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katerina-marie · 8 hours
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(Un)Welcome Problem pt.1
Kento Nanami x fem!reader
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Word count: 3.1k
Summary: Kento Nanami finds his daily schedule disrupted when you start frequenting his favorite bakery. Initially annoyed, Kento begins to find himself increasingly drawn to you. Despite his constant attempts to blame you for his disrupted routine, he finds himself curious and anticipating every next encounter.
Info: MDNI 18+ This part is sfw, but I cannot say the same about the next parts so please keep that in mind, strangers to lovers, I literally wrote the beginning of this in the shower so it may not be my best work asdlknfkjen
˚₊ · »-♡→ Also check out my other JJK work Audience of One pt.1
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Kento Nanami thrived from his routines.
That’s why you were a problem.
It first started when you moved to Tokyo for work. You were offered a position in a big money law firm. The type of position that pays you so much you’d be a fool to turn it down. And that fool, you were not.
You had moved out to the big city to get away from your boring town and annoying family, and what a blessing it was that you were paid to do it.
On your first day of work, you woke up bright and early to make the commute to your new job. You made sure to also give yourself enough time to get something from that cute bakery you saw, that was down the street from your apartment. You had a feeling you were going to need the extra fuel to get through the day.
Once you were dressed in your professional attire, you fed your cat, and skipped out the door.
You took your time to take in your surroundings on your short walk to the bakery. It was early enough that the city wasn't awake yet. The sun had barely fully risen, and you loved how peaceful the walk was.
The smell of fresh bread and coffee instantly hit you when you opened the door. You looked around it in awe and nodded at the polite cashier who greeted you. The display case had all sorts of sweets, making your mouth water.
Looking up at the menu, you took your time perusing all the options they had. There wasn't anyone else in in the bakery, after all.
Did you want pumpkin bread or a blueberry muffin?
You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice a customer entering the bakery. Not just any customer. Kento.
But, boy, did he notice you.
He stopped in his tracks and his eyes narrowed when he saw you standing at the counter.
What the fuck were you doing here?
His face quickly turned into a scowl as he got into line behind you.
He almost scoffed out loud.
Line.
In a bakery.
This early in the morning.
Over three years of coming to this bakery at the same time every day he had never once seen another person before him.
That was why he chose it. He knew that at this hour, most people were barely waking up. And even the people who were already dressed and out the door, wouldn’t turn to a little hole in the wall like this one.
But here you were.
Ruining his routine.
And, God, he hated it.
If that wasn’t bad enough, you were also being rude! There was a line behind you and you were taking your sweet time reading the menu. Well, maybe not a line, one person hardly constituted a line. But Kento couldn't care less.
He crossed his arms, and looked down his nose at you. His eyes bore holes in the back of your head as he looked back and forth from you and the cashier.
Never mind the fact that you didn’t realize Kento was there. You were too caught up in deciding whether you should get the pumpkin bread or a blueberry muffin, but you wanted to be adventurous.
What if you went with the chocolate croissant?
It wasn’t until Kento cleared his throat in annoyance when you snapped out of your thoughts and turned to look at him.
“Oh- I’m so sorry, you can go ahead of me. I’m not sure what I want yet.” You gave him an apologetic smile and gestured for him to take your spot.
Oh.
Kento raised an eyebrow at your words, taken aback by your kindness. He wasn't even sure what to say. It was his intention to intimidate you from further disturbing his routine. But now he felt like an idiot.
Because of course you weren’t screwing with his routine on purpose, but you were also a nice person. It also helped that your wide, innocent eyes instantly had his mind going blank. But he wouldn’t admit that.
You were a complete and total inconvenience, and you were throwing a wrench in his day. He wanted to paint you out to be the villain in his tragic tale, yet when he looked at your sweet face he just simply couldn’t.
The words came out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying, “It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting,” Lie.
You smiled, oblivious to his internal turmoil and he cursed himself. "Alright," You hummed.
You went back to studying the options, now trying to choose between the croissant or a muffin.
Kento didn't understand the indecision.
There were only a couple items on the menu and he always got the same thing. He was already aware of all the best options.
So he decided to intervene, hoping it would speed up your thought process. "The blueberry muffins are delicious."
The cashier nodded in agreement and you turned to look at Kento, eyes shining, "Really?"
He nodded and you turned back to the cashier. "Okay, I'll have a blueberry muffin and a plain medium coffee, please!"
You thanked them both and waited for your order.
Kento didn’t know what to do next. His whole plan was to scare you off, make sure you never interrupt his routine again, but you seemed nice. And you weren't exactly the worst person to be behind in line.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he moved up to the cashier and ordered his usual.
After your order was done, you grabbed yours and headed for the door. You waved to Kento before leaving.
He had a feeling that would be the first of many run-ins.
And he was right.
Every goddamn morning, to be exact.
For weeks, you would arrive just a few minutes before him. And the same thing would happen. He would wait behind you, and try not to be bothered by your presence.
He failed, obviously.
He was annoyed with you.
But now, his annoyance stemmed from a different source.
At first, it was the fact that you had disturbed his perfect routine. But now, it was because you were taking over his thoughts. He found himself almost looking forward to the morning encounters, and he was starting to feel a little possessive. Not in an obsession way, of course, more like in the way that he considered the bakery his.
You were his. Every morning, for only a few silent minutes. But those moments were his.
You had become a problem without even realizing it. Hell- he almost didn’t realize it.
But this all became very evident to Kento when one morning you weren't there before him. You weren't there at all.
Just when he was starting to accept you as a new addition in his routine.
You went ahead and fucked it up again.
Kento didn’t realize just how used to your presence he had gotten. He felt uneasy, and couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.
It felt like there was a pit in his stomach the entire day.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything, and Gojo had noticed.
Gojo had asked him what was wrong, and Kento couldn't bring himself to lie. He just shook his head and sighed.
Maybe it would help to get it off his chest.
He explained from the beginning. About his routine, the bakery, and you... and your stupidly cute face. Of course he didn’t voice that last part, but it did flash in his mind briefly.
Then he got to the events of this morning, your unexpected absence. Obsession Concern was evident in his voice as he listed the possibilities regarding the lack of your presence.
Maybe you had left town, or moved. Perhaps you were sick, or worse- dead!
He knew his concerns were unreasonable.
You could be doing any number of things, and there should be no reason for him to think about it this much.
Gojo was quiet as he listened to his friend explain his problems. He was quiet for so long, Kento thought he had fallen asleep.
Wouldn't be the first time he's done that.
He was just about to snap at Gojo, when the man finally spoke up. "You should just ask her."
Kento scoffed, "I don't have her number, nor do I know where she lives." rolling his eyes he continued, "Plus, why would I bother talking to her now? We keep to ourselves every morning, there's no reason to make conversation."
He mulled the thought of asking you tomorrow. But then he realized.
What if you weren't there tomorrow either?
No.
That wouldn't do.
He couldn't handle another day without you... because he got used to you being a part of his routine.
Yes. That was why.
The rest of the day dragged on. Kento couldn't concentrate on any of his work.
You had wormed your way into his brain, and you were biting away, inch by inch like he was a juicy red apple.
Kento Nanami did not pine. He was a busy man with a busy schedule.
He had no time to pine.
Especially not over someone as insignificant as a fellow customer he had started sharing his morning with.
Someone who he didn't even know their goddamn name!
Kento had gone home, ate his dinner, and got ready for bed. He did his nightly routine, and then proceeded to lay awake staring at the ceiling for a few hours.
His mind was plagued with thoughts of you.
There you go again! Ruining his routine.
He should have been asleep almost two hours ago. He had to be up in five.
He didn't understand why the thought of seeing you in the morning affected him so much. Or more so- the thought of not seeing you.
He just didn't like the uncertainty.
Kento was a man of order and control.
That's what it was... right?
He just didn't like the fact that you threw him off his routine, yet again.
You were an annoying thorn in his ass, and he was angry.
Kento was just an upset, tired man.
There was no way his emotions were rooted in anything other than the disruption of his routine.
The next morning rolled around and life moved on like usual. You woke up early, got dressed, fed your cat, and skipped out the door.
Kento was awake.
Kento was showered.
Kento was dressed.
Kento was in the kitchen eating his breakfast.
And then Kento was out the door.
When he walked into the small bakery his heart nearly stopped when he saw you there.
He was frozen.
He didn't know what to do.
He was just happy that you were here.
Happy?
No.
Relieved.
Yes, that was the word he was looking for.
And apparently he wasn't the only one curious about your absence, as when he walked in he overheard the cashier ask about yesterday’s whereabouts in a friendly tone.
See, his concern wasn't unwarranted.
"Oh, I had a small cold. But, I'm much better now!" You laughed, and the sound filled Kento's ears.
He felt warm.
He felt fuzzy.
Those feelings made him scowl and hoped that didn’t mean he was catching your cold.
He didn't stop to ponder deeper into these feelings, he simply continued forward to stand behind you.
And just like that, his routine had gone back to normal.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
A few days had passed, and you were there every morning like clockwork.
Kento's mood was significantly lighter and his work had improved.
Gojo had also noticed this.
Gojo was very observant.
Despite that silly blindfold he always wore.
Gojo was also an annoying piece of shit.
So of course, he had to pester Kento about it.
He had to know what had caused the sudden change in his friend's demeanor.
"Nanami!" Gojo whined, "I'm so bored, tell me something exciting!"
"There is nothing exciting to tell," Kento said flatly, "And, if I did, you'd never shut up about it."
"Come on! I'm just curious." Gojo huffed and flopped back onto his chair, crossing his arms like a child, "Did you ask your little crush where she was?"
"Crush?" Kento scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous, Satoru."
Gojo shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He knew to pick his battles with Kento.
He decided not to press the issue further, but he was determined to get it out of him eventually.
Glaring into Gojo, Kento got up from his seat and spun to exit. Not before turning over his shoulder and reprimanding the white haired imp, "I'm going to go help the first years with some training, and you're never going to bring this up again. Got it?"
Gojo gave a mock salute and smirked.
Kento was going to punch him.
He shook his head and turned on his heel, heading out the door. Training the first years was just the distraction he needed.
But, this distraction only lasted for so long.
When Kento arrived at his apartment later that evening, he was still thinking about you.
It was driving him mad.
He was a simple man.
A man with a routine.
And now that routine had been interrupted.
He hated you for it!
You had disrupted the delicate balance of his life, and it was driving him insane.
The fact that you had no idea that your very existence was a problem was the worst part.
Your ignorance was a constant annoyance.
But, he couldn't help but wonder if you ever thought about him throughout your day.
Probably not.
Why would you?
You barely knew each other.
Even after weeks of the same interactions every morning, you both had yet to speak. If they could even be called interactions. It was more so Kento ogling observing you from behind, taking note of the things you wore, and which outfits he thought looked best on you. In a strictly blasé- pass the time- way, of course.
