmurs.
you blink. “you’re not serious..”
“c’mon,” he says, voice low, amused in that dangerous way. “don’t make me look broke in front of chat.”
you huff out another laugh, but it’s weaker this time, your heart doing something weird in your chest. “you’re actually stupid—”
“yeah?” his grip tightens just enough. “then open.”
there’s a beat. just one. and then you do. just a little. his thumb presses your chin down further— and he leans in, spitting directly onto your tongue.
it’s obscene. warm. intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.
you choke on a laugh that turns into a gasp, instinctively swallowing as your eyes go wide.
chat goes feral.
l0velyg1rll: OH MY GOD CLIP THAT RN
tatispm: SHE SWALLOWED SHE FUCKING SWALLOWED
theartofsugarcoating: WHAT THE FUCKKK
velvetangelz: AGAINNNN
microwave-the-moon: MARRY THEM IMMEDIATELY
“toji—!” you shove at his chest, hiding your face in embarrassment.
he just laughs, low and satisfied. “easy hundred,” he mutters, already going back to his game.
but his hand doesn’t go back to the controller.
it stays on you.
your breath catches as his fingers trace down your throat, lingering, teasing, before trailing over your chest and slipping under the hem of your shorts.
“…toji,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist, panic seeping into the edges of your tone. “the cam—”
“relax,” he responds with way too much confidence. “they can’t see shit.”
(which is… debatable)
his fingers drift lower, pressing against your panties, the touch firm, deliberate, pulling a sharp jolt from your hips as your breath stutters.
“shit,” you hiss, attempting to keep your voice down, leaning closer so the mic won’t catch it. “i swear to god- stop. stop or i’m actually gonna lose it—”
his thumb brushes against your clit once. just once. a quick, teasing circle that makes you shiver and clamp down on his wrist reflexively.
your grip tightens instantly.
he exhales slow, almost thoughtful, like he’s deciding just how far he wants to take this. then he clicks his tongue. “…fine,” pulling back with a feigned grumble. “damn. y’all are annoying anyway.”
you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding your chest as his fingers disappear, his attention finally shifting toward his setup.
he reaches forward, clicks around with one hand. it takes longer than it should, but you’re not thinking about that too much, just thankful for the tension lifting slightly.
“stream’s done,” he says, stretching back in his chair, “happy?”
“thank you,” you exhale, shoulders slumping. “jesus, you’re insane.”
“yeah, yeah,” he mutters, already grabbing your waist again. “now c’mere.”
you barely have time to react before he shifts you fully in his lap, turning you so you’re straddling him properly. your knees press awkwardly into either side of the chair, your shorts dragging uncomfortably against him, and your hips fit square above the distinct bulge in his sweats.
“wait—” you start, but it comes out weaker than you meant.
he grins up at you, hands already sliding under your shirt, blunt fingers dragging up the soft skin of your sides. “what? stream’s off.”
“you’re still…” you gesture vaguely at the glowing PC beside him, cheeks hot. “…you’re still at your desk.”
“and?” he shrugs, his large hands gripping your thighs to pull your hips forward, forcing you to press down against him. “you were the one complaining.”
you swallow hard, feeling the thick, firm outline of his cock against the seam of your shorts, pulsing slightly even through the layers of fabric between you. “i wasn’t—”
“you were,” he cuts you off, leaning in close enough for his nose to brush against your cheek, “said you were gonna lose it.”
his thumb presses between your thighs again, slower this time, the motion intentional, almost lazy.
“so go ahead,” he murmurs, his lips brushing along the corner of your mouth. “lose it.”
your breath stutters.
and yeah— you do.
because the second his rough fingers push your shorts aside, the second he presses them against your bare, dripping cunt, the warm pads of his fingertips dragging right through your slick folds— it’s over.
your head drops to his shoulder as his touch works through you with surgical precision, his fingers teasing your entrance, pulling more slick from you in a filthy, wet glide that fills the space between your bodies.
“toji,” you whine softly, your hands gripping his shirt now, desperate for something to steady yourself as he toys with you. “you’re such an asshole—”
“mm,” he hums. “still sittin’ on my lap though.”
you smack his shoulder weakly, but it dissolves into a gasp when he pushes a finger inside you slowly, dragging the stretch out in a way that makes your toes curl.
“tell me to stop,” he whispers against your ear, his voice sticky sweet, like the offer’s genuine— like you’re in control.
you don’t. you can’t.
so he doesn’t.
and it escalates exactly how it always does. messy, heated, your hands locked onto his shoulders as you grind down against the fingers buried inside you, his other hand gripping your ass to push your hips into his touch with every slow roll.
a low groan rumbles in the back of his throat, his gaze dark and heavy as he watches you— your face tilted up, your lips parted, your wide, glassy eyes squeezing shut briefly as he curls his fingers against that spot inside you. the spot he knows will ruin you.
“fuck,” he mutters at one point, his hands pushing and pulling you against him as the wet, slick sounds of your cunt only grow louder. “look at you.”
“shut up—” you whimper, burying your face in his neck.
“nah,” he huffs, his voice smug, rough, as he pushes your hips back harder, just so his fingers can sink deeper, the lewd squelch making your whole body heat. “wanna see you cum on my fuckin’ hand, baby.”
and then— like it was inevitable— his patience snaps.
“stand up,” he commands, his tone sharp.
you blink, dazed, your movements sluggish as he helps shove you off his lap. “what—”
“stand up.”
you do.
and the next second, he’s got you turned around— bent forward over his desk. your hands press against the edge, lowering yourself instinctively as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, panties dragged off along with them.
“toji—” your voice shakes, low and nervous. “you said the stream—”
“it’s off,” he says, far too quick, far too distracted. “relax.”
you try to say something else. maybe to protest again. maybe not. but whatever it was, it dies completely in your throat the second you feel him behind you— his rough hands gripping the soft curve of your ass, spreading you out just enough for his hard, thick cock to drag heavy against your cunt.
“fuckin’ soaked,” he growls lowly under his breath, pressing the leaky head of his cock against your entrance, nudging it there just enough to make your hips rock back against him instinctively. “goddamn, baby. already takin’ me like you’re made for it.”
and then he pushes in.
your shoulders drop instantly, a sharp, wrecked gasp tumbling from your lips as the thick stretch forces you open so suddenly, so painfully perfect that it knocks the wind out of you.
toji groans low and ragged, his voice cracking slightly like he can’t hold it back. “fuckin’ tight- shit! always so goddamn tight for me—”
and then he moves.
his fingers dig into your hips as he pulls you back against him rough, sharp, his cock punching deepinside on the next thrust, the chair creaking loudly under the driving force of his hips as your ass slaps hard against his thighs.
your mouth falls open in a silent whimper, your hands struggling to find purchase on the slick surface of the desk as he picks up his pace— deep, messy thrusts with just enough speed to make your whole body shake.
“fuck,” he mutters again, his teeth gritting hard as he watches you struggle to stay upright, the angle of his hips dragging his cock against your walls just right everytime. “fuck, you should see yourself, baby. takin’ it so good- so messy for me.”
you whimper in response, trying to bury your cries in your elbow as his thrusts grow harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud enough to drown out your shaky breaths entirely.
his motions grow rougher, meaner— it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything other than the thick, blinding stretch of his cock pulling you apart.
“shit—” he groans, his voice sharp, his abs flexing each time you clench involuntarily around him. “gonna fuck you stupid, princess, make your pretty pussy gush all over this desk.”
and you do.
it’s messy. reckless. way too loud for how close the mic is.
but neither of you are thinking about that anymore.
not until after.
not until you’re both slumped back in the chair, your legs shaky, his arm wrapped around you again like nothing just happened.
you’re still catching your breath when you glance at the monitor.
“…wait.”
he hums lazily. “mm?”
“why. is. chat. still. moving.”
he huffs out a noise, looking more confused than concerned as he glances at the screen over your shoulder.
the messages are moving so fast you can’t even keep up with them:
eis3n: BRO WE HEARD EVERYTHINGFSFSG
skibidididdy21: AIN’T NO WAY HE LEFT THE STREAM ON
o-rion-sta-r: LMAO THIS IS THE BEST STREAM EVER
vibraze: W STREAM
vanillaapples: TAKE MY CREDIT CARD
interstellix: “CHAT’S OFF”???? BRO WHOS GONNA TELL HER 💀💀
you feel the heat creep up your neck, your heart pounding in embarrassment as the realization sinks in. they heard it. oh, god, they heard everything.
“toji,” you hiss, smacking his chest hard enough to make a sharp slap! echo in the still-heavy air.
“what?” he blinks, leaning forward lazily like he’s still not fully registering the problem.
you point at the screen “you said the stream was off. you told me it was off!”
“…huh,” he mutters after a beat, still staring blankly at the screen.
you slap him again, this time against his arm. “HUH?! that’s all you have to say?!”
finally, he glances down at you, scratching lazily at his jaw with that infuriatingly smug expression on his face. “i mean…shit. my bad.”
