ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ DON'T BE AFRAID
OF THE GREEN LIGHT
delu, twenty-two, 18+ blog mdni, mexicana, satosugu's, choso's, subaru's, jiro's, tsukishima's, eren's, armin's and gintoki's toxic latina girlfriend
a/n: HELLO!! this is a fic i came up after eating a shit ton of spicy wings the other day. i’m still regretting it.
pairings: timeskip! tsukishima kei x (chubby) !reader
WARNINGS: crack fic, mentions of dookie, pain mentions, bloating mentions, stomachache mentions, reader is a whiny mess, tsukishima makes fun of reader, writing errors
wc: no clue :p
“Keeeiii-” you whine, huffing as your boyfriend crosses his arms, slouching in the couch avoiding looking at you.
“I told you you would get a stomachache.” He sasses, suddenly very intrigued with the commercial playing in the tv. You groan, wriggling around in the couch, your arms wrapped around your bloated stomach. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to try spicy chicken as a late night “snack”, your stomach was bloated, you felt like throwing up, and worse part you couldn’t let anything out.
Kei, on the other hand, told you twice to not eat this late at night, but of course you always do the opposite of what he says and ordered yourself the spicy chicken combo, eating the whole meal in one sitting as Kei only watched you silently, obviously judging you but never dared to say it out loud.
“Do we have pepto?” You whine, holding your stomach. Kei doesn’t say anything, only glancing at your ridiculous states, then averting his gaze back to the tv. Your eyes suddenly widen, grabbing Kei’s shoulder. Tsukishima looks at you with a frown, turning to look down at where your hand rested.
“Are you going to shit yourself?” He asks in horror, scooting away from you, but you shake your head, grabbing his hand and putting it against your stomach. You slowly look up at him, disbelief in your eyes.
“My stomach is hard Kei. It’s never done that before.” You let go of his hand, standing up and walking around the coffee table, hoping it would be of some relief but it was no use. Tsukishima groaned quietly, getting tired of your pacing after your third lap. He stops you in your tracks as he hovered over you, grabbing your hand and taking you to the front door. As Tsukishma grabbed his keys and put on his shoes, you struggled to keep your noises down, complaining with every little movement.
“Where are we going.” You whine once Kei finished helping you put your shoes on, opening the door for you as he put his hoodie up, then locking the door behind him once he stepped out.
“You’re just bloated. Walking for a while will help.” He says as if it was the most obvious answer. You interlock your fingers with his cold ones, the two of you walk out your apartment, the night breeze hitting your skin, making you grab Kei’s arm instead.
~
“I hate that I’m the one with the bigger appetite in the relationship. Shouldn’t you be eating more cause of your height?” You huff. Tsukishima scoffs, shaking his head while continuing to walk. He snakes his arm around your waist, he doesn’t pull you in, but his hand squeezes your hip just slightly. The gesture isn’t forgein to you, but it is rare. You melt into his touch, continuing to walk as you felt your stomach tighten.
“Kei this isn’t helping.” You huff, massaging your stomach. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, glancing down at you
“We’ve barely even left the block, be patient.”
“What if I have to poop and I don’t make it.”
“That’s disgusting.” Tsukishima frowns at you but his touch stays on you, taking a turn. You light up when you see the bright sign of the convince store. Tsukishima opens the door for you, happily walking under his arm you immediately go to the fridges, grabbing a water bottle. Kei went to the medicine aisle, looking at the back of each box to see if any of your symptoms were labeled there.
You peaked your head under his arm, looking at the blue box he was holding.
“What’s that for?” You ask, resting the cold water bottle against your stomach. Kei doesn’t spare you a glance, shaking the box a little and turning around, your feet following him as he put his arm around your shoulder.
“For the big baby.” He smirks, walking to the cashier. You roll your eyes and set your water bottle on the counter, leaning your head against his side. Once the man checks out your items and Kei pays, the both of you walk out, Kei opening the box and taking out the small pill bottle.
“Take this,” he says, handing you the opened bottle. You set the pill on your tongue, taking a swing of your water. You swallow, looking at Kei for a second.
“It’s not working.” You shake your head. Tsukishima clicks his tounge, taking the bottle of pills from your hand, shoving them in his pocket.
“It takes a while for it to set, genius.” He mummers as you hold onto his arm. You only hum, swinging your water bottle back and forth as the late night cold air hits your face.
“Thank you.” You whisper after a while, watching a car drive by the both of you as you walk back home. Kei glances down at you, kissing the top of your head, wrapping his arm around your waist, saying nothing more.
~
When the two of you got home, Kei made you a tea, and although you were not a fan of the taste you still drank it all because he said “it will help you shit everything out.” You only glared at him as he gestured at you to drink it all.
When the two of you finally went in for bed, in the dark room only lighted up by the small rays of the moon, you turn to face Tsukishima who was already facing you. You grab his arm, scooting closer to him and wrapping his arm around you. He chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead as you slowly close your eyes with a smile.
Your smile only lasted a second when a sound deep from your stomach makes yours and Kei’s eyes open wide. You whine at the sudden gurgle inside your stomach, pain stricking every bit of your insides. Then, your eyes widen even more as you shoot up from the bed, running and stumbling to your bathroom.
Kei can only lay there blinking, but when the realization hit, he starts to laugh, turning around in your shared bed as he pulled the covers over himself.
“DON’T STINK UP THE BATHROOM!” He shouts.
“SHUT UP! Ow, it’s burning.” Your voice echos back, making Tsukishima make a face of disgust.
After a really long time you come back shuffling into your room, pouting slightly as you lay down, looking at the ceiling while Tsukishima has his back to you. When you’re about to turn, Tsukishima mummers,
“Don’t shit the bed.”
“SHUT UP KEI!” You hiss, hitting the back of his head with your pillow.
And as the night went on, Kei held your back against his chest, every now and then rubbing slow gentle circles on your stomach in his sleep. It was safe to say you did not shit the bed that night thank you to your boyfriend’s lazy massages.
when your childhood best friend, gojo satoru signs you both up for a couple event to win a hatsune miku figurine, you brace yourself to fake it, win the prize, and never speak of it again. unfortunately, neither of you account for the gameshow digging up past feelings and twisting your friendship into something a little more intimate
pairing: nerd!jo + childhood best friend gojo x reader
content: childhood best friends to lovers, first kiss, pure fluff, satoru (and you) are weebs at a convention 9k+
note: mainly posting this to link drop that you can be added to my taglist by filling out this google forms !!
of all the ways gojo satoru could have ruined your saturday, you had not expected publicly declaring himself your boyfriend in front of three hundred people and a cardboard cutout of hatsune miku to rank so high.
your best friend rarely has good ideas, so the fact you even agreed to walk through the anime convention on a weekend that could have otherwise been productive and not surrounded by sweaty, smelly people in cosplay, was a miracle.
one second, you’re following him through the convention hall with a drink in one hand and your tote bag slipping off your shoulder, and the next, he’s catching your wrist and pulling you to an abrupt stop around a few busy stalls.
“okay, before you say anything, i need you to stay calm,” he says, a frequent precaution to many of his actions. “and by stay calm, i mean don’t make that face at me, because i can tell you’re about to make that face.”
around you, people stream past in costumes and wigs and carefully crafted props. someone dressed like a magical girl nearly takes your eye out with a glitter-covered staff. somewhere to your left, a loudspeaker announces the beginning of an important ‘sweetheart showdown event’ again, whatever that meant. somewhere to your right, a group of people is arguing whether you can discuss spoilers of an old anime series considering it’s been decades since its release.
slowly, you look up at him.
satoru stares back through his thick-framed glasses, silver hair more unruly than usual, university hoodie half-zipped over a graphic tee that says i paused my game to be here. he has the expression he always gets right before saying something so profoundly stupid that you have to question why you’ve stayed his friend for so long. the reason hits you begrudgingly; you’ve been locked into the title of “satoru’s childhood best friend” since you were five and your parents have no intention of letting it end.
you narrow your eyes. “what did you do?”
he winces immediately. “see, that tone is exactly what i was trying to avoid. if you open with that, it makes me feel like you’re not giving me any room to explain myself.”
“satoru, when have you ever needed room to explain yourself? you usually just keep talking until people get tired and let you continue to yap.”
“that’s weird, it’s almost like you’re suggesting people don’t like talking to me.”
you snort, finding nothing humourous about his statement. “don’t deflect, answer the question.”
he glances over your shoulder toward something behind you, and then back at your face.
“all right,” he says, exhaling through his nose. “so, in my defense, i didn’t think it would sound that serious when they said it over the speakers. it was just meant to be a joke.”
your stomach drops a little and despite the urge to look for yourself what has him so frightened, you do not turn around yet. instead, you look at him more suspiciously. “when who said what over the speakers?”
he gives you a smile so guilty it makes you want to hit him in the stomach.
“well,” he says carefully, “they may have just announced that the sweetheart showdown participants should report to the main stage.”
you blink. “the what?”
“the sweetheart showdown.”
“you can’t just repeat it like i’d suddenly know what that is. those words mean nothing to me.”
“it’s a couples event.”
the convention noise seems to recede for one long, terrible second as you stare at him. he, useless as ever, only stares back. you look around. shoko and utahime hadn’t tagged alone so what couple is he referring to?
then you say, very evenly, “tell me you didn’t.”
“technically, i haven’t told you anything yet.”