All while you gave him the occasional glace when waiting for your order.
You never initiated conversation, and you never questioned his silence.
The most interaction you two had was when he told you to get the blueberry muffin that first time. And even that didn't count as conversation.
So no, you probably didn't think about him throughout your day.
But Kento thought about you.
You were slowly becoming the first thing he thought about when he woke up, and the last thing before he drifted off to sleep.
He would lay awake for sometimes hours at night, his mind wandering, wondering what you were doing, how your day was, why you chose his bakery? And most of all- who the hell were you?
This had become his new routine.
You had become his new routine.
And he hated it.
So, naturally, Kento had come to the conclusion that you were his problem- It was easier that way.
To paint you as the villain, and blame his sleepless nights and unproductive days all on you.
Even though deep down, he knew it not to be true.
Which is why it was confusing for him the next morning when you changed his routine, yet again- he wasn't mad. Instead he was amused.
Kento walked into the coffee shop same time as always, but was surprised to see you looking up at the menu, just like you had been that first day.
It was the same exact scenario.
You had decided to change things up after realizing that you've only ever gotten the blueberry muffin everyday- per the recommendation of the frequent stranger.
That attractive, blonde, intimidating stranger.
The stranger who stood behind you in line everyday, who was always wearing a suit.
The stranger whose voice was smooth, and made you just a little bit weak in the knees.
Okay, maybe more than a little bit.
So, there you were.
Standing at the counter, perusing the menu, once again.
Kento was pleasantly surprised. He was expecting another day of your usual blueberry muffin order.
Maybe it was time to step out of his comfort zone?
"Having trouble deciding again?" Kento's low voice came from behind.
You turned around and gave him a sheepish smile, "Yeah, I wanted to try something new today."
Kento hummed in response.
You turned back around, and Kento took a moment to check out take in today’s outfit. You were always dressed so professionally, what did you do for a living?
He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice, "I don't suppose you'd be able to make another suggestion?" You looked over your shoulder, with a nervous smile.
Kento was taken aback. You were asking him for help?
He could have sworn the earth was about to implode.
This was yet another disturbance in his routine.
Kento had been standing behind you in the mornings for weeks now, and not once had you spoken to him.
Maybe this could be a second chance.
Maybe, if he got your name he’d be able to get some sleep at night.
That’s what it was.
He was just worked up over not being able to put a name to your face.
Once he had that information, his life would go on per usual.
"Well," Kento started, "I think the pumpkin bread is the best thing on the menu during this time of the year."
You smiled, thanking him and turned to the cashier who had overheard his suggestion, "I'll have that and a plain coffee, please."
The cashier nodded and went to make your order. You moved to the side to wait, and Kento was right behind you after he placed his order.
He wasn't sure if you'd start a conversation, or if he should.
But then, the barista called your order number, and his eyes widened.
Kento's face turned into a scowl. Fuck, he was blowing it again!
He had finally been given a chance, and now he had fucked it up. He didn't know your name, yet.
"Thank you again for the help," You said politely and picked up your coffee, "I'll see you tomorrow."
And with that, you left.
His heart stopped, and his stomach dropped when he watched you walk out the door.
What a stupid mistake.
He was a fool, and had just let his chance walk out the door.
Wait-
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
You told him you would see him tomorrow.
Tomorrow was his chance.
He wasn't sure if you had intended the remark as a promise, but Kento took it as such.
Now, he was determined. Determined to know your name. The name of his little problem.
A problem that, deep down, he was secretly beginning to welcome.
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katerina-marie · 17 hours
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yuji had never been in gojo’s office before.
he hadn’t even known such an office existed until he and nobara convinced megumi to let them fly on nue and ended up with their faces smooching a glass window (which was now broken) and they’d been called into gojo’s office for a punishment.
it was extravagant, consisting of a dark oak desk, a floor to ceiling window, marble floors and whatnot. but mostly empty, no traces to suggest that anybody occupied it. it was devoid of any warmth and gojo’s personality—except for a frame on the desk that caught yuji’s eye.
“hey sensei, isn’t that your girlfriend?!”
gojo’s eyes flit to the photograph before he sighs, “she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
“what?!” nobara screeches, “she was the best you could find! i mean good for her, she’s learnt her standards but now you’re definitely gonna die alone, sensei.”
even megumi’s lips were twisted into a frown.
yuji stutters, backtracking before they get kicked out of school, “wha-what she means to ask is why’d you break up? you guys were perfect for each other.” he pauses, “i think.”
he’d only seen her a few times around campus but she seemed like the sweetest person on earth, based on their few interactions. nobara definitely seemed to approve of her.
gojo props his legs up on the table, shrugging with his hands behind his head, “multiple reasons. first one, she’s out to torture me.”
“i am not.” the trio whips around to see you standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a flat expression. you lift up a bag, “you forgot your lunch. again. it’s been three times this week and it’s only wednesday.”
“as i was saying, she maimed my crotch permanently and lost any hope of mini me running around—”
“it was night and i got jumpscared by your radioactive blue eyes.”
“and then, she launched war on me and didn’t let me cuddle her.”
“because you came home bleeding with an injury that would worsen if i suffocated you.”
“and the worst of all,” gojo narrows his eyes at you, “she ate my kikifuku.”
“you’re a billionaire. just buy some more.” you shrug, placing the cover on his desk.
confusion lingers in the bemused side eyes of the students after the…interesting conversation.
“sure, they all sound heinous crimes…” yuji continues hesitantly, “but is it really worth breaking up over?”
“who said anything about breaking up? i just said that she wasn’t my girlfriend anymore.”
“now i’m even more convinced you were dropped on your head as a baby.” nobara blurts out but megumi’s eyes are already travelling to the ring on your finger, which gojo holds up to show off.
“she’s not my girlfriend anymore because she’s my wife!” he beams.
“fiancée.”
“for now.”
you roll your eyes but a fond smile blooms on your lips and gojo kisses your hand softly, “kids, say hi to mrs gojo. now i call dibs on yuji being the flower boy, megumi the ring bearer and nobara—”
“hold up. maybe we should think this through—”
“no wasting time. i need ijichi to sign the official babysitter documents for our future baby.”
“satoru!”
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katerina-marie · 1 day
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Sukuna Headcanons
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a/n: this is from the same universe in my Boy Nextdoor Series, in this drabble yuuji is sukuna's baby brother, i mightve gotten a bit carried away while writing this
@starlets-things PS: idk if you wanted me to tag you in a part two of "Buttface", or just another part of my Boy Nextdoor Series (example: being part of a tag list), pls lmk though
Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK
(REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)
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These are mostly pre-relationship hcs (post-relationship hcs are towards the end of this post)
Neighbor!Sukuna who hangs out at your house constantly, whether it be for studying, playing a game, or having your weekly movie night, he's there almost 24/7
Neighbor!Sukuna who would always force you to partner up with him whenever a group project was assigned; he always played it off as "I'm just using you to get a good grade" — which is a total lie if you haven't caught on yet
Neighbor!Sukuna who discovered his love for whenever you played with his hair when you pushed him into the pool and had to blow-dry his hair as recompense
Neighbor!Sukuna who sometimes forgets that his friends were supposed to come over when you were already at his house
Neighbor!Sukuna who constantly teases you for the height difference between you and him
Neighbor!Sukuna who always walks you to class, even if it means being late to his [own classes]
Neighbor!Sukuna who, without a doubt, hates your friends, like absolutely despises them — this is because he doesn't like the fact that they take your attention away from him
Neighbor!Sukuna who has a hate and love relationship whenever you come over to babysit his brother when he's busy at basketball practice or something — he loves having you over at his house, but he hates that he has to miss seeing your smile and hearing your voice
Neighbor!Sukuna who never listens during class because he's always staring at you
You turned your head around to be faced with a surprised Sukuna. "Hey. Stop staring at me, Freak."
Sukuna would always roll his eyes at that, denying the accusation, but you knew the truth, though — and so did your whole class, maybe even the whole school too, your teachers included
Neighbor!Sukuna who gets on your nerves on purpose because he is obsessed, utterly infatuated with the cute face you make whenever you're mad
He thinks you're adorable when you're upset, especially when the cause is him
Neighbor!Sukuna who sometimes makes you a little too angry, resulting in detention for the both of you — however, he doesn't mind the extra time he gets to spend with you
Post-establishedrelationship hcs:
Neighbor!Sukuna who always shuts you up with a kiss whenever he thinks you talk too much (he is a little mean, yes)
Neighbor!Sukuna who can't stand when other people are talking to you
Neighbor!Sukuna who always has to be touching you one way or another — whether that be a hand around your shoulder, hand on your waist, or even your hand wrapped around his bicep/arm, sometimes he doesn't even realize he has a hand on you, it's just become instinct now
Neighbor!Sukuna who kicks the back of your knee when he wants you to stop talking to someone, and talk to him instead
Neighbor!Sukuna who forces you to wear his jersey whenever he has a game; he loves seeing his last name on your back — he always points you out in a crowd to his teammates
"See that pretty girl over there? Yeah, that's mine."
Neighbor!Sukuna who can't resist slapping your ass whenever you walk past; it's become a natural instinct at this point
Neighbor!Sukuna who is actually super clingy, but he'll never admit that; he'll spam you with nonstop calls and texts just to ignore you when you do eventually respond
Neighbor!Sukuna who can't fall asleep without you beside him in bed
Neighbor!Sukuna who loves when you kiss him on the cheek — he doesn't even know why, he just thinks it feels more intimate than an actual kiss on the lips
Neighbor!Sukuna who always carries your bag
Neighbor!Sukuna who rarely gets sick, but sometimes gets sick on purpose just to have you take care of him
Neighbor!Sukuna who would always kiss you, even if you were sick
Neighbor!Sukuna who pretends not to pay your guys' dinner bill but actually sneaks the money into your purse after you go to sleep
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katerina-marie · 2 days
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jealousy
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: satoru doesn't like the way the barista is looking at you
a/n: figured i'd give you all a little fluff (save me from this void)
last part | next part
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*
year five.
“megumi, go get your mom.” 
satoru and megumi are sitting in a crowded cafe, saving your spot, waiting for you to come back. 
while the sun coming in through the window satoru is sitting across from is partially blinding him, he can still see you. 
you, trying to order, being ogled by the barista who's been granted the pleasure of speaking to you. your smile is normal--to satoru's obvious disdain--and you don't even seem to mind the man's obvious flirting. 
(not that it really means much. when satoru leans in like that, you just push him away. when he swoons at the way you've done your hair on any specific day, you just roll your eyes. 
so maybe you're not the best judge of flirting. or attraction. or how to reject a tiny schoolboy, like the one you're talking to.)
satoru's only been watching this interaction for thirty seconds, but he's had enough. 
“why?” megumi turns, looking back at you. “she’s getting us hot chocolate.” 
satoru sighs, no care in the world. can't the kid ever listen to him? “go hold her hand then.” 