“my bad?!” you basically screech, twisting in his lap again to get a better look at the monitor. not that it helps at all— you can’t even see through the unhinged stream of chat scrolling faster than your brain can process.
yyurrrr: CLIP THAT CLIP THAT CLIP THAT
bbgnovaaaaaa: WHERE’S THE MODS LMFAOOO
cybersaiki: THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FREE CONTENT WTF
splurtz: BRO STOP DONATING WE’RE FEEDING HIS EGO
yesornomaybeso: I CAME HERE FOR GAMING AND GOT A SHOW INSTEAD?? 10/10 STREAMING
you groan, dropping your head in your hands as your whole body heats with a flood of mortification. everyone fucking heard it.
and toji— goddamn toji— is still sitting under you, calm as ever, and you’re too fucking annoyed to even look at him.
“you’re a fucking moron,” you snap, struggling to climb out of his lap, your hands thrown against his chest to shove him away.
you only make it halfway before his hands come down heavy on your hips, stilling you instantly.
“okay, relax,” he says, voice lower now, but still so goddamn nonchalant.
you glare down at him, cheeks on fire. “are you seriously telling me to relax?”
his lips twitch, barely biting back a smirk as he gives a slight shrug. “you’re freakin’ out over nothin’, princess.”
“not nothing, toji! they heard everything!”
“yeah, so?” his hand tightens on your waist, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt as he settles deeper into the chair, eyeing you like you’re the one being unreasonable. “don’t sound like they’re mad about it.”
your jaw drops. “that’s not the point—”
“aw, c’mon,” he cuts you off, finally letting that signature grin curl across his lips. his free hand slips lower once more— not slick with heat like before but still confident, still toji, like he didn’t just blow your life to smithereens. “you were the one makin’ all that noise, baby. don’t act all shy now.”
you smack his shoulder weakly, your body too shaky to do any real damage, but the effort earns an amused chuckle from the bastard holding you hostage in his lap.
“you’re infuriating,” you scoff, still red-faced, trying to wiggle away from him again.
but of course, he doesn’t let you.
“nah, don’t run from me now,” he hums, pulling you back into him. his lips twitch wider. “y’know they’ll love it if you give ‘em another show.”
“toji!” you smack him one final time, harder this time— but it melts instantly into a noise of frustration as you twist against his hold, his low laugh vibrating against your back.
“alright, alright,” he mutters, clearly humoring you but raising one hand in mock surrender anyway. “i’ll clean it up.”
you blink, head tilted slightly. “…clean what up?”
he smirks, finally spinning you gently to face the monitor again. and when you see the sub count on the bottom corner of the screen— when you fucking see just how HIGH it’s skyrocketed in the last ten minutes and your jaw drops.
“told ya,” he mutters, his smirk deepening into something so smug and self-satisfied you can feel it without even looking at him.
you want to scream, but part of you feels like this is an impossible argument to have.
“…you left the fucking stream on for money?!”
he laughs again, and he almost looks proud that you even picked up on it.
unbelievable.
“not just for money,” he hums, his lips curving against your ear with that low, rough rasp you wish you could erase from your head. “i mean, sure, that’s nice…but did ya see how much fun chat was havin’?”
“oh my fucking god—”
he grins down at you, one hand resting on your thigh as the other clicks through tabs on his setup, his tone downright devious now.
“c’mon, baby," he teases softly, "let’s do it again sometime.”
thanks sm to all of the ppl who let me use their usernames for this LOL. srry if u didn’t get included in this round, but i’ll be saving them for next time ^^
a little late to the party (by a long shot), but here’s an easter special! featuring dadkuna! and mention of toji zenin ۶ৎ mlist
sukuna hates easter…
“daddy, daddy!”
and just like that, he already felt a migraine stirring.
a pounding one at that.
the little gremlin pulled at his pink strands, forcing his head to crane up as she pointed at the easter bunny in the distance.
“look! the eater bunny!”
she meant 'easter', but she’d lost both her front teeth earlier that week, so all her ‘s and t’s were mixed up and lisping into one.
it was painfully adorable.
“yeah, kid, i have eyes…” he flatly replied before a sharp stinging ‘thwack!’ was delivered straight to his bicep.
“ouch–” he cut himself short once he met your stern gaze. swallowing hard.
he knew that look–the one and only one that could make the king of curses still. sometimes he could see exactly why a human like you was his wife. something in that look wasn’t entirely mortal when it came to delivering fear.
that look also meant that if he kept up that attitude with your daughter he wasn’t getting to see that new lingerie piece he bought you tonight.
pursing his lips briefly before he forced himself to put on a smile, “i mean–the easter bunny…yay.”
your daughter clearly didn’t mind; instead, she clapped her hands excitedly at her daddy’s newfound excitement in the easter bunny. kicking her feet over his shoulders while he held her up.
the closer you both got to the ‘easter bunny,’ the less it looked like a random mall employee and more like toji zenin needing some quick cash. and once you were front and center…it was definitely him.
scarred lip, furrowed brows, and a forced smile that never quite met his eyes as he posed for pictures with the kids on his lap.
never pegged him for the seasonal type, but i guess times are rough.
watching your daughter jump onto his lap once it was her turn, babbling on and on about the easter bunny, eggs, and asking if he liked the dress she picked out herself.
sukuna felt a weird feeling swell in his chest.
warm…fuzzy…and unsettling with its unfamiliarity.
but it felt right.
you watched with a smile as toji posed with your kid, trying to keep up the easter bunny act, before glancing over at sukuna and seeing that uncharacteristic look on his face.
then you realized it.
“oh my god, ryo, are you smiling??”
sukuna’s eyes snapped over to yours, expression hardening back into place, that familiar scowl–though there was no actual heat behind it now.
“go back to watching the brat, woman.”
you let out a huffed laugh, doing exactly that, but with the lingering pride of knowing sukuna ryomen might hate easter…
but at least he loves his kid.
a/n: not proofread and semi-rushed. this is so long overdue, but i've been procrastinating...oops! anyways, im getting back to business, guys, sorry bout that
a little late to the party (by a long shot), but here’s an easter special! featuring dadkuna! and mention of toji zenin ۶ৎ mlist
sukuna hates easter…
“daddy, daddy!”
and just like that, he already felt a migraine stirring.
a pounding one at that.
the little gremlin pulled at his pink strands, forcing his head to crane up as she pointed at the easter bunny in the distance.
“look! the eater bunny!”
she meant 'easter', but she’d lost both her front teeth earlier that week, so all her ‘s and t’s were mixed up and lisping into one.
it was painfully adorable.
“yeah, kid, i have eyes…” he flatly replied before a sharp stinging ‘thwack!’ was delivered straight to his bicep.
“ouch–” he cut himself short once he met your stern gaze. swallowing hard.
he knew that look–the one and only one that could make the king of curses still. sometimes he could see exactly why a human like you was his wife. something in that look wasn’t entirely mortal when it came to delivering fear.
that look also meant that if he kept up that attitude with your daughter he wasn’t getting to see that new lingerie piece he bought you tonight.
pursing his lips briefly before he forced himself to put on a smile, “i mean–the easter bunny…yay.”
your daughter clearly didn’t mind; instead, she clapped her hands excitedly at her daddy’s newfound excitement in the easter bunny. kicking her feet over his shoulders while he held her up.
the closer you both got to the ‘easter bunny,’ the less it looked like a random mall employee and more like toji zenin needing some quick cash. and once you were front and center…it was definitely him.
scarred lip, furrowed brows, and a forced smile that never quite met his eyes as he posed for pictures with the kids on his lap.
never pegged him for the seasonal type, but i guess times are rough.
watching your daughter jump onto his lap once it was her turn, babbling on and on about the easter bunny, eggs, and asking if he liked the dress she picked out herself.
sukuna felt a weird feeling swell in his chest.
warm…fuzzy…and unsettling with its unfamiliarity.
but it felt right.
you watched with a smile as toji posed with your kid, trying to keep up the easter bunny act, before glancing over at sukuna and seeing that uncharacteristic look on his face.
then you realized it.
“oh my god, ryo, are you smiling??”
sukuna’s eyes snapped over to yours, expression hardening back into place, that familiar scowl–though there was no actual heat behind it now.
“go back to watching the brat, woman.”
you let out a huffed laugh, doing exactly that, but with the lingering pride of knowing sukuna ryomen might hate easter…
but at least he loves his kid.
a/n: not proofread and semi-rushed. this is so long overdue, but i've been procrastinating...oops! anyways, im getting back to business, guys, sorry bout that
satoru loves watching you think you're in control.
he’d let you come into the bedroom, being all bratty and shit. thinking you were the one in charge. his lip twitched to contain his clear amusement.
how you try to act all controlling, bossy, like you were in control of things. like he was supposed to be the submissive one.
it was adorable. laughable even.
watching as you pushed him back, climbed on top, thighs straddling his hips. and slowly sink onto his thick girth–then bouncing like a needy little whore.
and satoru loved even more watching your eyes fly open once he flipped you both over, pulled out, ignoring your little whimper, spread those pretty thighs, and began slamming into your drooling cunt over and over in captin position.
your nails clawing desperately at his arms, not even arguing about taking control once he’d begun bullying your cervix with his fat cockhead.
the ache felt delicious, feeling your cunt fluttering around him. he’d give it to you fast and hard, smug words mixing with his groans and pants, seeing you slowly becoming a whimpering, whiny mess below him, begging for more.
how adorable.
he was so fucking smug about it every single time, he wouldn’t hesitate to remind you the next morning whose cock did that to you, as if you could ever forget.
kento nanami - soft dominant lover
nanami loves being up close and personal, the intimate side of sex.
he didn’t care too much about being rough, quick, and chasing the thrill of climax. no, he loved watching your face closely.
