Chubbymarshies - Tumblr Blog

satoru- I’ll make it fit- gojo and the smug grin that tugs at the corners of hips lips as he tries to bully the last couple of inches of his fat cock inside of you. its a tight fit but he'll make it work. he always does.

"its... its not gonna f-fit, toru" you whine, attempting to push your way up the bed, and escape the painful stretch as satoru’s cock fills you up. you can feel him in your belly and it’s really making it hard to think straight. your hand comes down in a futile attempt to push at his abs, and satoru cant help but sigh.

the two of you go through this every night. every night he has to hear you gone on and on about how he's too big, how he won't fit but every night you're betrayed by your own cunt, that seems to suck him in deeper and deeper despite your words.

"baby" he coos as he swats your hand away from him and pushes in just a little deeper, trying to keep himself from just pushing you down and forcing you to take it, like his horny brain is screaming at him to do.

he brings his thumb down to rub messy circles on your sticky clit to try and take your attention away from the stinging pain in your core. he can tell it works when he hears you moan, your head thrown back as your walls squeeze down tightly around him.

"just relax, and i'll make it fit like i always do" he thrusts his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you and allowing you to pull him down flush against your chest as your arms scramble for purchase around his neck.

soon, the pain from the stretch turns into white hot pleasure as satoru pulls out and pushes right back in, deeper and deeper than the last until he’s finally all the way in, keeping up the assault on your swollen clit.

you’re so lost in the pleasure by this point that you don’t even realize he’s finally bottomed out until he’s forcing your attention down to where the two of you are connected when he grinds up against you, letting his cock drag along your walls.

you look down to the bump that appears and disappears in your tummy with each slow drag of satoru’s hips, breath hitching when he presses down on it. t

“See baby, told you I’d make it all fit.”

─── 飛雄 HE LIKES TO HOLD YOU, sling his arms around your shoulders, press his knee to your knee, crowd into your personal space; he likes to nose into the hollow of your neck, the warm, soft spot behind your ear, even if it makes you squirm away from him, he'd just pull you back and grumble at you to stay still, to stay close.

because he'd always want you close, wouldn't he? always want you within arm's reach, because tobio is nothing if not needy, nothing if not persistent in his petulant want for closeness, for the satisfying friction of skin on skin, for the warm tingle of goosebumps that chase up the length of your arms whenever he presses his lips to your cheek, your neck, the bare skin of your shoulder.

and he'd drink in the way you laugh, the tiny puff of breath before your gasping inhale — his name falling from your lips like a wish or a prayer.

"t-tobio!"

"what?"

he revels in the flush working into your cheeks, his eyes half-lidded in the starveling dark of this izakaya the jva's booked out for the night, the two and a half beers he's had fizzling in his stomach just enough to make his body feel light, to tug at the dwindling edges of his self-restraint till it's fraying. he pulls you into his chest, biting down a smirk at the shiver that shakes down your entire body as you peer up at him with dark, curious eyes.

"people... people will see!"

tobio frowns in earnest then, cocking his head as he weighs the implications. he blinks down at you.

"so?"

but before you can protest again, he bends down to catch your lips in his, humming against your lips, satisfaction unfurling in his chest as he feels you go molten in his arms. he pulls back to trace a thumb along your bottom lip, a dull pounding at the back of his mind, telling him that maybe, just maybe it's time to beg off from this party. he shoves the nagging feeling away for the comfort of pressing his forehead to yours, tracing a finger along the plush of your cheek.

"'s not like people don't know you're mine."

nanami kento is such a decent man, a gentleman, the perfect man and everything, but you would’ve never guessed that he fucks, hard. he looks so brute too — the veins around his forehead swell, on his neck too. his face gets very red. he grunts a lot and speaks very little — usually short requests like “open” or “turn around”, especially when he’s been manhandling you too much prior to that. he spits in your mouth and sometimes he grabs you by the hair to make you look at him while he ruts into you in primal fashion. but even so there’s a certain note of tenderness in his harshness. he pulls you in for a kiss — and it’s soft, and it’s delicate, in complete contrast with his otherwise brute pace. then he pulls away and cups your cheeks inside his palms, his lips press on your forehead. like he’s apologizing to you, that you get to see this side of him. but there’s not much he can do about it. you are the reason for him to be like this in the first place

still sat here thinking about the gojo in my head who looks at you with those all seeing eyes- never wavering off your face while he guides his hand up and down your cock the first time he lets you touch him.

it’s always been him touching you up to this point; and you don’t know what finally made him break- maybe it was the eye roll you gave him when asked if you could touch him and he responded with a;

“sorry angel- it’s too big, wouldn’t wanna scare ya off.”

turning to walk away before he has you slingshot back in his stupidly long arms- kissing the top of your head like he’s apologizing despite the laugh rolling from the center of his chest. vibrating your cheek cause he’s basically crushing you in his arms.