“satoru.”
“okay, yes, i entered us, but before you overreact—”
“overreact?” you repeat in disbelief.
“yes,” he says, holding up a hand. “because i can already feel you gearing up to become evil, and i really need you to hear the full story before you decide to kill me in a building full of witnesses. for one, i’m pretty sure i saw a conan cosplay so the chances of you getting away are very slim. and for your mother’s sake, i don’t want her to freak out when you get put behind bars.”
you let out a long, slow sigh at his rambling. “explain yourself, satoru, and maybe you won’t end up on the end of that magical girl’s sword.”
“is that sayaka?”
“yeah.”
he shifts his weight, messenger bag sliding against his side. if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you might miss the nerves. but you do know him, you’ve known him since you were small enough to fistfight over crayons and dramatic enough to stop speaking to each other for two days because he told your class you cried during that one dinosaur pixar film. you’ve known him since he was small enough to climb up the side of your house and through your window, offering you his shiny pokemon cards with large watery eyes, already having cried his little eyes out when you gave him the silent treatment at school.
you know the signs. the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he keeps pushing his glasses up his nose even though they aren’t slipping. the twitch at the corner of his mouth that means he’s trying to construct a joke that will be his lifeline out of this blunder (he hopes).
unfortunately for him, you also know exactly how much trouble that means he’s in.
“why,” you ask, “would you enter us in a couples event?”
“because,” he says, like the answer should be obvious, “the grand prize is a convention-exclusive limited edition figure, and i need you to be a reasonable person about this. look, it really isn’t all that bad!”
“oh, really? please, tell me just how not-bad it is that you signed us up to a dating show.”
“well, it depends on how attached you are to your personal freedom.”
you stare, unimpressed. “satoru.”
“and your dignity.”
“you are not selling anything to me right now.”
“and, like, your legal last name.”
“excuse me?”
he places his hands out as if they alone are enough to hold you back if you so choose to throw yourself at him. “i also told them we’ve been dating for five years and are engaged!”
“five years?” you do the maths. “did you tell them we were high school sweethearts?”
satoru shrugs as best as he can without dropping his hands. “i’m sure you can see where i got the inspiration. sweetheart showdown, highschool sweethearts.”
you stare at him for another second, horror and disbelief evident like you’re waiting for his face to give and to open into a burst of laughter. hell, you wouldn’t even mind if he laughed and pointed right in your face if it meant he could end the moment with ‘oh my god, i’m just joking! you should have seen the look on your face!’. but then you look over your shoulder toward the nearby stage, where a large screen flashes promotional art for the event and your hopes and dreams die at your feet. because right beside the screen in a glass display case, sits the prize.
it takes you less than three seconds to understand exactly why this is happening.
“you signed us up to fake date in public over a hatsune miku figurine.”
he puts a hand to his chest. “first of all, don’t reduce her like that. second of all, yes, but in my defense, this is a limited, collectors edition. if nothing else, think about how much we could earn if we sold it. not that i would, but imagine.”
you point toward the display. “i swear i’ve seen a million of these in that one anime store we go to.”
“those are all bootleg. just goes to show how important it is.”
“important?” you snort, eying how little clothing the figurine is wearing. “or how appealing it is to the male gaze?”
“it’s summer themed,” he corrects hastily. then, at your expression, “and when you say it like that, you make me sound shallow. you’re one to talk, you have bikini figurines in your room too.”
“you are shallow.”
“you know, i contain depths you’ve never even tried to understand.”
“i’ve known you since kindergarten. i know every depth you have, and most of them are frankly very embarrassing.”
that makes him grin, quick and helpless, because it’s true and you both know it. you were there for every one of his humiliating phases. the year he wore fingerless gloves because he thought they made him look cool. the month he got obsessed with card games and kept trying to teach you the rules during lunch. the awful era where he insisted he had powers similar to an anime character he looked up to and kept saying really embarrassing power moves out in public. that one still makes you wince when you remember that you had to be the one to stand next to him and the only one conscious of the stares.
he’s seen you at your worst too, which is probably why he looks so annoyingly calm even now, albeit a little defensive.
“exactly,” he says. “that’s why this works. nobody on this planet knows me better than you do. you know my favorite characters, my most humiliating middle school phase, the name of the first game that ever made me cry—”
“nier automata.”
“see? and i know yours. i know what snacks to buy when you’re in a bad mood, i know you still rewatch the same three comfort movies every exam season, and i know you pretend to hate fantasy rpgs even though you put forty-two hours into one over winter break.”
you narrow your eyes, still slightly huffy despite how satoru has always managed to wear you down. “it wasn’t even that much, like twenty-four hours at most.”
his grin sharpens and he lowers his hands, knowing he’s got you. “but no defense for the fact that you were elden-ring pilled? looks like that’s a win for me.”
“there is nothing to win.”
“there is,” he says, tipping his chin toward the stage again. “there is a figure with removable accessories and crazy good paintwork waiting for me to claim her, and all i need is for you to stand there and look like you can tolerate me romantically for twenty minutes. please. that’s all i ask.”
you’re probably going to say yes. still, you hold onto your fraying dignity for as long as you can because if there’s anything that you are, it’s stubborn. “you can’t say that like it’s an easy ask.”
“for you, it should be.” he tilts his head. “you already tolerate me.”
“oh, so you know?” you hate that, out of everything he’s said, that is the line that almost gets a laugh out of you. you school your features immediately after. “it’s not willingly, trust me.”
“no, but you’ve been pretty consistent with it.”
you make a show of consideration, finger tapping on your bottom lip before you straighten, watching as he brightens along with you.
“yeah, no.”
his face falls at once. it’s dramatic, of course, because he’s him, but you don’t miss the flicker of something potentially genuine beneath the pouting.
“oh come on,” he whines. “don’t say no that fast. at least pretend to think about it, so i don’t feel like i’ve built our entire friendship on a lie that you actually care about my interests.”
“our entire friendship was built on our mothers’ friendship. and the fact that you ripped my princess wig off my head that one time when we were like, two. all because you wanted to be the princess.”
he shrugs like he doesn’t find that particularly worth talking about. “i was always the prettier one growing up.”
“right, like that’s going to make me say yes to your stupid gameshow.”
he exhales, glancing toward the stage again as another announcement crackles overhead.
“all participants for the first round of the sweetheart showdown, please report to the main stage in three minutes!”
he shuts his eyes. “okay, that’s more urgency than i wanted.”
you stare at him. “what even was the process of all this? i doubt you suddenly went up and signed us both up.”
he opens one eye. “well, remember when you needed to go to the bathroom and left me alone?”
you groan, reminding yourself to never leave him to his own devices again.
“you’re focusing on the wrong thing,” he’s quick to say. “the important point is that we qualified. very impressively, by the way. they said we have good chemistry.”
your best friend doesn’t say much else after that, choosing to instead stare at you pleadingly.
that’s another irritating thing about satoru. for all his noise, for all his ridiculousness, and for all the random anime quotes he says on the regular, he knows exactly when to stop pushing and simply let you think. people who don’t know him well never notice that part, nor do they often reach it considering his walls. they only assume he’s all restless energy, all ego and all talk. but they don’t know how quiet and observant he can get, pretty blue eyes peeking past his glasses to hold you in his gaze, waiting for that crack.
it takes a little longer than he had calculated, but you eventually sigh. “what do i even get out of this?”
he brightens instantly, clearly having been waiting for that opening. “i’ll shout you crepes and one merch item under seventy dollars. and i’ll carry your bags for the rest of the day.”
“cheapskate.”
“be serious, we’re at a convention.”
you hum. “under eighty.”
“fine,” he concedes. “under eighty. but if you pick something massive and fragile and i have to be the one to carry it, then you can’t say shit about me complaining.”
with a long-suffering sigh, you adjust your tote bag on your shoulder. “if this becomes the most humiliating experience of my life, you owe me that eight dollars anyway.”
the relief that flashes across his face is almost enough to make you regret agreeing, because it softens him in a way you are not prepared to deal with in a convention this overstimulating. still, you can’t completely suppress your small smile.
then, just as quickly, he’s grinning again.
“you’re my hero,” he says, catching your wrist once more and tugging you toward the stage. “you’re also, for the next twenty minutes, allegedly very in love with me, so maybe try to look less like you’re being led to an execution.”
you let him pull you along for exactly two steps before digging your heels in. “if you say one embarrassing thing up there, i’m telling everyone about the naruto running incident from year seven.”
he narrows his eyes. “that was one sports carnival, and i was committed to the bit. everyone was doing that because of area whatever number it was.”
“but you were the only one that tripped over your own shoelaces in front of the entire grade.”
“because the field was uneven.”
“please, like the real reason isn’t because you were twelve and embarrassing and running with your arms behind you like it helps with the speed.”
satoru huffs, rolling your eyes. “and here i was thinking fake dating would bring us closer.”
you smile sweetly. “if anything, it’s reminding me why this should never be real.”
something flickers across his face at that. it’s probably the shadow of the enormous fursuit you just walked past, something so incredible you pull your eyes away from satoru to watch as they disappear into the crowd.
“did you see that?”
he recovers easily enough, grin returning as he tugs you a little closer.
“sure,” he says lightly. “keep telling yourself that.”
“what? i was talking about the furry.”
before you can decide what exactly he means by that, he’s already guiding you up the steps toward the stage, bright lights spilling across the floor and the crowd noise swelling around you, and suddenly the two of you are standing side by side in front of a microphone while the host beams at you.