how those pretty lips parted, head fell back, moans spilled like a poetic melody he had memorized by now. it was perfect–you were perfect. just watching and listening to you was enough to make the stoic blonde come alone.
nanami was a traditional man, gentlemanly. but every gentleman has their darker side, his in question being bsdm. he loved being dominant, loved you being his sub.
talking dirtily in your ear, whispering depraved things he wouldn’t dare to say out of the bedroom. telling you, “use your words, love,” or calling you his good girl, angel, and sweet girl.
and when you cried from the pleasure? oh, nanami could melt—those soft tears, sobs, music to his ears.
he swore by the lotus position. wrapped around each other, while this cock stuffed and thrust up from below. arms wrapped around his neck, foreheads together–sometimes yours would lolly to his shoulder. it was perfect.
nanami enjoyed missionary too, staring at your pretty face and watching as it contorted with pure pleasure. only he could deliver.
hiromi higuruma - pent-up frustrations
higuruma surprisingly loves taking you from the back.
well, it’s not too surprising, is it?
after long days at work, frustrating hours spent on cases, all he wants to do is come home to you–and fuck the shit out of you.
spooning you is his favorite.
lying behind you in bed, comfortable, relaxed, close. his head buried in your nape, his big nose nuzzling against you and inhaling your scent while his hips jackhammered you from behind.
feeding you his thick length over and over with the pace of a slamming courtroom gavel. arms tightly locked around your waist and grunting in your ear.
higuruma was surprisingly dirty, loved degradation and praise. nipping your ear and telling you things like how messy you were being, how fucking soaked you were for his fat cock, and how you were being such a good slut for him.
you took it all without complaint–always. his sleepy eyes stared at your back, watching as his length disappeared in your dripping pussy. coming out with more sheen, slick each time. the sounds filthy.
if his courtroom even knew the debauched ways he fucked you in celebration or defeat after trials? well, they might have a heart attack.
choso kamo - the whimpering submissive
there was something about being rode that choso loved.
he was a sucker for cowgirl.
he couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t describe it, but watching you on top and bouncing on his cock as it worked, you turned him on a sinful amount.
tits bouncing in his face–which he latched onto without hesitation and began sucking–thighs slapping against his in that wet fleshy harmony, and the whites of your eyes as they rolled back.
choso was always flushed hearing your breathy praises, saying that he was a good boy and s’bigggg. he whimpered pathetically, drooling with his eyes glassed over in that ‘fucked out’ way.
just watching hypnotically as you owned him, and he loved every fucking second. holding onto your hips bruisingly tight, like he didn’t want you ever to stop.
because he didn’t.
he could and would watch you all night if possible. but your stamina wasn’t as good as his–obviously. choso could go for fucking hours…scarily long periods. and the most he would do is pant and sweat.
you, on the other hand, were complaining after riding for two minutes straight, wanting him to take over, and whining that your legs were getting sore.
choso really wanted you to last at least twenty minutes, but he knew your mortal body couldn’t handle it, so he always took over eventually.
but as soon as he got a chance again, you were back on top.
toji fushiguro – control n’ deep strokes
toji loved being in control; that much was obvious.
there was no way in hell he was being submissive–that wasn’t even in his vocabulary. sure, he loved you and would begrudgingly do just about anything for you, but don’t even try to ask that man if you could peg him. he’d immediately shoot you a death glare.
toji preferred the rough positions, the ones he could hit every spot imaginable in you. the ones you didn’t even know you had.
he was a pleaser, though he’d never verbally admit it. he loved pleasing you, watching you, listening to you. seeing you get all snotty and wrecked by his fat cock.
doggy over any surface imaginable, fucking into you from behind and watching that ass jiggle–fuck, he even considered biting it. in the kitchen, over balconies, the bathroom sink, a fucking public restroom, simply out of the thrill of being caught.
or against walls, having your legs thrown over his forearms, spread wide and inviting just for him, he swore he could’ve even heard your pussy begging for him to enter.
full nelsons using his big arms and hands to hold you up, his strength to fuck you with firm, hard blows that made you beg and whine. gasping when he filled you with the thick, hot ropes of his seed.
it was no surprise that man was a father. he had a serious breeding kink…and a perv all around. but fuck did he love that pussy.
sukuna ryomen -big fat meanie
sukuna was mean.
so cruelll, so punishing.
but hell, if it wasn’t addicting.
he would fuck you so hard in a mating press that you were sure he was about to bury you into the mattress.
bedframes feared that man, and he’d already broken several…to the point bed bath and beyond wouldn’t sell you both anymore, and he settled for a mattress on the floor instead.
there was just something so addicting about watching you helpless beneath him. folded in half, legs over his shoulder, and nearly over your damn head with how he’d fold you like a pretzel.
the strokes were so deep, so brutal, you felt them deep in your stomach; his literally bulge in your lower abdomen was evidence alone.
and to make matters worse, he was fucking smug about it, applying a lit pressure on it that made you feel as if the wind got knocked out of you.
his lips brushing against your ear, saying cruel, degrading things, and mocking you while he hit all the spots inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
he also enjoyed prone bone. his massive weight on top of you, holding you in a drool-worthy choke hold. not enough to cut off full circulation, but enough to remind you of who owned you. and hearing him grunt the word “brat” every time your cunt clenched him too hard on purpose.
fucking that attitude out of you every time and seeing you cock drunk in a matter of seconds, drooling onto the pillow and melting into him for more while he degraded you for it.
he was fucking cruel, and you loved it.
suguru geto - patience is a form of torture
he’s so cruel–in your opinion at least.
whoever said “patience is a virtue” hadn’t met suguru geto yet.
suguru loved taking his time with you, and he really meant it. he enjoys missionary and any other position that lets him set the pace. but with your wrist tightly bound.
he was kinky like that.
seeing your body helplessly squirming beneath him as he slowly ground his length against your walls, only kissing against your cervix each time. you wanted more–you needed more.
that envy-evoking silky long hair of his tickled you as he took his time.
like he had all the time in the world. because to him, he did.
he would ignore your pleading, pathetic whimpers and moans, softly replying with some bullshit about how it would be worth the wait. you just had to be patient. it was almost cruel how he didn’t let up.
patient patient patient–you were tired of hearing that shit.
suguru would pull out nearly completely before slowly sliding back in, over and over again.
smirking slightly as he looked down at your pouty lips and the clear annoyance that was written on your face.
spanking you and reminding you to wait when you got really desperate and tried to grind against him.
but in the end…it truly always was worth it. because he’d begun hitting so deep, so fast, so good…the orgasm was always mind-mumbling, leaving you thinking about him for weeks afterwards.
maybe patience really is a virtue...
a/n: sorry for the short hiatus, been rolling in bed, cramping and wanting to rip my uterus out so…anyways, here's some jjk men positions for my fellow freaks n geeks. finally backkk, more fics coming soon. ⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆
a/n: also, credits to scrumptious_chowder on tiktok, she inspired this and some of the position ideas.
taglist: @wifichann𓏲༉‧₊˚.
send me a whisper on my blog or ask in the comments below to be added to the taglist ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
Synopsis: Nanami agreed to take a half-day for once. You used it to wear a tiny sundress and test his patience. You weren’t wearing panties—and he figures that out very quickly.
cw: Explicit sexual content (18+). Public sex/semi-public setting (car, risk of being seen). No panties/exhibitionism. Dom/sub. Light choking. Spanking. Rough sex/overstimulation. Dirty talk. Creampie. Slight possessiveness & authority play. m.list
You knew exactly what you were doing when you slipped into that little floral sundress.
It was barely August and the heat was already sticky, clinging, but you weren’t wearing it for the weather. You wore it because you liked the way it made Nanami look at you—like he was seconds away from throwing all his rules out the window and bending you over the nearest surface.
Thin, white, soft against your skin. Light enough to move with the breeze, short enough to show off your ass. No bra. No panties.
And Kento Nanami—your very overworked, very tightly wound boyfriend—had no idea what kind of day you had planned for him. At least, not when he picked you up that morning.
His jaw clenched the moment he saw you. He was in his usual three-piece suit, meticulous and pressed, glasses perched on his nose and a to-go coffee in his hand. His eyes skimmed down your body with that cold, unreadable look he got when he was trying very hard not to react. You smiled, all sweet. “Morning.”
“You’re not wearing a coat,” he said flatly.
“It’s warm out.” You leaned into his car, lips pouting as you walked to your side of the car. “Isn’t this dress cute?”
“Mhm,” he murmured as he was helping you into his car, gentlemanly as ever—palm on the small of your back, leaning close, murmuring something soft about dinner reservations and time windows—until his hand dipped a little lower. Until your leg shifted to get in and that dress rode up.
Until he felt bare skin under his palm. His voice dropped immediately. “You forgot something.”
“I don’t think I did.”
“You’re not wearing any panties.”
“And?”
The passenger door slammed. Hard. You bit back a grin as he rounded the car and got in, jaw tight, one big hand gripping the steering wheel, the other flexing slow on his thigh. He didn’t say anything for five minutes. Not until you crossed your legs sweetly and whispered, “Are you mad?”
Nanami didn’t look at you. “Mad isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Oh?” You reached over, letting your fingers trace the seam of his trousers, right along the thick line of his cock already pushing against the fabric. “What word would you use?”