“fine, fine- but don’t say i didn’t warn you.” gojo huffs, despite not meaning any of the attitude behind it.

he wasn’t wrong when he said any of it- it’s why he’s watching so closely now. looking to make sure you’re steady when his fingers unbuckle his belt, finally freeing the cock you’ve only dreamed of seeing.

it’s big- trying to keep your mouth from popping open the second his weepy tip drops up and down from the force of being unconfined. angry and red, leaky; throbbing when your hand twitches to make a move despite being almost scared of it.

but hes quick to grab it, equally veiny hand touching himself in smooth strokes- pretty eyelashes blinking to see you. leaning back and pitching his head to moan up at the ceiling when you squirm in utter want.

coming back, finally calm enough- keeping a level head for the both of you.

pale hand reaching for your own hand dwarfed in his- almost gently coaxing your fingers around his length.

it almost makes you mad, the fact that they don’t close around his thick cock.

“- what you wanted?” he mumbles, barely catching on to his words because you’re busy running your hand up and down his length.

any fight gone from you because he’s well within his rights to be so cocky, it’s just not fair that he’s this endowed. so you nod.

not expecting the bob of his cock in your hand, or the hot roll of precum painting the side of your index finger now. wondering where his demeanor has gone, but you see the redness of his cheeks, painted at the tips of his ears too- see the way his stomach contracts under the patch of white, almost translucent hair laying there.

“ah, i like you like this, baby.” gojo murmurs, shaking his head before reaching for you- prying your poor hand away from him before tugging you into his lap.

“you can play with me later- want you like this.” he almost whispers, cockiness gone- peeled away with the honesty behind your words and actions; pliant under his eyes.

“apologize”

the word rang through your dizzy and blurry head- trying to breathe while your cheek pressed down onto pillows with every swing of nanami’s hips. you hadn’t seen his face for the better part of half an hour now.

having used every shaky word you were allowed to use in his presence with slip ups like these.

too needy, begging and vying for his attention so badly it slipped you into an uneasy and frankly snappy attitude. directing it to everyone except for him… until he stood directly in front of you with inquisitive questions as to why a pout was painted on your lips. arms crossed and straining against the pressed shirt that had absolutely no give.

heart sinking down to your tummy when your answer was uncharacteristically sour and borderline mean. accusing your sweet, overworking man of prioritizing work over you- lips snapped shut when he stepped forward and promptly pressed his fingers on either side of your cheeks and squeezing tight enough that there was a panic crawling up the base of your skull. hand immediately coming to try and pry his hand off before you thought better.

settling for the way he tugged you away and brought you to the point you were currently at- screaming and crying into the pillow saturated with tears and drool he had mercilessly fucked out of you.

messy cock bullying your poor cunt now after he deemed your mouth raw enough; ensuing you’d think twice about speaking to him like that.

he was good to you, patient- understanding when you got into your head over the silliest things and speaking before thinking. he could dismiss that; but he had been strung too tight, already missing you like you were him and being received in a manner where your kindness wasn’t there struck a cord within him that he preferred to swallow back.

but it was fine, he’d be here to straighten out any attitude you’d catch with him.

smiling when he saw you try and look back at him, knowing your lips were still sore and swollen from his thick cock previously. eyes barely able to meet his, rolling back every time he stopped and pressed his hips into the fat of your ass down so hard he knew it hurt.

stomach clenching with the painted look of hurt painted your pretty face.

“apologize for making me treat you like this.”

nanami spoke, reaching down to grab one swell of fat- spreading you open to see for himself the spattered wetness of orgasms ruined circling the base of his cock.

trying to keep the shiver that had him audibly groan down when your whole being spasmed at the words he directed towards your barely lucid self.

letting you suck in tufts of air before your lips trembled trying to form every syllable.

“‘m sorry.” it was warbled, every letter shaky and pitchy. a pathetic attempt in the midst of his hips pistoning in and out of you, swallowing after every word with the feeling that his cock itself was in your throat.

“nanami- ‘m sorry.” you whimpered, shame and embarrassment curling so tight in your stomach you could mistake it for a hot orgasm, ripped away when he finally ceased.

finally curled his body down to feel your heated skin, hand kept at the base of your neck but this time moving your head to bring your lips to his own. kissing you like he intended the first time he came back to you.

sweet and warm, silently apologizing in his own right for how he’d handled it- not regretting a single thing, but apologizing for the act itself.

“it’s okay, sweetheart- i’m here.” he whispered.

“good now, yeah?” nanami wondered, waiting for the nod of your head before finally lifting off you- eager himself to give you everything you wanted. knowing it was his fault for indulging you, especially like this.

waiting with a salivating mouth for the sight and feel of every messy orgasm he’d fuck out of you yet.

a small piece of work in where toji shows you how he loves you.

dom! toji + oral (male receiving) + pet names + praise + lots n lots of fluff + fingering (female receiving) + brief mention of subspace + breeding + mating press + f! reader

toji always loves you.

but he loves you just a little more when you’re on your knees- eyes barely looking into his own because you’re distracted elsewhere. and usually that would warrant him tilting your face up to meet his gaze- but now, when you’re concentrating on the veins leading down to his cock and leaving wet kisses against them, he’ll forgive it.

toji always loves you.

but he can’t help the pull on his heart when you whine and plead with him to let you have just a taste of his cock- pulled back with a firm hand and chuckles coming from deep in his chest. shushing any desperate whines with the forceful intrusion of his slicked and swollen cockhead, because denying himself from you is just as painful.

he always loves you,

but makes it known out loud when he catches the stray tears falling from your eyes with every shove- cock curving down the tight heat of your throat, easy for him get lost. trying his hardest to keep the timing of each thrust just slow enough so you can pull in shaky and desperate breaths.

and you love toji,

when after all of this- after sitting there pliant and warm with a throbbing need. waiting for him to come down, after feeling the pulse of every heavy string of cum down your throat so deep you can’t even taste it. toji always treats you like an angel.

hands shaking, but strong- thick and calloused; make reassuring pases of thankful and heavy pets across your cheeks and forehead. letting you suck on his limp cock slowly sliding out of your mouth, scoffing at the fact that you still try and greedily keep him in.