“welcome, welcome,” the host says, sparkling blazer catching the stage lights. “our final pair has arrived which means we can go ahead and begin!”
satoru immediately lifts your joined hands in the air. you try to yank it back but he squeezes, just once, quick and sly as he leans down slightly without looking away from the crowd.
“commit to the bit,” he murmurs.
you grind out around an awkward smile, “this better not be for nothing.”
“hatsune miku is on the line. just do it for her. we can share, you can have her on every other weekend.”
“co-parenting or divorced?”
“sure.”
the host interrupts your hush conversation by stepping forward, hands gesturing to speak into the mic. “introduce yourself to the audience!”
“gojo satoru,” he says, and then he places one hand lightly at the small of your back, casual enough that it could almost pass unnoticed if you weren’t suddenly aware of his every touch. “and this is y/n.”
the other finalists are lined up to the side, multiple couples in coordinated cosplay which makes you and satoru by far the least convincing visually. you’re in regular clothes and he’s in his stupid hoodie. there is no universe in which you should be the couple people root for yet you receive a steady polite applause anyway.
the host explains the rules. first, fandom trivia. then the sweetheart sync challenge where couple compatibility is tested. then, if necessary, a final lightning round between the top two pairs.
satoru leans slightly toward you. “see. easy. this is basically just an average tuesday for us, except now there’s a microphone.”
you eye the device warily. “sure, if our average tuesday also involves having our compatibility tested publicly in front of strangers.”
he hums. “you’re right, usually people just assume it.”
the host begins reading the first question. and, honestly, you’d like to say that from then on, the event is a stumbling hot mess of stuttering answers to questions you hadn’t prepared for because what it meant to be in a relationship with satoru shouldn’t feel natural nor easy. unfortunately, reality is often there to smack some sense into you because you and satoru are devastatingly good.
it turns out that years of being his friend, if you can call your deeply hostile, weirdly affectionate arrangement since birth a friendship, has exposed you to so much niche information that your brain is a bank of all kinds of niche anime lore.
“in detective conan, which detective’s name does shinichi combine to create the alias conan edogawa?”
satoru raises his hand quickly, that nerd. “arthur conan doyle and ranpo edogawa.”
“in puella magi madoka magica, what is the name of the witch born from sayaka miki’s despair?” the host asks.
“oktavia von seckendorff,” you answer instantly.
“correct again.”
while the host begins explaining the next question, you turn to satoru slightly. “wait no, because sayaka makes me so sad. she’s my favourite character in that show.”
he smiles softly down at your subtle pout. “i know.”
by question five, you’ve developed a lead you never expected, putting multiple couples in the dust. by question eight, you’re tied with one of the coordinated cosplay couples in first and by question ten, you’re the only one whose hand shoots up to guess the name of a soundtrack correctly. even satoru laughs, throwing you an amused glance amidst the applause.
“it only played for, like, two seconds. and you get on my ass for listening to the digimon theme song when you’ve clearly been studying that anime’s soundtrack.”
you huff. “you can’t call yourself a true fan unless you’ve searched the soundtrack on spotify.”
the host laughs. “i’m starting to see why you two made it this far.”
satoru grins and wraps an arm around your shoulder, drawing you in close until you bump against him. it’s not like you’ve never touched him like this before. he’s always been there to hold you in his arms when you’re down, whispering soft words of comfort against your hair, and he’s the first face you look for in a crowded party on your birthday, bringing him in to blow out your candles together because your birthdays share a night. sometimes you grab him and give him a squeeze when you finally defeat a boss in your darksouls esque game, and he isn’t afraid to hold you close and steal your warmth on cold, winter mornings, draping himself over your back, chin on your head and his cold, sneaky hands finding yours in your coat pocket, making you yelp.
despite all these memories filling your mind and reminding you of just how casual this should be, you still feel a tingle in your chest.
the trivia round ends in a tie between you, satoru, and the cosplay couple dressed as rangkiku and gin. they look annoyingly photogenic and a little too prepared for something called the sweetheart showdown.
the host claps. “all right, now for the fun part. sweetheart sync!”
dread fills you as whiteboards and markers are handed out by staff appearing from the sides.
“oh no,” you say quietly.
beside you, satoru makes a similar face. “yeah, this is where the friendship goes to die.”
the host raises the first card, reading off into the mic. “what is your partner’s favorite food?”
without sparing any time to think, you uncap your marker and press the black tip onto the whiteboard.
you write: anything overpriced and full of sugar.
beside you, satoru writes with an equally horrifying level of confidence.
“reveal!”
you both spin your boards around quickly, head swiveling not to gauge the audience’s expression, nor out of curiosity for what others may have written, but towards each other’s answers.
his reads: whatever i’m eating if i look too happy about it.
laughter plays from the audience as the host begins to read through the boards starting from the right and you huff softly, taking the moment to talk to satoru.
“that’s not even a food. if you don’t know, then just write that you don’t know, dummy.”
“it absolutely is.” satoru tuts, wagging a finger at you. “do you remember that one mixer we went to together? you said you didn’t want any of the finger food because your fingers will get greasy but then you immediately stole my fries anyway.”
“because you were making it a big deal and eating it all up in my face.” you recall the memory for yourself. “what even happened to that mixer? neither of us managed to get a date. i swear one of the guys was interested in me but he never asked for my number in the end. you were talking to him a bunch that night, what happened to him?”
your best friend only shrugs as the host comes around. they laugh a little at satoru’s answer, raising the card in their hand in your pair’s favour.
“i’m counting both as correct.”
the next question appears and a similar trend follows.
“what is your partner’s most annoying habit?”
you put pen to whiteboard and write immediately.
you reveal: talking during movies like the characters can hear him.
he reveals: pretending she doesn’t care and then texting me ‘home yet?’ every time i go out at night.
the audience lets out a collective coo that makes you want to fling yourself off the stage, though not before bashing his head in.
you turn to him in disbelief. “is it my fault for being worried about you? i swear you have the survival instincts of a capybara, i literally almost watched you run into a pole yesterday because you were too locked into a brawl stars game.”
“still counts.” your best friend shrugs. “i couldn’t really think of anything that annoying about you. and for the record, your movie answer is super duper rude. my commentary is valuable.”
“save it for your letterbox review. and anyway, we only really watch thrillers so it’s just you trying to call the plot twist before we get to it.”
“i’m killing it, by the way. i think i’m about thirty-nine out of sixty-two with getting them right.”
the third question is favourite comfort show.
you get his right, though you hesitate between two because he cycles through them based on what exactly he needs comfort from. he’s almost offended you take so long to flip your board considering he gets yours right immediately.
“you remembered that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
he looks at you like the question is ridiculous. “of course i remembered that. you think i don’t notice you putting it on when you’re feeling overwhelmed? i don’t even like the acting in it but we’ve watched it together at least twenty times.”
you hold his gaze for a second too long, words failing you, before jerking your head to face the front.
satoru isn’t so quick to look away and you can feel his gaze burn into the side of your face until the host, mercifully oblivious or perhaps delightfully aware, moves on to dream vacation, favorite fictional character, worst childhood phase, and ideal weekend.
the embarrassing part is not that you get almost all of them right (failing only at celebrity crush), the embarrassing part is how easy it is.
you know that his worst childhood phase was the year he got into old samurai dramas and started using outdated, overly dramatic japanese like he was born in the edo period instead of suburban tokyo. he knows your ideal weekend includes a bookstore, a café, and being left alone by society at large. you know he still wants to visit akihabara with a budget too irresponsible to speak aloud and that he’ll beg to have you tag along. he knows you hate hiking but enjoy scenic trains and that you like silly sweet treats every now and then, sweeter too when you don’t have to pay for them.
every answer peels back another layer of shared history for the audience to laugh over, and every time the crowd reacts, it drives home the same awful truth: the reason you and satoru are doing so well is because there are very few corners of each other left unexplored.
you find yourself having fun, though only after you’ve pushed that strange feeling to the back of your mind. you’re laughing along with the crowd at silly answers, reminiscing old inside jokes with a smirk, and giggling harder than you should at satoru’s corny jokes. he grins back, face a reflection of your own happiness.
it’s so much fun that when the last question is read out, you’re not nearly as prepared as you should be.
the host smiles too sweetly, drawing everyone’s attention with the tap of their mic. “last question and probably the most important of them all! what was the moment you realised you liked your partner?”
it’s a predictable question for an event called ‘sweetheart showdown’ and yet, you freeze, breath holding still. beside you, you can make out the sudden rigidity in satoru’s shoulders as he flinches.
for the first time all day, neither of you has something smart to say.
you look down at your board as the crowd cheers and the couples around you write.
there are a hundred fake things you could write, a hundred joke answers. or maybe, if you really wanted to give off the impression that you wanted to win, you might write something stereotypical. something about how pretty and soft his hair is, how he has that endearing habit of pushing up his glasses, how he has the most alluring eyes you’ve ever seen. you could even write about the time he won some casual magic: the gathering tournament in high school and took home absolutely nothing except a ten-minute bragging streak and a permanent reputation as the biggest nerd in your cohort. he’d come straight to you afterward, grinning hard, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he talked over himself because, for some reason, your approval had always been the one he wanted first.
you could say something by the book about how his laugh is like music to your ears, and also his ears apparently considering how much he loves to laugh around you, how his smile is the only thing guaranteed to make you smile back.
instead, before you can talk yourself out of it, you write the first thing that comes to mind.
when the host counts down, you both turn your boards.
yours read: when he climbed the fence after we fought and sat outside my window until i forgave him.
his says: when i realised she kept every stupid little thing i gave her and thought i wouldn’t notice.
the crowd breaks into laughter and cheers at that, the host immediately launching into some delighted commentary as they start reading the other pair’s boards first. but you barely hear any of it. the noise seems to flatten at the edges, swallowed up by the fact that satoru is no longer looking at the audience or the judges or even the stupid whiteboard in his own hands. he’s staring right at yours.
then, after a second, he lets out the softest, most disbelieving little laugh.
