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#JJK Fanfiction
gojonanami · 19 hours
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“ A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME ”
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pairing: satoru gojo x reader
summary: you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom.
warnings: 18+ suggestive, fluff, comfort, some angst, implications of the shinjuku showdown arc, implied gojo is no longer a sorcerer, gojo is your househusband, taking a bath together, taking care of him, copium really, satoru being a silly man
w/c: 1,184
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“I’m home!”
You call into your home, the clatter of your keys and shoes as you shedded the things that chained you to the outside to submerge yourself in your oasis and into his arms. But as you got no reply, you stepped into your living room, scanning over the kitchen, to find no one.
Now where was your home?
“Satoru?” you called, heart skipping a slight beat, he was always waiting for you when you got home, usually on the couch or maybe in the kitchen the clank of the knife as he chopped away. Or even the many times that he was waiting by the door to only ambush you with kisses. But this time, nothing.
You rounded the corner to the hallway and peeked into your bedroom to find him asleep. You crept closer, careful not to wake him, and yup, he was fast asleep. His pretty snow white lashes resting against his cheeks, his chest slowly rising and falling as the soft sounds of his breaths parted his lovely lips.
You could watch him sleep for hours. You knew he never did enough of it before, and you’d argue he still didn’t do enough of it now. He always said he was fine sleeping 6 hours since it was twice as much as he usually got — and now he was working at home, so he could be ease.
But even so, you know he needed more.
As if he senses your thought, he stirs, starry blue eyes finding yours as he flutters sleep from his gaze, “sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, voice still beautifully raspy from sleep, “when did you get home?” He’s shifting to get up, but you use gentle hands to ease him back, “I haven’t started on dinner yet, sweets—“
“I got it, Toru,” you’re running your fingers through his hair, “just rest, baby,” and a protest is already on his lips, “let me guess what you did today — cleaned the house from roof to floor, stocked us on groceries, cooked lunch for me for the week, and probably a million other things,” you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I think I can handle dinner for one night at least,”
He’s pouting now, “but you just got home from work, Princess, what kind of househusband would I be—“ and you can’t help but laugh, he loved his self appointed title of househusband, especially since it was one he had chosen for himself, and he took any opportunity — even now to call himself that.
“I think even the absolute best househusbands need a break, and should listen to their wives, since I’m the one you want to pamper so much,” and his lips party in protest, but you’re leaning down to kiss them and his pout away, “let me take care of you, Toru,”
He’s sighing, as he leans up to press his forehead to yours, “and does your offer include a bath, sweetheart?”
~~~
“Y’know sometimes I feel guilty,” and you pause in your massage of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, suds from the bath you’d drawn for him covering both of your bodies as he leans against you in your tub, back pressed flush to yours.
“Guilty about what?” you ask, holding your tongue on the million reasons why he shouldn’t.
“For so long, I was the strongest,” he gives a small chuckle, “and it was fun, sometimes. But it was mostly lonely,” he leans back to look up at you, a small grin on his lips, “except when I was with you,” your lips curl, “and now I get to be with you, and I get to stay home — and the worst thing I have to do are the dishes,” and you snort.
“I told you I’d do them if you hate them so much,”
But he’s shaking his head, “Sometimes I think trying to deal with our cast iron is worse than fighting Sukuna—“ and you roll your eyes, “but there’s always this urgency that I have to be doing more. Telling me to keep going, moving, fighting—“
“You’ve done enough, Toru, more than enough,” your fingers cup his cheek, “too much, honestly. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done your part—“
“But—“
“Didn’t you or someone say jujutsu is like a marathon, a baton pass?” Your fingers run through his white locks, before you shift yourself to sit in his lap instead, “the marathon is over, racers have packed up and gone home, and the finish line has been crossed,” your fingers rest on the back of his neck, tracing his undercut, “and that’s because of you and all you did to fight and raise up the next generation,” you say softly, and he’s pressing his head to your forehead.
“Is it okay for me to rest now?” and you’re pulling him into your arms, hoping your touch conveys what your words can’t.
“Yes, it is, Satoru,” you’re pressing soft kisses to his neck, “you don’t need to be the strongest. You’re Satoru Gojo, and that’s all I want,” and he leans back, “you’re all I want,”
“Is that a proposal?” And you snort.
“We’re already married, weirdo—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, his arms around your bare waist, as the water shifted and splashed, but you could barely feel anything except his lips against yours and the circle of his thumb against the small of your back.
He finally pulls away, a genuine smile on his lips, “And you married this weirdo,” and you chuckle, tracing his jaw with your finger, “you’re stuck with me for life,”
“Promise?” And he’s kissing you again in an instant, stealing your breath like he did the first time you met him all those years ago at jujutsu tech. And you knew you’d never love anyone else — not like him.
“Promise.”
Bonus:
Satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind as the two of you towel off after your bath, “what are we having for dinner?”
“Well someone insisted on me being in here with him, so I had to order out,” and he’s grinning, as he nuzzles your neck.
“Whoopsie, hehe,” and he’s humming, as he tugs your hips against his, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips, “can we have dessert first?”
“It is dessert. We’re having ice cream for dinner—“ and he’s kissing you again, but this time it’s languid and messy — all tongue and teeth, until he’s pulling away with a smirk at your breathless face.
“I want something sweeter, wife,” and you smile.
“Think you can finish before the delivery gets here?” And he’s already picking you up with ease in his arms, pinned under him in a moment, as his ocean blues flash with mischief from between your thighs.
“I can, but I don’t know if you’ll be done by then.” He says cheekily, as you only sigh.
If there was one thing that would always be true is that you would always be weak to Satoru Gojo — but not his abilities, but who he is.
Your husband.
“Let’s see, hm?”
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a/n: I’m real upset about the leaks and this is my coping. I needed this.
taglist: @staryukis, @cloverlilies, @asgoodasdead666, @strawmariee, @chuuyasboots, @forest-fruits-jam, @catsgomurp, @rat-loves, @hanlay, @risuola, @spider-fan72, @sunamatic, @difficultdomains
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colonelarr0w · 2 days
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!Redeemed Papa Toji is on the menu for tonight everyone. <3
< … >
“Mama pretty.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
You pause from where you stand in the doorframe of Megumi’s bedroom, curiously peering in on the adorable sight that lays out in front of you. Sitting in the center of the room is Toji, his ankles crossed over one another so that Megumi could sit comfortably in his lap.
Nestled between Toji’s large hands is a scrapbook, one that you had been making long before you’d met Toji. There were pictures of childhood memories, birthday parties, high school events, college graduation, and so much more. But recently you’d added new memories; your wedding and Megumi’s birth to name a few.
Megumi had made Toji pause on the page that you had dedicated to your wedding. Pasted on the page is multiple pictures of you wearing white, of Toji standing crying at the alter, of you and Toji dancing during the reception, and (Toji’s personal favorite) you laughing with Toji with wedding cake smeared onto your face.
A chubby little finger was pointing to one picture in particular, one of you wearing your white gown with your hair all done up. You were only half-facing the camera, eyes focused on something just behind the lens. But Megumi was looking down at the picture with such a sparkle in his eye that you would have thought he were looking at a picture of a goddess.
His father’s expression mirrors that of his son. Fond eyes stare down at the same picture, a small smile stretching out the scar nestled on the left side of his face.
“Mama!”
Megumi’s happy cry breaks Toji from his trance, head turning to watch as you walk into the bedroom. With a smile, you lift the toddler into your arms, laughing breathily as he sloppily kisses your cheek. “Hi ‘gumi, what are you and Papa up to?”
“Looking at you!” Megumi responds, pointing down to the scrapbook in Toji’s lap. You chuckle, lowering yourself to sit beside Toji, glancing him and biting back a playful insult at the flustered expression that your husband wears.
“Is that so?” you question with a playful raise of your eyebrow. Toji smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging both you and Megumi against his chest.
You grin, leaning into your husband’s hold and glancing down at Megumi again. He smiles up at you, with all of his little teeth and those bright eyes that shined like stars. You lean down, kissing the toddler’s forehead.
Toji watches through fond eyes as Megumi quickly leans up to reciprocate your kiss. He squeezes you and Megumi tighter against his chest, cheek resting against the top of your head. If only he had a camera.
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echoofadream · 2 days
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Your favorite patient...
Part 2
Summary: you are a hardworking doctor who has been stalked by a patient. Now it's time he gets punished for his obsessive behavior.
Contains: sub!male!yandere, really mean dom!reader(gender not specified), degradation, dacryphilia(kinda), lots of begging, praise(if you squint)
Part 1 Part 3
A whimper escapes his lips when he sees the huge grin on your face. As you crouch in front of him, he loses his balance and falls on his ass on the floor. You laugh at him, a mix of shame and arousal filling his body to the brim.
"Pleaseee..." he whines again. At how vocal he was, with his little sounds and pleas you were surprised you'd never heard him jerking off under your bed while he listened to you.
He was almost laying on his back, his legs spread wide in front of you, holding his weight on his elbows. Your gaze falls to the bulge in his pants, a small stain right at the end of his clothed dick. As he feels your eyes on him his hips involuntarily thrust upwards. Your hand goes in front of your face, your fingers rubbing your eyes as you tried your best not to burst out of laughter.
"Mhm... what's so funny, doctor?" he whimpers.
"It's funny how I've always wanted a whore like you, yet you've been here all the time, I just had no idea" You feel the smirk on your face get wider when he moans slightly at your insult. "Get on the couch" you say, your voice not as demanding as it should've been, you find out later.
"Are you going to fuck me?" he asks, his face lighting up.
"Get on the fucking couch!"
He falls silent and gets up as fast as he can, almost tripping over on his way to the couch. He takes a seat there, straightening his back and keeping his hands on his thighs. He was trying his hardest not to let out any more sounds, but it was so hard! The way you were approaching him slowly, tantalizingly slowly. How your body was moving, how those clothes were fitting you so perfectly. He started fidgeting, cracking his fingers like he was trying to break them.
"Pleaseee..." he whines again.
You frown and raise your voice at the man in front of you. "If you don't keep quiet I'll gag you! Is that what you want?"
Fear creeps onto his face and he shakes his head rapidly. "No, no, no, no. Don't gag me! Don't gag me please! I wanna tell you how much I love you, doctor! I wanna talk to you! I wanna- mhm... wanna-"
Your hand was on his cheek, thumb brushing against his lower lip, the small gesture shutting him down. His breath was caught in his throat and when he relaxed under your touch, when he let out that relieved sigh, the room was filled with a pained scream.
"Ahh..." He was breathing rapidly after the slap you just gave him, its pain lingering on his skin which was turning redder by the second.
"Have you forgotten that this is supposed to be a punishment, you freak?" you ask him, both anger and mockery detectable in your voice.
He looked at you with big teary eyes, a smile forming on his lips. "Harder..." He moans, lifting his hands and trying to grab yours, but stopping himself mid-air, remembering he had to be obedient. If this went well he'd be your slave! That thought alone almost made him cum in his pants.
You raise a brow, your face darkening. "Did you just tell me what to do?"
He gulped. "Uhm...uh...I..." he started stuttering, trying to find the right words.