“why?” 
“because.” 
“but why?” 
satoru gives megumi a (pathetic) glare. “listen to me, young man," he tries to say it like you would--if megumi ever denied any of your requests--but it doesn't work. satoru has to try not to laugh directly after the words are out of his mouth. 
so what if he doesn't want you talking to that kid? he's just looking out for you. 
megumi's brows raise. he looks... almost amused. “what’s wrong with you? you go hold her hand.” 
satoru hangs his head. you told him to sit here and keep the table for all of you, told him to watch megumi and not do anything stupid--which, to be fair, is difficult for him. so he can't go get you (save you).
and plus, he doesn't want you to know that he cares. if you like that kid--with his stupid dark hair and eyes and soft smile and obvious heart eyes--then he doesn't want to know. 
and if he goes up to you, he'll know. 
“i can’t," he tells megumi, instead of saying any of that. the boy would just cackle in his face. 
“are you scared?” megumi asks, very seriously, as if satoru is afraid of anything. 
(besides you falling for someone else, of course. but that doesn't count). 
he looks over to the kid again, who you're chatting idly with as you search through your purse. he wonders if you're telling the barista that you spend every night in his bed, making out with him until your lips are puffy. 
if he keeps smiling at you like that satoru is going to get up and tell him himself. 
satoru scoffs, looking away finally, back to megumi who looks thoroughly entertained by his father's pain. he crosses his arms. “no.” 
megumi shrugs, looking back again. seriously, satoru should've kicked him out when he had the chance. he probably would've been fine with the zenin clan. probably. 
“well, i’m not doing it," the boy says, with obvious satisfaction. 
if only tsumiki was here. satoru never should've let megumi ditch school, or let him come with you both to get coffee. tsumiki would help him. she probably would've asked you to get yakitori instead and satoru could listen to you try to make small talk with a waitress instead of that guy. 
“megumi fushiguro,” satoru begins, voice rough. “do you want your mother to live in a rat-infested apartment with a random, cesspit man, and several tiny babies running around all of the time? tiny wimpy babies? normal, human babies. you’ll have to stay over there and share a bed with multiple infants who will spit up on you.”
megumi blinks. “what are you even talking about?” 
“go stand next to her," satoru hisses, because he swears he can hear your laugh from across the cafe, and honestly he's never wanted to destroy an establishment more. 
and that's saying something. 
at least the man would be without a job and satoru would never have to see him push his hair back and tilt his head at you again. 
megumi looks back again like it's going to explain anything satoru does, and he smirks. “that guy doesn’t look too bad.” 
satoru's jaw clenches. “i will mismatch all of your socks.” 
megumi scowls at him. "all of my socks are the same, after last time." 
satoru huffs and leans back against his chair, pouting. "what did i do to deserve this?"
“do you think mom likes him?” megumi asks, voice so innocent it makes satoru want to shave his hair off. 
“go.” 
megumi blinks at him, tilting his head. yeah, he's really putting on an act now. “but she said to wait here," he reminds satoru like it matters. 
“tell her you missed her, or something," satoru goes to wave a hand, but his hand only clenches when he physically sees you laugh at the man. you're not even ordering now, you're just standing there (waiting for their drinks) talking to the guy. 
“you tell her you missed her," megumi retorts, enjoying satoru's one and only weakness. 
"no." 
"she's laughing," megumi points out, resting his chin on a hand. "and it's rude to interrupt grown-ups when they talk."  
“megumi,” satoru begs, hating the weird, annoying feeling in his chest. he wants to dig his own heart out and yell at it. “please.” 
megumi is basically smirking at him now, waiting for a beat longer for satoru to really break--and seriously kill every person within a ten-mile radius--but eventually, right before it happens, the boy sighs. his eyes are evil, evil things. 
"fine," he tells satoru, rolling his eyes. he stands up from his hair and pats satoru on the shoulder like it will make up for anything. the boy has the worst smile satoru's ever seen in his life. 
and then he makes his way through the line of people--seriously, this guy is a terrible barista--and taps you on your waist, going to stand right up against the counter. megumi says something to you--you will all of your charm, and your irresistible smiles--and you hold a hand out to him, which he grabs immediately. 
your smile, satoru notices with immense relief, shifts on instinct. it goes from something formal and polite to something genuine. you look down at your son and the barista you've been talking to for the last minute is completely irrelevant. 
and satoru takes great satisfaction in the way the kid's eyes widen, and the instinctual step back he takes--like he knows that satoru is going to hurt him if he continues to lean over the counter towards you. 
satoru relaxes, watching you ask megumi something, but only slightly. 
and after a second you turn your head, raising a brow at him. 
the little brat. 
satoru just smiles--offering you more than some shotty barista ever could--and leans back in his chair. 
“why are you being so weird today?” 
satoru’s chin is on your head, and even though you can’t see his smile, it falters, just a little bit. "don't know what you're talking about." 
"you're sticky." 
"i just showered." 
"okay," you say, turning and rolling your eyes at satoru's pout. instantly his hands go to your waist, keeping you right there with him. "first of all, no you didn't. and i didn't mean literally. you're... clingy. more clingy than usual." 
"i can't want to be around you?"
you give him a blank stare. "not when you're being weird about it." 
"how am i being weird?" 
"how aren't you?" 
satoru grins, leaning his head down to push his nose into your cheek. you smell like something sweet--something he'd devour in an instant--but he's not sure what. he doesn't even care. he doesn't answer that question, only hums into your skin. 
"see what i mean?" 
"it's not my fault that you're comfy." 
"oh, im so sorry," you say, fake pity in your voice. "let me just turn myself into stone real quick." 
satoru rolls his eyes, pulling back just so he can see the amused look on your face--yeah, he knows that you don't actually care. but the more he hangs onto you, the more affection he shows, the warier you get. 
and that's perfectly fine with him, actually. as long as you don't push him away.  
"please do," he says, so genuinely. "it would make this a lot easier." 
"make what a lot easier?" you ask, voice a bit softer. maybe it's because he's looking at you now, actually looking. 
and satoru knows, really knows, that there's not a single other person in the world who you look at like this. there's not another man that you'd let sniff you, no other man that would dare to irritate you the way that he loves to. 
satoru's worked several years to get you to be this comfortable, this easy around him. and even if there was someone else--he wouldn't give you up without a fight. 
you're his in a way that transcends labels or reality.
still, he doesn't answer that question (because you already know). he only smiles a bit more, leans in, and basks in the way your lips mold to his immediately. 
*
next part | series masterlist
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katerina-marie · 3 days
Note
*NOT A REQUEST* just a thought I desperately needed to share….. Sukuna definitely does not like ur friends like he says u should ditch them for him and like whenever you have to leave his house early cause u promised to meet ur friend somewhere for smth he’s getting all pouty and finds ways for u to stay LIKE HES JUST SO SOFT FOR U OMGGGG🥹🥹🫡
I mean was I not supposed to write a drabble? Physically impossible-
——
“Baby, I’ll be back so soon!”
“No, you won’t.”
Sukuna doesn’t like when you leave him. It’s not uncommon for him to throw a small fit when you tell him you have to leave, when you assure him you’ll come back to him at night and curl up in his side while you both go to sleep.
But when you have plans without him? And you’re not just leaving for errands?
He’s the world’s biggest baby.
Sukuna crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, “you’re going to be out with her all night, and I’m barely going to see you because the second you come home, you’ll be too tired! How is that fair!”
You click your tongue in adoration and make your way over to him, cupping his sharp jawline in your hands and kissing the tip of his nose, “I can’t just be all yours; sometimes, you have to share me.”
“I share you,” he snaps.
You giggle and shake your head, “you share me with choso and yuuji while youre buried in my neck- and as much as I adore it, I do unfortunately have to see other people too, honey.”
“Oh, so you don’t want me to want your company.”
“Kuna-“
“Oh no,” he begins dramatically, raising his hands in defense. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He huffs and makes his way away from you and to the couch, knee bouncing wildly as he tries to hide the facade that he actually, immensely, cares that you’re leaving. “Just say you hate my affection and go.”
You snort and quickly follow him to the couch, curling up beside him, “I love your affection. You know that. But I promised her we’d grab dinner, okay?”
“No.”
“And I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t care.”
“Can I have a kiss goodbye?”
“No.”
You toss your arm around his shoulder and press a wet kiss to his cheek, making sure to make it noisy and dramatic, pulling back with a sticky “mwah.” When you make a move to go back in, you quickly spider your fingers up his side, making him grunt and shimmy away.
“Literally hate you,” he hisses. You laugh again and follow his body, this time aiming your kiss for his lips and humming happily when he connects it.
He sighs against your lips, “bring me home a piece of chocolate cake.”
“Okay-“
“And text me every hour, or so help me-“
“I will, baby.”
“And no later than 9, that’s too late-“
“Okay dad. Anything else?”
He pulls a face at your words before rolling his eyes and leaning back in for a kiss, “be safe. I like you or something.”
You smile and nod happily, “I will, sukuna.”
“Promise?”
You extend your pinky out to him, watching fondly as he extends his own to lock with yours, and you each kiss the tip of your tongue as if to seal the promise.
“I promise.”
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katerina-marie · 4 days
Text
thinking about kamo chōsō...
and the way he’d reach out for your hands during one of your more intimate moments with him– his fingers trembling slightly as you lowered yourself onto him. sometimes he just needed to touch you, to be close with you– to feel that you were there with him when his breath hitched in his throat at the way you gasped from his cock nudging against your cervix. 
your cunt would squeeze him just right too– where his violet lusted eyes would roll back and his hands would search for yours, subconsciously trying to steady himself in fear of spilling into you too quickly; which has happened, much to the blush that spread across his blood mark as his high washed over him far too many times. 
choked whimpers would leak from his mouth as he clasped your hands together, trying to desperately keep still inside you as you rode him as you pleased– your arousal slicking up his cock so fucking much he had to avoid eye contact with your cunt taking him in; he’d knew he’d bust if he saw how you drenched his cock. 
sometimes you didn’t even realize he wanted to hold hands, too fucked out on how he stuffed you to the hilt each and every time you rolled your hips down onto him– and he’d whine for you when his hands were empty. he’d practically cry for you to hold hands with him, a pout prominent on his lips as he tried his best to find his voice to beg for the tiny gesture. 
“h-hands baby…please?” 
“just wanna be c-close with you…”
he felt it was silly, to be so needy for the warmth of your palm– but your head swam with how endearing it was; to want to be even closer when he was the closest he could get to you, his body flush with yours… you made sure that next time your hands would fall into his at the mere whim of him underneath you. 
he’d intertwine your fingers together when he did get close, lightly squeezing them as his hips now rutted into you quickly. his thumb would swipe over yours lovingly as he came– he was completely unaware that he even did so as he buried himself deep inside you, his sensitive cock twitching through his orgasm.
and afterwards, his hands wouldn’t leave the heat of yours– practically glued to each other as your head rested against his chest. 