His hand caught your wrist so fast you gasped, he was furious. “Stop it,” he said sharply. “Sit still and be quiet.”
You smiled, wicked and teasing. “That doesn’t sound like a thank you for the little surprise I planned.”
His eyes cut to you, cold and sharp. “I should pull this car over right now. Stop. It.”
You didn’t stop. You never did. Not when he warned you. Not when he glared at you with that tightly-reined restraint that made your thighs press together in the seat. Not even when he muttered a final, sharp “Enough” through gritted teeth, gripping the wheel so tight the leather creaked. He had to recite tax brackets in his head just to keep from wrecking the car.
Instead, you ran your palm slowly over his thigh, higher and higher until you reached the aching, hard line of his cock straining against his slacks. You gave him a playful little squeeze, and in the same motion, reached into your bag.
“Cupcake?” you asked, all innocent as you unwrapped the little thing you picked up from the bakery. Vanilla bean. A stupid, soft little snack. “I brought one just for you.”
“Don't,” he muttered under his breath. He watched you tear the wrapper with one dainty hand, shimmying in the seat like your bare cunt wasn’t already sticking to the leather.
“Kento,” you murmured, licking a streak of frosting off your thumb, “you want a bite?” You moaned—loud—when your tongue dragged over the tip of your finger, eyes fluttering shut like the taste was orgasmic. Then you bit into it slow, messy, frosting smearing the corner of your mouth. You licked that too. Sucked it off your finger like it was his cock.
“This frosting is so good,” you said, eyes flicking to him while your other hand trailed up his thigh. “C’mon just one bite?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, snatched the half-bitten cupcake out of your mouth without warning, threw it straight out the open window—“Kento!”—frosting streaking his knuckles from the force. He didn’t even blink.
Your lips parted like you might whine, but all that came out was a breathy sound as he raised his frosting-coated fingers to inspect the mess he'd made. Creamy, sticky, speckled with crumbs. His other hand never left the wheel, eyes forward as you—incorrigible, needy—snatched his hand and dragged it to your mouth.
You looked up at him through your lashes as you licked slowly from his knuckle to fingertip.
“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered under his breath—but you caught the twitch of his jaw.
“You’re so mean to me, baby,” you whispered against his knuckles. “You didn’t even want a taste?”
His voice was deadpan. “You’re going to cry later. I hope you know that.”
Your thighs clenched again—god, you were already so fucking wet, sticky between your legs from nothing but teasing him. His fingers were still in your mouth. You made a soft little mmph sound like a slut trying to apologize.
He made a sharp turn off the main road—too fast—and pulled the car into the back lot of a quiet rest stop. You barely had time to react before the engine cut off, the brake engaged.
And then the car was dead silent. You watched him unbuckle his belt with controlled precision. He wasn’t rushing. Nanami never rushed.
You gulped. “Kento—”
“Get on my lap.”
The words hit like a slap. You blinked. “What—”
“You wanted attention. You want to tease me? Fine. Get on my lap. I’ll let you fuck yourself on my cock in broad daylight. No window tints. No privacy. Go ahead. Let’s see how long that attitude lasts.”
“…someone could see—”
He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you forward, his mouth was right at your ear, voice low. “Get. On. My. Lap.”
He released you just as fast. Sat back. Opened his slacks with one sharp motion and freed his cock—thick, flushed, already leaking, slapping against his stomach with a quiet, heavy thud.
“Take your time,” he said coldly. “You love putting on a show, right?”
You were already crawling into his lap, straddling him, the sticky heat of your cunt dragging over his length as you settled against him. You were so wet he didn’t even need to guide himself in—just one slow press of your hips and he slid inside, inch by inch, deliciously deep.
You gasped as he hissed. His head dropped back against the headrest. “Fuck. Of course you’re this wet.”
You bit your lip, hips trembling. “It’s your fault…” you whined, high-pitched and breathless. He gripped your throat with one hand. “Don’t fucking start,” he snapped. “You’re lucky I’m letting you cum at all.”
You could barely breathe. Not just because of the thick weight of his cock pulsing inside you—but because of the way Kento fucking looked at you. One arm slung across the back of the seat, the other still gripping your throat, palm hot and broad. His glasses had slid down just slightly, exposing the sharp glint of his eyes as he watched you tremble in his lap like some fucked-out little plaything.
“You don’t get to be shy now,” he muttered. “Ride me.”
You whimpered and gripped the collar of his shirt as your hips began to move. Slow at first. Up. Down. Just enough to feel that stretch all over again. Every time you sank down, it felt like too much—too deep. But his grip tightened when you tried to stop. His brows drew together like he was annoyed you weren’t using him properly.
“You tease me all fucking morning,” he growled, “and this is how you ride cock?”
“I’m—” you gasped, “I’m trying—”
“Try harder.”
The slap to your ass was loud and immediate—his palm cracked sharp against the curve of it and you yelped, tightening around him. His cock twitched in response. You barely managed another rise and fall of your hips before your rhythm broke, thighs shaking.
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
He grabbed your hips with both hands and then slammed you down onto his cock so hard you choked on your own breath. “Oh my god—Kento!”
His hips snapped into yours, cock stretching you wide, his hands bruising your waist. He grunted with each thrust, every stroke a punishment.
“This—” thrust.
“—is—” thrust.
“—what happens—” thrust.
“—when you pull that shit with me.” Your eyes were glassy, mouth parted around panting little moans as he forced you to take his cock over and over, faster now, harder—bucking you against him with brute, punishing strength. The squelch of your cunt sucking him back in was filthy.
He sat back, legs planted, hands locked on your hips, and fucked up into you so hard you saw stars. Your entire body bounced with every brutal thrust—his cock punching against your cervix, the fat head dragging over that swollen, needy spot inside you again and again until your back arched and your mouth dropped open in a silent scream.
Your orgasm crashed over you so violently your body locked up, cunt clamping down around him like a vice. You cried out—high, loud, broken—and Nanami bit your lip as he grunted, hips jerking up once, twice, before he stilled. His cock throbbed deep inside you, spilling hot cum into your pulsing cunt, so much it dripped out the second he pulled you off him.
You collapsed against him, panting, shaking, your sundress hiked up around your waist, legs splayed open across his thighs.
Just your heavy breaths and his low, even ones. His hand stroked your back, then slid lower—over your ass, to your slick thighs, to where his cum was starting to drip onto the seat.
“You made a mess,” he muttered. You mumbled something incoherent against his chest. He sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
You giggled, barely able to lift your head. “Told you the dress was worth it.”
He shifted, tucking himself back into his slacks with practiced ease, then grabbed a handkerchief from the glovebox and slipped it between your legs.
“Clean up.” You mewled, lifting your hips weakly so he could wipe the mess from your thighs.
“You know,” you whispered, lazy smile spreading over your face, “we never made it to lunch.”
He glanced down at you. “You're not getting anything sweet for the rest of the day.”
You smirked. “Except you.”
His palm landed on your ass again—lighter this time. A warning. “Behave.”
“No promises.”
He closed his eyes like he was praying for strength. “Next time,” he said, voice low, “I’m tying your hands before we get in the car.”
today marks a little over a week since I made this account, and I seriously cannot thank you all enough!
this account got wayyy more love than I initially expected, given that I created it on a whim because I felt my creative writing wasn't going anywhere and decided to try out fanfiction writing instead.
regardless, thank you all endlessly. im forever grateful, and it means the world. and I have manyyy more fics coming soon! (∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)♡
I have like a thousand ideas in the vault...just figuring out which first...
your cute nerdy boyfriend, nerd!jo, was more of a freak than he’d let on… ♡‧₊˚ mlist
(wc: 1k, 18+ mdni, established relationship, smut if you squint, implied smut, suggestive, soft dom nerd!jo, mention of a full nelson, neck sucking/kissing, condescending praise)
the blinding rays of morning sunlight filtered through the semi-open blinds; you squinted instinctively, rolling onto your side and burying yourself in a pillow.
you were completely exhausted–getting up right now wasn’t even a question.
a small groan escapes your lips, thighs gently brushing together.
that’s when it hit you.
your limbs throbbing with a delicious ache that bordered both pain and pleasure, head hammering a steady pulse, and a numbing, boneless sensation.
all lingering aftereffects of last night–the addictive taste of post-rough, late-night sex.
no one on campus would believe it if you told them.
told them that your cute nerdy little boyfriend satoru–the one who stumbled over his words when he got nervous, or could explain the quantum theory of paramagnetic off the top of his head like it was normal…
was the one who put it down on you nightly—and i mean he laiddd that pipe.
you could recall the multiple instances during sex when he left you baffled.
the first being when he made you read back his chemistry homework–mid bullying of his cockhead against your cervix, might i add– just so he could do the corrections for his final in real time. while satisfying your needs. simultaneously.
or the time you had to study for one of your anatomy and physiology classes, needing to memorize the human muscular system by the end of the week. he licked each atom on your body, pausing afterwards and looking up at you through his lashes.
his dazzling blue eyes waited for your answer on which body part he just licked. and he didn’t want the basic, “arm” or “abs,” no, no…
he expected the medical terms for you to treat this like an actual test.
so whenever you answered, “sternocleidomastoid,” “sartorius,” or “deltoid,” he’d reward you.
large hands wrapping around your thighs and spreading them apart. lapping at your puffy clit until it was overstimulated and you were begging for him to stop and continue at the same time.
but each time you got it wrong, tried to buck your hips forward with a needy whine, he’d stop with an almost cruel smile and say, “sorry, pretty girl, that was wrong…try again,” voice dripping mock sympathy and condescension. satoru would push your hips down firmly into the mattress until you tried again.
from the geeky digimon hyperfixation, nightwing-themed watch he wore daily, dc sheets on his bed, and the video games, comics, and star wars lego sets displayed on his bookcase, nothing gave off superfreak to the naked eye.
but you knew better than the innocent, stoic side he gave everyone else.
when it was just the two of you, he was a completely different kind of freak.
your freak.
currently hunched over his desk, working on some homework for his classes, more than likely computer science. his long, slender fingers were typing rapidly across his keyboard, pausing occasionally to stretch them out before resuming once more. the other hand was treading through the short white hairs of his nape, twirling aimlessly.