"A punishment is supposed to hurt but it seems like you're enjoying yourself so far, aren't you?" you ask. He stays silent. The truth was, he was desperate to feel that pain from your slap again. He wanted it, no...he needed it. He felt like he was gonna die if you didn't touch him any sooner. You start talking again, not paying attention to the way he was pacing back and forth, fidgeting in his seat, soft sounds escaping his red lips, abused by his teeth every time he tried not to jump on you and hump your leg until he came.
"You want me to touch you, don't you? You want me to fuck you?" you ask, smirking.
He nodded eagerly. "Yes...yes, please...pretty please, doctor....please, please, please-"
"Shut the fuck up, you slut!" you snap at him.
He whimpers just like a dog who's been yelled at by his beloved owner and his head lowers.
"You're sick. Disgustingly pathetic and utterly insane. I could do whatever i want to you, but my options are limited if I truly wanna torture you" You start pacing around the room, thinking of means to make him regret being a repulsive stalker and a crazy manwhore. He just stays there, already in pain, struggling not to simply take one of the pillows on the sofa and hump it like a bitch in heat. God, he would've loved it if you just touched him. Why weren't you touching him? Couldn't you see how much he needed it? Couldn't you see how much he loved you? Lost in thought, he didn't even realize when you appeared in front of him. He lifts his gaze and tries to look you straight in the eyes. You only gave him a serious and emotionless glare.
"Take your pants off" you demand.
You didn't need to tell him twice. He practically jumps off the couch and starts undressing, taking his pants off along with his boxers and revealing his hard cock. Fat tip leaking precum like a running faucet, pulsing veins along his neglected shaft. His legs were hairless, as well as his balls, no hair present on his lower body. You saw some thick scars running along his pale thighs, a reminder of the accident which led to him meeting you. They didn't make him any less attractive. You still had to use all the self-control you had in you not to fuck him dumb right then and there.
You whistle at the sight and his cheeks get redder, a content expression on his face.
"Am I pretty, doctor? Am I pretty for you?" he asks, eager for an answer. Maybe if he'd been a good boy he would have gotten praised for his appealing appearance, but you had other plans for him today.
You chuckle. "You? Not in the slightest. You're pathetic. Your hair is a mess and what's inside that brain of yours is even messier. Your legs are so thin it's a miracle they haven't broken yet just from holding your useless existence every single day. No, don't take off your shirt. I don't wanna puke"
"Ahh...ngh-ah..." He bends forward, both hands grabbing at his crotch as he feels his knees getting weak. He whimpers and trembles as you watch him, your own arousal growing. But you couldn't give in and take him. You were too competitive to do that. You couldn't possibly let him stalk you for weeks then give him exactly what he wants. No. He had to be punished.
He straightens his back, panting as though he just ran the marathon. He shows you his palms, full of the cum he's been holding back for so fucking long. His eyes light up he looks at you, a big smile on his lips.
"Thank you, doctor! Mhm...thank you....you're so good to me...I love y-"
Your palm against his cheek shuts him up this time as well. He could feel tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. He lifts his head again, trying to hold back his sobs.
"Please, doctor...please"
"Shut up" you command, but he doesn't stop. Tears start running down his red cheeks, only adding to the painful burning sensation.
"Doctor, please...!" He starts tugging at your shirt, desperation visible in his dilated pupils.
"Keep your mouth shut, you slut!"
"I'm a slut!" he says. "I'm your slut, yours, yours only! Ngh-....mhm pleaseee, please I'm sorry. I'm disgusting and pathetic and I deserve it but I just wanna...wanna...mhm..." He grabs your wrist, placing your hand on his reddened cock, shamelessly. You yank your hand away.
"Ew... disgusting! I don't wanna get whatever you have. I don't wanna become a pathetic whore like you" Your disgusted expression was only adding to the pain he was already experiencing, both physical and emotional. He started sobbing, his eyes filling with tears and blurring his vision.
"I d-don't have...'m not sick...doctor, I'm not sick, please" He kept sobbing as you watched him with a pleased smirk across your face. "Please...I know I'm a whore but...mhm please..." He kept begging, his words getting less and less coherent. " 'm sorry, doctor...'m so sorry for being so naughty....I shouldn't have...ngh... shouldn't...forgive....please... forgiveness... doctor...hurts...'m sorry"
He stopped speaking and just straight up started sobbing, fat tears running down his flushed cheeks. He was desperate, so needy, so perfect. The more you were pushing him over the edge, the more you were starting to feel as though you were growing as obsessed with him as he was with you.
Your hand makes its way to his cock and your fingers wrap around him, earning a moan from the man. He kept crying, still too weak to form words and you could've sworn he was too weak to even think of them, let alone speak them. His knees get weak so your left hand goes under his ass to support him and make sure he keeps standing. His hands grab onto your shoulders instinctively.
More and more lewd sounds kept filling the room as you stroked him. You were aching to tease him, to edge him, to make him beg for his release, but you weren't that cruel. You press your lips on his forehead while your hand twisted around his shaft, stroking up and down faster every time when he would start thrusting his hips, unable to tell you to go faster since his mind was completely blank.
" 'm gon- ...ahh ngh-ahh...doctor...gon-"
Could he get any more perfect? Asking for permission to cum even when he was fucked stupid? You were keeping him. A hundred percent. You weren't letting this man go under any circumstances.
"Cum for me, pretty boy. Come on, let it all out for me. That's it. Atta boy!"
"Ahh...f-ahh...ngh...f-fuck..."
He gave you everything he had, his cum covering your hand and even sliding down his thighs, ending up on the carpet. He grabbed your hand rapidly, your eyes getting wide at how he started licking his cum off your fingers with sloppy and desperate tongue movements. He falls to his knees with a thud after swallowing everything, panting and gasping for air.
You stayed there and watched him. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly. Your eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape, shocked at his actions. He lifted his head and gave you a loving smile, his lips still covered in his arousal.
"Thank you..."
Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm kind of thinking about making this a series so please tell me your thoughts about that. Have a great day!❤️
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madaqueue · 1 day
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eternally, yours
chapter 2 | protection
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synopsis: 'forever' is a peculiar concept - how can something persist, unchanged, throughout time? when our bodies halt their aging, do our minds continue to evolve? do our hearts? choso was comfortable with his version of forever, one of solitary loneliness; that is, until he meets you. forced to confront the harsh realities of being human, the fragility of life, his definition of 'forever' changes as he stares down the barrel of eternity.
pairing: vampire!choso kamo x f!reader
themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff. language, alcohol consumption, brief stalking/catcalling, mentions of blood. 18+, MDNI
word count: 2.8k
a/n: the gang (me) craving domesticity? it's more likely than you think!
previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter
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“Wake uppppp!” a giddy scream echoes across your bedroom as you suddenly jolt awake to a tiny body careening towards you. Megumi’s dark hair tickles your face as he leaps onto you, cushioned by thick blankets, their warmth suddenly ripped from you as he tears them down in an attempt to alert you.
“I’m up, I’m up!” you scream through a laugh as you hold him away from you, cautiously avoiding his injured shoulder still held in place with the dark-blue sling from the prior week’s hospital visit.
Megumi giggles above you, his dimpled cheeks gleaming down at you as he tugs at your hand, pulling you from bed. “I wanna go to the park, pleeeeeease?” he begs.
Ruffling his hair, eyes glancing over the scar digging across his forehead, you jokingly groan. “Okay, but just for a few hours, alright buddy? I’ve got plans tonight, remember?”
His toothy grin widens, an adorable high-pitched squeal of excitement leaving his throat as he hurriedly runs from your room to get ready, a chant of “Yay, yay, yay!” echoing down the hallway.
Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you are perpetually stunned by your brother’s energy, his unending optimism. In spite of his injuries, both visible and invisible, he opens his heart every single day.
༝ ˚ 。⋆ ༝ ˚ 。⋆
In the heat of the summer sun, you watch Megumi run and play with other kids, a childlike innocence as he leaps across the sand, giggles spilling from the playground. Cicadas chirp in the trees surrounding the bench you currently sit on, hidden under the shade of the overlaying foliage.
Running up to you, breathless, your younger brother manages a choked, “Can I stay a little longer?”
Rummaging through your bag, you toss him the water bottle you packed, his small hands grabbing it and ravenously chugging in insatiable gulps. Shaking your head, you apologetically stand to leave. “You know we can’t, big guy, I’m sorry.”
Despite the water already dribbling down his chin, he smiles, accepting your judgement. “Okay,” he grins. Grabbing your hand, his sweaty fingers intertwining with your own, he walks home next to you, the bounce in his step never wavering.
༝ ˚ 。⋆ ༝ ˚ 。⋆
As night settles, the hum of chatter fills your ears as you sway in place along the outskirts of the bar, surrounded by your friends. Condensation from your drink dampens the palm of your hand. Despite the high-energy buzz of their conversation, all you can focus on is Megumi.
Is he okay? Should you have left him at home?
“Hey!” one of your friends calls out. “It’s so good to see you!”
A weak smile graces your lips as you nod, a chorus of cheers joining in. “I can’t believe you came out tonight!” “It’s been forever!” “We missed you!”
Has it really been that long? Thinking back as you sip your drink, how long had it been? months? a year? since you allowed yourself to let go like this, to be with your friends, to just sink into the moment; until tonight, you had been too preoccupied taking care of Megumi.
And you still couldn’t even do that right. The thought nags in the back of your mind, guilt settling in your stomach, before a full shot glass is shoved into your hand by one of your friends. Excited yells erupt as you knock it back instinctively, hands suddenly tugging you onto the dance floor.
The music pulses through your body, hips swinging as you chant the lyrics to whatever songs the DJ decided to play. Foggy lights surround you, bright and alluring, pulling you further into the moment. Your body feels light as you hug your friends, pure and innocent bliss shared through your laughs.
When it finally comes time to leave, you part ways with your group, cheers roaring through them as you walk alone down the street towards your apartment, knowing it was too far to walk to your father’s home and too late to call a taxi.
It’s only a few blocks, you try to reassure yourself as the streetlight above you flickers. 
Suddenly, footsteps are heard behind you.
It’s no big deal, people walk this way all the time. They’re probably just heading home, same as me.
When the footsteps pick up speed, your heart begins to race in your chest.
Shit.
“Hey sweetheart, wait up,” an unfamiliar voice calls from behind you, sneering in false sincerity at the nickname.
Shit, shit, shit.
Picking up your pace, you desperately try to maintain any distance with the stranger, your mind scrambling in panic. You can’t outrun him, you couldn’t physically beat him in a fight if it came down to it, what are you supposed to do? Just as tears threaten to spill over your lashes in fear, you see someone ahead of you on the street.
A man stands waiting at the bus stop, eyes downturned towards his phone that softly illuminates his face, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Something about him sends an immediate wave of comfort over you, just enough to think of a semi-logical plan.
“There you are, babe!” you proclaim loudly, hopefully audible to the threatening stranger behind you. Walking confidently up to the somehow more intrinsically trustworthy man ahead of you, you toss your arms around his neck and grab him in a hug, something about his body familiar to you in a deep, indescribable way. “Please, just go with it,” you whisper into his ear.
Initially his body tenses, but as he feels your desperation through the tight grasp you have on him, he relaxes. “Do you need help?” he whispers into your neck.
“Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you!” calls the stranger behind you threateningly.