“climbed the fence?” he reads, and though he says it like a tease, there’s something thinner under it, something almost fragile. “why would i ever do that when i could’ve just opened the gate?”
heat creeps up your neck instantly and burns the tips of your ears.
you keep your eyes fixed on his board because you’re not sure what he might see if he looks at your face.
“at that age you weren’t tall enough,” you mutter.
satoru falls into a silence that does absolutely nothing good for your already fraying nerves. if anything, it makes everything worse. the air between you feels too warm, too thin, and suddenly the stupid little whiteboard in your hands is the only thing keeping you from running off stage.
you quickly re-read his board and say, “what did you notice that i kept from you?”
satoru’s eyes flick down to his own board and then back to yours, like he still can’t quite believe either of you wrote what you did.
“you kept the little cat charm from the shrine trip,” he says. “the one i won from that stupid festival game and gave you because i said it looked grumpy.”
god, you’re just digging your own grave by asking for more details. because yes, you had. it had hung off your school bag for nearly a year before you took it off to keep it from getting scratched or stolen, and even now it still sits in the little dish on your desk with your keys and hair ties and other things too small to matter to anyone else.
you try to be dismissive. “it was a souvenir."
the corner of his mouth lifts, but the smile doesn’t quite settle into his familiar grin. “and you kept every birthday card i gave you.”
“sentimental value. i keep everyone’s.”
“you kept the toy ring from year seven,” he says finally, and now there’s a little more life in his voice again, though it still sounds gentler than usual. “the ugly one from the fair, the one that turned your finger slightly green. i only noticed because you kept it as a necklace for months.”
you look away, feeling fidgety and weird all over. “it’s still jewelry at the end of the day.”
satoru laughs then, but it’s quiet and warm around the edges, so unfairly fond it makes your stomach dip. “yeah, i know. i just liked that you kept a ring i gave you.”
the host fans themselves with the cue card. “is it just me or is it getting warm in here? let’s move on to results! clap your hands everyone, as we find out who will be crowned the sweethearts of all sweethearts!”
the crowd laughs again, eager to reach the climax of the event.
you are also eager, though it’s more because you’re grateful for a breather.
the judges tally the scores while you try very hard not to look at satoru and fail at it almost immediately. when you do glance over, he’s already looking at you, and his expression is unsettled in a way you don’t often see on him. when he sees you’ve caught him, he looks away and pushes up his glasses. you don’t get a chance to sit in that for long.
“we have a tie!” the host announces. “lightning round!”
your head snaps to look at the scoreboard and notice that one of the coordinated cosplay couples had indeed caught up and were now tied with you and satoru. having this drag out for even longer makes your heart plead for mercy but there’s nowhere to run and you’re honestly too close to the hatsune miku figurine to quit now. as they say, 100% of losers quit before they hit it big.
“all right,” they say, pacing the center of the stage with the microphone clutched in one glittering hand, “our final two couples are neck-and-neck, which means it’s time for the deciding challenge. and because our judges are evil romantics—”
the audience cheers like they have been waiting their whole lives for exactly this sentence.
“—the last round is all about physical chemistry!”
you’re not sure what you did in a previous life to deserve this, but it’s here now.
you could honestly answer questions about satoru in your sleep. you could fill out an eighty-questions quiz on his day-to-day life and not only would you solve it with time to spare, but your name would appear in most answers.
touching him is just as common, but suddenly the thought of having him in your personal space is enough to make you break out into a slight sweat which isn’t optimal, especially not when he might be touching you.
the host claps their hands. “final round rules are simple! each pair will draw three prompts from the intimacy bowl. you must perform the prompt naturally enough to convince the judges you are a real couple and then, obviously, the best overall score wins.”
satoru hesitates beside you. he steps forward toward the host, hand reaching out to catch their attention. “like… a kiss on the cheek?”
you almost choke as the host snorts. “obviously. maybe even more.”
satoru looks back at you quickly. “hey, it’s okay. we can just go. we can, like, just be weird on purpose and make it obvious so we can lose. get kicked off the stage and you can call me an idiot and a dummy in the carpark and i’ll still get you crepes. i don’t really care about hatsune miku anyway, i just thought because i played project sekai once i should—”
you cut him off by sticking your hand in the bowl when it comes around. your fingers brush folded paper and then close around the first slip before you can think too hard about what you’re doing.
‘prompt one: fix something on your partner’s face and hold eye contact for three seconds’.
this nothingburger of a prompt. if the two of you hadn’t spent the last few minutes stumbling your way into something dangerous, you could’ve done it without a second thought. but now that there’s this strange, terrible warmth lodged in your chest, threatening to swallow you whole and burn through you from the inside out, even the idea of holding eye contact sounds like hell.
the host gestures invitingly. “whenever you’re ready.”
there is no universe in which you will find yourself ready.
you can see satoru turn toward you from the corner of your eye but you don’t glance over, eyes trained instead at the giant cardboard hatsune miku just off stage and try to remember a time in your life when things were simple and you did not have a crush on your childhood best friend. but you weren’t one of those babies blessed with photogenic memory so you don’t have a single memory where that’s not the case to ground yourself with.
“we can still tank it,” satoru whispers just for you to hear, even as he steps closer and lifts his hand.
the offer is so soft it makes something twist low and mean in your chest because of course, even now, he’s trying to give you a way out.
you look up at him then, not because of the prompt or the crowd or the stupid bright convention stage lights, but the fact that he would rather lose publicly than make this harder on you. his hand is lifted, hovering just shy of your face as he waits for your response.
if only he was smug instead, if he was laughing or if he was being his usual awful self about this, then you would have something to fight against. but instead, he chooses to be sweet. and kindness has always been your weakest point when he is concerned.
so you swallow once and say, “just get it over with.”
and this is ridiculous.
you have known this boy nearly your whole life. you have shared train rides and convenience store dinners and sick days and fights over game controllers and one horrible period in high school where he insisted on explaining the plot of every one piece episode you’d missed. he has sprawled all over your bedroom floor. you have patched scrapes on his knuckles. he has stolen bites off your plate and barged into your room with no restraint. there should be absolutely nothing destabilising about him being a little too close to you.
his hand caresses the side of your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing just beneath your eye, and he does it so gently that you hold your breath.
the host counts cheerfully into the microphone. “one, two, three—”
you know his face, you know every angle of it, every stupid expression, every little shift in his mouth before he says something arrogant on purpose. you know the look he gets when he’s trying not to laugh, the one he gets when he’s tired and pretending he isn’t, the rare, awful softness that appears when he stops performing in front of others and simply sits with you in your presence, content to do nothing important at all.
“okay, now kiss!” the host continues and you both turn away from each other in an instant.
“excuse me?”
“you said no kissing in the pamphlet!” satoru stutters. “not on the lips anyway!”
“you’re a couple, what’s there to be shy about?” they narrow their eyes, ping ponging their gaze between the both of you. “unless there’s a specific reason why kissing in front of an audience of people is unsettling for you?”
you make a gesture of your hand as if to ask if they’re serious. “that is the reason why it’s unsettling.”
the host makes a thoughtful noise before shaking their head. “what a shame, looks like the underdog couple has sadly been disqualified! everyone, please give them a round of applause as they exit the stage!”
“just like that?” you question, incredulously.
“if it matters, i was rooting for you guys.” the host pats you both on the back shortly before gesturing for people to guide you off the stage.
you and satoru stand off to the side away from the sweetheart showdown, both stewing in silence. and god, is it a truly spectacular silence.
certainly not the comfortable kind nor the easy silence you sometimes find yourself in when it comes to satoru. this one feels hot and cramped and absurdly loud for something made out of nothing at all. the convention still rages on somewhere behind you—distant cheering, microphone feedback, music bleeding in from another event hall—but here in the little pocket of hallway just off stage, it’s just you and him and the participatory key chains the staff had shoved into your hands before kicking you out.
satoru is the first to look at his consolation prize.
the acrylic keychain dangles from his fingers, the tiny white cat in sunglasses swinging with every little movement of his hand. he stares at it for one long second, then lets out a short, helpless laugh under his breath.
“a runner-up gift, huh?” he chuckles. “doesn’t feel that good when you compare it to first place’s prize.”
you look down at your own, the black cat with the bow and the little spoon. “tell me about it.”
you fiddle with the edge of the plastic, more so to give your hands something to do than because you care about the cute, though cheap, prize. beside you, satoru rubs the back of his neck, then drops his hand, then shoves it into his hoodie pocket like even he’s run out of ideas for where to put the bundle of nerves responsible for this tension.