“toru…?”
your voice came out more like a croaky whisper. throat dry and biting with irritation once you spoke.
damn—what didn’t hurt?
his head instantly shot up, tousled strands of white hair falling into his eyes as he looked over his shoulder, a small smile forming.
“oh, hey baby…” he murmured, the glasses on his nose bridge sliding briefly before he pushed them back into place.
“how’d you sleep? any pain..? still sore? i…i didn’t hurt you, right?”
the rapid firing of his questions, soft eyes, and gentleness in his tone were enough to make you melt into his mattress. there was no hope left for you; you were whipped. completely.
“no, no, m’fine…” you lazily mumbled, slowly sitting up and using your elbows to hold yourself up.
“just…the usual soreness..”
you gave him a weak, reassuring smile, but even he wasn’t fully convinced–maybe the way you winced when you sat up gave it away.
he spun around in the chair, pushing off the armrest and stalking over to you.
lord, was he huge.
all cut and toned muscle, six-foot-three, and a v-line that could send any woman within a 30-mile radius into cardiac arrest–you, of course, being no exception from that.
satoru was half naked from the waist up, wearing only loose-fitting grey sweats, and with the way he was walking, you could make out the faint print underneath them—no boxers.
your mouth began watering instinctively, pulse thumping in your ears, trying to push the lustful thoughts forming down—you were literally sore as hell, and you were thinking about more? insatiable. greedy.
and you didn’t care one bit.
you could still remember his voice from last night. he had you in a full nelson, his chest pressed your back, a tight grip on your thighs, lips brushing your ear as he whispered filthy and condescending praise.
how he groaned against your nape when you were close to coming, husky voice referring to your sloppy cunt as a “greedy girl holding him hostage.”
the familiar throbbing rushed back all at once from the memory, the aching only adding to the sensation.
he paused at the foot of his bed, studying your expression with a puzzled brow raise.
satoru’s gaze pierced into you over the rim of his glasses, adams apple bobbing as he finally registered the dark, ravenous look that washed over you.
he knew.
dammit, he knew.
slowly. teasingly. predatorily, almost, he grabbed your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed before you could blink. you let out a half gasp, half yelp in return.
“looks like someone’s hungry again,” he smirked. leaning down to pepper kisses along your shoulder and the curve of your neck.
“five rounds weren’t enough for you last night, hmm?” he drawls teasingly. briefly sucking before he gently bit over your pulse point, a needy whimper escaped your parted lips.
“guess i’ll have to remind my greedy girl how insatiable she is again.”
a/n: i lwk need him... comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ♡⸝⸝
“omg where’s the fluff and angst there’s too much smut on here” and “oh smut is corrupting everything” blah blah blah
LIKE GENUINELY SHUT UP?
people say things like this but long fics with angst and fluff are always the ones with the least amount of interactions.
if you want to see more fluff and angst you better be interacting tf?? if you’re not seeing what you want to be seeing, you’re probably not searching in the right places because there are so many talented authors on here hello??? the tumblr algorithm literally works and it adheres to what you’re interacting with?? sure it might take a while if you’re new BUT IT WORKS? it’s not like you’re bombarded with smut the moment you create your account ???
i’m saying this as a writer who has personally seen how smut does 10x better on here compared to things like hurt/comfort—which saddens me slightly BUT I’M NOT COMPLAINING because i write because i love doing so??? not because i care??
if you want more fluff and angst start interacting with authors
i cannot stress this enough it’s so infuriating seeing people complain about the lack of longer fics that have little to no smut but then don’t interact with those that already exist.
and instead ur putting the blame on writers and making them feel like they NEED to stop putting out smut (which mind you is what does well the most, so clearly that’s what most blogs will be about) and put more fluff and angst.
another thing i tend to see more on other platforms is that people tend to fixate over just one blog that puts out longer fics and completely disregard other writers.
jjk tumblr isn’t just one blog. you’re missing out so much. so pls pls PLEASE go support smaller blogs, longer fics, and interact by reblogging and commenting things you liked about the story. if anyone would like i can recommend my personal fav series / full fics.
synopsis . . . a messy, intoxicating college campus romance where your first taste of sex, heartbreak, and obsession comes wrapped in a frat bro's smirk. one meeting outside a bar spirals into a tangled friends with benefits dynamic with toji fushiguro, leaving you addicted, overthinking, and conflicted while navigating parties, friends, and the harsh truth that he was never yours to keep.
contains . . . jjk college au, frat!toji (+ fratjo & fratkuna), ooc!toji, player!toji, fem!reader, populargirl!reader, lovergirl!reader, reader needs a hug, toji is reader's first & only body, alcohol consumption, mention of weed, fluff and angst, little bit of smut, friends with benefits, sexual tension, kissing, teasing, fingering, no happy ending (hm: plug!choso)
wordcount . . . ~4.7k(?)
author's note . . . not proofread. count how many times i've used the word 'like' for a kiss. also no hate will be tolerated,,, don't like? don't read.
you had learned early that college campus worked a lot like a reality show nobody wanted to admit they were watching.
everyone pretended not to care, but they all knew the cast list.
there was your group of what they would stereotypically call the popular girls.
the girls people watched out for when they walked through the corridors. the girls who turned up late at lectures with iced coffees and louder laughs than necessary. the girls who gave unwanted fashion advice to the desperate nerds, and slept with them the same day.
there was lotus with her beauty vlog channel, jules who strictly dated athletes like it was a hobby, tiffany who somehow knew every rumor before it existed, and you. you floated in between this popular girl cliché and somewhere much softer.
gentle like a spring breeze, yet as tough as a bee sting.
and there were toji and his boys.
frat house royalty.
campus legends.
the kind of guys people warned their friends about while secretly hoping to run into them at parties.
there was satoru, loud and untouchable, goofing off everywhere, but one of the most intimidating guys ever if you ticked him off. sukuna was usually close behind with sharp smiles and sharper comments, the human embodiment of chaos wrapped in expensive cologne and tattoos.
and toji.
toji fushiguro, who looked like he had never cared about anything a day in his life, which was a lie.
you knew because sometimes, at two in the morning, when the roads were empty and smoke curled out of cracked car windows, courtesy of choso's latest delivery, he became silent.
not soft.
never soft.
just present in the quiet moment shared between the two of you and the moon's watchful gaze.
but nobody else got that version.
just you.
and only when nobody was looking.
it started, like most things with him did, by accident. or at least that was what you both pretended, what you both chose to believe rather than the truth.
the first time had been outside a campus bar, booming with music, when rain threatened, but never fell. you stood under the flickering neon sign, waiting for tiffany to finish flirting with the bartender when a voice spoke beside you.
“what'cha doin' all by yourself, ma?”
you didn’t turn immediately. you already knew who it was.
“smoking,” you replied dryly, ticking ash off your cigarette.
however much of a slut you were rumored to be, you had never slept with anyone before. you weren't the kind of girl who enjoyed entertaining men in the first place, like your good friend was busy with right now.
not that any of that was his business.
toji leaned against the wall next to you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
you remembered how his posture appeared lazy enough to look accidental, but deliberate enough to block anyone else from stepping too close, like he was already claiming you for himself. you should've known back then that he was setting a trap for you that you so perfectly walked right into.
you exhaled smoke slowly, watching it disappear into the humid night air instead of looking at him. you had seen him around more times than you could count on two hands, but had never spoken to him alone before. always in groups or rooms crowded with drunk students.
“didn’t peg you for the lurking type,” you eventually said after a minute of silence.
“didn’t peg you for the lonely type,” he shot back with ease. you could practically hear the grin in his voice.
you scoffed. “i’m waiting for tiff.”
“yeah,” he hummed, glancing toward the bar window where tiffany twirled her hair and batted her eyelashes at the poor bartender. “looks like you might be here a while.”
you finally looked at him.
mistake.
his eyes were already on you, deep-set and utterly amused, like he’d been studying your face the whole time. the scar around his mouth made him look ten times more intriguing and attractive.
you swallowed before you took another drag just to have something to do.
“you always bother random girls outside bars?”
“nah,” he chuckled. “just you.”
you rolled your eyes automatically, but your lips twitched despite yourself.
people passed across the street in bursts of laughter and smoke. someone shouted toji’s name from across the street.
he didn’t turn toward them fully. he gave them a casual nod, just enough to acknowledge their existence, like he was letting the world know he was there without letting anyone touch him. something you had always found attractive when men did.
not too much, though not total ignorance either.