Nodding desperately, the scent of his cologne finally enters your senses, a spicy warmth tingling your mind as you search for where you recognize it from.
“Then we better make this believable,” he murmurs into you, his voice shockingly deep.
As he pulls you slightly away from him, your eyes finally scan his face as realization sets in - the black eyes, distinctive tattoo, dark hair pulled up - he was unmistakable, the man who had so caringly treated your brother when you were in the emergency room.
Before you can respond he’s leaning forward, his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively as you push yourself into him, his hands finding their place on your lower back as he pulls you closer. Despite the cold of the night air his lips are warm, a soft tenderness to them as they part, allowing your tongue to enter his mouth as the kiss deepens.
Unbeknownst to you, Choso’s gaze remains fixed on the predator behind you, shooting daggers through him as the man scoffs. “Fuck you, whore,” he yells before turning around and disappearing into the night.
A wave of relief crashes over you as his footsteps retreat; yet, Choso doesn’t pull away, his lips lingering for a moment before you finally separate.
“Thanks,” you breathe out, heart still pounding despite the fear that no longer remains in you.
A smirk graces Choso’s features as he looks down at you, his eyes low. “Any time,” he purrs, the richness of his voice making you shiver.
As a moment of silence passes, you realize you’re just staring at him, suddenly processing the encounter. “S-sorry for kissing you,” you stammer, stepping away from him to create space.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he responds.
“I…I know you,” you think aloud. “You took care of my brother, Megumi, at the hospital?”
Pausing, Choso nods. Not that he needs to hesitate - he hadn’t been able to forget about you from the moment he saw you, finding himself standing outside the room you had been in, his feet holding him in the spot where you wrapped your arms around him that night. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything since then, thoughts constantly returning to you no matter what he tried. “I remember you,” he blurts out, hoping the confession isn’t too forthcoming.
Fortunately, a warm smile covers your face as you look up at him. “Dr. Kamo, right?”
He nods again. “But please, just call me Choso.”
“Okay, Choso,” you smile.
God, he thinks he could die right here just from hearing you say his name. The sweetness of your cadence makes his heart flutter as he pushes down a giddy grin.
“Well, thanks again, but I guess I should get home now,” you start to turn away from him, continuing your walk down the dim sidewalk.
Before you can get far, a hand reaches out and firmly grabs your wrist. You pause in your tracks, shocked by the raw strength of his grasp. “Wait,” he murmurs, releasing his grip as you turn to face him. “You can’t go by yourself - I mean, what if that guy shows up again? At least let me walk you home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” he smiles. “I was just waiting for the bus, I’m really not doing anything more important than this.”
Warmth spreads over your body at his kindness, your head gently shaking as you agree.
A sigh of relief, so quiet you barely catch it, leaves his throat at your response. He can’t let you go, not when it’s so dangerous - who would be there to protect you?
Walking in place next to you, the few remaining blocks to your apartment are silent, but something about Choso’s presence puts you at ease, comfortable in the tranquility night brings. Finally reaching your apartment, Choso clears his throat as you turn the key to your door. “Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night, and I hope Megumi’s doing okay,” he speaks before moving to leave.
“Wait,” the word leaves your throat before you can catch it, now your turn to make the man pause in his steps. “I wouldn’t want you walking back to the bus stop all by yourself - after all, it could be dangerous,” you smirk. “Why don’t you just stay here for tonight?”
Joy bubbles in Choso’s chest, exuberant at your offer, but some part of his psyche, in the very back of his mind, screams don’t do this. He shouldn’t - he’s been forced to go to the blood bank an extra two times already since the night he met you, unable to clear his mind until his body was filled with the blood of others. Would he be able to restrain himself now, with you this close?
Swinging the door open, you prod in his silence. “C’mon, it’s late, and it’s dark, just come in Choso.”
Any remaining resolution crumbles as you say his name, a soft “Okay,” falling from his lips as he steps inside, “but I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“Deal,” you grin, flicking the lights on.
His eyes roam over the space, the gentle scent of vanilla hovering through your home. Something about it feels so warm, so unmistakably you.
Suddenly embarrassed at the state you left things in, only able to notice the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and dirty clothes strewn across your couch, you instinctively push him further inside. “I’ll, uh, go grab some blankets,” you mutter, stepping around him and making your way to the bedroom, pushing piles of your own mess away as you move.
Kicking off his shoes, Choso’s mind races as he settles into your couch, clouded with you, you, you. His fingers gently trace his lips, remembering the way yours had been on them not long ago. He remembers their softness, the slight cherry taste in your mouth, how warm and perfect you felt in his grasp.
“Here,” you toss him a pillow and some blankets from your room, “let me know if it’s too cold or anything for you tonight, or if-”
“It’s perfect, thank you,” he hums, voice barely above a whisper.
“Goodnight, Choso,” you smile before turning back into your room.
“Goodnight.”
Adjusting to form a makeshift bed in your living room, he tries to push down his recurrent thoughts of you, a futile effort. You felt so small in his hold, having to lean up to reach your lips to his, the way your fingertips grazed the back of his neck. The plush comforter above him wafts more of your sweet smell into the air, further intoxicating.
While he doesn’t need to sleep, he spends the hours of the night caught up in ideas of you, his palm resting over his face to cover the place where you kissed him, a feeling he vows to never forget.
༝ ˚ 。⋆ ༝ ˚ 。⋆
In the morning, his dream-like state is suddenly interrupted by the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Soft curses leave your lips as pans tumble through the cupboard, metallic clanking echoing through your apartment as they hit the ground.
Choso stirs from his place on the couch, rubbing his eyes to focus on you.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you explain, a sheepish grin on your face.
The sweet smell of syrup suddenly hits him, eyes glancing over to the stove where a mass of pancakes has accumulated.
Walking across the room to stand next to him, you hand him a white mug, the dark fluid in it a stark contrast to the bright ceramic adorned with small, hand-painted flowers. “I didn’t know if you liked coffee, but I just figured I’d make it for you-” you babble.
“Thank you,” he cuts you off, a soft grin forming across his tired features. Lifting the mug to his lips he takes a sip, the warm liquid pouring down his throat.
You know it’s too hot to drink, yet Choso doesn’t seem to react - maybe he just likes hot coffee? Shrugging off the insecurity, simply grateful he accepted your show of affection, you return to your place in front of the stove.
The man rises, his muscles straining against his clothes as he stretches. Your eyes cover his body before you force yourself to pull your gaze away from his taught chest, biceps rippling under his skin-tight shirt. There was something nearly poetic about him, something ancient sculptors strove to capture mirrored in his form.
Still slightly drowsy from the respite of his dreams, he finds himself walking across the kitchen until he hits the counter, seating himself at one of the barstools.
“I hope you’re hungry,” you laugh softly as you fill a plate with pancakes, setting it in front of him. After a moment you flip a few onto your own, pulling the plate across the table to sit next to him.
Again, a comfortable silence falls upon you as you eat your breakfast. Something about having him here, in your home, his hair undone and body relaxed, feels natural, a routine you could see yourself slipping into.
Yet, next to you, Choso struggles to hold himself together. Why today, of all days, did you have to wear those shorts to bed? Moreover, why that t-shirt, one that so perfectly drapes the contours of your body? The domesticity, the familiarity, makes his heart ache for a comfort he can’t have, one he knows he doesn’t deserve.
But the way you kissed him, the way you formed to his body, felt like it was something you had shared for years. You had seen him, felt him, and still chose to be near him; would you still be with him if you knew it all, knew everything?
“Choso,” your voice pulls him from his mental cloud, “if you don’t like my cooking, you can just say so.”
Eyes widening, he finally focuses his gaze downward, observing the mass of flour and syrup beneath him. His fork had been absentmindedly cutting at the meal you served - one he, of course, didn’t have to eat - turning it to mush before your eyes. Guilt overtakes him, the fear of your hatred consuming him before a giggle echoes through the room.
“I’m just kidding, Cho,” you laugh, playfully punching his shoulder.
The nickname, a pleasantry he had never been afforded, fills his body with an impossible warmth. How had you managed to do this so easily, so effortlessly?
Turning his head, he finally focuses on you. “I’m sorry, i-it’s good,” he stutters.
Another laugh leaves your lips, the sound bright against the darkness of the early morning. “Y’know, if there’s a place with food you like better, you could just ask me on a date there.”
You weren’t sure what had come over you, a novel confidence brewing in you as you continued glancing at the man next to you. Some part of your heart was drawn to him, unable to let him leave, needing his approval of you, his desire.
You open your mouth to counter the offer as his silence settles, fearing you had overstepped an unspoken boundary between you, before his voice hits your ears. “Next week?” he asks, his voice low.
“Deal,” you smile at him.
A childlike grin tugs at his cheeks as he looks at you, disbelief fighting with adoration as his eyes cover your form. “Deal,” he repeats.
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sgojoenthusiast · 2 hours
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scary? my god, you’re divine.
✧.* satoru gojo x reader.
summary:
a curse invades your home but you’re saved by none other than satoru gojo - who takes your breath away in the most beautiful way.
cw: descriptions of violence, blood, injury, psychological trauma & distress, hospitals, reader is a non-sorcerer, like one like where the reader wants to die, talks about death, not exactly love at first sight but can be interpreted as such. honestly i’m so in love with gojo so this is just me projecting. fuck 261. this may be more of me indulging in my need to write horror lol
word count: 4.4k
likes, comments & reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.
-`♡´-
The walls of your chest were closing in as your breathing gradually increased in its pace. One of your palms flew to your chest whilst the other searched for some sort of a grip on the wall beside you.
Stupidly, you had backed yourself into a corner, and now all you could do was feel the streams of tears cascade down your cheeks and land on your scrambling legs like waterfalls crashing down into the rocks below.
You tried everything you could for some sort of leverage. One hand scraped at the wall and the other at your heart whilst your legs pushed and pushed at the floor as if you could nudge yourself any further into the corner you were in.
Finding some rationality, you attempted to slow your breathing down, deciding that steady and stifled breaths would be better than attracting attention to yourself by making more noise. Though, there was nothing you could do about the sound of your heart beating erratically like it had more sense than you as it tried everything it could to escape.
At first, you had clawed your way through the halls of your home. Lights flickered, floorboards creaked, and you grunted and groaned as you fought your way through inescapable death. Yet, once you had realised every exit took you back to the entrance, and that you were in some sort of an endless maze within your own home, your mind sank into illogicality and you collapsed onto the floor as your legs gave in from fear.
It was the reverberating echo of several burly legs loitering outside the door that snapped some residue sense into your head and forced you to sit up.
There were tears staining your swollen face and it took every ounce of composure to bite your lip to muffle your cries. You wanted to scream. To wail and call for help. Yet you knew that would get you nowhere but trouble.
So for now, you hoped and prayed someone heard the sounds of slamming, glass shattering and your previous shouts and had the brilliant idea of calling the police.
But what would they do? You had seen that thing. It was horrifying. From the moment its wide, crooked smile appeared suddenly before you, a piece of you knew this would be the end. At first, you had thought you had finally gone insane. That some chord in your mind had snapped and now you had resorted to seeing things. However, when your back hit the wall across the room and you let out a shriek of agony, you knew that the monster before you was real, and so was the likelihood of certain death.
Your head suddenly raised at the splintering sound of wood snapping.