“that’s enough, angel.” he murmurs- trying to walk you down from a high that leaves you light and only thinking of him.

“you’ll get more later.” toji huffs, reaching down for you- proving with an immense strength that it’s not a problem for him, even after cumming so hard his ever towering form shook.

you love him,

for the way he walks both of you to your bed- hands lingering over scarred shoulders, feeling the movement of every coiled muscle under the softness of your fingertips.

and you both love each other-

for the way this is a daily reoccurrence; you- waiting for him after hours of not knowing if he’s okay or not. and him always coming back with muscled arms too eager to feel you between them when he knows your here waiting and wanting.

quickly helping with the simmering heat still building between your legs- fingers tracing every soft piece of skin that he loves so much, guilt nestled in his stomach with the way he knows he’ll never love or do this with anyone else.

wondering how long his love will last- if you’ll stay here with him despite the things he’s done and will do.

and maybe he knows the answer- watching how you bow your body towards thick fingers, fucking you as if it was his cock. trying to kiss away the pleads of, “more.” wanting to show you that he can love you slow.

“pretty girl.” he whispers, not knowing if you can even hear him above the wet squelching of his palm hitting rhythmically against your swollen clit. fingers curling into shaky fists against his chest.

“toji.” you cry, suddenly hit with an orgasm you can barely see through with the way he looks at you- an eyebrow quirking up while he looks down at the mess seeping down his palm.

“ah, good girl.” toji praises, taking a second to lick at his fingers before giving you a taste- shoving them unceremoniously into your mouth, doing this for himself, unable to keep the want of seeing your swollen lips stretch over his thick fingers away.

mouth watering before leaning into you once more, tongue swiping a clear path into your mouth. biting and sucking while his cock throbs against your thigh- hard once more.

he knows your love will last,

when the only way he can think of fucking you is with your twitching legs perched up on his shoulders. barely taking in the time to marvel at the way there’s a ring formed around his cock with your cum, steadily dripping down onto his swollen balls.

he knows it has to- because there’s only one thing on his mind when you’re folded down neatly into the bed. trying to shove his cock further into you- even when the press of his cockhead against your cervix has your whole body seize. convinced that there’s more to you, making sure that every rope of cum stays where it belongs.

“you want it, yeah?” he grunts, black hair sweeping against his eyes, sweat dripping down them.

“yes.” you breathe-

and toji damn near croons.

knowing that even when you can barely take it, you still want everything he gives you.

head tipped back briefly, swallowing hard because- fuck you can’t be real. a glutton for pain in the same way he’s a glutton for wanting to keep you full of his cum.

marked permanently for him- wanting to show everyone who lays their eyes on you, that this is how he loves you.

when they get caught taking pervy pics of you

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: suggestiveness, crack, fluff

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

nanami kento never intended for your relationship to be the first page of his newest journal. he didn't even notice when he began documenting it with a black ink pen in a plain leather notebook—writing down the moment you finally agreed to be his, as if you hadn’t been smitten by him from the first time you laid eyes on him.

each passing page became a piece of you. his dilemma on buying you flowers filled the 14th page, and by the 34th, there was a polaroid of you holding your favorite flowers—this time, he knew with confidence. your trips together occupied a few more pages, and even more were dedicated to the places he dreamed of taking you. from losses to love, nanami wrote it all down. it was his best way of keeping you—of keeping what you shared. he wanted your love to remain forever, not only in his heart but also in his hands.

when the wedding bells finally rang and he wore a suit unlike his usual ones, nanami kento stood before you, journal in hand. he read from it, a love documented from the beginning to what felt like the end of the beginning. his vows were written as though he'd known all along that he would marry you. but no, his journal didn’t just record the start of your relationship or the journey leading up to that day.

what nanami kento had not expected was that he would end up documenting your entire story.

as he began the last page with your name, followed by a comma, he wrote down everything he planned for your future together—plans he wanted to set in motion as soon as he returned from his mission. plans he would have given to you immediately after.

"let me take you to malaysia?"

you read over and over again, desperately hoping for more to follow, for another page to turn. but there were no more words. no more pages. and nanami’s voice, his presence, would no longer carry past this page.

yet, it’s hard to be angry with him. because, in the end, nanami was always a gentleman. whether knowingly or not, he left you one final letter—a letter filled with love, just like every page in his journal. because maybe, just maybe, the journal wasn’t for him to keep your love. maybe it was for you to keep his—not only in your heart but in your hands, after all.