“so,” he said when he realized you weren't set on continuing this conversation, voice low enough that you felt the urge to lean in a little to hear. “where you goin' after this?”
you blinked. “uh, my dorm.”
he smirked, crooked and dangerous in a way that made your stomach twist with an unfamiliar sensation.
“your dorm, huh?” he drawled, voice lazy like he couldn’t be bothered. “care to invite me?”
“and why would i do that?” you smiled at the predictability of a typical frat boy trying to get into your pants.
“i promise i’ll make this a night you'll never forget,”
he stepped closer, smirk widening. neon light painted everything pink and blue, turning his features sharper, almost unreal. made him look like trouble incarnate.
and weirdly enough, you were enjoying this.
“oh, yeah? and how would you do that?”
“that's for me to know and for you to find out, ma.”
his response was instant and easy, like he'd done this a hundred times before. and let's be real.
he definitely had.
you took a drag of your cigarette, purposefully slow as if to stretch this moment further and further. you found yourself wishing this never ended, wishing you could stay chatting with him like this forever.
you understood now why girls went crazy for him.
as if she overheard toji talking about her earlier, tiffany came stumbling outside. surprisingly, no bartender in sight.
“girl,” she breathed out, falling into your arms immediately. “spent all night getting to know the bartender only for him to be gay! can you believe it?”
you wrapped your arms around her bare shoulders with a grin. “yeah, i can. didn’t you notice that twinky body of his?“
toji huffed out a laugh from beside you and it was only then that tiffany noticed he was there.
“oh. hi, toji,” she slurred out, leaning towards him. you had to hold her back from slamming into his chest, even if she really wanted you to let go. “is he coming back with us?”
“guess so.”
you watched from the side of your eye how a mischievous sparkle glimmered in his eyes.
you were giving the man exactly what he wanted and thinking back, you hated yourself for it. you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
exactly as he had promised you, it became a night you could never forget. the night that started it all. the night you got yourself tangled into toji’s web with no way out.
losing your virginity to him was a secret you held dear in your heart and would never tell anyone.
since then, sex with him became a normal part of your routine.
he’d hit you up, or the other way around, and you’d fuck without saying another word. school bathrooms, lecture rolms after everyone had left, and occasionally in your dorm when none of the other girls where there.
he was a drug you were addicted to.
and you didn’t ever want to recover.
one specific night, months after your run-in with toji, you were at one of alpha alpha alpha’s weekly frat parties. it was the first you ever attended. their parties were invite-only and it would seem toji only now thought of inviting you and your friends.
lotus had spent hours doing everyone’s makeup, forcing you to wipe half of it off if she didn’t like the recording. jules had spent most of it calling with one of her new boys and tiffany kept talking your ear off about the newest campus scandal.
you sat patiently, taking all of it in.
you loved your friends dearly, even if they could be considered mean girls every once in a while.
they weren’t fully aware of what was going on with toji, but they knew the gist of it.
you also knew that if you ever wanted to open up about it, they’d happily put down their phones and give you their undivided attention.
back to the party, all four of you had scattered across the house.
you found yourself in the kitchen, watching bodies of drunken students rub together to the beat of the music.
a couple on the counter were dryhumping each other next to you, but you didn’t mind. they even asked if you wanted to join in after your eyes lingered on them a second too long, which you politely declined.
you watched lotus walk on over to you, remarkably sober, with the widest smile on her face ever. all pearly white teeth and smile lines.
“sweetheart, what’re you standing around for? we’re about to play seven minutes in heaven upstairs. c’mon!”
you laughed as she took your hand in hers, guiding you through the crowd.
by the time you wanted to catch your breath from lotus sprinting up the stairs, you already found yourself in a dimly lit room. it was quieter here, the music muffled by the thick, wooden door.
jules and tiffany were already sat, leaning against the edge of the queen-sized bed. satoru, sukuna, and, you guessed it, toji, all sat on the floor around them, creating a badly shaped circle. lotus sat down next to tiffany, leaving only one open spot in between to jules and satoru, where you kneeled down.
“i assume everyone understands the rules of the game?” satoru questioned, gaze sweeping over each of the girls.
you locked eyes with toji. he winked.
“mhm,” lotus hummed, more excited than everyone combined, while you and the others nodded your heads.
“aight, i’ll start,” sukuna offered, taking a last big swig of his beer before placing the bottle in the middle.
it spinned around endlessly before eventually stopping with its top pointed to jules.
you couldn’t help but think about what a perfect couple those two had the potential to be. it was one of the biggest differences that seperated you from the rest of the group. girls who slept around and you stood on opposites sides of the same pole.
you, who believed in true love and comitting relationships.
jules giggled, getting up and taking sukuna with her into the closet. satoru set a timer for seven minutes. the rest of you chatted aimlessly whilst you waited, lotus recording random clips of your makeup for her vlog.
approximately an hour and a half passed by as this went on and on until almost everyone had spent seven minutes with the other.
all but you and toji.
“do we even need to spin the bottle?” tiffany asked, eyes flickering from you to toji. “just get in there already.”
toji laughed that laugh you had noticed him do often around women. an attractive chuckle, low and smooth, though anything but genuine.
you would know, considering you heard his actual laugh when both of you were high once.
that had long ago become forgotten history.
“you right,” he spoke up, catching your eye. “let’s go, ma.”
the girls pushed you up, cheering and woohoo’ing for you as if you hadn’t been sharing quick moments across campus all school year. you noticed even toji’s friends give him words of encouragement, which was odd.
they hadn’t done any of that earlier.
you felt like you were missing out on an inside joke everyone forgot to inform you about.
he opened the door of of the closet, letting you go in first. you stood in there, noticing it was just long enough for you to stand facing him after he got in.
it was dark.
not a single bit of lighting coming through the gaps.
you were never afraid of the dark, but you felt afraid now.
you knew every perfection and every flaw of his body, though there were minimal of the latter in your opinion. you had fucked him so many times, you knew where to touch and what to stay away from.
however, kissing wasn’t something you two had ever done.
he cleared his throat. the others talked outside, but the silence that wrung its way in between you felt deafening nevertheless.
“you gonna do somethin’ or what?” you got the courage to ask, reaching out your hands to feel for the shape of his body.
“ha,” he huffed out. “i just realised we’ve been seeing each other for a while and have never kissed.”
“great minds think alike,” you muttered to yourself.
“what was that?”
he stepped closer, wrapping your smaller frame in his arms, pushing you impossibly close to his chest. you could feel heavy breaths on your forehead. you knew that the minute you looked up, it’d happen.
“nevermind.”
“m’kay,” his voice came out softer, confusing you. “look up, baby.”
baby?
you ignored the fluttering of your heart, the chaos running rampant inside of your head, and did as he said.
neither could see the other’s face, so you resorted to using your hands to feel, like you were two blind people touching another human being for the first time in their life. it was oddly intimate and real.
you weren’t aware toji was capable of being this gentle when he cupped your face like he was afraid he’d break you.
you stood on your tippytoes, tired of playing around each other and not doing anything. you basically wasted an entire minute you could’ve spent making out with the only person in here who you wanted to with.
you parted your lips, hands reaching behind his head and tangling into black strands.
automatically, his slid down to your waist and tightened.
he lowered his head.
it was a dreamy moment, captured forever in only your memory.
the kiss was perfectly wet and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to make up for how long you had gone without this. you felt his piercing cold against your bare tongue, but you didn’t mind.
you knew how good it felt whenever he was eating you out, and this wasn’t any difference.
his hands roamed freely across your body, moving from your your chest down to your ass. you kept yours around his neck, feeling the muscle beneath the fabric he so painfully still had on him.
you wished he would just take it all off.
the tension grew thicker and thicker. the buldge in his pants did the same thing, pressing against your stomach.
you pushed closer, the kiss got sloppier, and his hand traveled down and down until it reached the bottom of your skirt.
unashamed, he pushed it up and slid his hand along your folds, still painfully covered by your lacy panties.
“oh? what’s this?”
he pulled the edge of them back and let them flick against your skin.
you hummed against his mouth, tongue dripping with saliva.
he whispered, “you wore these ‘cause you wanted to fuck somebody else here tonight, huh, little slut?”
“mm… what if i was?” you challenged, tugging at his hair.
you could feel the grin against your mouth as his tongue slid back in briefly. “you’re not allowed. you’re mine.”
“am i, though?” you softened the slight jab with a peck on his lips. “i can’t recall when you asked me to be with you. officially.”
without giving you the response you had secretly hoped for, his mouth crashed back down onto yours. the previous moment was gone in a flash and horny toji had taken over.
you couldn’t complain when his hand found its way to your clit and started rubbing around it. you gasped, wishing he’d just dick you down right then and there.
he was kissing you with hunger now, swallowing you whole.
you returned with the same energy, pleading for more.
the adrenaline of anyone suddenly opening the closet after the timer had gone off was surging through your veins.
you couldn’t think straight.
you felt your knees buckle, drunk on the closeness.
on the heat of him.
on the way the dark erased everything, except breath and touch and the sound of your pulse roaring in your ears.
his grip tightened with one hand, steadying you like it was nothing. like you weighed nothing.
outside the closet, laughter burst suddenly, someone shouting over the music, the muffled bass vibrating through the walls.
you ignored it. you had to when two fingers slid into you swiftly.
your face flushed when he chuckled into your mouth. most likely because of how insanely wet you were for him when all you did was kiss.