The unsettled beating of your heart ceased. The struggling of your limbs too. Each bone in your body abandoned life and shut down - refusing to move.
In front of you, the white frame of the door, decorated with faded and torn paint, had an oozing, inky smoke unfurling at a leisurely pace across the old frame, stopping shortly at the wall. In the space where the door used to conceal your existence, was one giant red eye that scanned across the entirety of the room before settling on its target - you. It blinked twice, before the door was ripped from its hinges and the wall had shrunk in size - replaced by a gigantic hole ripping through.
Soon enough the creature was crawling over to you, its legs widely shuffling across the room, scuttling closer and closer until one had slashed across your stomach, painting your top with a deep red. An agonised shout parted from your lips and your hand flew to the gash, yet you had no time to recover before another deformed limb was lifting you up against the wall by your neck.
Now, both of your hands coordinated an attack on the void-like limb, scratching and fighting at its hold around your throat in an attempt to get it off you. Your efforts were seemingly futile, however, evident by the way your vision was becoming a blur and each thought of freedom and survival was being crushed by the surface of its contorted leg.
You could only think thoughts of death, and how it wasn't coming soon enough.
Just when you thought it had ended, a radiating beam blinded your vision. The grip on your throat had been released, yet with both the ringing in your ears that muffled all other noise and the searing pain that tore through your entire body, you truly believed that you had already died. You fell to the floor once more and curled yourself up for whatever kind of familiar warmth you could acquire.
You shut your eyes tight, embracing the light they said would come to you in these final moments. But when nothing came, and the screaming wound lingered in your side, you delicately opened up one eye, moving your head slightly to look up.
There was no light. No God or unearthly being descending from above to take your hand and guide you to the afterlife. No, instead there was the back of a man. You couldn't see his face, but he was dressed from head to toe in a dark shade of blue like the hues of the night sky, and the more you stared, the more you believed you had been transported to a place you could only reach after death. However, when your eyes drifted upwards, they made out the sight of white strands of hair, and a slender hand reaching to the back of his head to undo the band of black that was wrapped firmly around it.
His hair fell down gracefully, as did one of his hands to his side, blindfold in tow, the opposite hand was raised to meet the height of his head. The sounds of his words were muffled, but you could make out an arrogant laugh and from the way the beast had halted all movements and instead opted for staring wide-eyed at the man standing in front of you, he had said something that injected fear through the monster's veins.
You could have sworn that you only closed your eyes for half a second. Yet, one blink later, and the monster's head had ceased to ever sit on its neck. The black fog that had clouded your senses and suffocated your lungs was dissipating, and there were remnants of its insides splattered on the walls and floor.
The white-haired man caught your fading gaze, and the moment his eyes connected with yours, you felt your heart slow and time stop.
His eyes.
They were angelic. Perhaps you were dead because there was nothing so heavenly like the shades of the sky in his eyes on Earth. There was nothing so remarkable, so flawless. You didn't want to blink, not even as your eyes watered and started to sting. Yet the frailty of your exhausted body refused to let you have this one thing, and so you broke the connection temporarily only to rebuild it back up again.
He began to make his way back over to you, yet you struggled to find the strength to move in order to meet him halfway. You couldn't even find the strength to move your aching body off the floor or your bruised hand of your throbbing wound. Still, with a pained wince you moved to a more comfortable position in between being flat on your back and straight on your arm.
You looked up at him from your tilted position and he kneeled down beside you. "You alright? Can you walk?"
You shook your head as best as you could, he simply stared down at you with a confusing look sparkling in the depth of his eyes - the ones you couldn't look away from.
"That's okay, sweetheart. Help is coming." He smiled at you.
Gojo was puzzled by the look on your face. For some reason, you hadn't stopped staring at him since he turned around. He assumed that perhaps it had something to do with the curse. Was it a response to the trauma you had endured? Had it cursed you? Was it him that you were afraid of? He certainly hoped not. From the moment he saw your face, albeit not in particularly amazing conditions considering you were being strangled and were halfway to death's doorstep, he felt a tingling sensation in his stomach and a pulling in his heart.
There was something about you, there had to have been for you to illicit such a reaction from every part of him within seconds of your meeting. Fuck, he prayed that he hadn't frightened you off.
"I hope I didn't scare you." He said softly, yet laughed humourlessly in a way for him to play it cool and demonstrate how you had nothing to be afraid of. With as much care and delicacy as he could muster, one hand went underneath your head, gently trying to lift you up as his other hand reached for your waist.
You looked at him with furrowed brows, as though the implications of him scaring you were nothing short of laughable. Though, as you read the thoughts behind his eyes, you could tell there was a hint of genuine concern laced within them.
This stranger, who you had never met before, felt concerned for you and had saved your life. Yet, he was anxious that he had scared you? It was a ridiculous insinuation.
"Scared me? No, it's just, that you're beautiful." Your voice was growing weaker, and just in time, you heard the sounds of more footsteps growing closer and closer. Yet your eyes focused on the way his eyes widened before he smiled, just as genuine as his concern.
"Oh yeah?" He provoked. "No need to fall for me this quickly, sweetheart. Plenty of time for that."
Ordinarily, if someone had been so bold as to suggest something like that, you would have scoffed in their face and walked away. Yet the deeper meaning of comfort he was trying to provide you with, the one that showed you that you weren't dying anytime soon, was all you needed to laugh and reply coarsely with, "We'll see about that."
The last thing you heard as you dozed off peacefully was the sound of his laugh and the feeling of his touch passing you onto someone else's.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
There was an overwhelming light above you, one that was strong enough to pierce through your eyes despite the fact they were shut tightly. The light surrounding you felt like a thousand blinding suns beaming down at you from above as though you were encased in a circle of light that was urging you awake. You groaned softly, shuffling your head to the side in an attempt to bury it in the pillow and escape from the natural, ringing alarms of the light.
A pillow? Had you been dreaming? All it took was for you to try shifting onto your side to alert you that, no, you hadn't been dreaming. You winced painfully as the realisation slapped you across the face. Everything was real. The fight, the struggle, the... the monster. A trail of goosebumps washed over your body and you screwed your eyes shut like doing so would erase the memories of what had happened.
However, once you realised that he was also real, your eyes softened and in all the darkness of what you had experienced that day, the idea that the man who had saved your life was really out there, and that monster wasn't. That realisation alone was enough to wash a sense of tranquillity and closure over you.
"I wouldn't try to move if I was you." A female voice rang out - one you didn't recognise. You had already assumed that you were in a hospital, so the unfamiliarity didn't scare or panic you. Simply, your eyes slowly opened to the sight of a brunette woman in a doctor's coat, and your suspicions had been confirmed. You wondered if she knew anything of what happened.
It dawned on you that perhaps, your situation wasn't original. The man that had saved you seemed to be experienced and knew what he was doing. However, surely you would've heard if there was a mass of monsters plaguing the Earth that you lived on.
"What happened?" You questioned tentatively, voice weak and dry. Although you could practically recall the events with no missing details, you wanted to know more about the thing that had attacked you and you hoped that the doctor would have some sort of a clue if she was the one treating you. She handed you a cup of water which you accepted eagerly, reaching your hands out and thanking her quickly before you immediately went to relinquish yourself of the dry throat that had been scratching and tormenting you since you had woken up.
You saw a pass clipped to her coat as a form of identification. The name on the pass flashed across your eyes as 'Shoko', to which you took a note of before quickly returning your gaze back to hers.
"You were attacked by a curse - and no I won't. explain what that is. You can ask Gojo." She was wandering around the room slowly, head down as she wrote down a few things. Occasionally, she would you a question in regards to your health. Her voice lowered to a tone barely above a whisper. "Sure he'd love to answer considering he's been not-so-subtly asking about you non-stop."
"What was that, sorry?" You asked sincerely, placing the cup down on the bedside table. Looking up at her, you could tell she had a tired look adorning her features, however, there was a slight smirk playing on her lips as well.
You thought more about her words. Gojo. Who was that? A curse? What does that even mean? Not long ago, you were oblivious to all of this, unaware that such creatures were roaming around.
Shoko waved a dismissive hand in your direction. "Nothing. Anyway, I'm only here to make sure that the curse left no lingering side effects that would need treatment. Luckily for you, you're in the clear. So when you're all healed up, you're a free woman."
'Free wasn't necessarily how you would describe it. You recall parts of your house being smashed up by the monster - or, curse, as Shoko had labelled it.
You had so many questions. Some in regards to the curse, others more personal and unanswerable that pertained to your future. You had no idea what you'd do once you left, and that scared you.
Shoko began to place her things into her bag, taking out a cigarette in the process and placing it between her lips as she held the lighter to her side ready for when she left.
"How long have I been here?"
She looked up at you from where she was focused packing her things. "A little under a week. You're very lucky Gojo had saved you when he did. Or else, you probably wouldn't be here."
So that's who Gojo was. You perked up a little at the mention of the man who had saved you. Even if it was just once, you wanted to see him. To thank him, at the very least. "You, uh...You mentioned something about me asking him about the curse. Does that mean he'll stop by?"
You looked down, fiddling with the sheet covering your injured body, wanting to avoid her questioning gaze that most certainly had a knowing glint in it.
She merely let out a small laugh and shook her head in something similar to disbelief. "Probably. Although, he doesn't usually find himself checking up on the people he saved." Picking up her bag, she reached for the door handle. "I've gotta head out. Feel better soon, okay?"
You thanked her once again, giving her a small wave as she headed out the door.
Truthfully, you didn't know whether or not to be discouraged by her words. On one hand, she had told you that he'd probably stop by. On the other, she mentioned that he doesn't usually. Deciding not to dwell on it too much, you closed your eyes once more as another nurse walked in to take the place of Shoko, beginning to do more check-ups.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
About a week had passed by when you were finally discharged from the hospital. During that time, your close friends and family had all come to check on you. Your best friend and co-worker had offered you her spare room whilst your house was having repairs done to it. It was a nice arrangement, considering the two of you owned a bakery together so that on the days you were feeling better you had someone who could take you down. You didn't actually start working again until about a month after you had been discharged and your injuries were mostly healed up.
There was only one thing missing. Gojo had never stopped by like the doctor had told you he might, which left you with a feeling of disappointment. You tried not to let it bother you too much, but it was difficult knowing you had never been able to thank him. Another man had stopped by, however. You assumed he had some sort of a connection to Gojo and Shoko, given that he had only stopped by to ask you to sign a form that would prevent you from being able to tell anyone about what had happened. He came very shortly after Shoko, meaning you had to lie to your friends and family by telling them it was another person who had broken into your home. You signed it anyway after he assured you it was for their safety and for the safety of others.
Now, a little over a month later, you were doing a lot better. You struggled to even close your eyes at night, sometimes, and often couldn't walk through the streets on your own. But other than that, your injuries had healed, you were far less paranoid than you were a month ago and your home was close to being ready.
You were sat at the counter of the bakery you shared with your best friend, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. It was quiet, today, only a few people wandering in and ordering something to go - with it being a Monday and all.
Unexpectedly, you heard the bell ring as the door opened. Immediately, you stood up and tucked your phone into your pocket, rushing to greet the customer. However, upon looking up to see the person who walked in, you stopped suddenly in your tracks. You blinked, yet he was still there.