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© raitonsfw thirsts '24 18+ mdni • divider credit; @benkeibear
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a/n: just a warm up for my writer's block! been having it insanely bad lately so i apologize for lack of (good) content.
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katerina-marie · 4 days
Text
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practice makes perfect | series masterlist status: ongoing
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synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?
pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader
warnings: 18+, MDNI
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chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
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katerina-marie · 4 days
Text
Daylight Robbery
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Gojo Satoru likes when other men stare at what they can't have...but maybe he's underestimated Nanami Kento.
Warnings: 18+, cucking, I actually like Gojo so please don't misunderstand me 👀
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When a cuckoo visits a nest, he brings a most precious treasure, places it amongst others like it (but not exactly like it), and leaves.
And this is, of course, the most crucial point; for he does leave, and takes nothing with him.
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"Oi! Nanamin. I've got a favour to ask."
Nanami Kento stood, abruptly, looking at his watch and flapping his newspaper shut-- "My, my. Just look at the time."
"Don't be that way-- Nanamin, come back-- it's about my girl."
Nanami stopped, his hand upon the door handle. Gojo's smirk grew fast, grinning wolfishly, a squirm of possessive pleasure unfurling in his belly and his cock.
"Thought that might stop you...yeah, I've seen you looking. Can't have her though, right? My girl."
Of course, he had looked, at first, Nanami thought, his fingers on the handle. He had looked upon you, in all of your finery-- those glittering smiles, the rubies upon your lips, the marble-carved touches, so deliberately and exquisitely formed. Only after your heart and the life of you, had granted you animation, had Nanami then watched, now art in motion, art with a story.
"You can have her. If you want."
Nanami maintained his composure. Barely. He turned to face Gojo, stern and impassive.
"For one night, and one night only."
Ah. I see. You would like that, wouldn't you.
"And I get to watch. What do you say?"
A dozen questions flew through Nanami's mind, and none of them for Gojo. Nanami's cock twitched now, despite himself, calculating on bated breath.
"Sure. I'd like that. Tonight? Tell her to wear something...comfortable."
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You'd only have said yes to Satoru, for the other guy to be him.
As he stepped into Satoru's bedroom, gracing you with a gentle, reassuring smile, you softened, feeling so exposed and foolish in your lingerie. You glanced over at Satoru, barely lit in the dark, fingers on his temples with one pinched between his teeth, the other hand grazing lightly over his already hardening cock.
Nanami stepped over to you, sat on the bed and looking up at him with the tiniest glint of fear. His hand reached out, strong and soft, and cupped your jaw, brushing a thumb over your lips.
"I thought I said something comfortable," he chided without malice. Your lips parted just-so under his thumb, the briefest flick of your eyes towards Satoru, a half-hearted shrug and an awkward smile. Nanami snorted, derisive.
"I understand you," he purred, leaning down to you, both hands cupping your face as he whispered against your ear, "remember...you're in charge, darling, and I am entirely at your disposal."
"Nanami...I-- I don't know...where to start." Kento hummed, nodding, his thumb moving to stroke your cheek. Despite his outward self-control, your face was directly in front of his groin, and you could see a bulge, huge and heavy, under his tan trousers.
"Kento," he insisted, "please. After all...if I treat you as well as you deserve...it's my name you'll be crying out tonight. Not your boyfriend's."
Satoru shuddered in the chair in the corner, smirking, a hushed clink as he undid his belt, reaching down to hook his long, pale, pink-tipped cock free of its restraints. His hand reached down to cup his balls, rolling and fondling them in his palm, until beads of pre-cum began to dribble onto the neat white hair leading down his belly.
"F-Fiancé," you corrected, captivated as Kento's arms moved to bracket you, nosing at your neck, the shell of your ear, hips nudging you up the bed until you settled, feather-light, on sinking pillows. Kento huffed lightly.
"Yes. My apologies. Your fiancé." You were splayed beneath him, helpless as a kitten. Satoru was tall, and big, but...nothing like this bronze Adonis above you. Broad and mountainous, Kento's shoulders rolled, his breathing getting heavier, whiskey-brown eyes drunk on you. It was just he and you in the room, you were sure. And you felt so...safe.
"Well, then," Kento hummed, one hand reaching under your back to unclasp your bra, deft and dexterous, "I'm going to treat you like it's your very first time. Please, tell me if you want me to stop."
"Don't." You urged, swallowing a sigh of relief as your corseting bra unclasped, "Don't stop," and Kento's eyes smiled at you.
"Is that better?" He whispered, kissing your forehead with such tenderness, you could have wept. Kento felt the way you pressed up against him, thrilled, roiling with such righteous rage at your misuse.
If Satoru had not been so captivated by the way Kento trembled with restraint above you, at the way your nipples pebbled as your bra was pulled softly from your body, he would have felt the fine thread of uncertainty that ran through him, as Kento treated you like spun sugar.
Used to dulling himself, Satoru gripped his cock, sighing and cursing as he stroked himself slowly, reaching to the table beside him to grab a bottle of lube, pumping it over his twitching cockhead.
Hearing the little wet sucks of Satoru's hand, masturbating himself with practiced strokes, your head tipped to watch him, teeth gritted and hungry as he watched you graze your hands over Kento's thick, corded biceps.
"Get on with it, Nanami," Satoru sniped, "or do you not know what you're doing with a girl like her? Scared I've ruined her for you?"
You blushed, moving an arm up to cover your face, as Satoru teased you both. Kento shushed you, removing your arm, pressing a kiss to your inner wrist before plaiting his fingers with yours, calm, confident and ungoadable.
"She's a rare gem, it's true," Kento answered, more to you than to Satoru, "and certainly not one that could be ruined by something so...insignificant." You felt a hot appreciative surge in your belly, so overwhelmed by the want in Kento's eyes, by his advocacy of you. His thumb was brushing over your lip again, eyes flicking between your mouth, and looking deeply into the heart of you.
"I'd kiss you," Kento whispered, "but only if you wanted me t--"
All at once, you grabbed Kento by the tie, pressing your lips to his, your first drink after a month of summer, tangling your fingers into his blond hair. Kento grunted against your mouth, pressing his body down onto yours, letting you lead the kiss, but guiding you into unexplored waters. You waded through them, calm, exotic and unfamiliar.
Kento kissed you with all the warmth and precision he had promised. Each time you tried to push the kiss further, he held you warmly back, controlling your desperate haste for your own sake. He pulled away from your mouth, a fine string of spit connecting you, and you seared at his refusal to use you, your breasts untouched, pussy untouched, so virtuous. Kento's mouth sucked at your neck, leaving his mark, subtle and inconspicuous, as he spoke to you.
"Would you like to undress me?" He offered, your hand still clutching his tie. You felt like you'd been given a gift to unwrap.
"Yes," you pleaded, body thrumming with the need for his skin on yours, "god yes, I--I'd love it. I love--...yes. Please."
"Good girl."
Kento continued to lap at your skin, his hands now ghosting over your hips, the soft plush of your belly, the dimpling in your thighs. Your hands shook, never thinking for a second that you could be edged by something as simple as removing Kento's tie, unbuttoning his shirt; simplicity made erotic. By the time you had pushed his shirt off his shoulders, caught on his brown leather harness, your irritatingly stringy underwear felt tight, wet and clingy with your own arousal.
"How wet are you, baby? D'you think he can fuck you as well as me, hmm?" You jumped at Satoru's voice from the corner. Hesitating to answer, unsure if Satoru would like what he heard, you chose silence, whimpering softly as Kento's tongue moved over your breasts, achingly close to your sensitive peaks. Satoru's breathing came ragged, watching another man devour you, just so he could wrench you away after...his hand gripped the base of his cock, twitching and wet, gasping with the effort to not spend himself all over his belly.
Your fingertips ghosted over Kento's harness, thoughtful. Just as Kento was about to graze his lips over your plump nipple, he stopped.
"You like it? My harness?" He chuckled, his hand rising to brush over yours, still fingering the brown leather. You bit your lip, nodding. Kento understood fully; in moments, he had stripped his shirt, replacing the harness only. You almost melted at the sight of him above you, buckling the harness over the front of his pecs, his own nipples being grazed by the tight leather press.
Kento watched you shudder, taking your hand, stroking it over the leather, down his belly towards his belt, feeling the veins of his V-line tracking down to his cock. Your mouth watered, and Kento shivered as your fingers tickled just beneath his belt.
Not breaking eye contact, Kento lowered his mouth back to your breasts, resuming as he pulled your nipple into his mouth, moaning around you at the sweet yielding softness. His tongue traced you so gently-- too gently, for the relief you needed.
"Harder-- please, Ken..." Kento acquiesced, ever your servant, as he drew your nipple deeply, the pleasure tangy and sharp as your nipple grazed the roof of his mouth, his thick fingers kneading and rolling your other breast. Your hips bucked up against nothing, and you whimpered in despair, no longer used to such ceaselessly tender foreplay. Your hands tangled in his hair, trying to push his head down your body, and Kento mumbled, voice husky and rumbling against your spit-wet nipple.
"Where do you want my mouth?" Before you could answer, Satoru interrupted, his voice low and feverish, working at his balls again with one lube-wet hand, flicking at his own nipples beneath his white undershirt.
"Eat her out, Nanamin. I want to see how fast you can make her cum...or, if you even can." Kento smiled at you again, soft, not rising to the taunts, casting an embargo on the forced air of toxic masculine competition.
"Let me know...if it's too much," Kento offered, his mouth kissing down your belly. As he reached your underwear, all silky straps and ties, Kento paused, tongue grazing just above them.
"Do you like these?" He asked, sincere. You bit your lip, mortified at having been read like a book.
"No," you whispered into the back of your hand, too quiet for Satoru to hear, "not really."
Kento hummed. His strong hands gripped your underwear, snapping one side at a time. Satoru groaned at Kento's fractured restraint, his thighs and back prickling with the edge of his orgasm; "Oh fuck, baby...you see how bad he wants you? Shit. Gonna look so beautiful with his cock inside you...get on with it, Nanamin."
Kento knelt above you, removing the scrap of your underwear, tossing it aside to his shirt. He looked down at you in reverence, his fingertips grazing past the puffy lips of your pussy, to dip his fingers into your wetness, lubricating himself with you. As Kento brought two fingers back up to gently pinch your clit, rolling it between them, he sighed, whispering again at your mewls and cries.
"Beautiful...gorgeous. You take as long as you need."
Kento undid his belt, chest straining against his harness, abs and pecs twitching as he fingered you with devastating expertise. He had imagined you like this so many times, mathematic in his fantasies, calculating how he would orchestrate your divine undoing. His free hand undid his belt, lowering himself to his belly as he rucked off his trousers, boxers and socks, his desperately aching cock now sandwiched between his abs and the bedsheets.