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your older boyfriend, satoru, shows you just how much he adores you in his private office <3

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x virgin!female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). smut, pwp. fīngering. multiple ōrgàsms; overstimulation. mention of corruption kink. dry hūmping. nicknames ‘princess, baby, beautiful’. pls ignore any grammar errors xx

“heh, don’t look at me. look at yourself, princess,” satoru chuckles, easily noticing how your head is tilted in attempt to watch him as he gets you off. you’re sitting on his thighs with your legs spread, shamelessly allowing him to finger you in his office.

your shaky eyes dart down to your dripping cunt—clearly seeing how it’s got a mind of its own. it’s squeezing satoru’s long fingers as he moves them in the speed of light. your limbs are shaking by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving.

“the-the door,” you hiccup. you hadn’t locked the door behind you when you walked into satoru’s office. you definitely wouldn’t want any of his colleagues to walk in on you. though, that didn’t seem to worry your boyfriend. all he’s focusing on at the moment is your perfect pussy taking in his middle and ring finger.

satoru’s glossy lips are parted and covered in spit. he has to lick up the drool from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t dirty your opened blouse. he’s quite literally salivating at the sight and feeling of your warm cunt. . .

“the others ‘re busy, they won’t come in as long as you keep your pretty voice down,” satoru promises you in a smooth tone, blue eyes wide with fascination as he stares down at your pussy.

he’s always imagined what it’d be like to be inside of you. what it would feel like to hold you in his arms and make love to you without holding himself back— to show you a world you have yet to discover.

satoru wants to be the first one to do that, though he’ll wait until you’re ready. for now, he’s completely satisfied with just a taste of heaven.

“fuck, baby, she’s beautiful,” satoru praises your delicate pussy. your wet folds continue to make way for more of his fingers, spreading as he tries to enter a third digit into your poor, clingy hole. you whine as you feel satoru prepare you by rubbing your clit repeatedly with his thumb—trying to make you as wet for him as you possibly could be.

you shake your head, “can’t take more, ‘toru.” it genuinely feels like you’re being stretched out. three fingers are going to take you out. “nuh-uh,” satoru mocks you before telling you to look at him. the moment you do, his lips envelop yours in a lustful yet comforting kiss. you moan into his mouth and he does the same back, eyebrows furrowing because of how good it feels to suck on your tongue.

his fingers don’t stop. the third slides in and you jolt back against satoru’s chest. “shh, shh, i got you,” the older man attempts to calm you down. he stops fingering you for a second so you could adjust to the stretch. you’re tight—he can feel his erect cock twitching in his pants, begging to replace his fingers. he can’t, not yet.

satoru cusses under his breath once he feels your ass rub against the bulge in his uniform’s pants. you’re killing him and you don’t even realise it because you’re too focused on his fingers fucking your cunt. shlick shlick shlick — you’re dripping wet.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper through a soft gasp. it would be your third orgasm. you’re sensitive and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. your lower abdomen is tingling and aching. you’re going to inevitably squirt all over his chair, again.

satoru bites his lip as he hears you announce how close you are. his long fingers are already soaked with your juices, coating them with a sticky layer that he cannot wait to taste. “do it, baby. wanna see you cum,” your boyfriend coos.

satoru loves the way your hips circle back to him, rubbing against his groin. you’re driving him insane without even knowing it. he curls his fingers inside you, thumb still circling your clit for extra stimulation. you’re being driven to the edge of insanity.

he bucks his hips a little each time you involuntarily move in his lap. “toruuu, fnnh, so close,” you’re not only moaning because of the fingers inside of you, but also because of the hard bulge rubbing against and between your ass cheeks.

satoru knows your voice can easily carry over to the next room. you’re usually loud when you finish on his fingers. he takes his free hand and pushes your head back against his shoulder, his index and middle finger sliding into your mouth to silence you.

your whimpers are muffled as you automatically start sucking on his digits. satoru kisses your ear and jawline, whispering small words of praise against your skin because of your obedience. “keep it down for me, beautiful. y’re already doing so well.”

your eyes roll back as your saliva dribbles down his left hand. the wet trail runs down his veiny arm that’s exposed to your view. you love it when satoru pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows—it reminds you of why everyone fawns over him. it’s hot.

you’re trying to hold out, not wanting to cum. you wish to stay like this, with satoru’s fingers deep in your cunt and mouth, his bulge grinding against the fat of your ass.

the white-haired man instantly notices this and chuckles to himself; you’re fighting a losing battle. he increases the pace, his wrist working over time so his fingers could reach those sweet spots in your velvety walls. he decides to rile you up some more;

“shiit, just imagine that ‘ts my cock stretching your pretty cunt out,” satoru grins against your ear. he knows you’re weak for dirty talk. you have never felt what it’s like to be stuffed full of a dick, and thus the imagination adds to the raunchiness of it all.

you shiver and let out a small moan escape your mouth before you continue to suck on satoru’s fingers. all this time you’ve settled for make out sessions, grinding and oral pleasure. you’re needy for more than that.

satoru knows what buttons to push. he knows how to make you melt and give in to him and his words. he bites your earlobe after letting his tongue lick the skin, “all filled up to the brim. you’d like that, huh?”

you barely managed to stifle a loud whine at that. your eyes widen and your pussy spasms around his fingers. you know it’s not long before you’re going to cream all over satoru’s hand.

sweat trickles down your forehead.