You thought about him so often, your mind wandering whenever you were left alone with your thoughts for too long. You thought about the way his hair crashed across his features like waves when he took off his blindfold. You thought about how he turned to look at you with those eyes locked on yours. Those eyes - so entrancing. It was as though he had bewitched you and put you under a spell the moment he looked at you because you were so enamoured by him that you didn't dare to blink. You thought about how it was apparent that he never seemed to think about you - and that made you want to reach over the counter and slap him a little. Although, especially after he saved your life, what did he owe you? Absolutely nothing. So instead, you simply watched him walk over to you with a small smile on his face.
His coat was covered in snow from the outside rampage of white whisps and cold air. Though it wasn't incredibly obvious that there wasn't any, he shook his head slightly and a few remaining flakes of snow fell from the frozen tips of his hair. Although it was winter now, he sported a pair of sunglasses - to which you assumed it was for a reason related to why he was wearing that blindfold.
For the past month, you couldn't help but wonder whether or not his angelic presence was the result of your delirious and pain-stricken state. However, upon observing him now, you determined that he really was captivating in every way. And something was telling you that he was looking at you with the same impression, although you pushed the thought away, dismissing it as foolish hope.
You had no idea what to say to him. You had been waiting for this moment for so long, yet you never thought about what you might say. Thankfully, he decided to speak up first as he peaked over the edge of his glasses at you.
"I've been looking for you." He started, his voice seemingly breathless like he'd run a mile just to get here to you - like he was tired of looking, but his work had finally paid off. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner - when you've got a job like mine it's-"
"Thank you." You interrupted. The mention of his job had smacked some sense into you as you were reminded of what he had done for you. He looked slightly taken aback. It wasn't something he heard often, but when he did it was as though he was reminded why he did this in the first place - let alone hearing it from you. The girl he hadn't been able to shake out of his head since the moment he saw her, the one he yearned to see just one more time because she looked at him like she understood him and that was all he could ever ask for. "Can I get you something?"
Gojo smiled at that, taking you up on your offer as you grabbed him his order (on the house, of course) and finally sat down with the one you had wanted nothing more than to just sit and talk with - and you did. The two of you talked for hours, occasionally interrupted by a customer or two. You thanked him profusely to the point where he threatened to leave jokingly if you thanked him again. He explained everything to you and answered all of your silent questions for you that you had to keep close to your chest for the past month. Yet, most importantly, you talked about each other. And the more you talked, the more your heart raced and heat rushed over your entire body.
The all-powerful Satoru Gojo never expected to find himself so infatuated by somebody, yet when he saved you that day, there was an inexplicable fire that was lit from within him. He'd never seen anybody so beautiful, and he had never been recognised by anything other than he strength during moments like that. When you had complimented him, he knew from within that it wasn't solely his physical characteristics you appreciated, but also the person he was inside. He felt as though you saw inside of him just from that short interaction.
As you spoke, Gojo found himself digging around with both hands trying to find that smile you kept flashing him and when you did, he didn't so much as blink because it was so bewitching. And likewise, whenever he laughed at something you said, you couldn't prevent the satisfied smile that rested on your cheeks from the prideful feeling overtaking your mind.
Your hand wrapped around your mug, savouring the delightful warmth that radiated from it in contrast to the biting cold that howled away outside the building. The two of you were sat in a corner opposite each other, and as more time passed, the more your cheeks began to ache from your constant smile and laughter and the more you dreaded to get up when a customer walked through.
"I swear! I'm a busy man okay. I was out of town when you woke up." He sulked, his head resting on his hand with a pleading look in his eyes. You laughed at his effort of reason.
"And the month following, you were..." You prompted with a humourous tone laced into your words.
Before he could answer, his hand slipped forward slightly, grazing yours and sending shockwaves throughout your entire arm and body. Avoiding his stare, you turned away, unable to conceal your smile and the way he had your breathing speed up every second he spoke to you and touched your hand like he was. At this, he pouted, leaning to the side in an attempt to catch your eyes yet you turned even more with a laugh.
Sighing, he answered your previous question. "Shoko says I was nervous. I would argue that I was simply building tension for the plot."
You snorted at his absurdity, moving your hand back to take a sip of your drink. He sagged a bit in disappointment at your actions, yet when you placed your drink back and had your hand brushing against his just the same as before, he livened up a bit and grinned at you once more. You delighted in the way he looked at you over his glasses and smiled. It had been a while since you felt a connection like the one between the two of you, yet you had never experienced it so quickly. It was all-consuming and had you on the edge of your seat in anticipation as to what he woud say and do next.
Soon enough, the day had reached its end - and if it weren't for the sun barely peaking out over the window to the bakery, you wouldn't have believed that you had practically spent the day with Gojo with it feeling like just an hour since he first walked in. Though the amount of hours you had shared with him said differently, you felt like you hadn't seen enough of him.
After he put his coat back on, he turned to face you with a smile playing on his lips. "So... I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night?"
You swore that if he hadn't invited you out to dinner when he had, you would've dragged him out later that night handcuffed.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
a/n: if it wasn't entirely obvious i got a bit lazy towards the end (major character flaw of mine). i am an absolute SLUT for the non-sorcerer x sorcerer trope tho.
☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚sgojoenthusiast
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daemontargaryenwhore · 12 hours
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The fact Gojo and Geto both got their bodies taken over after death, they even died on the same date 😭
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risuola · 6 months
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I — NOT YET // When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.
contents: smut, mafia!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words
a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.
ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist
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Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm.
Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.
“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.
“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.
“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.
“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.
“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.
Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.
“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.
“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.
“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.
You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.
Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.
“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.
“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.
“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”
“Y/n,” you replied.
“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”
“Sure…”
At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.
The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.
In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.
He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.
“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.
“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”
“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.
“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”
Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.
Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.
“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”
“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.
“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.
“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.
“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.
You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.
“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.
“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”
You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.
“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s get you naked.”
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teamatsumu · 4 months
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Thinking about Alpha!Sukuna who thinks all humans smell disgusting. He just cannot stomach their scent. To him it’s like smelling farm animals. Whether it was years ago during his time or now, while he inhabits the body of this pink-haired brat, humans still smell like cow manure. Overbearing and disgustingly heavy. He cannot stand it.
But when your scent hits his nose for the first time, he can’t help but stiffen. It’s…. light. Fresh. He smells coconut and citrus. It reminds him of the shrine made for him by the townspeople centuries ago, where they would offer him fruit and worship him. When he was revered and feared all the same.
He sees you then. Feisty little thing despite being an omega. You are a good sorcerer, filled with potential that he recognises even if your peers don’t. And Sukuna is hit with the overwhelming urge to scent you. In a way that the Alpha in him has never acted out before.
And it shocks him that you’re a human. A mere human who somehow fills him with intrigue. How dare you? But also, he needs you. Carnally. Now.
Once the King of Curses sets his eyes on you, good luck trying to escape him. You’re his forever. For the rest of his life.
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chuluoyi · 7 months
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Hi, I had this idea where gojo is shaving his face then his son comes in with the reader and wants to help gojo shave his face as well or even want to shave his own face. and it’s just a huge amount of fluff❤️
࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 06:27 A.M 」
what a cute ask!! i tweaked it a bit to put some dad!gojo who is just so soft for his baby
a part of gojo's love entries
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there was always this indescribable feeling inside satoru whenever he looked at his child. his chubby cheeks, grabby hands, eyes that eerily are just like his—
today he had woken up early for a mission, unwillingly leaving the bed you two shared as you were still vast asleep after shenanigans you were up to last night. his plan was to take his bath and leave the house, but then he passed by his son’s crib, hearing his squirms and babbles—which escalated into picking him up and bringing him along to the bathroom.
that was how he found himself now staring at his ten-month-old baby, and what he had on his little pair of hands—his razor.
satoru couldn’t hold back the urge to grin.
“c’mon buddy. that’s not for you to play with. give it back, hm?”
his cute baby merely blinked, as if not understanding what he meant at all. in response, he tightened his grip on the instrument and pulled it closer to his little chest.
satoru heard his own laugh echoing in the bathroom. he could’ve just taken it away from his baby’s grip, but no way, that would be too cruel.
“you’re so, so unbelievably adorable,” he pinched the baby’s face. “just like your mama.”
this child was his in every way, there was no paternity doubt there. his hair, eyes, and you would say, even his pout. but the abundant innocence and curious gleam behind those little eyes was definitely yours.
half his and half yours.
just how many years had gone by? last he remembered, he was begging for your love, then suddenly you gave birth to his son, and here he was.
“okay, little man. papa really needs it now,” he prodded, still grinning. he patted the boy in the head and extended his palm in front of him.
your little munchkin still didn’t comply though, as he hugged the razor tight. it seemed like he had watched satoru shave many times already, with how he gained this understanding: he positioned the sharp edge on his plump cheek, and a second too late would mean—
satoru forcibly plucked the blade, barely missing the soft surface of his son’s face. and in the next second, the quiet wonder on his baby's face transformed into a look of betrayal, his face scrunching up.
and he wailed.
his inconsolable cries woke you up as you stumbled in panic towards the bathroom. “gods, satoru! what did you do this time?”
“wha—! he was about to scratch his face! i saved him!”
and so holding your son in your arms, you watched as your husband shaved his face, while your little boy eagerly reaching out in his direction with satoru’s dullest razor—one he didn’t use anymore—that you gave him to play with.
“you wanna help papa, huh?”
“hey, uh… why are you aiming at my throat?!”
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actuallysaiyan · 1 year
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I'll Do Anything(JJK virginity loss headcanons)
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warnings: virginity loss, unprotected sex, use of condoms(Nanami), mentions of cunnilingus/fem!oral sex, dub con(Sukuna), forced sex(Sukuna), dark themes(Sukuna) word count: 1.7k pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader, Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader, Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader a/n: I'm so close to finishing up season one of JJK, so I just had to write more content! I hope you all enjoy!! Smut under the cut!
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“Pretty baby,” he coos softly as he slots himself between your thighs. “You sure you’re ready? I’m really big.”
You can barely make out what he’s saying. He’s been between your thighs for what seemed like hours. You knew it was to make you more comfortable with losing your virginity to him, but part of you wonders if he takes pleasure in lapping at your cunt.
“Sweetie, I need your consent.” Gojo reminds you, and you lick your lips. You look up at him, and those gorgeous eyes of his just pull you into a trance.
“Ready for you, Gojo. ‘Promise ‘m ready for you,”
He smiles, “That’s my good girl.”
Slowly, he lets his cockhead prod your tight hole. You’re just dripping all over his swollen, red cockhead. It excites him to no end that you’re going to let him be your first. In his mind, there’s no bigger stroke to his ego to have you cumming on his cock and knowing pleasure simply from him taking your virginity.
As he pushes more of himself into you, you swear you can feel your muscles beginning to give out. It’s all too much for you. Your eyes screw shut as the thick cock slides into you inch by inch. You’re panting as it reaches further into you. You didn’t know it would be this good. 
“Oh, baby,” Gojo says, his tone teasing. “You really are taking my cock so well.”
The words, you swear you hear them, but your brain is already so mush from all this lust that you aren’t sure he’s speaking the same language as you. It doesn’t take much for him to push the rest of his cock into you, and the moment it brushes against your cervix, you shudder.
“Gojo, I—” you whine. Your walls are contracting around him, making him grunt. 