When Kento removed his fingers from your clit, you shot up on your elbows to look down at him with a cry of remand. Your breath caught at Kento gazing at your slick on his fingers, dipping them into his mouth, long pink tongue licking them clean and shivering at your taste.
Satoru's head pressed back against the chair, arching into his hand with a breathless laugh; "Doesn't she taste good, Nanamin? Don't worry...I'll finish her off, if you can't get her there." Satoru didn't know how much longer he could keep going, his cockhead a deep, angry pink, balls tight and full from almost spilling into his hand so many times, determined to outlast Kento. The thrill of the chase consumed him in holy fire.
Kento's eyes twinkled at you, unflappable, chuckling at how you bit your lip down at him, embarrassed by him tasting you with such enthusiasm. He chuckled as you covered your eyes again, nuzzling your inner thigh as you giggled, sharing a moment of companionable silliness. Kento broke it swiftly, dragging you out of your wall-breaking moment, by nuzzling his nose between your folds, and you gasped, moaning, high and long.
Kento had built you up with such precision, that by the time the tip of his tongue slid between your folds, flicking from side to side to part them and lay claim to your neglected bud, you came with a jolted cry, one hand clutching the pillow behind your head, the other entwined in his hair, pressing his face down into your bucking sex.
"--oh fuck-- shit, baby, are you serious? For Nanamin, huh? Fff--fuck-- so fucking beautiful." Satoru was shaking now, competitive bile rising in his throat, sorely tempted to throw Kento off of you, jealously coveting you in a way he hadn't earlier.
Satoru yanked his balls away from the base of his cock with a stilted growl, gripping himself, staving his orgasm away. He wouldn't waste a single drop of his seed until he could throw Kento out, and show you how a real man could fuck you. Kento knew the rules; he could not stay after to watch, and he could not spend his seed inside you. That privilege was Satoru's alone. Satoru ripped his blindfold off with a hiss, tossing it aside, staring into you and Kento and seeing you both in his own unique completion.
Kento wrapped his forearms around you, looped over the top of your thighs, licking you softly down from one orgasm, nuzzling you until you trembled, before lapping you back into his lips, and beginning to build you again, delicate, piece by piece.
"Kentooo-ooooo...aaahhhhh--put your--put your tongue in me-- please please pleas--"
Satoru almost ejaculated untouched, hearing you beg and twist under Kento's hungry tongue. He could see Kento's euphoria from your taste and twitches beneath his tongue. He could see the way Kento subtly fucked himself against the sheets, denying himself, and looking so cool about it, but still undeniably just a man.
"Shit-- baby-- see the way Nanamin's fucking our bed, huh?...fuck, why wouldn't he-- taste so fucking good, should we even let him fuck you, hmm?"
As lights and stars fell in your vision, rutting your clit against Kento's nose, his tongue licking as deeply as he could penetrate inside your cunt, you wondered faintly, that Kento was not fucking you, but making love to you instead. You felt wholly possessed, worshipped.
With Kento at your altar, you revelled, divine and cumming over, and over, and over, lost in some blissful fever-dream. Time lost meaning as he made you fluid beneath him.
Satoru moved to stand, and, still with his face between your legs, guiding you down from another orgasm, Kento raised one impeding just-a-moment finger to Satoru. Satoru's breaths were ragged, and he released his grip on the arm of the chair, moaning weak little moans as his aching cock sat, sore and in desperate need of something softer than his own hand.
Kento kissed his way back up to your mouth, face cupped, swiping the tears from your lashes with his thumbs.
"What do you think?" He whispered, teeth nipping at your tilted throat as you panted and shivered beneath his touch, "Can I give you what you want, goddess?" You nodded, short and incoordinate, and Kento could have burst with covetous pride to feel you hook your legs up and around his back, urging him, inviting him in.
Kento growled, feeling his leaking tip ghost the puffy tight wetness of your entrance. His breath caught in his chest, pins and needles all over his hips and cock as he bit back his orgasm, his brain fighting him with the image of you with his seed dripping all over your folds.
"Like it's your first time," Kento repeated, dipping his thumb over your tongue, groaning in approval as you sucked it, doe-eyed and supple and desperate to taste him, "I'll be gentle...I promise." You shivered, born anew as he began to press his cockhead inside you, both of you balanced on a knife's edge.
Satoru could have wept; your insistence on Kento taking you in missionary, of all positions, shielded you from his view, Kento's cock about to penetrate you behind the plush of your thighs.
"Stop," Satoru ordered, voice rasping, dry, clipped, "I'm here to watch, and you're here to do as you're fucking told, Nanami."
Nanami caught how your face twisted in frustration, anger at having been interrupted. He rose one hand to plait with yours again, licking your jaw as he stroked his cockhead between your folds, teasing your clit, shivering as he slyly encouraged you to give him a pussyjob. You mewled, feeling a hot dribble of pre-cum over your clit, dripping down towards your entrance.
"I only follow one person's orders here, Gojo," Kento rumbled, pressing his slit over your hard little bud, wiggling them together with a hiss so your most sensitive spots slipped together as puzzle pieces for a moment. You felt yourself, shaking like a leaf, feeling such copious amounts of Kento's arousal seep out around the seal his slit had made over your bud. You felt dizzy, clutching Kento's beautiful, clenching arms.
The centre of your world focused so entirely on Kento, you had placed yourself into the palm of his hand, aching for him to control you in a way that was so thoroughly in defence of you.
"Besides," Kento said, pressing his cock deeper now, husky as he felt your tight, gummy walls suck him in, "you should watch her face instead of her pussy...it's the best part."
Satoru whimpered, moaning as he fucked up into his own fist, lube splattered onto his groin, white hair wet with fluids; all for the look on your face as Kento bottomed out, thick and long and filling you with his oozing perfection. Your jaw fell slack, eyes dewy as you drank in Kento's muscular form, still bound by his brown harness. You sobbed with relief at the blissful stretch of his cock within you.
"So good...not too big for you, sweetheart? So brave...move yourself around my cock when you're ready."
You gripped Kento close, your arm round his chest and gripping his harness from the back, face buried into his chest. Your sob of relief at having been filled, threatened to grow into full tears at the exquisite beauty of being possessed with no selfishness. Kento felt you, one enormous hand tangled in the back of your head, the other leaning above you, intertwined with your free hand.
Kento was stock still, mumbling into your hair, kissing your ear, as you rolled your hips upwards, sweeping your slick pussy up and down his length, fucking him as he caged you in. Kento cursed, sweating and groaning, the leather of his harness creaking as his chest strained against it. His brow furrowed, and he cupped your hip in one hand, guiding you to keep sliding your pussy around his throbbing cock, rutting deeply down into you to meet your thrusts.
Hearing your gorgeous little mewls at Kento's blunt cockhead kissing your cervix was Satoru's last straw. His hand stuttered around his cock as he threw his head back, his orgasm hurtling over him with force.
"--agghh shit-- no more, I can't-- fuck you Nanami, you piece of--piece of shit--" Satoru's seed spattered over his belly, dripping down his hand, cock and balls as he groaned, interrupted by breathless, fractured gasps. He watched Kento's hips pick up pace, and watched as you pressed your forehead to his, all honey-rich and sweat as you panted into each other.
Kento couldn't have cared less about Satoru's jealous spitting, for he was wholly possessed by a primal urge to take you, and make you his. He kissed into your belly with his cock, gasping, feeling your walls clench around him, milking so much pre-cum from him that he shook, hot and thirsty, grunting against your clamouring lips.
Kento locked your ankles behind the small of his back, tipping your hips back into a press, pushing you past your pussy's limit to take any more of him. He rutted into you hard, barely pulling back, bullying your spongy walls with savage attentions, fully feral.
"--come on, girl--such a good girl, gonna--ahhh fuck gonna--hold--hold onto me--"
Taking full advantage of Satoru's dopey post-orgasm laxness, Kento pushed himself past the point of no return, loving you greedily and with no intention to share. Kento felt his balls tighten up, his seed loaded and ready to spill.
Satoru realised a moment too late; "--Nanami--pull out--don't you fucking dare--"
Kento came with a bark, feeling his cum start to pulse into you in long, thick spurts. Satoru darted forwards, still messy with his own cum, still half-dazed. Kento slung out an arm, his fingers fixing round Satoru's throat as he grunted, deep husky moans as he continued to spurt inside you, Kento's face the picture of serenity and rage.
Fingers gripped tight around Satoru who stood, teeth bared and considering murder, Kento came down from his high, panting, still rutting lazily into you. You lay, euphoric and full of thick cum, so sticky that it coated your inner walls, clinging to your slick pussy, barely leaking out as Kento pulled out.
"Sorry," Kento huffed, voice uncharacteristically light, "not sure...what came over me. You know what it's like, Gojo."
Kento released Satoru, reaching down to swipe your hair from your eyes, his own amber and affectionate; "Want me to run you a bath?"
You laughed softly, trying to cover your blushes. Satoru gripped Kento by the shoulder, throwing him back. Kento stepped smoothly into it, still looking longingly into you like Satoru was less than the most fleeting of irritations.
"Shut the fuck up, Nanami. Get out."
Satoru climbed over you, pressing you back onto the bed. Feeling his once familiar, adored body and kisses felt so curiously alien. As if you had been overwritten by something so much...more.
Satoru mumbled sweet nothings into your throat, restraining and possessive, as he lined his cock up with your entrance. A core instinctive knowing took control, and you closed your legs with an odd finality.
As Kento did up his last button, you looked to him as his eyes caught yours, fire burning within. He stepped away with a gracious nod, and with the click of the door, your stomach fell.
For Kento had left something behind, blooming within you, and took a part of you with him, pocketing something which you would surely be obliged to follow.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
It took Satoru many years to accept his own mistake. He did not accept it, when you told him you were leaving him. He did not accept it, when Nanami opened his doors to you and your suitcases, in the wee small hours of the night. He did not accept it as he watched you bloom, belly round and full with Nanami's growing seed, Nanami's hand overlaying yours, holding you and your baby. He did not accept it as he saw something between you and Nanami, that he had never felt between himself and you.
His mistake, was that Nanami Kento would not partake in cuckolding.
For Nanami Kento was not a cuckoo at all, but a thief, of the highest calibre.
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katerina-marie · 4 days
Text
Satoru, who...
Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end
The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.
AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet
WC: 3k
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Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.
And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls down until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.
He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).
Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.
He has fallen for you bad.
Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.
One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.
Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence alone, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.
Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.
Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you chose acts as white noise. 
It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).
Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious little face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.
Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 
He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.
Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.
When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.
Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.
Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger, smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 
He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.
Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.
Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 
He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.
Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.
He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.
Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.
Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.
Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.
Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.
Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.
Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 
But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.
Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.
Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 
You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 
A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.
Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 
Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 
On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.
He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.
Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 
Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.
Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.
Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.
Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.
Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.
—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-
Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading
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katerina-marie · 4 days
Text
Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.
Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto
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Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)
Part seven of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.
Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he finally notices that his bandmate, Suguru may feel some type of way about you. Now, it's up to you to decide whether you want to come clean about your own feelings for Suguru, and your subconscious may just decide for you.
Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Suguru is hot, Suguru has piercings and tattoos amen, Choso is sweet and loyal, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, missionary, nipple play (fem receiving)
Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Just Pretend (Bad Omens), Is There Someone Else (The Weekend), Undisclosed Desires (Muse)
A/N: I'm starting to think Bad Omens ghostwrote this fic the way that entire album fits this story perfectly. Also, just for clarification, the italic texts are yours, and the bolded texts are Suguru's! The drama is getting real and it will continue to build. Enjoy ;)
Read on Ao3 if you prefer!
Or read below cut:
Things return to a semblance of normalcy. 
Choso continues to work with Curse Manipulator.
Suguru doesn’t text or call you, despite having gotten your number, and you sort of let it be.
You greet Choso when he comes home, and you’re both happy to see each other.
The two of you even have a better sex life than you’ve ever had now that he’s become bolder with you.
But it feels like you’re walking on thin ice. Microcracks are undulating beneath the weight of your steps, the frigid void of water beneath beginning to seep through. There are no indications. You just feel like something is off.
He isn’t acting like anything is wrong…but it’s almost as if things are too quiet.
This purgatory drags on for about a month until one night, when you’re home alone and you get a text from Suguru.
He noticed.
You pause as soon as you read it. He noticed? What does Suguru mean by that?
What?
I’ve been asking about you more, he asked me what was up.
Then I told him the truth.
Your heart full-on drops into the pit of your stomach.
What did you say?
I said I think you’re attractive.
Was that all?
Well, I also said I have no intention of usurping you. That I respect him and your relationship.
But I wanted to tell you because he’s probably going to bring it up.
So be prepared.
The way he’s talking, it sounds like the two of you have to cover something up. It’s like it’s a late-stage affair rather than just the metaphorical dance-around-the-fire the two of you have been engaging in.
Is it still bad? Yes. Is this text conversation proof of that? Yes, again.
Okay…
Thanks for the heads up.
Also,
I’ve been wanting to text you but I wasn’t sure what to say.
Anything is incriminating, right?
Not necessarily…you could ask me how my day was or…I don’t know, bring up a new movie or song or…
Maybe it just feels that way because of how I feel about you.
And how I know you feel about me.
It’s not innocent.
You have to set the phone down for a minute to gather your bearings. What game is he playing? You haven’t heard from him in a month and now he does this?
Your hand picks your phone back up and you type out a reply.
When you talk like that, of course it’s not.
How can I see what your face looks like right now without you being here?
What do you see?
Your eyes are heavy. There’s a weight in them. You’re probably holding my hand again.
I wish I was.
Good god, you can’t catch a break.
Should you really be flirting with me after you told my boyfriend you were attracted to me?
He just thinks it’s one-sided.
He doesn’t know you feel the same.
So now I have to pretend like it is?
You have a choice to make. Tell him you’re attracted to me or just act surprised.
You mean, lie to him either way?
What other option do you have that won’t end in disaster?
He has a point. You can’t say it’s more than attraction, then he’d catch Suguru in a lie also. He’d realize it goes deeper than how he made it seem. So what?
Be half-honest, or lie completely?
Anyways…how was your day?
The abruptness of the text has you laughing aloud in the silence of your living room. 
It was fine. How was yours?
Just worked. We’re getting close to finalizing the album, then the next steps will come.
What are the next steps?
A music video for the title track, press run, and a tour. It’s going to be our biggest album yet.
As you read it, the gravity of it all hits you. 
Choso is part of a successful band. And it’s on the trajectory to get bigger and bigger. All of the proper groundwork has been laid—they’re local stars, and with a music video and the team Suguru has secured to help with promotion, their music will find new fans all over the place. With that comes touring, traveling all over the country and even the world…it’s huge.
Wow.
I can’t believe this is all happening.
It sounds like a lot, doesn’t it?
Well, yeah. You’re going to be proper rock stars.
Haha
You’ll be along for the ride.
Choso’s going to want you there. And I will too.
You’ll see everything we do.
That sounds fun and intimidating.
It does, right?
But it’s exciting. Choso is exactly what we were missing. With him we’re going to make it.
I feel proud.
You should. 
A question pops into your mind.
Was it always your goal to have fame?
Haha, well, I admit I am a bit of a show-off.
I just think everything happened to put me in this position.
That makes sense. I feel special, getting to know you guys before you get big. I’m your first groupie.
Haha, come on, you’re more than that. So much more.
I know. But I really am a fan. Your music is all I play recently.
Yeah? What song is your favorite?
Strange. You wrote it about your life, right?
I did. It’s sort of an autobiography. I’m surprised that’s your favorite, it’s one of the only songs of ours that’s really personal.
Why are you surprised? I remember when you told me about that stuff. Hearing it in a song was beautiful.
You sound so open and honest when you’re singing.
Oh, I see…
Was I not when I told you?
No, I meant I could feel your emotions because of how you sang it.
It’s breathtaking.
When you compliment me like that, it goes straight to my head.
Coming from you, that means the world.
I’ll make more meaningful songs in the future.
You don’t have to just because it’s what I like.
No, I want to.
I have some things I want to say.
You know, you’ve inspired me a lot.
You groan out loud, laying back on the couch and rubbing at your face in frustration. What are you supposed to do with that? This doesn’t sound like ‘no intentions of usurping’. 
Luckily (or unluckily) the lock in your front door turns, indicating the return of your boyfriend. 
You close out of the messaging app and lock your phone, hoping to ignore that text the rest of the night. With that you pretend to have been watching whatever show is on television as he walks in.
Immediately, his smile is tight as he greets you. “Hey.”
Oh god, here we go.
“Hey, baby,” you reply, giving him a smile as he moves to sit beside you after removing his shoes. He gives you a kiss on the cheek, arms winding around your waist. “How was it today?”
“It was okay,” he begins, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before they flit away. “I had an interesting conversation with Suguru.”
You steel yourself. “Interesting how?”
“Well,” he hesitates, pulling away and resituating himself on the cushion beside you, fiddling with his hands for a moment. “Lately, he’s been asking a lot…about you. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But then Larue randomly said today ‘you should bring her by again, Suguru won’t shut up about her.’ I didn’t realize he spoke about you when I wasn’t around. It got me thinking…why would he be talking about you like that? Then he mentioned you again, how you haven’t been around, and then I decided to just ask him what it was about once the other two guys left.”
You take a breath. “Um, okay…and?”
“And he told me he was attracted to you. Like, straight-up. I mean, he reassured me he wasn’t going to do anything about it, but I…I don’t know. I mean, he’s Suguru. He could probably have whoever he wants. If he went after you…”
Moment of truth. Who will you be? 
“Um…” You begin, heart pounding as you find your words, “well, that’s…”
Choso’s eyes flit back to yours, waiting to hear what you have to say.
“Well, I…thought maybe he did…”
“You did?” Choso asks, “You thought he was interested in you? Since when?”
“I don’t know, I just had a feeling.” Okay, so now you are a liar. Guilt starts fortifying deep in your gut. “I-I mean, I didn’t know for sure.”
“Oh,” Choso frowns, “So…I mean…what do you think about it?”
The correct answer is to tell him there’s no chance in hell. But hell is where you currently are, and you’ve entertained Suguru enough already, so what does that do for anyone?
You sigh heavily. “To…to be honest…I mean, he is an attractive guy, but I would never leave you for him, not in a million years, Chos’.”
Choso’s face is unreadable for a second, and you immediately begin regretting what you just said.
“So…” He breathes out, brows furrowing slightly. “What I’m…hearing is that you two are attracted to each other?”
Back pedal, back pedal, back pedal.
“I meant that he’s just a good-looking guy. You know? And he’s nice, but that doesn’t compare to what you and I have. We have history and intimacy, baby, I would never let him disrupt that.”
Haven’t you already, though? Liar.
“But what if it was different? If you met him first, and then me? If you had the history and intimacy with him? Would you still want me the same?”
Can he see right through you? This has potential to blow up in your face. You need to put this fire out now. 
“It’s not that serious,” you shake your head, taking his hands, “I’m in love with you, Chos’, and there are tons of good-looking guys out there, that doesn’t mean that I like them or want to be with them!”
“So you don’t like Suguru like that? It’s just that you think he’s good-looking?”
“Right.” Wrong.
Choso sucks in a deep breath, reaching up and taking his hair out of their ties to rub at his head. “Well…I…I trust you, obviously, it’s just weird.”
“Y-yeah, that’s understandable.” 
You’re lying to the man you love. This who you are now, isn’t it? A bad person. 
“I don’t need to worry, do I?”
“No,” you say in a rush, “baby, I’m yours, okay? I love you so much. You are the best. And nothing will take me away from you.”
He looks at you for a moment before moving closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “I’m just so afraid you’ll fall out of love with me. You’re my world and it’s unhealthy how much I love you. I’d sooner let you walk all over my heart than leave me.”
Each word twists the dagger he’s lodged in your heart harder and harder. 
All you can say is, “I love you,” like an apology, squeezing him tightly in your arms. 
“I love you,” he replies, tightening his own hold on you, and despite all of the words you exchanged, it doesn’t feel like you’ve reached a resolution at all.
You’ve just dug yourself a deeper hole.
____
“I want to keep going,” Suguru stares up at you, his mouth at the line of your shirt, dangerously near the top of your breast. You’ve seen this before—you two are in your living room all alone. Choso’s at his brother’s house. This is the part where Suguru pulls away and says he won’t go further.
Except, he doesn’t do that. He pulls you onto the couch. You wind up beneath him quickly, and he doesn’t stop. His greedy hands tug your shirt down, exposing you to his eyes, and his pierced lips wrap around a nipple, large palms on your hips, gripping them like you’ll float away if he doesn’t hold you down.
You feel the bead of his tongue piercing on your stiff peak, and can’t stop the gasp of his name.
“Suguru!”
He smiles up at you, that infuriating crooked grin, his hands working expertly to get you naked. His mouth kisses, tastes, and marks any expanse of skin he can touch, and before you know it, you can’t even remember if either of you had been wearing clothes in the first place. All you feel is his hot skin on yours everywhere.
He hovers his face over yours, molten sunset eyes locked with yours.
“I’m gonna kiss you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Don’t care.”
His mouth devours yours as a parched traveler attacks an oasis, and you moan at the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his tongue on yours, and you just let go. Your hands thread into his beautiful black tresses, cupping his face, kissing him with all of the desire in the world. 
Then, he’s inside of you.
It knocks the wind out of you, dislodging the kiss so you can cry out another, “Suguru!”