“yes, yes, yes!” you moan repeatedly, voice muffled by the fingers in your mouth. you can hear your boyfriend grunt into your ear after seeing how enthusiastically you’re responding. he’s totally getting off to you’re desperation.

satoru wants to cum so bad. he wants to shoot ropes of his cum in the pussy he’s prepping to one day take his dick.

you see black spots in your vision because of how hard the climax hits you. your breath hitches and you grip onto the armrests of the chair for support. a spray of clear and watery juices covers satoru’s entire hand and bits of his arm—evidence of just how much you enjoyed your little session with him.

the older man pats your tummy and rubs it, comforting you as the aftershocks of your climax hit. he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt and brings them up to his glossy lips, thoroughly licking every drop off. his dick pulses in his pants at the delicious taste.

you’re panting as you try to get your thighs to stop shaking. you’re out of energy, drained. all that you hear replaying in your mind is satoru’s dirty talk. you don’t know if you can handle his dick if you’re already overwhelmed by the way he skilfully uses his fingers.

as if sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend smirks and hugs your body tightly to his chest.

“can’t give it t’ ya now,” satoru whispers and pouts, teasing you as if to turn you on again. he takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and presses his lips against yours as a promise, “but one day i will, yeah? one day i’ll fuck ya so good you’ll only know my name.”

“go ahead and leave them drawls at the door”

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: suggestiveness, crack

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

Rintaro has no idea what’s coming to him.

So far, there’s been three videos about couples breaking up on your for-you-page, full of tears and heartbreak and anger as you scroll. You try not to linger on these videos for too long, lest they mess up your perfected algorithm, but for some reason, they always find their way back to you.

You don’t know how, or why he would… but you blame Rintaro.

With a huff, you throw your phone back onto the couch and stomp your way into the kitchen, where Rintaro doesn’t even spare you a glance. He merely takes a bite of his sandwich and continues to scroll on TikTok.

“Hey baby,” he says, mouth full of food. “What’s up-“

He’s cut off by you gripping his collar sharply, pulling it taught and pulling him with it. He whimpers and his eyes bug out of his skull, but he doesn’t say anything as you lean down to be face to face with him.

“Listen to me,” you snap, trying not to laugh at the way his puffed cheeks turn up to look at you. “We’re not breaking up.”

“…okay?” He whines a small laugh.

“Listen.” You pull his collar tighter, and he starts to giggle nervously, his cheeks growing bigger as he tries to swallow the bite of food in his mouth around your choking. “If you’re sick of me, take some medicine. If you’re bored of me, go play a video game. If you’re tired of me, take a nap. We’re not breaking up. Not now, not ever, do you understand me?”

He nods around his laughter, trying so hard to weasel free from your gripping of his collar. His hands paw at his plate for a chip to give you, in an attempt to satisfy you, but all you do is click your tongue.

“Do you love me?”

He can’t respond around his laughter.

“I said: DO YOU LOVE ME?!”

Finally, he’s able to nod and choke out a ‘yes,’ bringing the chip to your lips. “Okay,” you whisper menacingly, slowly releasing his collar and taking the chip from his fingers. “I love you too.”

“My throat hurts now,” he pouts.

“I’ll baby you once I’m done fixing my for-you-page,” you promise, kissing his head and leaving the kitchen, leaving him to process what just happened.

-

hehehehehehehe

rintarou's sheets are scratchy.

they're new, and haven't yet gone through the wash enough times to properly soften. they haven't been slept on enough times to be fully broken in. you know he bought them because you always used to tease him about his old sheets: faded with some holes in them—a mismatched fitted sheet and top sheet in two different shades of blue, unbefitting of a grown man making grown man money.

so, he got new ones.

these new sheets are green, in the exact shade you like so much—the one you always point out when the two of you are walking in the park near your office on your lunch break. he sent you a picture of the package when he got them home, fishing for praise you refused to give him for doing the bare minimum. they're nice sheets, though. expensive, organic cotton with a high thread count.

but right now, they're scratchy.

and they're irritating you as you lay tangled up in them, the top sheet wrapped around your waist like a belt and twisted around one of your bare legs. you must have been tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, because when you properly rouse from your slumber to take inventory of your surroundings, the first thing you notice is that you're practically knotted into the stiff, new cotton.

you extract yourself from the blankets, stumbling a little towards the door in a fog, and make your way from rintarou's bedroom in the direction of the kitchen.

"oh," rintarou perks up once you appear around the corner, his eyes bright when they spot you. "you're up."

you shuffle around the kitchen counter towards him, your head heavy and pounding, your mouth dry. you feel nauseated, and without thinking, you slump against him with your forehead pressing into the valley between his shoulder blades. you're confused. you're hungover. but he's warm, and smells like laundry detergent. suddenly you feel a little less queasy.

"what's going on?" you grumble into his back. you peel yourself away from him, blinking slowly, and sweep your gaze around the room to get a better sense of things.

suna holds up a frying pan and a whisk. "i'm cooking!"

you blink again. "okay?"

it's not what you meant when you asked him your first question, but rintarou simply smiles. he has an almost puppy-like personality when he gets like this—you can almost picture ears atop his head and a tail wagging happily as he stares down at you.