Your whole body shudders and shakes as you feel all this pleasure come over you. You’ve never experienced an orgasm quite like this. It’s so much better than touching yourself or trying to make yourself cum with a vibrator. White hot pleasure is just coursing through you, making you whine and whimper.
Once you’ve come down from your high, you look up at him. He blinks; those beautiful orbs so full of wonder but you can see mischief in this look as well.
“Huh,” Gojo ponders aloud. “You just came, didn’t you?”
Your cheeks burn, “Gojo…”
He leans in to kiss you, “No need to be embarrassed. There’s more to come, sweetheart.”
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He thinks you look so beautiful like this, all sprawled out on the bed. But there’s this part of him that just wants to tease you for being so fucked out already. He hasn’t even entered you, and you’re moaning just like a bitch in heat. It’s honestly one of the most flattering things to him, and yet he’s trying not to let it get to his head too much.
“Such a naughty baby,” He murmurs as he presses sloppy kisses up your body.
His lips capture yours as he slots himself between your thighs. You don’t even have much time to react before he’s pushing his thick cock into you. Tears sting your eyes at the sensation of being stretched out like this. You push on his stomach, pleading for him to take it a little slower than he is.
“Come on,” he goads. “You can take it,”
You’re panting now, and the pleasure mixes in with the pain of being stretched out like this. You want to look down to make sure he’s not actually splitting you in half with his cock. But his forefinger and thumb capture your chin to make you look into his eyes. If he could have this moment ingrained in his memory forever, he would choose to do so. You look so precious to be losing your virginity just like this. It’s exactly how Geto wanted it.
“You can take it all, baby. I know you can.”
You whimper as he pushes even deeper into you. Your eyes cross as the pleasure keeps building inside of you. Your walls are clamping down against his cock, making him grunt at the sensation of your virgin pussy trying to milk him for all he’s got. He knows he wants this to last, but he wasn’t counting on it feeling this good. 
“Look at you,” Geto chuckles darkly. “You’re a natural slut,”
You whine, “Please,”
He laughs again, loving the effect this has on you. Who would've thought all he needed to tame your brattiness was just some cock? You were clearly so pent up, and now all he had to do was fuck you until you’re brattiness just disappeared. 
“Please what?” He asks, his tone mocking.
“More, please.”
And with those words, Geto positions himself on his knees for a little more stability. With his hands on your hips, he begins pounding you into the mattress.
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He can’t help but feel enamored by the sweet sight of you on his bed like this. He can’t remember the last time he felt this aroused. When you asked him to be your first, he was touched. Nanami knew he had to make this a moment that you’ll never forget.
And he prepared for the night too. He took you out on a romantic date, bought some condoms and lube, and he made his bed extra comfortable for the two of you. By the time he has you back to his apartment, you’re already feeling pretty affectionate for the man. He was just so special to you, and you knew he’d treat you right.
You look up at him, smiling that sweet smile of yours. Everything that you do in this moment, it goes straight to his cock. Nanami reaches down to adjust himself in his underwear, then he turns his attention back to you.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He asks, reaching over to the bedside table for the box of condoms. You smile sweetly again. “Yeah, I’m ready,” 
He leans in to kiss you, and your tongues rub together sensually. You’ve never been more sure of something in your life than this. You’ve been in love with Nanami for so long, so when you were ready to lose your virginity, you knew it would have to be him you’d want to lose it to.
He undresses himself completely, and he spreads your thighs. As much as he wants to go in raw, he knows it’s not responsible. So he takes one of the foil packets from the box and tears it open. His eyes inspect the condom, and once he deems it acceptable, he begins rolling it onto his leaking cock.
You can’t tear your eyes away from this scene. He looks so good doing something as simple as putting a condom on his cock. It’s just the idea that the lewd act is coming. He grabs the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table and he smears a little of it onto the already lubed up condom. The rest of the lube goes onto your vulva, and he spreads it all over your tight hole and your swollen clit.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Nanami says before pressing the tip of his cock to your hole.
A gasp falls from your lips as he begins pushing into you. It feels so good to be full like this. His eyes are scanning your features for any signs of pain, but you look so full of love right now. It really warms his heart.
“Please, don’t stop.” You whine, which earns you a sweet chuckle from Nanami. “I wasn’t planning on it,”
As soon as his cock is inside of you fully, Nanami knows that he can start thrusting slowly. He sees the love in your eyes, and he knows he made the right choice in being your first.
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Sukuna absolutely loves being able to fuck virgins. But there is something extremely special about you. He’s not even sure what it is, but you’re just so adorable and sweet. He usually thinks himself better than to fall into this kind of affection, but the way you keep clinging to him makes him a little dizzy with lust.
“Oh, you are just asking for it,” Sukuna comments, and his fingers go down to your pussy once more.
You’ve been sitting on his lap for what feels like forever now, and he’s been so eager to just let you have all this pleasure. Whether it be with mouths or with his fingers, he’s happily had you cumming for hours now. You’ve made such a stain on his pants, and the smell of you is just permeating the air. You’re barely coherent now, but you want to hang on. You want more than just cumming on his fingers or on his tongues.
“You want my cock now, don’t you?” He asks, though he knows you don’t have much choice in the matter. You’ll be taking his cock whether you like it or not.
But you nod so obediently, “Yes yes yes, please!”
A delirious laughter rumbles through him. You remind him of the reason he loves virgins so much. They become so caught up in all the pleasure that they forget that they have to give away a part of themselves to him.
“That’s a good girl,” his voice is thick with a mocking tone. “I knew you’d want it.”
With one of his hands, he holds you up. The other hand begins undoing his pants quickly. He wants to be buried deep inside of you as soon as he can. His cock slaps against his abdomen as soon as he’s got it freed from the confines of his pants. You barely have time to react as he sinks you down onto the immense girth.
You scream his name as the sensations of his cock splitting you in two hit you. It’s all so intense at once. Sukuna smirks as he watches you squirm and wiggle, almost trying to get off of his cock. But he keeps his hands on your hips, practically locking you onto him. Before you know it, he’s bouncing you up and down on his thick girth.
“Ganbare, ganbare,” Sukuna teases. His thumb wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me, heheheheheh…”
He throws his head back as the pleasure of your virgin cunt overwhelms him. He’ll gladly keep you right on his cock for eternity if he chooses to do so.
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willows-peak · 4 months
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heyyy, I've literally never requested before so I'm kinda nervous but...
could you write about getting eaten out for the first time with jjk men? reader is insecure and worried they won't like it??
Yes yes ofc <33 i luv writing this stuff ty anon
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*・゚✧ Munch City
tags: multi character x reader, fem! reader, oral (f! receiving) dirty talk, insecurity, first time, face sitting, doggy position, pussy! whipped choso because it's choso, slight massaging,
word count: 3.4k
MDNI
a/n: I'm soooo sorry this took forever!! the fire alarms have been going off 24/7 and it's been super annoying 😭 I made this a lil shorter than i'd wanted for times sake, I'm very sorry nonnie </3
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⋆。˚ ♡ Gojo: is gonna talk you through it step by step, and how it makes him feel doing it
You're sitting at the edge of your bed, legs spread open by Gojo's wide shoulders, with him grinning eagerly at the display in front of him.
He almost rolled his eyes at you when you first voiced your concerns, finding the mere idea of him *not* liking this ridiculous. But when he saw the hurt in your eyes from his reaction, he was quick to come back and reassure you that yes, he wanted to do this because yes, you are beautiful to him.
His eyes didn't miss the way you clenched around nothing at his praise, the grin he lost earlier creeping its way back onto his face as he started to come up with an idea. He pried your thighs back open as he leaned into your core, nose pressing against the top of your pussy as he pressed a light kiss against your clit.
The way his tongue flicked over your sensitive clit made your back arch up against him, hearing him chuckle against you. "That felt good, didn't it? When I lick your clit just like this" Gojo teased, sly eyes peering up at you as he flattened his tongue down against it, letting it drag down against you until the tip of it reached your hole. You covered your mouth with the knuckle of your finger as he hummed, the tip of his tongue circling around it gingerly.
You could feel the way Gojo was lapping up the wetness that came out of you, moving his tongue up inside of you while you muffled a cry into your hand, feeling him quietly groan against your cunt. "You're so sexy when you moan like that, makes my dick throb so hard." he dragged out his words as he lifted up your leg, placing it onto his shoulder before burying himself into your cunt and grinding his nose down against your now swollen bud.
Wet, thick swipes of his tongue made their way all across your cunt as he closed his eyes, panting for a few seconds before diving back in like a man who was starved. "Fuckin' love how you squeeze around my tongue, keep doing that, please," Gojo panted out, not wasting another moment before shoving his warm tongue back inside of you, the tip of it coming up to thrust against your g-spot. You cried out his name again as your hand shot down to grab at his hair, legs spreading wider to feel more of him.
The combination of Gojo's strong arms flexing, pinning your thighs down to the bed, and his messy tongue slurping and fucking your hole was making you dizzy, shuddering at how soaked Gojo's cheeks were when he pulled away to talk to you. He looked up at you with such a clouded-over expression, his bright blue eyes glittering through his thin, white lashes. Every moan you made only egged Gojo on further, your head tossing back as Gojo's mouth came to wrap back around your clit, groaning along with you and replacing his tongue with his slender middle finger.
"It taste g-good, 'toru?" You asked, your voice wavering as he nodded into you, making little 'mhm's and popping off of your clit to clean up more of your wetness. "Fuck yes, tastes so good honey, lemme keep doing this for you, please baby-" He begged, almost leaping back down on your cunt when you nodded.
⋆。˚ ♡ Getou: makes you watch him jerk off while he’s grinding his nose into your clit
You're hovering above Getou's face, thighs being held apart while he licks his lips at how wet you are.
Though when his plea for you to lower yourself onto his lips already was met with nothing, he glanced up at your worried expression with a matching one. His hands glided down the smooth expanse of your thighs and rested just above your knees, giving them small rubs as you fiddled around with your nails.
Getou bit his lip as he felt himself twitch in his boxers in tandem with a stray drop of wetness flowing down your inner thigh, swallowing thickly as he attempted to remain composed for you. He knew that right now, what mattered most was your comfort, especially for your first time, even when you were looking unfairly hot above him like this.
"Turn around baby, lemme do something," Getou spoke, voice soft with arousal as he loosened his hold on your legs. You were reluctant, unsure what Getou was planning, but you complied either way, shuffling around until you were flipped to face the opposite wall of your bedroom. "Watch me," Getou instructed, your eyes fixated on his body lying flat against the bed. You stilled yourself as you watched his arm, making its way down to the bulge that you'd failed to notice until now.
Getou grinned at how you throbbed when he pulled his boxers down, sighing loudly with relief as he brushed his finger over his leaking tip, smearing pre cum over it while starting to pull your hips down towards his face. "See that? Look at how hard I am, all for your pussy." He whispered, making you shiver at how you could feel the vibration of his voice dancing along your skin, your back arched as you leaned your stomach down onto his neck, to avoid smothering his face with your butt.
"Fuck..." He murmured, pinching his thumb and pointer finger down onto his tip before thrusting his hand down, sticking his tongue out to gingerly lick at your exposed pussy. You squeaked in surprise, Getou taking the opportunity and shoving you down onto his face. You whimpered at the base moan that he let out, the hand wrapped around his cock quickly stroking it up and down while he messily started to eat you out.