He groans, and then he’s moving, thrusts coming quick and hard, like an animal mauling its prey, carnal and so so delicious, your hands find his chest, his neck, his abdomen, his arms, his hips—you want to grab onto any and every part of him but nowhere you touch is enough, you want to become one with him. 
He goes harder and you can’t stop saying his name. It’s an incantation, evoking a side of you that you’ve never known, that you’re afraid of, that you vy for.
“Suguru…” it tumbles freely, “Suguru, Suguru!”
He takes you to heights you’ve never been to before, and you feel light as air yet far away like you’re at the bottom of the ocean. He fills your lungs, it’s impossible to breathe when it’s this hot—
Your eyes snap open. A hand is on your shoulder. Eyes are on yours. 
But they don’t belong to Suguru.
You’re in bed with Choso, and your blood suddenly runs cold. 
You were dreaming. 
The resignation in his eyes says it all.
“You…were saying his name in your sleep.”
---
A/N: evil cliffhanger oopsies...hope you enjoyed!! Also, I changed the cover art for the story 'cause it looked a little too cringe. This one is still cringe but tastefully so. Okay, d out!
Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!
Taglist (comment here or my masterlist if you want to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod , @username23345 , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @forest-haven , @midnaamethyste , @bihanspookies , @mysteriouskiller1 , @liyahthings , @makingtimemine
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katerina-marie · 7 days
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Taking Care of a Tired Sukuna
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Sukuna has had a long day.
Well, night.
Morning.
Fuck.
Working construction had been twisting up his sleeping schedule. At this point, Sukuna was starting to feel it in his body; in the strain in his muscle, and the aches and pains that randomly gripped him.  
They had him working on a new project that could only be done at night, while the public was off the main roads, and that meant his new work hours were starting from sometime in the middle of the evening and ending in the morning or the mid-afternoon. Being nocturnal wouldn't be so bad if his commute home wasn't during rush hour. The traffic was always worse when he just wanted to crawl onto his couch and fall asleep there. And when he does come home at the end of the day - he's aching, exhausted, and every bone in his body is vibrating with the noise from a jackhammer or the hum of a forklift.
Sukuna has always liked something that keeps him busy, interested, something that tests his strengths- so, he can't say that he hates the job, but he does wish that it wouldn't occupy so much of his time. He's wont to forget things when he's so wrapped up in a new task.
Like today, for example, when he finally swings his truck around the front of his apartment building, barely making it off the freeway without murdering someone, and he spots your car parked there in his spot.
He starts a bit, his sleep deprived brain suddenly spinning as memory serves him. 
That's right. You were supposed to come over today after he got off of work and spend the night- and he didn't plan a damn thing. There's no flowers in the backseat, he didn't stop to grab lunch for the two of you, he doesn't even have anything in his fridge for dinner tonight, besides a few forgotten beers tucked away in the side door.
As Sukuna searches for a parking spot much further down the street, he knows he should be disappointed with himself, but he can't help the touch of excitement that's suddenly dissolving the exhaustion from his bones. Sometimes, Sukuna resents the fact that you manage to reduce him to this. He hates that he can't control that his heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing you again, like he's in some sappy romance novel.
But it was the hold you had on him, and he was starting to accept it.
~
You got to Sukuna's apartment about two hours before he was scheduled to be home. It was a day off for you, and you woke up with butterflies fluttering around in your chest.
You were giddy to see him. You always were. And not a single butterfly has died in your heart-space for him since the moment you met Sukuna around two years ago. He has tended to each of them since then with his gentle but stubborn touch, although, he would never admit it.
You adored him for that.
It's still early in the morning when you use the key he had made for you to unlock his front door. Immediately upon stepping in, you're hit with how dark his studio is. The sun had risen over the horizon hours ago, and yet, the only hint of its light came from a small gap in Sukuna's blackout curtains. When you pull them back, you turn around and wince at the room behind you.
Yep, he's working too hard.
There's construction tools all over the house; sitting on the counter, in the sink, on his bed-stand, there's even a huge oil covered machine beside the front door that you nearly trip on in your trek over to the curtain. His coveralls and work clothes are strewn across the living room like he's been too exhausted to even make it to his bed at the end of his days, which is not very far from the couch. Meanwhile, his bedroom and the kitchen look nearly immaculate, telling you he hasn't cooked in days and confirming your suspicions about his sleeping arrangements. You wander over to his fridge and pop it open, sighing hopelessly when you're greeted with nothing inside.
Good thing he has you. 
~
By the time he makes it home it's around one in the afternoon. You've got his laundry hanging on the clothesline outside, more in the washing machine, and all of his tools and odds and ends have been sorted and dusted clean. You've opened every window he has, and cool, fresh air sweeps away the oppressed darkness his apartment held before. Everything was back in equilibrium. 
When his keys jingle outside the door, you're just finishing up the last of folding his laundry. Sukuna steps inside, and your heart aches at how drained he looks despite the ways his eyes widen as he peers around the room in surprise. His clothes are covered in dust from the construction site, and there's a smear of dirt on his cheek that makes him look like a chimney sweep. There's a tool in his hand that looks rather heavy, straining the muscles in his arm, but he seems to have momentarily forgotten to put it down. Half moon circles are embedded under his eyes, but they only bring out the intensity of his gaze. 
"Hi 'Kuna?" You chime, calling his attention to rest on you.
He blinks, taking a moment to process the situation. You don't recognize the glimmer in his eyes then, and part of you starts to sweat at the thought of him taking this all wrong. Sukuna had never been particularly picky with you, but vice versa, you had never done something like this for him before. He never gave you the opportunity, after all. Out of the two of you, Sukuna was usually the one who was always effortlessly put together.
"You... cleaned..." He notes. 
You swallow, "I-I did, I didn't move things around though. Just tried to put things back. Your laundry is right outside and I got you some groceries-" Sukuna drops the tool in his hand without warning, and you start talking faster, your voice raising a pitch as he starts towards you. "I guess I should have asked. Maybe texted- no, you hate texting. Maybe called-"
“Did you clean the paint specks off of my air compressor?” He was standing in front of the machine beside the front door, which you painstakingly made sure not to ruin in your cleansing, despite having no idea what it was. 
When he looks at you for an answer, continuing to close the distance between the two of you. You swallow the rock in your throat. “Too much?” 
He’s made his way across the room and his surprised expression finally settles into a familiar hungry grin. He grabs you by the hem of your jeans, yanking you roughly towards him. You catch yourself on his chest, making a small noise of surprise. When you look up to scold him, Sukuna is an inch away from your face, his lips almost brushing yours, save for half a centimeter of space between them. His breath is a whisper of winter-mint, you can taste it in the close proximity as he greedily takes your own breath away. 
“Off. Now.” He growls, but his fingers are already undoing the button clasped in the front. “I’m about to fuckin’ eat you, sweet thing.” 
~
You end up skipping lunch, but you're well satisfied a few hours later. A certain hunger: satiated. Sukuna is resting peacefully beside you. You can hear his even breathing against the sound of the cicadas outside, screaming in through the windows. Seeing him so content, sets your heart at ease and you release a sigh of relief. 
Now, to end the night, it was time to slip out of bed without him noticing to finish folding his laundry. 
Or so you thought. 
As you carefully peel back the blankets and try to sneak off the side of the mattress a warm pair of fingers loop themselves around your pantyline, effectively preventing you from going anywhere. Guiltily, you peek over your shoulder to see Sukuna glaring at you with half of his face still smushed into his pillow, genuinely disgruntled with the fact that you were trying to leave his bed. You can't help but chuckle.
"I'm just gonna go grab your laundry." You reassure him, brushing a tousled tuft of his hair out of his eyes. The knot between his brows deepens.
"Let me do that later. C'mere. " He tugs on your panty line, confident that you'll be submissive for him.
The sun outside was casting tall shadows on the walls of his bedroom and the glow was now deep and rich, telling you that it was preparing to set. You didn't want Sukuna's laundry on the balcony all night, which is what you were sure would happen if you didn't go and grab it now.
You hear a thread rip in your pantyline interrupting your contemplation and, quickly, you grab his wrist, squeezing it as a signal for him to let go.
He continues to hold fast, his brow cocking in a silent dare.
"'Kuna, come on." You try, "Lemme take care of you-"
"You've been doing nothing but take care of me all day." He scoffs, like the idea of it is absurd to him. Rarely does Sukuna allow you the opportunity to show him as much care and adoration as you have today. Being doted on was not typically something he enjoyed. You knew that, and that's how you also knew that he was exhausted to his bones that day. "Get your ass back here."
There's a tug again, and another thread snaps somewhere. You pout at him, already having the foresight that this pair of panties wasn't going to last you long either. Your partner had the tendency to rip them off of you, and this wouldn't be the first pair to become a shred of what they once were. To be fair, he was also known for giving you his credit card and telling you to go buy "some things for him to see you in", so it would be at no cost to you. But, you happened to like this pair.
Sukuna watches you consider your options silently, unrelenting in his hold on your lace. When you peek up at his gaze, testing one more time, you know you've already lost.
"Don't make me chase after you." He warns, the promise of your inevitable surrender is evident in the predatory glint of his eyes. If Sukuna had a tail at that moment, it would be swaying back and forth, preparing for a pounce. "It's been a while since the last time I had you tied up. I do miss those sweet little bruises we left on your wrists."
You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention upon his recollection. The last time Sukuna had you in ropes, you had to call off of work the next day. Your backside stings with the memory, but half of you can't help but ache for it too. Tied up in Sukuna's bed while he was forced to care for the boneless pile that was his girlfriend, drunk off of his lovemaking? That wasn't the worst place to be.
But, on the other hand, you could tell how exhausted he was with the new construction project at his job. You have a flashback of showering with him at the end of the night and scrubbing sawdust out of his hair. Having to gently prod and kiss him awake as he fell asleep standing up in front of you. You were adamant that you weren't going to do anything to tire him further tonight. 
Before you can properly give in, Sukuna must have decided that you were taking much too long to obey him. 
His other hand reaches over and loops around your waist, pulling you backwards into the soft cushion of the pillows and easily flipping the two of you so that he’s mounted above you. In your surprised stupor, he collects both of your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head. 
"You've forgotten how to follow directions again, kitten." His murmur is like velvet against your ear. His teeth graze over his favorite spot on the nape of your neck, where he’s already tortured it with his teeth and hickies. You didn’t realize how raw the skin was until he bites you there, drawing a whimper from your throat. 
 "Let's remind you."
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katerina-marie · 7 days
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tw: inexperienced & irresponsible choso, unprotected sex
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✧˚ · . 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is apologizing profusely while you repeatedly tell him to pull out, the two of you panting and moaning into each other’s mouth. He has your hips in a bruising hold so you can’t squirm away, your own hands digging into his shoulders leaving tiny red indents behind.
He feels himself getting close to release and he knows you told him to finish on your stomach, but he can't pull out.