"how'd i get here last night?"

rintarou freezes, but only for a moment. he quickly turns his back to you again to continue on whatever misguided culinary adventure he'd been attempting before you woke up. "you were pretty drunk."

"my seniors kept egging me on," you complain, rubbing your forehead as the hazy memory surfaces from the night before. it was a company dinner you couldn't get out of, and it had quickly spiralled out of hand. "i don't even remember leaving."

rintarou laughs a little. but he still won't look at you.

"suna."

he doesn't turn, whisking something you can't identify but that you're almost certain should not be whisked in a bowl in front of him on the counter.

"suna." you repeat yourself again.

suddenly, a wave of nausea overtakes you.

no.

no.

you pat yourself down in search of your phone, but the attempt is useless. you're dressed in one of rintarou's t-shirts and boxers, neither of which come equipped with any pockets, and your phone is nowhere to be found. you whip your head around in search of it, but don't spot it anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"hey—" rintarou finally looks at you when he senses your alarm, and his tone mirrors your own panic. "don't—!"

you swipe his cellphone off the counter in front of him, using the passcode you'd managed to weasel out of him a few months ago to unlock the device and navigate to his call log. you take off running as you tap your way through the various screens on his phone, but he's quickly in pursuit of you—leaving whatever he'd had on the stove to burn like he world's saddest funeral pyre.

"stop, stop!" rintarou is faster than you are, and has longer legs, but even by the time he catches you, you've already found what you're looking for in his call history. he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto his sofa with him in the living room, and the two of you land in a tangle of limbs against the cushions, your breathing laboured.

"i didn't make this call, did i?" you ask meekly, pointing at a brief call in the late hours of the night prior that sits at the top of his call history. it's from your number, but you're confident you hadn't been the one to dial.

rintarou pouts a little bit, avoiding your eyes. after a moment he shakes his head. you groan, rolling over on the sofa underneath him and hiding your face in your hands.

"i wasn't even there long, i promise," rintarou says, his voice impossibly close because of the way the two of you are sprawled across the sofa. his breath is warm against the column of your throat when he speaks.

you refuse to look at him.

"i didn't even say anything embarassing."

you still don't budge.

"i made sure to thank your coworkers for calling me to come get you and everything."

your hangover has been overtaken by your own mortification, a horrible heat creeping up your face to accompany the taste of bile in your throat. you've been so, so careful not to let your relationship and your career overlap thus far. so cautious about introducing rintarou into parts of your life that would make it even harder to face if or when the time came that he wasn't around anymore.

"are you embarrassed of me?"

his question makes your chest ache. the way he says it twists the knife.

you lift your face from your hands and peek at him over your shoulder. he's so close that your noses almost brush.

"no." you mean it.

the anxiety in rintarou's gaze eases. he presses closer.

"you sure?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "depends. were you wearing that awful yellow track suit?"

rintarou laughs, all breath, and then dips down to kiss you softly. you want to complain that you haven't even brushed your teeth yet, or that you kind of feel like you might be sick, or that whatever he was trying to cook is on the brink of burning down the building. but you don't. you just let him rest on top of you. you let yourself enjoy it.

when he finally pulls away, rintarou has a somewhat sly smile on his face.

"what, rin?" you ask him gently.

"just wondering if now that i've met your coworkers you're going to let me come visit you at lunch, or if you're still gonna make me hide in the park."

"i like the park," you pout.

because the park is green, the colour you like so much. like rintarou's scratchy bedsheets. and his eyes.

"okay, okay," he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. "i like the park, too."

nanami kento tries so hard not to fuck you on your first date, it makes him feel like a terrible man. he’s not like this, usually. you just frustrate every single cell in him, sexually — he can’t believe this is happening to him, honestly.

it’s a pain, he acts cold and distant — he’s simply trying to hide his boner half of the time. he zones out while you speak — your lips are distracting, he can’t hear a single word you speak. he can only think of the many ways your lips would shape and shift when you moan and whimper his name the deeper he sinks his cock in you. also, can you fit all of him down your throat? oh, can you—

fuck…

his cock gets hard under the table, forcing a sense of panic in him while he ponders whether he’s visibly leaked and stained his slacks or not. terrified to look down, because he knows. he’s so fucked.

he needs to wait a bit before you leave the restaurant, to cool off a bit, calm down. but it only gets worse from there.

he drives you back home, but doesn’t leave the car to walk you to your doorstep. his cock is hard again, aching so bad it limits his movements. besides if he steps out and stands tall before you — you will see, this time you definitely will. he’s embarrassed. and on top of that, he feels like an ass, the lowest of the lowest, for treating you so poorly.

the entire car ride was torturous to him, courtesy of your scent so close to him in the passenger seat, along with the way you tucked your hands between your thighs every now and then — perhaps the awkward silence got you nervous. he wondered all the way to your house how you smelled and tasted, down there.

you think the whole date was a disaster, and that he’ll never call you again but little did you know, the first thing he did when he went back home was jerk off — not once, not twice, but three fucking times, thinking about you. furiously.