You made a broken moan of his name as your hips were shoved back and forth across his face, eyes locked on how desperately he fucked into his fist at your taste. You spread your thighs open more so his tongue could get deeper inside you, gasping when it curled up against your slit and massaged your clit with the back of his tongue. You clenched down around nothing from the constant and intense stimulation, whimpering and moaning and crying out shamelessly as Getou's tongue lapped at your cunt.
His husky grunts and shuddering groans vibrated deliciously against you, making you ache with how turned on you were getting from all this. Anytime you tried pulling your hips up, his hand pushed down harder to keep you in place, your upper half bowing down in pleasure as the fast, slick sounds of Getou getting himself off fell in tandem with your moans.
⋆。˚ ♡ Choso: tells you how much he loves your pussy while he eats
With a pillow underneath you, almost like Choso is serving you on a platter, your thighs are wrapped snuggly around Choso's neck.
You weren't able to hide your apprehension long, with how Choso was always looking up at you between your legs as his mouth made its way up your inner thighs. He noticed immediately how you seemed to want to look anywhere but where he was, peaking his head up and calling your name in concern.
Meeting his eyes made you relax, if only by a little bit, as you hesitantly asked Choso why he was doing this for you. Your question, when it managed to reach his ears, left Choso close to baffled. He could think of nothing else he should be doing for you, with how willingly you've taught him about pleasing you.
"I love you," Choso spoke, his voice full of certainty as he looked up at you. You blushed at his words, not expecting such a heartfelt statement as a response. "I'm in love with you. Of course, I'm gonna do this." He stated as if it was something so obvious he didn't need to point it out. "I...I love you too, but, are you sure you're gonna like it?" You asked again, feeling the words get stuck in your throat at the hungry way Choso was eyeing your cunt.
You gasped as Choso dived back down, nestling himself comfortably between your thighs, his hot breath passing up your cunt and making you shiver from how exposed you felt. "I love how good you look..." He breathed out, pressing sloppy kisses to your cunt while messily licking up any wetness clinging to your lips. You mewled into your hand as he continued. "Love how good you taste," Choso spoke, sounding like every second spent with his lips not on your cunt was a waste of his time.
The hand that once was covering your mouth now shot down to bury into Choso's hair, fingers curling around the dark strands as he let his eyes close in bliss from the taste of your pussy. "You're so good, looks so pretty down here," Choso mumbled, paying no mind to the harsh grip of your fingers in his hair as he put sloppy kiss after kiss against every part of your cunt. "Wanna make you feel good, I love this so much" The constant praise with the desperate sucks and grinds down into your opening made you moan helplessly, humping down into Choso's mouth and being met with his own grunts and whines of need.
"So good, so pretty, tastes so perfect," he chanted, his tongue curling to lick up every ounce of wetness that leaked out of you. More muffled moans of your name were heard as Choso buried himself into your sopping wet cunt, his thick tongue finding its way inside you and making you cry out loudly. "Give it t' me, please honey, I need it-" Choso begged into you, shaking his head as his nose harshly rubbed against your clit. Your voice was cutting itself off from how intense the pleasure Choso gave you was, tossing your head from side to side as you took everything Choso selflessly gave to you.
⋆。˚ ♡ Nanami: gives your thighs a massage to relax you, slowly kissing upwards until his mouth is above your cunt
He has you face down, ass up against the comforter of your bed, spreading apart the fat of your thigh enough to get to your pussy.
He had thought this position would make it easier on you for your first time, with the lack of eye contact. But, he could still feel how stiff your body was under his touch, gasps of shock rather than pleasure leaving your lips whenever he let his fingers travel too close to your cunt.
Nanami's low voice cut through the tense silence surrounding you, your head whipping around to face him. You could feel how his hands were wrapped around the point between your ass and your thighs, not spread open anymore as you nervously glanced away. Nanami seemed to understand you without any words being said, gently pulling your knees apart before speaking.
"Relax for me, dear, there's nothing to worry about." He reassured, his gruff and low voice full of tenderness as he spoke to you. After watching your back smoothen out from the arch it was in, Nanami gently squeezed your thighs, working his thumbs in a downward motion to ease any tension that had built up in your body. Your head came up as Nanami placed a kiss on your lower back, your hips moving back against him slightly.
Nanami's hands seemed to work into your thigh with practiced ease, the slow, chaste kisses being planted across your lower back while his hands inched their way up your thigh to grope at your ass making you breathe shakily. You made a sound of surprise when you felt him push your cheeks apart, the warmth of his hands staying against your ass while your cunt was exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. "There she is..." Nanami's voice sent chills up from the base of your spine, the vibration of his voice making you squirm in his grip.
"I'm gonna use my tongue, is that ok, dear?" The curtness of his words sent a spike of arousal straight towards your pussy, forcing out a small 'mhm' before attempting to keep your body relaxed and pliant. "Ohh-" you let out, eyes shooting open as Nanami ran his tongue down your slit, taking his time to taste every inch of you before flicking his tongue across your puffy clit. Your eyelids fluttered as you pressed your hips back against his tongue, whining out when he pulled back from your wetness.
You only got a small kiss on your opening before he let his mouth roam back up, resting on your lower back and making small love bites against it. "Did that feel good, beautiful?" He asked, smiling against your skin when you shuffled against his body in response, a noise of complaint being muffled by the pillow underneath you. His middle finger slowly came to rest above your pussy, lifting up the hood of your clit while his ring finger made feather-light strokes against it. "Good, good.. we're gonna take our time tonight, understand?" He asked, stopping his hand until he got another needy 'mhm' from you. "Good girl."
⋆。˚ ♡ Toji: makes you cum until you can't focus on being insecure
He's in the middle of tugging your panties off, kneeling between your legs while they're propped up on his shoulders.
When you quickly sat up and held his arm after he swiped your panties out under your foot, he was swift to stop and ask what was wrong. From seeing the fear in your eyes, he could almost think there was a monster in the room with you two, however silly that thought was. So you could imagine his initial confusion when you timidly asked if he really wanted to do this with you.
"Do I really wanna do this with you, huh?" He asked back, leaning his body weight down onto you as he stared into your unsure eyes with his own. "Am I sure I wanna eat your pussy? Make you get my face all messy with your cum? Is that what you're asking me?" His brash wording was making you get at a loss for words, staring up wide-eyed at him as he scoffed at his own questions.
Before you could backtrack on what you'd said, your body was suddenly effortlessly lifted up, your core now a hair's width from Toji's wide mouth. "I'll show you how much I want this, don't worry," was the only warning you'd gotten before he latched his lips down around your clit, sucking on it harshly while his hands were holding your legs spread open, knees resting on his shoulders as you let out loud moans from the rush of pleasure going through your body.
"T-Toji, ohmygod, please!-" you cried, your voice getting cut off by him pushing his mouth deeper onto your cunt, loud, obscene slurping being heard as he moved his tongue around, curling it just underneath your clit. His deep grunts sent vibrations through you, hips bucking up against his fat tongue as he inched it down inside of you. Moans and cries felt like they were being punched out of you from how Toji's mouth was pulling you apart at the seams, head shaking against your cunt as his nose ground down right above your clit.
The wet sounds of Toji eating your pussy mixed with your shaky and loud moaning made for an obscene ambiance of the bedroom, making your ears feel hot with embarrassment while Toji continued pulling whimpers and begs from your lips. "Tell me how good this feels, baby," He groaned, running his hot tongue up your cunt as you tried your best to obey his request. "F-fuckme, it feels so good To-ji, right there, yesyesyes," you mewled out, hands clambering around you to grab desperately at the sheets beneath you.
"Yeah, that's right, keep it up pretty girl. 'M not stopping anytime soon," Toji's smile held a sharp edge to it as he continued to shove his tongue against your sensitive pussy, holding your trembling thighs still as he thoroughly ate you out.
⋆。˚ ♡ Sukuna: “shut up and lemme eat” Spreads you open and tells you everything hes gonna do to your pussy until youre begging him to touch you
Makes you hold your legs up to your chest while he's running his thumb up and down your slit
Sukuna bursts out laughing when you start to shy away at his touch, your voice hesitant when you speak about your worries. You're *nervous*? You had the King of Curses himself, between your legs, and you were nervous about him not liking this? The concept of that claim made him laugh until you looked away in embarrassment, face red.
He tsked at you, his thumbs coming to either lip of your pussy and pulling them apart. "Nah, don't look away from me," he spoke, his tone leaving no room for negotiation as you quickly looked back down at him. You whined at the feeling of being so exposed, lips pressing together at how close his mouth was to your cunt while he spoke to you.
That smile crossing Sukuna's face was enough to tell you that he had gotten an idea, one that would make you regret speaking out your concerns. "Yeah, you're right, maybe I'm not ready to eat you out yet." His eyes glimmered with joy at how your face morphed from confusion to upset in the blink of an eye. Before you could sputter out any apologies, he leaned closer toward you, keeping his eyes on yours before continuing. "I was gonna make you ruin your sheets too, what a shame you can't handle that."
You swallowed down a whimper at the visual your brain gave you at his words, watching him place his forearms onto the back of your thighs as he continued speaking. "I bet you'd be screaming my name too, I'd be fucking my tongue into you until you couldn't take it anymore." You couldn't hide the breathy moan that left your lips as the gears in your head turned, realizing what Sukuna had in mind. "Sukuna-" Your protests were cut off by the way his fingers crept closer towards your opening, waiting with bated breath on what he'd do next.
"Oh no, I understand, not all girls can handle it. You probably wouldn't want to get tongue fucked all night for your first time, right? And my fingers stroking your lil clit would be so much for you, too, we can't have that." Sukuna didn't stop with his barrage of dirty comments, his gravelly voice right above your pussy sending waves of arousal through you. You could practically feel everything he was describing, a surprised moan coming out when the tip of his thumb pushed against the soaked ring of your hole.
"So tight, too, you'd feel any little move I'd make. I bet you'd still feel tight even after I made you cream on my tongue, wouldn't you?" You moaned pitifully as the barest hint of stimulation was taken away, Sukuna's fingers returning to holding your lips open. "It's a good thing you stopped me before I started, thanks for warning me." The mocking sincerity of his tone made you throw your head back in frustration, whining out a plea as he looked up at you confusedly.
"What's the matter?" You weakly glared down at him, stifling another whimper as you throbbed yet again, pressure building up inside your core and making you ache desperately. "Aww, poor thing, you're so needy for me already. I bet it'd feel so much better if I touched you, yeah?" He asked, tongue lolling out in front of your cunt and making you whine hopelessly as you tried to grind your hips against it. A thin drop of saliva started to form at the tip of Sukuna's tongue, gathering and threatening to drip down onto your aching pussy before he slid it back inside his mouth.
"Ah ah, no whining, you chose this. Now, lemme tell you everything else I'm gonna do, won't you?" He chastised, feeling restlessness settle in your belly as you grumbled in defeat.
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gojonanami · 5 months
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❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞
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❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞
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✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K
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It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 
But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 
It was him. 
You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 
“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 
He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 
“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 
Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 
He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 
And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 
Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 
And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 
And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 
Fuck. 