“you could have just kissed my cheek,” you start. “it’s not like we’ve never done that before. when we were kids.”
and you’re not sure why that makes your heart picks up so fast. it’s not like he’s going to lean over and do it now, right? not when there isn’t a prize to win or a crowd to please or a host forcing the moment into existence.
“no,” he says and your heart drops. “i couldn’t have just done that.”
your throat tightens. “right, sorry. we’re not kids now anymore, are we? so it wouldn’t have made sense anyway. just—forget i said anything, that was stupid.”
you push off the wall too fast, smoothing out your shirt with shaky hands just to have something to do. “i’m getting kind of sleepy, i’ll head back to the hotel room if you want to keep looking around—”
“if i kissed you up there, i would’ve meant it.”
everything inside you goes still. life seems to go on, the audience from the gameshow shrieks with laughter, someone jogs past the mouth of the corridor lugging an impressive scythe, and distantly there’s a baby crying in the background because you can never really avoid them. and still, somehow, the world narrows down to just him.
satoru looks down for a second, hands clenching and unclenching before he looks up, something like determination on his face.
“i know that sounds really pathetic,” he says, voice quieter than you’ve heard it all day. “there's nothing i can do about that. but i just—i really couldn’t do it like that, not as a joke or for some stupid figurine. definitely not with everyone watching. there’s no way i’d settle for that after i’ve been trailing after you for so many fucking years just to have the pay off be in front of a microphone.”
your eyes widen at his words. years? there could have been something between you two for years?
you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to almost hurt. “what are you trying to say?”
“i’m trying to say that…” he trails off, mouth gaping as if there’s more he wants to say but the words keep catching before they can make it out. he lets out a rough little groan and ducks his head, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “shit, this wasn’t how it was meant to go either.”
“it’s okay,” you whisper, stepping forward to close the distance. “say it. i want to hear it anyway.”
he looks back at you and makes a face though, its chances of passing off as nonchalant fails due to the pink dusting his cheek. “can we just go get crepes? i think the nerves are making me really hungry and something smells really good right now. okay, yeah, let’s just go get crepes.”
he closes the distance between you, not with the press of his lips against yours but with his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you to turn around. “you know what we haven’t checked out yet? the artist alley. we should totally check in the artist alley.”
you dig your heels into the ground, unimpressed and unmovable. “satoru.”
“yes?”
“isn’t there something else you should saying to me right now?”
satoru’s eyes freeze in their frantic jittering, finally settling on you. you watch his throat work as he gulps particularly hard, all deer-in-headlights and wrapped around your pinky finger. “i’m really craving those crepes?”
you smile and hit him in the stomach. he coughs, folding slightly around the hit with a noise of betrayal. “what the fuck—”
and while he’s doubled over, rubbing a hand over his stomach like it actually hurt, you step right into his space, cup his face in both hands, and kiss him.
satoru makes the softest startled sound against your lips but his hands come up almost too quickly, one landing at your waist to pull you in, the other hovering before deciding your cheek, the side of your neck, your hand on his cheek, all of it is somehow too much and not enough at once.
the kiss is clumsy with surprise and inexperience, though still warm, and there’s nothing hesitant in the way he kisses you back after that first second.
you’re not really sure when to pull back, you always thought it would be a little more intuitive than it really is, and you think you might have pulled back a bit too early since he chases your lips a bit before realising.
you open your eyes to find him staring, and frown. “wait a minute, did you even close your eyes during that?”
“um,” he starts before clearing his throat. “no?”
“you must be kidding.” you blush all the way to the tips of your ears, mind whirring with how you must have looked dazed out of your mind, lips pressed against his. “satoru, it’s kissing 101 to close your eyes!”
he shakes his head, eyes unfocused as he stares at you. “give me a moment. nothing is making sense in my head right now.”
you cross your arms, a feeble attempt at regaining your dignity. “how long is that going to take? because i might as well go first. satoru, ever since we were kids, i’ve—”
“i’m in love with you.”
the words are said with so much clarity that you struggle to believe it’s coming from your flushed face, dorky childhood best friend until he opens his mouth to continue.
“i think i’ve been for a while,” he says at all once, speaking quicker now that the worst has already been done. “long enough that it’s not something dramatic but something that’s always been a part of my life. like, of course i save things to tell you first. of course i wait for you. of course i know what drink to get when you’re sick and which lectures you’ll want to complain about and what new movie releases you’re excited for. i think i’ve gotten so used to you being a part of everything i didn’t even notice when it stopped being friendship and started becoming something else.”
you blink at him. he mistakes your silence for rejection immediately, something like panic seeping into his hurried words.
“and yeah, okay maybe i orchestrated the whole showdown thing because you never seemed to look at me as anything but a best friend. that really sucked. but i’ve never thought of you as just that and i needed you to know. so no, i couldn’t have just kissed you on the cheek. it wouldn’t have been how i wanted it to be.”
you still don’t say anything, too busy standing there with your pulse hammering stupidly in your throat and your entire body trying to catch up to the fact that this is real, that he it, that he means it.
satoru lets out a frustrated breath and drags a hand through his hair. “i mean getting punched in the stomach wasn’t the go-to either but i can’t ever figure you out so i’ll take it.”
that makes you laugh. it bursts out of you all at once, breathless and startled, and the second he hears it, his whole face changes. the panic doesn’t immediately disappear but it certainly falters, teetering into a desperate kind of hope.
“sure, like that's not going to hurt my feelings,” he says weakly. “okay. is that a good laugh or a bad laugh?”
you shake your head, still smiling helplessly. “it’s a you’re-an-idiot laugh.”
“right.” he watches you carefully. “as long as it isn’t a i’m-rejecting-you laugh?”
“it’s definitely not that. those two sound very different and i’m not that cruel.” you look at him, at the boy who used to climb your fence because he was too short to work the latch properly and refused to go home angry, cute little frown between his brows suggesting he won’t give up, not when it comes to you.
and the words come easily, as though you’ve said them a hundred times before.
“i’ve liked you for ages too.”
satoru’s lips part in wonder, shoulders slumping with the loss of a stubborn tension keeping him upright.
“i mean, i figured that’s what you were going to say earlier but this still feels unreal. really?” he breathes out, the corner of his mouth quivering. “are you serious?”
“is my sense of humour so bad that you think i’d joke about this?” you tease softly.
“no, i—” he breaks off, pressing a hand flat to his chest to stop his heart from beating out. “no, hold on. you can’t just say that and make fun of me for being so shocked. you like me? like, like like?”
“like like like.”
he presses a hand to his mouth which is definitely not the gesture you were expecting. maybe a kiss, or a hug, definitely not this sudden quickening of his breathing.
“what the hell is wrong with you?”
he shakes his head, clearing his throat aggressively.
your frown only deepens. “hey, are you okay? should we find somewhere to sit down?”
satoru waves his hands in front of him as he pulls away, leaning one forearm against the pole of a nearby vacant stand, other hand clutching his heart. his shoulders lift on an inhale and stay there for a second too long. when he exhales, it’s shaky around the edges in a way that would be concerning if not for the fact that he’s smiling at the concrete ground, dopey and dazed.
“satoru,” you say.
he glances back at you over his shoulder, and the look on his face is so painfully relieved, so openly, stupidly happy, that it makes your own stomach flip.
“i feel like i’m going to throw up,” he says, voice thin and breathy. “i’m so relieved i almost feel sick. which i get isn’t a cool thing to admit right after getting confessed to so i need you to sympathesise with me and don’t say anything at all.”
you stare at him for a still moment before laughing.
he closes his eyes. “i knew asking you nicely wasn’t going to work.”
“what the hell?” you repeat between chuckles. “you’re acting like that was your first kiss.”
“that’s because it was, you know this,” he grumbles, still catching his breath. “oh my god, the world is spinning. is there an earthquake or is it just me?”
“definitely just you.”
“it’s unfair that you aren’t as affected.”
you shrug. “it helps when there’s someone else more nervous than you are.”
“it almost sours the whole thing,” he says while looking at you from the corner of his eye, lips slightly jutted out and your heart swoons.
“come here.”
he pushes off the stall and turns back to you, though his hand stays over his chest for one more second like he’s still trying to make sure his heart doesn’t leap out of his chest. you look up at him, laughter trailing off into soft giggles and then to nothing at all, just a sweet smile.
you look at the flush lingering over his ears, the slight way his hair is messed up from when you grabbed his face, to the ridiculous little cat keychain he still has clutched in his hand. he looks like a disaster, a pretty one at that.
reaching up, you fix his bangs from poking into his eye. “you were that nervous?”
he laughs softly under his breath, tilting his head into your hand until it feels natural to cup his cheek. “you have no idea.”
“i think i have some idea.”