later, he texts you. you blink a few times in utter disbelief.

dinner tomorrow? i’ll cook

dinner — at his place, that is. he’ll change the bedsheets in the morning with freshly washed ones, because this time — he’ll fuck you.

suna gets a call from your coworkers one night that you're drunk and passed out after a work event, and he runs all the way to the bar to come and pick you up. he shows up a questionably short time later in his rumpled ejp track suit, his hair a mess, and with stars in his eyes. he looks as though he went racing out the door the moment he got the apologetic phone call (because he did.)

your coworkers are flustered when rintarou arrives—this tall, handsome, professional athlete who they've never seen before—shooting each other wide-eyed looks as this mystery man gently pries you up out of the booth you're slumped in and into his arms. they're all left blushing when he bows (as best he can with his arms wrapped around you) and thanks them so politely for calling him to come and get you.

he carries you the whole way home with a big, silly smile stretching from ear to ear while he watches your sleeping face. it's a dopey grin that if you were conscious to see you'd probably bully him about.

but after all this time, he finally got to meet your coworkers—and even though you're going to be mortified in the morning, and would never have allowed it were you sober enough to intervene, he couldn't be more pleased about it.

Fluffy fluffy prompt to hubby sukuna or whom ever you choose “awnn my poor baby come here” then he slowly walks towards you rubbing his eyes all soft and tired 🥺

There’s a low grumble behind you that snaps you out of your slicing of fruit, but you merely brush it off before moving onto the next strawberry.

Then, the grumble ripples through the air again, and you keep slicing, trying your best to ignore the noise.

It happens a third time. You giggle, “what, baby?” You put the knife down and turn to face Sukuna, arms crossing over your chest as you look him up and down.

He looks childish, with the comforter wrapped around his shoulders and hair ruffled around messily. His eyes are puffy from sleep and his cheeks hold a little flush, but his lips are still pouted in a scowl. “You left me alone in bed,” he grumbles. “I told you not to do that. Bed gets too cold.”

“Is that the only reason you don’t like me leaving the bed?” You ask, knowing the real answer. But you also know he’ll never say it. He’s stubborn like that.

He offers you a roll of his eyes, “yes, and I hate the cold. You’re aware of this.”

“My poor baby,” you tease, opening your arms for him to shamble into. “C’mere. Let me warm you back up from the mean, evil, cold covers.”

“You’d better,” he murmurs, stalking towards you and into your arms. He opens his own to reveal the corners of the blanket balled into his big fists, and when he embraces you, you’re shrouded in darkness but melting into the warmth that his chest brews. Your laugh softly, and burrow into his chest, which rumbles with a hum in confusion. "Somethin' funny under there?"

"Just dark," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and gently squeezing him out of cute aggression. "I also can't really breathe, so-"

"Good," he says, resting his head on top of yours, tightening his arms to keep you in place. "Won't have to deal with your ass leaving the bed, messing up my sleep." You laugh some more, only to send a few pokes to his waist, making him jerk away from you and loosen his hold.

"Who's gonna cuddle you at night then?"

"I'm a man, I don't need cuddles."

When you do, however, try to get out of his arms, he grumbles and pulls you tighter again, with an annoyed grunt. "No."

"That's what I thought, Sukuna."

“tch, what are you doing.”

“hugging you.”

“i’m not stupid. why are you hugging me,”

sukuna grouses, his entire vast frame growing stiff. it was always like this with you. every few seconds, you’d be talking to him about literally anything and out of nowhere, your human arms just wrap around his waist. the demon stands still with the most repulsed poker-face, yet he doesn’t attempt to pry you off. for whatever reason, your warmth was surprisingly .. comfortable. you’ve got the cutest smile contorting against your features. burying your face into the center of his chest, the demon sighs, flicking your forehead. “oi brat, i asked you a question.”

playfully wincing at his gesture — you have a tiny pout. “you looked like you could use one,” and your arms briefly tighten around his slim torso. “also, usually when someone’s hugging you, you’re required to hug the other person b-”

“don’t tell me what to do,” and you gasp, feeling strong arms pull you in close. with an oof, you land right into his soft padded chest. your cheek tenderly rubs against the various ancient markings that paint and decorate his skin. the ‘hug’ only lasts for about three seconds before he pulls away, pretending to feel ill. a mere drama king. “disgusting. got me participating in such a revolting, humanly act. think ‘m gonna be sick.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic,” you tease, leaning into his touch. you’re met with a crimson-red glare but you could spot the vague pout forming against his lips if you squinted. out of all the pesky humans he’s encountered, no one was ever tolerable or worthy for his attention.

no one except . . . you.

a simple gesture as hugging makes him feel mushy ‘n soft inside and he hates it. loathes it, that dumb carefree grin that cheeses against your lips, the cute glimmer sparkling in your eyes. so irritating, so . . adorable.

as you rest your chin against his chest, you let off a tiny huff. “do demons not hug each other?”