“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 
You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 
“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 
And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 
It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 
He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 
And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 
“I would,” 
And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 
Fuck. 
“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 
But how can you be quiet? 
The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 
And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 
And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 
He’s huge. 
The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.
“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 
“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 
“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”
Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 
And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 
He was too much. 
“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 
“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 
“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 
“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 
And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 
He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 
That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 
“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 
“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 
He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 
And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 
“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 
And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 
You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.
“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 
How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 
“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 
And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 
“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 
~~~~
The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 
And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…
You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 
“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 
“What are you—” 
“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 
“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 
“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 
“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 
“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 
“Mahito—“ 
“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 
Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 
You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 
His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 
“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?
Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 
“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 
“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 
“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 
This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 
“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 
“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 
“I will,” 
“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.
“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 
“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 
And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 
“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 
No time like the present, right?
“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 
And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 
“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 
“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 
“Have another lesson?” 
And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 
He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 
And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 
Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 
And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 
“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 
“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 
One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 
“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 
“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 
His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 
You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 
And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 
Your mouth runs dry. 
Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 
Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 
“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 
And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 
His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 
His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 
He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 
And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 
Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 
He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 
“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.
“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 
And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 
“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 
“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 
“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 
Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 
“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 
The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 
“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 
“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 
“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 
God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 
~~~
The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 
“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 
“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 
You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 
You were picking up your boyfriend. 
He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 
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note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!
tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious
30K notes · View notes
colonelarr0w · 3 months
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“As I’ve already stated,” Nanami pauses to sip at the coffee in his hand, “I’ve no interest in speaking to her.” 
Annoyed, Gojo leans back in his seat, casting a glance to the Instagram post that he had shown Nanami — the girl in it was attractive, but somehow it still wasn’t the blonde’s type. 
“Hmm, maybe you’re just not into brunettes,” Gojo says dismissively, scrolling through the woman’s Instagram before stowing his phone away into his pocket. 
Nanami bites back the chuckle in his throat, masking it by taking another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. A shame that Gojo kept interrupting him just as he wanted to enjoy his break.  
“I’m not into anyone,” Nanami finally says, setting down his cup — though he is quite frustrated considering that the coffee had been purchased by someone else for him.  
“Oh? What, have some secret girlfriend I don’t know about?” Gojo teases, already laughing at his own joke. Nanami shoots him a pointed glare, subconsciously running a finger over the smooth metal band adorning his left ring finger.  
“I don’t see how—“ 
Nanami’s phone buzzes on the table, its screen displaying your image. It’s one of Nanami’s favorite photos of you, one that he had taken himself during one of your monthly date nights.  
Gojo’s eyes flicker down to the flashing screen, his eyebrows raising and his eyes widening in absolute shock. “Who—?” 
Nanami is quick to answer the call, pressing the phone against his ear and doing very little to hide the smile that curls his lips upward. “Hi love.” 
Gojo’s jaw goes completely slack. It’s an expression that would make anyone laugh — Nanami is honestly shocked at how well he was able to keep his straightforward façade.  
“Yes, I should be home soon. I did not forget,” Nanami’s tone is reassuring, one that Gojo had never heard in the stoic man’s voice before. It’s heartwarming, not that he would ever admit it out loud.  
“I love you too, bye now.” 
The minute that Nanami hangs up, Gojo is practically screaming. Heads turn, and in a fit of both frustration and embarrassment, Nanami attempts to diffuse the situation. 
“You have a girlfriend?!” 
“Wife, actually.” 
“Are you—?!” 
10K notes · View notes
blkkizzat · 1 month
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'SINS OF THE FATHER'
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PRIEST!NANAMI X READER
✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.
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Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation. 
Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.
You were among them of course. 
Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.
Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation. 
“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”
Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.
No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.
No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action. 
Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself. 
If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.
“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”
Is God faithful? 
Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.  
If you were a test he had failed. 
Many times.
Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions. 
Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?
What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib? 
Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer. 
Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.
Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs. 
Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison. 
A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.
Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance. 
Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.
Yes, he is weak. 
But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man. 
He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds. 
No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold. 
“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”
Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.
There was no resisting you. 
There was no escaping you. 
For anyone you cast your sights on.
This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji. 
Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction. 
Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen? 
Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.
He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.
Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.
Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?
Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat. 
However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.
“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”
Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.
Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.
Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame. 
The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.
But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age. 
Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.
To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith. 
He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.
Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.
And you had never once failed to unravel him.
Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face. 
What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.
Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees. 
You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.
Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.
Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar. 
Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.
Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.
You never called on God then. 
Nor your husband. 
Only Father Kento.
Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk. 
A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear: 
Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town. 
Gojo owns your cunt. 
Your cunt owns Father Kento.
Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.
The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass. 
“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”
Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist. 
As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.
When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.
“The Body of Christ.”
Father Kento raises the host before you.
“Amen.” 
You obediently replied. 
Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth. 
God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.
You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.
Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue. 
So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.
You were a tease. 
That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.  
“The Blood of Christ.”
Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you. 
“Amen.”
Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips. 
The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat. 
It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you. 
In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.
Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.
Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval. 
He gives you a small nod. 
Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.
In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind. 
Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in. 
Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.
He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.
When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband. 
But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.
You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself. 
The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.
Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself. 
You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.
“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”
The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.
A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen. 
This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.
Or so he hoped.
“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”
With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip. 
Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.  
You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation. 
That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.
Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet. 
“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”
“– Wait. Hold that thought!”
Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere. 
Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento. 
True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.
“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”
His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns. 
“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?” 
Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.
“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”
Mayor.
The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town. 
“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”
Father Kento steeled himself.. 
There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens. 
It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.
“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?” 
Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress. 
Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.
“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”
“P-Please F-Father…”
And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.
“…K-Kento, p-please come!”
Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.
“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.” 
That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.
You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.
“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”
Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell. 
Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.
And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays. 
Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.
“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”
Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.
“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”
Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.
Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words. 
Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone? 
The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.
Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro. 
Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways. 
NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer. 
Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.
Prayer and solitude.
Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.
Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way. 
The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being. 
The scent of your cunt. 
The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.
The bastard. 
The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned. 
Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.
This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair. 
Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:
Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt. 
©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.
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✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.
also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell
✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!
upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]
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tteokdoroki · 9 months
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☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.
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about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.
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“you could kill me if you wanted to.”
it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “
“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.
“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”
“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.
you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”
“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”
satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.
his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.
in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.
he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”
there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.
“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”
“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”
“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.
“i need you.”
“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”
“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.
usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.
those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.
“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”
but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”
your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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nanamistiee · 4 months
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loverboy. // megumi fushiguro x reader
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ooh, lover boy! what're you doing tonight? ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ megumi fushiguro x reader ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙ ━━━ ( ⋆。°✩ tw: n/a) ━ (wc: 1,015 ) ━ ( song inspo ✩°。⋆) ━━━
what kind of woman is your type?
ever since todo had posed the question, megumi hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind. at the time, he’d spewed some nonsense -- not having a particular type -- mostly because he’d believed the question was completely out of place and nonsensical; which, in his defense, it was. the other male was less than pleased with his answer, even going as far as to call him boring. yet, megumi couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even answered truthfully.
“gumi,” your voice finally breaks the silence between you two. he’d been so lost in thought he’d nearly forgotten you were a foot away from him, staring intently as you sipped away at your matcha latte. “you’re so quiet today,” you frown, fiddling around with your straw. has he upset you? 
he matches your frown almost instantaneously. “i don’t think i’m being any more quiet than usual,” he tries his hardest to coolly retort, an impulsive hand rushing toward you to ruffle your hair in a desperate attempt to act like nothing’s wrong. no, his mind totally isn’t waging an entire war right now. no, he’s not at all debating on, perhaps, one of the most crucial decisions of his life.
whether or not to dare risk ruining your friendship. 
──────────────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ────────────────
“you make me sick,” maki’s voice, a disgusted groan, breaks his concentration entirely. as he whips his head toward the green haired girl, he realizes something. he’d been staring at you this entire time. you were several feet away, talking to panda. yet, the black haired boy is absolutely mesmerized. the way your eyes light up and sparkle every time someone makes you laugh… the way every time you flash your pearly white teeth seems to make his heart flutter. there’s something about you that he’s absolutely addicted to, but megumi fushiguro swears he’d never tell a soul about any of this. no, you two are friends. what if you didn’t like him back? what if he tells you how he feels and you never want to speak to him ever again? consumed by his thoughts, he fails to realize you and panda are waltzing right up to them. 
he clears his mind with a visible shake of his head, tilting his head and looking at maki with his best ‘i don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. was he really that obvious? he makes a mental note to stop trying to stare at you less, yet this feels like an impossible task.
“just ask her out already, loverboy,” maki sticks out her tongue. he doesn’t even have to look at her to know she’s got a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.
“ooh, ask who out?” you question, clasping your hands together as you sit down next to your best boyfriend. he heard your voice. your voice. you just sat next to him. 
he swears he nearly jumps out of his skin upon realizing you’d just walked into a conversation about you. could he play it off? act stupid? what kind of lie could he tell to get out of explaining that maki was teasing him about you? were they talking about another girl from another school? no -- something about even pretending to like another girl feels wrong. 
“‘gumi’ likes a girl, but he’s too much of a pussy to ask her out,” maki snickers. it seems she’s even poking fun at your nickname for him, and he silently prays that you don’t notice this. “as a fantastic and the best friend anyone could ever ask for, i’ve been trying to encourage him.” her sarcasm is nearly enough to make his skin crawl. she’s deadpanning and making it so obvious it hurts. 
“do we know who this girl is?” you ask. maybe he’s making things up -- imaging things to make himself feel better -- but he swears your eyes dull and shift from the beautiful, sparkling orbs they always were. “we do not!” maki clicks her tongue, and megumi can finally breathe a sigh of relief. or so he thinks. “say… what’s your type anyway?” she segways the conversation almost cruelly, staring you dead in your eyes.
you seem to take a moment. firstly, to inhale a sharp breath. then, you take a second to think, furrowing your brows together in a moment of deep thought. a few beats pass and you finally exhale your sigh, and megumi swears you three have been sitting in silence for eternity. “tall,” you start, and he swears his stomach is tying itself into knots. “reserved… smart -- gotta be smart,” you chuckle and grin. “maybe even a little stoic. like i can never tell what’s going on in his head, but i always at least hope he’s thinking about me somewhere in there.”
in his state of sheer panic, he nearly misses the obvious blush dusting your cheeks. maki could’ve smacked him right in the back of his head and he still would’ve missed it. yet, somehow, you still have more to say. “someone who’s always thinking about other people… protective, i guess. someone mature and who always takes things seriously, even if other people think he’s a pain in the ass for it.” he can’t help but feel a bit guilty about giving such a lame answer to todo now, especially when you’ve had plenty to say. megumi opens his mouth to speak, yet he’s not even sure what he’s supposed to say to that. he prays deep down you’re talking about him, but it’s not exactly like he can voice that out loud--
“oh my god!” maki groans, throwing her head back. “you two are absolutely disgusting!” “you know she’s talking about you, right?” she hisses aloud, giving megumi, perhaps, the dirtiest look she could ever muster. “it’s actually so painful to watch you two dance around each other!” with her opinions growing quite vocal, maki stands up and crosses her arms. “do i have to do it for you? or are you two gonna talk about your disgusting and obvious feelings for each other?”
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