“no, because if you did, you’d be a lot kinder to me right now.” his eyes flicker down to your mouth, doing a double take when he’s about to look up to meet your eyes because you lick your lips at his gaze. “can i kiss you again?”
you don’t answer right away, not because you’re trying to be cruel nor because you don’t know the answer. this is your satoru, though that thought still feels too dangerous to hold properly, and he’s standing in the ugliest, most overstimulating hallway in the building with pink at the tips of his ears and one hand still hovering near his chest like his own confession had nearly killed him.
you hadn’t let yourself picture something like this. no, that wasn’t quite the truth either. you had pictured it, of course you had, because you are only human and he has always been the one for you. you had pictured this that one time he had showed up to your house, asking your parents sweetly if you were in, plastic bag on his arm full of notes and your favourite drink, acting like it was no big deal to sit on the ground by your bed and play his ds while you were sniffly and snotty curled up in bed and watching over his shoulder. you had pictured this when he let you fall asleep on his shoulder during exam season and didn’t move an inch, even when you started to drool on his shirt.
but at some point you had started burying those thoughts the second they appeared.
because he got older and easier to want, especially after he swore off bowl cuts after his dad had given him a shitty one and he had cried to you while you struggled to not laugh. haircuts on guys really did wonders for their appearance. it had started to feel pathetic to like him, almost childish in a way like some embarrassing crush you should have outgrown before puberty but hadn’t because you were too sentimental, too soft, too far gone to call it what it was..
so you pushed it down and folded it into safer shapes and titles; he’s just your best friend, we just have history.
you want to slap your past self across the face. but because time travel hasn’t yet been invented and you can’t give yourself a mean scolding, you settle for simply smiling and nodding.
“you’re asking as if i’m going to say no.”
satoru’s mouth twitches, but the softness in his face doesn’t move. “i feel like i’m owed caution. you’ve been saying no to me all day.”
you roll your eyes. “that was before.”
“before what—”
you kiss him again because if there’s one thing you know about satoru, is that his mouth is a motor and he never stops talking, not without some sort of divine intervention.
your lips move smoother against one another, tasting the sweet drink he had chugged before the whole showdown incident. the warmth of his mouth, the slight tremor in the breath he takes when you shift closer, the way he seems almost reverent in the small pauses between kisses like he still can’t believe he has you in his arms.
you kiss him back a little deeper and something inside you finally, finally unclenches.
when you pull back, you don’t go far. his forehead drops lightly to yours, and for a second neither of you say anything. the convention noise swells and fades somewhere far away, distant enough to feel unreal.
you can hear him breathing, can feel it even, feel the shape of his smile before he speaks.
“yeah, i definitely feel a little sick.”
“satoru, if you throw up on me i’m going to hit you again.”
“romantic.” he leans forward to steal a quick peck, face beaming when he pulls back because now he has every right to kiss you whenever he gets the urge. “but i think i’d rather have that instead.”
“verdict on your stomach?”
he winces. “unsteady. maybe i need some more exposure therapy?”
you laugh because he’s testing his luck far too much. “nice try. you still owe me that eighty bucks.”
satoru chuckles softly and lets you step back, though his hand finds yours and holds it lightly as if to keep you within his proximity. “and if i remember correctly, i think i still owe you those crepes. man, i am really killing it with this boyfriend thing already.”
he grins, but his ears go pink again, which is so stupidly endearing that you have to start walking before you do something embarrassing like kiss him in the corridor again.
he follows happily, ever the obedient little puppy until something catches his eyes and he digs his heels in, making you stop. you follow his line of sight automatically.
there’s another stage set up farther down the convention hall, smaller than the sweetheart showdown one but definitely louder, all flashing lights and too much pink. a host in a glittery jacket is currently shouting into a microphone while a crowd of people packed around the barricades cheers back. above them, hanging from a sign shaped like a heart with cat ears, are the words:
MIKU MANIA COUPLES CHALLENGE — SPECIAL BONUS ROUND
you close your eyes for one brief, exhausted second. “you have got to be kidding me.”
“come on,” he says, eyes bright enough to rival the stage lights. “let’s go win hatsune miku properly this time.”
you look at him then, really look at him, at the pink still clinging to his ears, the stupidly hopeful grin on his face, the hand wrapped around yours like he’s already sure you’re coming with him. and all at once, all you can think is that maybe saying yes to satoru’s terrible ideas was always going to be your favorite habit.
a/n: i am always going to be a fan of childhood bestfriend slop i fear. im so sleep deprived rn if i messed up ur tag please lmk! i have a scene where they fuck and satoru’s in a miku cosplay so also lmk if ure a freak and wanna see
𝜗ৎ gojo satoru x fem!reader , fluff ! : gojo carrying you home on a drunken night — gojo and reader are frenemies , gojo being a constant tease. ( 1,1k )
"what the hell are you doing here?"
a voice rippled through the crowd. even through the haze gin and tonics, you recognized that arrogant sound too well. "well isn't it the one and onlyy." you slurred, voice thick with sarcasm as you turned to face gojo.
"you look pathetic." he needled, earning a roll of your eyes. “and you don't?" you spat back, arching a brow. he chuckled. “fair enough, but you didn't answer my question." he added, and you only scoffed.
"surprise, i can do what i want. and that's none of your concern." you replied as you pointed a finger at his chest—or where you thought his chest was—but it wobbled in the air.
"you're cute." he teased, inching closer towards you. "you're an annoying piece of shit." you taunted. a slow, infuriating grin spread across his face. "ouch. you're mean." he dramatically placed a hand on his chest, acting as if you wounded him.
you shot him a look of pure exasperation, ignoring him as you stumbled blindly toward the bar. "another one," you said thickly, and before the bartender could slide the glass within your reach, a large, pale hand intercepted it.
"oookayy, that's enough." gojo, (who you were sure you left behind) drawled. he leaned against the counter, glass in hand, smirking lazily at your annoyed state. "give that back," you managed between hiccups. he shook his head. "nah, we're done here. we're going"
"gojo, i swear to god—if you don't g-give that back." you demanded as you got up—well at least you tried to, and gojo caught you by the elbow before your knees could buckle. "look at you," he chuckled lowly. "let's get you home, yeah?" and before you had the time to complain, he gently spun you around, and hoisted you onto his back.
"wh—hey!" you tried to protest, but your voice came out as a weak, garbled mumble. you tried to command your hands to push him away, but unfortunately they could only flop uselessly against his shoulders. the five—or was it six?--drinks you'd downed were finally claiming victory over your nervous system.
"finished yelling?" gojo asked playfully, his voice vibrating right against your ear as he stepped through the doors. "you're so annoying." you breathed against his shoulder, voice trailing off to a sleepy hum. gojo laughed lightly at that.
and in a few minutes time, a heavy, hazy silence settled between you and only the sound were the crunch of his boots on the pavement and the occasional distant hum of a passing car. you subconsciously nuzzled your head against his neck, and although you didn't know, his heart's pace started to quicken.
shit, act normal.
"since when do you smell good?" you murmured, and his lips twitched into a smirk and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through his back. "you joking? since forever! pretty hurt you've only realized this now." he hiked you up higher, readjusting your position.
without much thought, you brought a hand up and started playing with his hair, which was surprisingly soft. gojo stiffened for a split second. "mm.. your hair's nice," you mumbled, and he was trying not to blush. he told himself that's the alcohol talking.. right?
"your body's nice too." you said, words tripping over each other. god, you were barely aware of what was coming out of your mouth. gojo nearly choked on air, but quickly regained composure, just as he neared the entrance of your house.
"you sure about that? last i recall you called me a pretentious stick." he said, smiling despite himself. he slowly unlocked the door to your house with the keys hanging off your pockets.
he slowly carried you upstairs, making his way to your bedroom. "you're insufferable, you know that?" you sighed, your voice trailing off into a sleepy, frustrated groan. you shifted, tucking your face deeper into the crook of his neck "god, but do i like you so much." you muttered against his neck.
gojo froze.
his heart was drumming a frantic, uneven rhythm against his rib. a heavy blush spread across his face and his mind spiraled for a moment. get it together, that's obviously the alcohol talking, gojo scolded himself repeatedly. "you don't mean that." he tells you, as he carefully leaned forward, letting you slide off his back onto the mattress.
the bed dipped under your weight, and you let out a soft, sleepy groan, your arms finally untangling from his neck. he ran a hand through his now warm face. "you’re driving me insane..” he sighed.
suguru is obsessed with aftercare...and you apparently
There’s a soft rock song playing in the background when Suguru finally finishes inside you, his hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead and his eyes looking at you with that soft gentle quality he only reserves for you.
He swipes his thumb over your cheek as your eyes flutter open, allowing for the last wave of post-orgasmic bliss to wash over you.
“Hey gorgeous,” Suguru whispers softly, slowly making his way out of you and peppering kisses along your jaw, neck, and chest.
“Hey loser,” You reply back, smiling up at him as your eyes drift close again.
Suguru slowly gets up, making you groan as you feel the loss of his weight and his warmth. “Come on, you should shower,” He says, lifting you up with his strong arms and carrying you to the bathroom.
He strokes at your hair and allows his hands to roam all of you, as if he’s trying to remember you through engraving your body on his fingertips.
You push at him delicately, creating distance as you stretch out your limbs languidly.
“I have to shower,” You say faintly, your voice hoarse and your throat a little sore. Suguru closes the distance once again, kissing your lips with fleeting warmth and slowly trailing his hands all across your body again.
“I don’t see why I have to go for that,” He mumbles in between kisses, alternating from kissing your lips, to your earlobes, to your neck, and to your jaw.
“I have to shower,” You reiterate, feeling a soft giggle bubble in your throat as you feel his touch hovering over somewhere ticklish.
“Exactly, let’s go,” Suguru says, dropping his hands to yours and leading you towards the bathtub.
“I don’t remember showering being a group activity,” You chuckle as you see Suguru pout.
He shakes his head, his long raven hair falling perfectly over his shoulders and accentuating his form as if giving him an outline. “It is now,” He replies defiantly.