“not in this way,” he murmurs, feeling an awkward lump brew in his throat. sukuna’s eyes suddenly avoid yours and you grow curious. not only that, but his body language changes. your softness was making him nervous.

he swears a plethora of inaudible curses under his breath, remaining rigidly stiff and refuses to move his beefy arms another itch. your arms wrap around him again and a huffing sigh makes his tense shoulder lower. with a grumpy grunt, his eye twitches and a single fang bares below his top lip, a sign of cute stubborn annoyance. “ack, you’re squishing me, human. release me at once.”

your chin swiftly rubs against the soft fabric that made up his personalized kimono before deadpanning. “not until you hug me back.”

“i am hugging you back.”

“no you’re not,” you giggle, burying your face inside between the opening slit of his clothing piece. his body heat tepidly radiates against you and you’re engulfed with his loud natural scent. the demon’s almost always naturally warm, your personal heating pad. he shoots you a vexing glare, nostrils flaring up in exasperation before his arms awkwardly pull you closer. “hey, not s- so tight, ‘kuna.”

“now you wanna complain? you’re gonna take this hug,” and you giggle, feeling him gingerly shove you into his broad chest, squeezing you tight.

sukuna sassily rolls his eyes at the audacity,

he’s never been one to participate in such ludicrous, but if it was with you, maybe it wasn’t that bad. sukuna stares down at you, a weird soft feeling pooling its way into his heart — after a while, he unwraps his arms from your body, ruffling your hair. “stupid.”

with a cheeky grin, you wrap your arms right back around his torso, nuzzling against his chest like you were a kitten. with a gruff groan, his arms suddenly mirror you, slinging around your waist, pulling you close tightly. how annoying, he’s starting to enjoy this little thing called ‘hugging.’

sukuna slowly adapts to the warmth of your body against him, a faint smile creeping on his face at your next adoring words. “love you ‘kuna.”

“you’re gonna experience a deadly cough in five days, brat.”

“huh?”

“hmph. i said . . i love you too.”

one thing toji loves to do before fucking your brains out is to ask you ‘where you want him’. and each time without fail, your fingers wrap around his wrist and guide his large, callused and manly hand to your lower tummy.

“mhmm— atta girl,” toji coos and his dick throbs, the bulge painfully obvious through his black boxers. it nearly drives him to the edge as his fingers trail up and down your stomach.

his signature smirk tugs at the scarred corner of his lip. “where’d ya think i’ll reach this time?” the dark-haired man asks. he’s so nasty with it, in a good way. his tongue darts out to wet his lips as the pad of his index finger prods at the skin near your belly button.

“here?” toji hums thoughtfully, knowing this was making you drip onto the sheets below. he knows he’s big— he knows he can rearrange your guts properly and make you cockdrunk without even sticking his dick in your needy cunt, and he thrives off the fact.

“or maybe up here if i put y’r sweet little ass in a mating press,” toji teases while his index finger slides a centimetre upwards. his dirty words are making you moan and buck your hips; a sign of your desperation.

he palms his cock through his boxers for a couple times before hastily tugging at the waistband.

“heh, guess there’s only one way to find out, doll.”

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.

tags. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !

satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.

you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.

your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.

‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’

it’s infuriating to hear those words while you - his girlfriend - are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.

satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway - graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.

he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.

“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.

you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.

“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.

you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.

. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.

he understands why you’re feeling that way.

the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.

perhaps they need to be reminded once more.

satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.

the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”

“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.

“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”

satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.

“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.

it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire - he never will - yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.

the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to— no matter what.

your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.

satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.

he wants to make it up to you, somehow.

once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.

satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.

that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.

“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.

“thank you.”

it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.

your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.

“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.

“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.

you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.

sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression - plagued with insecurity - tugs on his heartstrings.

“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs once more.

without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.

the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.

his want and need for you.

satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.

“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.

he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.

“haah— fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.

his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.

“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.

your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back. “there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.

you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.

the white-haired man shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.

satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.

“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”

your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.

your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .

you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.

your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;

“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”

whats mine is yours

socmed au wherein gojo tries his absolute hardest to reach out to you through various payment apps because you blocked him everywhere lol

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

pro!ushijima has fan made compilation videos of “ushiwaka treating vball like it’s a 9-5 he can’t wait to clock out of” but it’s purely because he’s the worst at doing interviews and postgame conferences. the one video clip that always makes it in, though, is one where the adlers just won the championship and the interviewer is asking him if he’s excited for the celebration occurring afterwards.

“what celebration? the postgame party?”

“no! they’re hosting a parade to celebrate the victory. aren’t you excited?” the reporter seems more ecstatic than ushi, and everyone notices the way he’s frowning now. he presses the interviewer to tell him when the parade is and ushijima can only let out a long sigh.

he shakes his head. he already doesn’t attend the postgame parties, but he really doesn’t have time for this. “i can’t go to the parade. i told my wife i was coming home after this. my ticket’s already booked.” then he glances at his watch, before excusing himself, getting up from the chair. “i have to be at the airport. thank you for your support.”

(later that evening, you show your husband all the tweets going insane over the interview. he’s clinging to you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “i don’t need a parade to celebrate. i want to celebrate with you.”)

My favourite kind of fics to read and to write

I want to be in a threesome with both bi men talking about me as if I'm not present, "Look how wet she is." "How bad do you want to fuck her?" "What position do you want her in?" "She's got you so hard, look at you, you're throbbing."