“would've done this earlier if i knew it turned you on this much,” he murmured, smugness in his voice creeping back in at the edges. “you're enjoying this, huh, slut? wanna beg me for more, beg me to keep going?"
“mhm,” you moaned quietly, fingernails digging into his back as he sped up his space.
“yeah? tell me what you want, baby.”
“more. please, i want more.”
“more what?” he asked, voice dropping. “you want my dick? tell me, baby. use your words.”
you hesitated, nodding your head. “y—yeah. please, i need your dick so bad, toji. need it in—inside of me.”
a slow, crooked smile pulled at his mouth against yours.
he pulled his fingers out of you, creating space you wished there wasn't.
you could hear the sloppy sounds of him licking his fingers clean, covered in your pussy juice.
it made you crave him even more desperately than you thought was possible.
you were in a daze as he fixed your skirt for you and planted one last kiss to your forehead.
a kiss that made your heart ache when the reality dawned upon you that this was all you'd ever get from him.
there was no real love or care here.
it was purely sexual.
the two of you did share a moment. a very short one maybe, but you knew you weren't crazy when you thought back to how sweet he was before things got messy.
as if he knew, the timer went off when he finished brushing his fingers through your hair, removing all evidence that anything happened.
or so you thought.
as soon as you stepped foot outside of the closet, lotus gasped. “my makeup is ruined, toji. what the fuck!”
toji's hands were stuffed in the pocket of his pants, to adjust himself no doubt. he simply grinned at her, offering no apology.
“sounds like a you problem, lo.”
lotus stared at him, incredulous. “you vile beast.”
he shrugged, slow and careless, eyes already drifting past her.
his gaze landed on you for half a second longer than necessary, assessing, before sliding away again like nothing held his attention for long.
like you were just another one of the countless other girls on his roster.
you frowned, but knew this was simply what he was like.
the two of you shared romantic moments in the dark, holding each other and whispering sweet nothings like real lovers did.
until the lights came back on, shining down onto how flawed both of you were.
toji, never committed to one girl, and you, naive enough to believe he would.
lotus sighed, digging through her bag for a compact mirror. “unbelievable. i look like a mad woman 'cause of you.”
“to be fair,” toji spoke, sounding all charming despite the insult, “you always do.”
her jaw dropped. jules threw up a middle finger, which he waved off with a smile.
you joined your friends.
lotus and jules were at your side instantly, one trying to fix your makeup and the other grumbling about what an asshole toji and his friends were. she explained how they had left after the two of you got in with one of the worst excuses she had ever heard. tiffany stood to the side, busily typing away at her phone.
your eyes were still closed when you felt it.
not a touch. not this time.
just his presence.
heavy and undoubtedly intentional. close enough that the air around you shifted.
“stop moving,” lotus muttered, still dabbing at your cheek. “i'm trying to fix the damage someone caused.”
jules rolled her eyes beside her. “he's actually the worst. i swear, if he smirks one more time—”
“y'all talk about me like i ain’t standing here.” toji's voice cut in, right behind you.
you opened your eyes.
toji stood just over your shoulder, hands still buried in his pockets, posture loose, expression carved from pure amusement. up close, that grin looked sharper. almost as if he enjoyed being the problem.
“we are.” jules smile was as fake as it could get. “it’s called honesty, babe. you should try it out sometime.”
he hummed, unconcerned, gaze dropping to you instead.
“you good?”
the girls went quiet. even tiffany's nails stopped clicking against her phone momentarily.
You swallowed before answering.
“sure,” you said, a little too quickly. “i'm cool.”
toji's head tilted slightly, like he didn’t believe you, but wasn’t interested in pressing. his gaze traced your face anyway, slow and unapologetic, catching on the freshly fixed makeup and the faint flush that was impossible to hide with foundation.
a corner of his mouth lifted.
“mm,” he murmured, unconvinced.
you didn’t see him again for the rest of your night.
you danced with your friends, still so drunk from toji’s kiss you didn’t need alcohol to stumble around.
by the time the party started to wind down, jules had gone home with a guy. a basketball- or football player. who knew?
tiffany was telling you about this new nerd she had her eyes on. how good he looked, but how terrible he was at holding conversations.
you pretended to listen, but there was only one man on your mind.
you trudged back to your dorm alone that night, heels clacking against the pavement, replaying everything over and over like a broken record.
the closet. his hands. that smug little grin.
the way he called you baby.
you told yourself it was fine. it was supposed to be fine at least. whatever was going on between the two of you, it was just a game. a fun, messy, ridiculous game. nothing more and it would definitely never turn into anything more.
but your stomach twisted anyway.
the next week, back at campus, you tried to bury it under coffee, laughter with friends, and notebooks full of scribbles in lecture. you sat near the back of your large hall, one earbuds in, pretending to listen to a the professor yap on about supply and demand.
and then, you overheard them.
two girls a row ahead, right in front of you, whispering loudly enough for you to hear without meaning to.
“last night? oh, my god,” one was giggling, voice high and breathless. “he was incredible. i mean, i expected as much, but it was... insane.”
“who?” the other hissed, hitting her arm.
“toji fushiguro. duh?”
oh.
you froze.
your chest tightened, a slow, sinking burn in your ribcage.
the pen in your hand felt suddenly too heavy. it hovered over the page, tapping a rhythm you couldn’t follow.
you thought you could ignore that you weren't the only one he fucked around with, but thank god for the girls like these blabbing about it all over campus, hitting you back to the real world with a brick.
he was just toji being toji. he hadn't changed just because you kissed.
you chewed your on your bottom lip, scribbling some lines in your notebook to distract yourself from the fact you felt genuinely upset about hearing them.
you could feel the sting of your own delusion.
“hello?” jules' voice snapped through the fog like a splash of cold water. “i'm talking to you."
you blinked. “huh? what were you saying?”
her eyes narrowed, looking at you and then at the girls. when she looked back at you, the disappointment was evident on her face.
“don't tell me you're still thinking about that frat hoe—i mean, bro. all those guys do is play around with girls' feelings. you know that, right?”
“of course, i know,” you told her, but it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than her. “i just—”
“babe, no. don't let him get into your head like this.” jules shook her head, exasperated but not unkind. “you're fine as fuck, could get anyone you want, and you're still waiting for toji to come pick you up like a lost puppy? c'mon now.”
tiffany, who had been silently scrolling through her phone beside you, leaned in, eyes sharp. “jules' right. this is basic a3 frat bros 101. none of them do hearts. they don't do commitment. all they do are chaos, fun, and whatever the hell they want. you’re letting yourself get played by someone who doesn't deserve your care.”
you let out a shaky laugh, more bitter than amused. “yeah. i know, okay? thanks.”
lotus, hovering a row behind, put a hand on your shoulder. “you’re overthinking it, sweetheart. that’s all. just breathe.”
you nodded, heart still hammering, chest tight.
you appreciated your friends more than words could ever describe.
they were the earth that grounded you, the rain that washed away your sin, and the sun that reminded you of how good life could be once you let go of your irrational idealistic ideas.
you felt like crying. too many emotions at once filled up your bucket, causing it to overflow.
“i need fresh air,” you told them before packing your stuff and getting out of there quicker than lightning.
you could feel their pitiful stares burn into your back as you left.
the air outside felt sharp, almost electric, and for a second you just stood there, taking it in. the campus was quieter than usual, a soft wind tugging at your hair.
you needed distance, space to breathe, but nowhere felt large enough in this confined property.
and of course, there he was.
toji himself, leaning against the brick wall by the path, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. he had already spotted you when you noticed him.
“hey,” he called, tilting his head lazily. “since we’re both skipping... wanna keep me company?”
the smirk on his lips made it clear he meant exactly what it sounded like.
time stopped, heart flipping, but then something inside clicked.
the voice of your friends echoed in your head. jules, tiffany, lotus.
chaos, fun, no hearts.
you exhaled.
“no,” you said, voice firmer than you expected. “not anymore, toji. i’m done with this.”
the corners of his mouth faltered for half a second. he blinked, surprise written all over him. then his expression hardened, sharp as glass. “what the fuck? you on your period or somethin'? i'll find someone else then.”
you flinched, that casual cruelty cutting through you like a razor.
you hated him, hated how much it hurt.
but slowly, you felt something else.
relief.
pure, raw, and undeniable relief.
because yeah, it hurt, but your friends were right.
he wasn’t someone who deserved the scraps of your heart you’d been feeding him. he wasn’t capable of giving you one thing you wanted. the one thing you yearned for.
love.
you squared your shoulders, letting the wind whip around you.