You shake your head and give him a look that has no heat in it whatsoever—only love, a quiet bubbling love that is subtle but definitely there. “Well you can find someone else to shower with because it won’t be me.”
Shaking him off of you, you make your way to the shower, stepping in and you’re about to turn on the water before you feel someone wrap their strong arms around your waist.
Suguru pulls you into a deep kiss, a one that is not messy but slow. It’s slow and it’s purposeful. A love letter laced in tongue.
He gives you a soft laugh when he hears you moan softly into his lips, pulling back to brush hairs from your face and tuck it behind your ears, “It wouldn’t be the same,” He says finally after looking at you for ages. Stroking at your cheek and holding your jaw.
“What?”
“It’d have to be you, it’ll always be you baby.”
You look at him incredulously, your heart beating a mile a minute before you watch him turn away and walk out of the bathroom, leaving you to shower like you asked.
You can’t help but miss the way his arms slotted around you perfectly, and the way his breath felt on your skin as he poured out his sentiments.
When you finish, you see Suguru on the bed, hair wet and wearing a big band tee and long pajama pants, smoking a cigarette while looking out the window.
You climb on the bed and slot yourself right in between his legs like you belong there—and part of you thinks that in more ways than one, you do belong there.
He reaches up at your face and cups it in his hands, pulling you down to kiss him. Soft, sweet, and deep like everything is with him.
He palms at your hair, and kisses you like he means it—like he really wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.
When you pull back you give him a smile, your voice dipped in honey and totally saccharine, “You smell like cigarettes.”
It happened every time Sukuna would nap, his stomach mouth would awaken like another whole entity itself and start talking to you, somehow sensing your presence every time.
Its voice, deeper than Sukuna’s yet still extremely similar, drawled out slowly. “I have always wondered what you’d taste like, woman.”
Your throat bobs nervously. “Can’t you taste things from both mouths?”
He hummed ‘no’, lip twitching up into a smirk. “Care to appease my wishes? I can already feel you throbbing on my thigh.”
You shift upon Sukuna’s lap, the man himself still deep in sleep. He remained with his eyelids fluttered closed as you slipped off the silk robe you were wearing and discarded your underwear, slowly shuffling up his abdomen until you were hovering over the stomach mouth.
“Don’t leave a starved man waiting,” the stomach growled beneath you, breath touching in between your legs and making your thighs squeeze against either side of his torso.
Hesitantly, you lowered yourself down until the thick tongue pressed flat against your heat, sinking into your slick and licking a long strip fron your hole to your clit. Your nails dig into your husbands skin immediately, lower lip tucked between your teeth to try and quieten your moans.
“Are- are you sure about this?” You ask tentatively, glancing up at Sukuna sleeping soundly.
“Mmm,” the mouth hums in pleasure. “Very sure.”
You writhed and moaned atop him, head tipping back in ecstasy, any remaining sensibility leaving your brain the second the long, thick tongue delved into your hole and ate you out as if you were its last meal and it was the sweetest thing it had ever tasted.
You’d finished twice already when Sukuna grumbled on the bed, hands twitching and eyes flickering, threatening to open and expose you of your current act. The speed at which you pull off his stomach makes the bed shake violently, throwing the discarded robe over your naked body as quickly as possible.
It’s your erratic movements that causes your husband to fully wake, slipping from unconsciousness and blindly reaching for you. You settle down next to him casually. “I’m here, Ryo.”
“Hm,” he grumbles sleepily. “Did you rest?”
You nod. “Mhm.”
“Good.”
There’s a beat of silence as you both settle down to sleep again.
cw: cumming with no condom, lots of sex, breeding kink if you squint
bully!gojo who fucks you until you can't think straight
you came five times already, and still gojo is fucking your pussy over and over again. you're lying on your back and gojo's palms are planted beside your head, his eyes watching the filth that is his cock thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. without a condom, his cum is free to coat your pussy, and his eyes just can't seem to tear away from the sight. the sound of you moaning, gojo grunting, and the wet plaps of where you two meet fills the room.
"fuck baby, your pussy's so relaxed for me. just gave up, huh?" he teases, savoring the way your cunt lets him in with ease, how his cock seems so welcome buried deep inside. his gaze rises to your fucked out face and he makes mocking sound.
"you seem a little tired honey? hm? too much cock makes your little brain turn off, doesn't it?" he moans, balls twitching when your cunt pulls him in. "can't even, ngh, think about anything. just my dick keeping you full."
he moans again as he speeds up his thrusts, causing you to let out a loud moan. you're long gone, no longer caring about how embarrassed you feel and how he completely owns you right now, all that matters is that he keeps fucking you and that your pussy stays full.
gojo grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him, strands of wetness connecting your bodies, completely perverted and demented. he fucks you harder while you shake beneath him, pussy clenching his cock over and over, like it has a mind of its own. when you feel your orgasm coming, you reach your hands up to him.
"aww, you need me baby?" he leans down and wraps his arms around you, allowing you to hug him. "don't worry baby, i'm here. this cock is all yours."
a/n: hi hi! this is based on this request. thanks for your patience, sweets! 🥰 also pls excuse the formatting in Ed's and Sho's, for whatever reason the app cut off the first few messages and I had to rewrite them 💀 | reblogs & comments are always appreciated! xx
⋆.𐙚 ̊ content note: fem!reader, slight angst to comfort/crack, mention of (period) blood in Ed's
⋆.𐙚 ̊ masterlist
⋆.𐙚 ̊ taglist: @hizashiismydad
⋆.𐙚 ̊ wanna travel to the stars and join my taglist? comment or send me a message! <3
this account is stealing and reuploading works without permission and without credits. please go through the account to see if they reuploaded your works as well and report the account! ty @thetjtales for tagging me to let me know !! :p
a/n: HELLO!! this is a fic i came up after eating a shit ton of spicy wings the other day. i’m still regretting it.
pairings: timeskip! tsukishima kei x (chubby) !reader
WARNINGS: crack fic, mentions of dookie, pain mentions, bloating mentions, stomachache mentions, reader is a whiny mess, tsukishima makes fun of reader, writing errors
wc: no clue :p
“Keeeiii-” you whine, huffing as your boyfriend crosses his arms, slouching in the couch avoiding looking at you.
“I told you you would get a stomachache.” He sasses, suddenly very intrigued with the commercial playing in the tv. You groan, wriggling around in the couch, your arms wrapped around your bloated stomach. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to try spicy chicken as a late night “snack”, your stomach was bloated, you felt like throwing up, and worse part you couldn’t let anything out.
Kei, on the other hand, told you twice to not eat this late at night, but of course you always do the opposite of what he says and ordered yourself the spicy chicken combo, eating the whole meal in one sitting as Kei only watched you silently, obviously judging you but never dared to say it out loud.
“Do we have pepto?” You whine, holding your stomach. Kei doesn’t say anything, only glancing at your ridiculous states, then averting his gaze back to the tv. Your eyes suddenly widen, grabbing Kei’s shoulder. Tsukishima looks at you with a frown, turning to look down at where your hand rested.
“Are you going to shit yourself?” He asks in horror, scooting away from you, but you shake your head, grabbing his hand and putting it against your stomach. You slowly look up at him, disbelief in your eyes.
“My stomach is hard Kei. It’s never done that before.” You let go of his hand, standing up and walking around the coffee table, hoping it would be of some relief but it was no use. Tsukishima groaned quietly, getting tired of your pacing after your third lap. He stops you in your tracks as he hovered over you, grabbing your hand and taking you to the front door. As Tsukishma grabbed his keys and put on his shoes, you struggled to keep your noises down, complaining with every little movement.
“Where are we going.” You whine once Kei finished helping you put your shoes on, opening the door for you as he put his hoodie up, then locking the door behind him once he stepped out.
“You’re just bloated. Walking for a while will help.” He says as if it was the most obvious answer. You interlock your fingers with his cold ones, the two of you walk out your apartment, the night breeze hitting your skin, making you grab Kei’s arm instead.
~
“I hate that I’m the one with the bigger appetite in the relationship. Shouldn’t you be eating more cause of your height?” You huff. Tsukishima scoffs, shaking his head while continuing to walk. He snakes his arm around your waist, he doesn’t pull you in, but his hand squeezes your hip just slightly. The gesture isn’t forgein to you, but it is rare. You melt into his touch, continuing to walk as you felt your stomach tighten.
“Kei this isn’t helping.” You huff, massaging your stomach. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, glancing down at you
“We’ve barely even left the block, be patient.”
“What if I have to poop and I don’t make it.”
“That’s disgusting.” Tsukishima frowns at you but his touch stays on you, taking a turn. You light up when you see the bright sign of the convince store. Tsukishima opens the door for you, happily walking under his arm you immediately go to the fridges, grabbing a water bottle. Kei went to the medicine aisle, looking at the back of each box to see if any of your symptoms were labeled there.
You peaked your head under his arm, looking at the blue box he was holding.
“What’s that for?” You ask, resting the cold water bottle against your stomach. Kei doesn’t spare you a glance, shaking the box a little and turning around, your feet following him as he put his arm around your shoulder.
“For the big baby.” He smirks, walking to the cashier. You roll your eyes and set your water bottle on the counter, leaning your head against his side. Once the man checks out your items and Kei pays, the both of you walk out, Kei opening the box and taking out the small pill bottle.