Your pussy feels good, so good, it drives him insane. His entire body is on autopilot, tears prickling at his waterline and lips repeatedly chanting "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i love you" as he keeps going, rutting his hips up in desperation, his strong arms locking around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest.
“C-Choso, baby, s-slow down plea- fuck please,” you stutter out, one hand moving from his back to thread into the hair atop his head and tug — your lips crashing together in a messy, uncoordinated kiss, your lips constantly parting for gasps of air and moans.
He hopes you can forgive him. He hopes you won't be mad at him. Your sweet broken cries of pleasure are driving him crazy and the thought of pulling out when he's so close to the edge is inconceivable to him. He feels so good and he knows he's being selfish, but he just can't pull out…
And truth be told, those breathy moans and desperate whiny sounds he makes are so fucking hot you can't even be mad at him.
He needs to fill you up and you let him, your eyes rolling back in your head as his hips finally come to a stop, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as he comes; warm, thick cum pumping into you in long seemingly never ending spurts.
You know there'll be consequences to that, but you'll deal with them later. Plan B exists for a reason, after all.
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note: this is the best I can do right now. :( i'm really sorry for the lack of content. I've never felt so drained of inspiration as I do right now. I have 20-ish wips that I struggle to finish because of this writers block.
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katerina-marie · 8 days
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﹆₊ 中毒‧₊˚ ADDICTED TO YOU, KAMO CHOSO
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ touch starved for 150 years. wc, 1.31K. dark mode recommended.
␥ note. i got this idea from a comic strip i saw on twitter by one of my fav chosoyuki ship artists. the second i saw it i knew i had to get on here and type something up. (also i finally figured out how to change the font colors by myself). hope ya enjoyyyyy. reblog to support meeee
␥ tags. modern AU [still a curse], female anatomy, fluff, no smut, etc. lmk if i missed anything
␥ misc. masterlist AO3
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it's been three years since you and choso started dating, but you still can't get enough of the way he reacts to your touch. whenever your soft hands brush against his body, you notice him tensing up involuntarily—almost as if it's a reflex. these small, shy gestures from him make you feel incredibly special as you know that it means he trusts you and is comfortable around you. you adore the fact that he still gets flustered around you, even after all this time.
upon your first encounter with choso, you couldn't help but notice his quiet demeanor. it became quite evident that he wasn't much of a talker, and as a result, he often found himself feeling isolated in public areas. except for his conversations with his brother, itadori, there were only one or two other individuals with whom choso conversed. this lack of social interaction left him quite lonely, and it was evident that he struggled to form connections with others.
it was quite apparent that you showed a genuine interest in him from the very beginning. despite being attractive, he always seemed to blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed. it was as if his presence never made any significant impact on anyone.
however, your keen eye picked up on his unique qualities and personality, which made him stand out amongst the rest. he was grateful for your attention, and it was evident that he appreciated it deeply. your interest in him not only boosted his confidence but also gave him a sense of purpose and belonging.
as you approached choso, he flinched and tensed up, clearly caught off guard by your sudden proximity. it was evident that he was not used to being touched outside of battle. however, as you placed your hands on his body, he visibly blushed, his cheeks redder than ever before. he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. for the first time in 150 years, someone had dared to touch him outside of battle, and he was clearly taken aback by the unexpected physical contact.
choso found the entire incident quite peculiar and perplexing. it has been quite some time since that day, yet he can still vividly recall the exact spot where you placed your hand—right on his shoulder. the sensation lingers, almost as if the touch had left a mark deep within him. despite his best efforts, he is unable to shake off the feeling of unease that has settled within him ever since.
your touch is something that he would never forget, and if he said he didn't enjoy it, he'd be lying. you had an undeniable ability to leave a lasting impression on him.
you were working on an important project and stayed up until the early hours of the morning. as the clock struck four, you found yourself lying on the floor next to choso's futon. he was sleeping peacefully, his hair fanned out over the pillow beneath him.
your sleep was restless, and you moved around a lot, which could be quite annoying to others. though, choso didn't seem to mind too much, at least not tonight. suddenly, you accidentally hit the back of his head with your elbow, causing him to wake up abruptly. he looked at you with a stern expression, his lips pursed tightly together as he tried to regain his composure.
choso observed you as you slept and wondered why you hadn't been working on your project that was due soon. his eyelids narrowed into slits, and he rolled his eyes in frustration. he couldn't understand how someone could waste valuable time like this when there was important work to be done.
"hey," choso called your name. "wake-"
before choso could reprimand you for falling asleep, he could feel your arms slide underneath his and wrap around his torso, just beneath his chest. your warm breath against his neck was oddly comforting. choso lay on his futon, flustered and surprised as your grip grew tighter around his body.
the sensation that he was experiencing was completely new to him. it reminded him of the first time you had touched him gently on the shoulder. he let out a deep sigh and turned over, his face sinking slowly into the softness of his pillow. the feeling lingered, and he couldn't help but wonder what it meant. he wasn't sure if it was a sign of something new and exciting, or if it was something to be worried about. the uncertainty weighed heavily on his mind as he drifted off to sleep.
sunlight beamed brightly through the bedroom as morning approached. an alarm from your phone could be heard before instantly shutting it off. while you were sprawled out over the futon, choso was pressed up against you, his arms loosely wrapped around your body and his head buried into the crook of your neck.
as the sunlight filtered through the windows, both of you groaned in unison, your eyes squinting to shield themselves from the bright light in the bedroom. you exchanged a brief glance before you shot up from the bed, stretching your arms and letting out a loud yawn. the warmth of the sun's rays seemed to be beckoning you to start the day.
you found yourself rousing from a sudden nap, feeling disoriented and a bit groggy. you rubbed the tiredness from your eyes, trying to regain your bearings, when you noticed choso sitting beside you, his head propped up with his elbow against the pillow. it seemed that you had blacked out without realizing it.
"damn, i wasn't planning on falling asleep. i didn't even realize i went to sleep until now." you yawn again, holding your hand over your mouth to suppress how loud it is. "how come you didn't wake me up?"
as you locked eyes with him for the second time that morning, he couldn't help but feel a sudden rush of memories from the previous night flooding his mind. his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he relived those moments in his head, but those feelings quickly dissipated when he forcefully broke contact with you. he rolled his eyes, perhaps trying to shake off that awkwardness and bring himself back to the present moment.
"i was asleep, how could i wake you up?" choso replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "and how did you end up next to my futon?"
as you sat beside the futon next to choso, you couldn't help but notice his attempts to seem annoyed with your behavior. though, as the night wore on, it became clear that he was struggling to stay awake. eventually, he succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep, his bare torso exposed to the cool air of the room. seeing him shiver, you gently pulled the sheets over him, tucking him in with care. he had been hugging his own body to keep warm.
"don't know...i was so bored that i didn't know what to do with myself," you replied as you finally stood up, giving yourself another good stretch and kissing choso on his head, gently tugging his jet black locks as you did.
the experience of being hugged after a prolonged period of 150 years was a truly transformative one for him. the male had initially feigned irritation at you succumbing to your sleepiness and falling asleep, but in truth, he was struggling to contain his desire to prolong the embrace.
it wasn't because he was trying to be helpful or responsible in any way, but rather because he simply wanted to bask in the warmth and comfort of the embrace for just a little bit longer. the sensation of having his body hugged after such a long time had shifted his perspective on many things, leaving him feeling a sense of awe and wonder at the power of human connection.
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⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.
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katerina-marie · 8 days
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'Two + One' Masterlist
Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto
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Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫
Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. His previous band broke up and he’s been looking to join a new one ever since, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the band. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?
Relevant tags: love triangle, sexual tension, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, unprotected sex, creampie, PWP/Porn With Plot, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet yet confident flirt, Suguru has piercings and tattoos, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity
List of chapters:
It's just nerves.
More than I dare to think about.
When the curtains call time.
You know you’re my weakness.
Tell me where we are in a fallen star.
Poppy red.
Comment to be added to my taglist for updates!
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katerina-marie · 8 days
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This is a Satoru Gojo Appreciation post. This man really deserves so much love. Just take a look at him because he’s so god damn beautiful.
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katerina-marie · 8 days
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Today I woke up thirsty
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katerina-marie · 8 days
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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚
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♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡
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- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]
on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 
after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.
fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good
he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.
in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.
the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”
the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 
when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.
the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”
you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”
the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”
you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.
he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 
you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”
he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”
you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 
when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 
but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.
your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 
“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 
he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 
“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.
you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.
“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”
his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 
you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.
there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 
when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”
in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 
he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.
“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]
you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.
you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-
you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 
but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 
you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 
toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.
now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.
“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 
you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 
“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 
“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”
“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 
you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 
“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 
you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”
“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 
“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 
one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 
one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 
but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 
“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 
“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.
“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 
you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.
“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 
you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.
“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”
you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”
he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”
“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.
“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.
“clearly,” you interject.
“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.
“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 
“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?
“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 
“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.
“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.
the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 
his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”
“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 
“whatever you want,” he answers instead.
you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.
“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 
“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”
and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?
“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 
“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 
“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”
“and do you?” you ask.
his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.
“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.
“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 
“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 
“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.
you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)
“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”
“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 
“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 
“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”
“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”
you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 
“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]
being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 
like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can��t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.
but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.
so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 
but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 
yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 
you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 
and it works for a while.
but not forever.
three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 
you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.
“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.
“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.
“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.
“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 
you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 
“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”
it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”
“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 
you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 
“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.
“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.
“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”
“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”
he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.
“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.
“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.
“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.
“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”
“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 
he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”
“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 
“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 
“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 
he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.
“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.
he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 
“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.
“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”
even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 
he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 
why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]
you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 
you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?
he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.
you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 
when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”
“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 
he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”
you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”
“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 
“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.
the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 
you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”
he nearly comes inside of you right there.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 
you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 
but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 
it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 
you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.
and then one night you can’t find your keys. 
you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 
when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”
you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”
he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 
you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”
“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 
you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”
from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”
“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.
he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”
“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 
15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 
your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 
you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.
“how do you know?” he asks.
“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”
“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.
you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 
eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.
“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 
he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”
you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”
it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 
it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.
in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.
you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 
you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 
you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”
you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 
“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”
“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 
he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 
and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.
you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 
nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]
“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 
you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 
nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)
he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 
he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”
you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”
“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”
“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”
it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 
now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”
“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 
he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.
“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”
he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”
you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”
“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 
“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”
“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 
he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 
you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 
“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”
you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 
“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 
“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:
>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby
<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)
>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????
<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!
>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 
<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(
>> nami <3 >> goodbye.
<< read << :(
>> nami <3 >> i love you
<< read << :)
you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 
arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 
he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”
if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 
he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 
by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 
“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 
he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 
“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 
everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 
it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 
when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 
you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 
the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 
“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 
he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 
“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 
sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 
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♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP
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ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)
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