“dodged a fuckin' bullet,” you muttered to yourself, heart still thudding, but steadier than before.
he watched you for a moment longer, silent now, expression unreadable, before shrugging and disappearing down the path toward whatever girl he’d decided to make his prey next.
you stayed where you were, chest rising and falling, letting the cool air fill the space he’d left behind.
synopsis: a series of short drabbles of jjk men as fathers (toji, gojo, geto, choso, nanami, sukuna, higuruma)
wc: 2k- fluff, domestic fluff, crack
toji fushiguro - the complainer yet secret sap
toji wasn’t exactly father of the year, but you applauded his efforts to at least try.
he was even worse when megumi was an infant, not wanting to change his diapers, looking like he wanted to die internally when megumi threw up on him, groaning when you forced him to come shopping with you for new clothes that megumi definitely didnt need–the poor babies closet was already brimming at the seams, and he would grow out of half those clothes in like…two days.
but he had his moments.
the glimpse where you could see fatherhood tugging on his heartstrings, before he realized and quickly shook it off again
he’d let megumi boss him around when he insisted on reading dr. suess “one fish two fish, red fish blue fish,” the thing toji swore was modern torture wrapped into a children's book. megumi would force toji to assign a different voice to each character–yes, that includes each damn fish. but what made it worse was this wasn’t a one-time thing–oh no, it was weekly.
or the times when you’d come home to find toji knocked out on the couch, the muted sports game still playing on the tv, and megumi cradled against his chest, face buried into toji’s neck.
but most recently, when megumi had his first little league baseball game. you were wearing a t-shirt with megumi’s chubby toddler face plastered onto it, holding a handmade sign—that you forced toji to help you make–which read, “#15 was born to score” in huge bold letters and baseball drawings.
toji acted as if he didn’t want to be there, groaning the whole drive, and complaining about how early the games were for literal six-year-olds. yet once you were in the stands, screaming to your lungs and the game had finally come to a close, you could’ve sworn you saw a smirk forming on his lips when megumi was named the team's mvp.
he was such a sap, despite trying to hide it.
satoru gojo - the additional child...
sometimes you wondered what on god’s green earth convinced you to have a child with saturo. despite the obvious reasons…satoru was nothing but a huge kid himself, and after having not one…but two with him, you were beginning to realize that.
he was currently on the couch, jumping up and down at his big age with your three-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter. the two had insisted on having a jumping competition to see who could go the longest. your son had long tapped out, the poor tot's legs giving out as soon as the others started jumping, so they secretly didn't count him for the competition any longer.
satoru and your daughter were still going, holding hands as they bounced and squealed with laughter, wreaking havoc on your mind you–brand new couch!
“babe! come over here, i’m about to beat her!” satoru panted between laughs, your daughter gasped in mock horror, “no, daddy’s cheating! he’s too big!”
satoru paused without even realizing it, causing your daughter to squeal with victory! “hah! you fell for it, loserrrr!”
with a dramatic gasp and hand clenched over his chest satoru flopped back onto the carpeted floor with a hard thump and groan.
“she’s killed me…” he croaked weakly, acting as if he’d really died, “that little grimlin called me a loser…”
you sighed helplessly, picking up your son as he babbled in your ear something about if his dad was actually hurt, but you were too busy watching as your daughter hopped off the couch to jump on satoru's stomach, shouting more smug comments about her victory.
that was definitely his kid.
suguru geto - the ultimate girl dad
suguru was a girl dad, through and through. he spoiled your twins rotten. they wanted the newest toys? they got it. stuffed animals at the fair? snatched. and you were already dreading the day your ten-year-olds finally became pre-teens. he was going to spend half of his life savings.
when both the girls got honors awards at their school's ceremonies, there he was in the crowd. standing beside you with the proudest smile and twinkle in his eyes. recording the moment to cherish for later. they had him wrapped around their fingers.
he wasn’t this sappy until you had them; it was like a light switched inside him, and he’d discovered his life’s purpose.
don’t get me wrong, he didn’t let them get away with just anything. he had his moments where he’d have to discipline them firmly but gently. or teaching them about responsibilities. each time, you could see the pain etched into his features.
and god help you when they needed new clothes, they’d drag you both to the nearest mall and spend nearly a fortune. but suguru would never complain, not even looking bothered when the cashier hesitantly read back the triple digits for the payment.
he enjoyed spoiling them rotten, making sure they’d never need. hell he’d probably buy them disneyland if they ask.
plus, he just liked seeing them both come out of the fitting rooms, wide matching grins on their faces while they ignored you and asked him specifically what he thought of their matching dresses.
daddy’s girls.
nanami kento - the forever daddy's little girl
nanami was a completely helpless sap for your daughter. and she was the same for him.
in fact, she was possessive of him.
there was one time she spotted you both sharing a secret makeout while cooking dinner, and instantly began throwing a crying fit. insisting that you were trying to steal her daddy away from her. when you could’ve sworn he was yours first…
or the time when nanami was away at work, and it was just you both lounging in bed. you rolled over with a soft smile and asked the splitting image of nanami, but with your hair color and eyes, “baby, who do you like more? mama or dada?”
“dada.”
you blinked.
she didn’t even hesitate, like the answer should’ve been obvious in and of itself. her chubby little arms crossed, and an unimpressed look on her face.
you almost wanted to be hurt by it. but you already had your suspicions.
and most recently, when she finally started kindergarten, nanami insisted on being the one to pick her up.
she walked out the doors, beaming brightly once she spotted him in the line of waiting parents. he mirrored her expression, the biggest grin on his lips before he saw it.
or rather, him.
time felt as if it moved in slow motion.
a little boy from her class held her hand. and not in a friendly way. nanami knew that look.
the kid had a crush… he was crushing on Nanami's daughter.
he nearly had a stroke then and there.
that night in bed, his bedside lamp only lit the room whilst you both were busy doing your own things, he was reading a book, you were scrolling through netflix for something new to watch.
he was trying his best not to say anything. not to bring up earlier.
but he couldn’t even read one sentence of his novel.
with a heavy sigh, he pulled off his glass, smushing a hand down his face before turning to you.
“love…” he began hesitantly, “i think our daughter has a boyfriend."
you nearly choked on your spit, eyes bugging out as you turned to him.“a what?!”
“my princess has already been corrupted by the male population on her first day…”
choso kamo - world's best father
choso was meant to be a father. that much was obvious with how he cared for you prior to the kids. the way he was gentle and soft with you like it was a reflex. sometimes you contemplated if he’d give birth to them if it were possible.
anytime your son came rushing back home with a new drawing or craft from school, choso happily added it to the overflowing collection.
he wouldn’t dare to ever throw any of them away. not even when the kitchen drawer specifically dedicated to them was overflowing.
instead, he just compromised by putting even more around the house. framed in pictures down the halls, stuck down with magnets on the fridge, and on his bedside table.
hell, he’d even show them to anyone who’d give him the time of day.
he loved when it was bedtime, tucking your son into bed and reading him stories until he fell asleep. or when your son would rush into your room while you both slept, insisting choso fought off the “monster” lurking underneath his bed.
when your son lost his first tooth, choso cherished the milestone with a damn cake and a small celebration party with just the three of you.
he loved being a father. that much was clear.
and when you found out you were soon to be expecting a little girl, choso nearly exploded with excitement. already vowing to create a whole new drawer for her creations when she was old enough to make them.
he was so adorable you almost forgot how he mentioned wanting enough to make a soccer team one day…wait, no, you weren’t that swooned.
yet.
sukuna ryomen - a mothers worst nightmare
sukuna was a complete mess when it came to parenting at first. he complained when you corrected him, fussed about everything, referred to the kid as your spawn, and all around didn’t understand the point of buying a hundred things for a kid who couldn’t care less.
he wasn’t wrong about that.
your son didn’t care. not for toys, not for video games, not for much of anything.
but there was one thing they had in common. they loved creating pure chaos.
on nights you were already long asleep, sukuna would slip into his son's room, and they’d both devise their plans for the next day.
whether it be sukuna teaching your preteen the best way to skip class without getting caught, how to make girls swoon over him for merely breathing, how to blackmail teachers into giving him better grades on his report card, or how to slap the hell out of any kid who tried him, sukuna was more than happy to conspire.
they were like devious twins.
one day, you and sukuna were on the couch, he was manspread with your leg hooked between his, head on his chest, and watching a movie—that he definitely was half paying attention to, but “watched” for your sake.
then the front door flung open, your son walking in casually.
as soon as you saw him, you nearly screamed in horror.
the once fresh white tee now sprinkled with blood. his hair was a wild mess as if someone tried to fist it, scuffs on his jaw and cheeks, and a busted lip to top everything off.
his gaze followed both of yours to his shirt before chuckling, “oh, don't worry mom, it’s not mine. you should see the other kid. i beat his ass good, dad.”
you gasped, short-circuiting before you could manage a, “oh my go–language!”
while sukuna just leaned back, his arm draped over your shoulders, wearing a smug grin, “that’s my spawn, nicely done, brat."
“sukuna!”
hiromi higuruma - the cognitive supporting father
higuruma wasn’t exactly an affectionate father. well, not in the ways most would think. it wasn’t that he wasn’t affectionate; he just didn’t know how to be.
he didn’t bother with much physical touch, gifts, or quality time since he was busy with legal cases most of the time.
but one thing he was good at was teaching your son wisdom and acts of service.
he would stay up late nights with him to help him work on his math and science assignments–especially loving it whenever history was on the agenda for the night. other times, he’d have deep conversations with him about life, wanting to know anything that was on the boy's mind.
he never judged, tried to give solutions, or made a face; he simply listened.
there were times he’d put a hand on his shoulder when he was proud of him, or into a rare tight hug. more often than not, he’d give him a genuine nod of approval with a small, “i'm proud of you.”
most times, they’d just bond in complete silence. in their own worlds, while they enjoyed each other's presence. it was a mutual understanding they had.
something that was just for them.
higuruma would sometimes talk to him about his job, and your son even began wanting to go into the law field, seeing how dedicated his father was.
he looked up to him, really.
but would he ever tell higuruma? nope.
and higuruma deeply loved his son, but never felt the need to say it verbally often, either.
like father, like son.
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