“Take this,” he says, handing you the opened bottle. You set the pill on your tongue, taking a swing of your water. You swallow, looking at Kei for a second.
“It’s not working.” You shake your head. Tsukishima clicks his tounge, taking the bottle of pills from your hand, shoving them in his pocket.
“It takes a while for it to set, genius.” He mummers as you hold onto his arm. You only hum, swinging your water bottle back and forth as the late night cold air hits your face.
“Thank you.” You whisper after a while, watching a car drive by the both of you as you walk back home. Kei glances down at you, kissing the top of your head, wrapping his arm around your waist, saying nothing more.
~
When the two of you got home, Kei made you a tea, and although you were not a fan of the taste you still drank it all because he said “it will help you shit everything out.” You only glared at him as he gestured at you to drink it all.
When the two of you finally went in for bed, in the dark room only lighted up by the small rays of the moon, you turn to face Tsukishima who was already facing you. You grab his arm, scooting closer to him and wrapping his arm around you. He chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead as you slowly close your eyes with a smile.
Your smile only lasted a second when a sound deep from your stomach makes yours and Kei’s eyes open wide. You whine at the sudden gurgle inside your stomach, pain stricking every bit of your insides. Then, your eyes widen even more as you shoot up from the bed, running and stumbling to your bathroom.
Kei can only lay there blinking, but when the realization hit, he starts to laugh, turning around in your shared bed as he pulled the covers over himself.
“DON’T STINK UP THE BATHROOM!” He shouts.
“SHUT UP! Ow, it’s burning.” Your voice echos back, making Tsukishima make a face of disgust.
After a really long time you come back shuffling into your room, pouting slightly as you lay down, looking at the ceiling while Tsukishima has his back to you. When you’re about to turn, Tsukishima mummers,
“Don’t shit the bed.”
“SHUT UP KEI!” You hiss, hitting the back of his head with your pillow.
And as the night went on, Kei held your back against his chest, every now and then rubbing slow gentle circles on your stomach in his sleep. It was safe to say you did not shit the bed that night thank you to your boyfriend’s lazy massages.
synopsis . How they get caught jerking off to you/How they jerk off to you. pairings (separate) . Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Geto Suguru x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader, & Nanami Kento x f!reader
content . afab!reader, masturbation, perversion, praise, needy men, phone sex, filth, dirty talk, non-curse au, talking him through it, degrading, implied perv x perv, established relationships, boss x assistant (nanami), getting caught (duh), etc.
word count . 5.6k || author's note: this is a slightly revised repost from kamitv, so if it looks familiar (and the writing is lowk ahh), that's why! banner art by Rororogi Mongera. <3
☆ Toji Fushiguro
He’s the kinda guy that you could never be on the phone with past midnight. Why? Cause’ suddenly his voice is getting deeper, his comments are growing more suggestive, and he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock as he gets off to the sound of your voice.
What you're rambling on about? He’s got no idea. All he knows is that your soft tone—laced with such a faint sleepiness to it—has his cock aching within his hand.
You don't even notice he’s getting off to you until the big idiot groans out your name like he wanted to get caught in the first place.
The sound naturally makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap at your screen to bring the ongoing call to the forefront of it.
You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too husky, “Fuck,” that has you smiling to yourself a little. It was in times like this that you felt your ego growing in size.
Especially as you hear him grunting like he were trying to keep his sounds in.
But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep talkin’, doll,” Toji orders.
There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, catching the way he sighs heavily in initial response.
On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out, the fat heat of his dick squeezed in between his palm, and thick wads of sweat built up along his forehead. He'd been at it for a minute before you'd caught on.
Toji tosses his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name. Huffing, “What?” as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.
Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes him grunt, “You okay over there? You sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.
“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now—that big hand of his wrapped around his poor, leaky cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.
You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear just about everything. The sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to do for him, his hand slicks up 'n down his length in quicker pulls due to the saliva and precum mixing together.
“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants shortly, forcing himself to slow his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d you stop? Hm?”
“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”
Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask. “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.
“Riiiight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”
“Yeah? And what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.
You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today but I got lucky since they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.
Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?
Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth. You knew what you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.
Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”
“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.
Your voice had softened by a lot and was driving him insane. That clearly false innocence wrapped itself into your question and it had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what you were even asking him.
Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.
You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”
“Yeah, you do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.
As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something all the more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Tell me.”
“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”
The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”
“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”
You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”
And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching—damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he'd let it slide for now.
“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.
“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”
His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”
“Yeah? Gonna cum thinking about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.
And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being. How could he not picture you on your knees, taking his cock into your mouth all sloppily whilst he fucks that gorgeous face of yours just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?
Then you just kept going, “…Or just from me talking? Do you like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.
He’s on his end just nodding as as if you could see him. What an idiot. “Yes, shit… You know I fuckin’ love your voice, baby,” Toji tells you.
God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, his tip all flushed over 'n drooling from your every word, large thighs trembling as he gets closer and closer to making one stupid mess of himself.
“C’mon then big guy, cum for me so you can come over,” You purr.
Just then Toji has to squeeze his eyes shut and he almost chokes. “It's late, doll,” He argues.
You tut, “Yeah well listening to you jerk off turned me on, so now you’ve gotta come over and deal with it.”
Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…
Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want. I’ll be over in ten.”
You snicker, “Make it five.”
He swears you’ll be the death of him.
Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”
“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.
He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”
You smile, “Come shut me up.”
“Oh I’m about to.”
☆ Geto Suguru
Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties—Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.
He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this, so he just settles for the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.
Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off, other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the little O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.
His hand is set nice ‘n sturdy around his deft base as he drags your lack up and down his slobbered skin. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours and hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.
“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue—relishing in the distant memory of how sweet how tasted and how addicting you are.
Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk his cock for all it’s worth? Well, yes.
Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.
Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it—the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.
Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.
Oh, the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.
And he’s so close as he thinks about it more—picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-
“Suguru?” The sudden sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.
Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.
You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago yet, here you were—standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.
You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”
“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.
Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.
“That’s filthy, Sugu,” You whisper carefully.
The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.
Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me.” You utter.
He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I just needed your panties.”
You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.
“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, that’s me, princess. Keep telling me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.
You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”
“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingering yourself to my voice last week.”
You gulp, “T-That was…”
He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.
Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.
His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him, and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.
“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, his voice a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now, are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are you gonna get on your knees and take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.
You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you scoff, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”
He huffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”
“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”
He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”
“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy—looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him, and your hand set low near his cock.
Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.
You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watching you before I said something?”
“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch sooooo badly. If anything, you were too close to not be all over him right now, and it’s simply unfair how his restraint was waning by the second.
“A few minutes. I saw you putting my panties to your nose and everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.
Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.
You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”
“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said something, right? Cause you like watching me like this? You like seeing me slut myself out to the thought of you.”
Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.
Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.
The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”
☆ Gojo Satoru
You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around, but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person—he sends you a video.
Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins and a pretty pinkish tip twitching for some attention—you’re left to stare at the bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.
“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” His tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and swallow thickly. Thank god for your headphones—despite being home alone—because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”
Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”
“Got’ this hard thinking about you,” Gojo whispers, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.
Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand—how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his sticky tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead to push at the translucent slick building up there, and how he lets out a hiss in response.
Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touching me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leaving you for work…”
You snicker lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you—his cock is so looong and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).
Your thighs squeeze together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.
And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.
You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.
Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“
“Knowing you’re watching that video isn’t enough for me,” Gojo huffs out, his camera now propped up for you so you can see most of his body.
His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, and his legs are spread far ‘n wide—erect and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand hauls his palm up and down. Gojo’s got his head thrown back and you have the clearest view of his glistening Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down from it and to his chest.
He’s panting all crazy-like, his hand fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.
You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“
“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”
It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.
“Spread yourself apart for me, baby,” Gojo groans out. You’re following his every word as you part your legs wider and move two fingers to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.
“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.
You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juust like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss being inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet you are for me and I’m not even there, shit.”
You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”
“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “You liked watching me jerk off?”
His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.
“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.
“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak for me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “Does my voice get you like this too?”
You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.
“Aww, babyyy,” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers trying to please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”
Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”
“Hahh, need you too, sweetheart.” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.
Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.
You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”
“M’gonna get home and fuck you nice 'n full, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.
Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”
“Yeah?" Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get you pregnant so I have an excuse not to leave you like this.”
Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”
“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cumming inside you, fuckin’ you dumb, watching you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.
“T-Toru,” You whine for him—missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.
“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it, pretty girl.”
You’re nodding, he’s nodding—both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.
“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers—the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.
Fuck, he needed to get home soon.
☆ Nanami Kento
You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.
“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.
With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His bulky thighs parted like some slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.
Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this—his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.
Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.
But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.
Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.
He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way—thinking of fucking you til’ you’re making so much noise that he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth just to shut you up.
“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.
His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.
“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.
“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.
You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“
“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”
“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“
Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”
You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”
You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.
“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.
Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white—cum peeping out from his plump, sweltering tip and making you swallow thickly.
You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”
His response is instant, “God, yes.”
“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”
Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”
You tease, “Anywhere?”
“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.
Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.
“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“
Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his dick tighter.
“Shit,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.
“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.
Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.
You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”
“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it—he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.
Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Making suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”
“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.
“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”
His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.
“Yeah?” He hushes out.
Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.
It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.
You gulp, “Sir, I-“
He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”
Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.
The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.
Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”
You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”
