nottellingofname

Latest Posts by nottellingofname

જ⁀♡⊹｡° praying ' feet don't fail me now '

( bachira meguru x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — for my childhood best friends to lovers series!!

♡ word count — 1.2k

♡ content — bachira meguru x fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, goes from ages three to the u-20 game,

♡ synopsis — Growing up, Meguru Bachira had two friends—and two friends alone: the monster that no one else saw, and you. And in his mind, that was all he needed.

Growing up, Meguru Bachira had two friends—and two friends alone: the monster that no one else saw, and you.

You met him on a hot summer afternoon when you were three years old. The playground was swarming with noisy children, sticky fingers clinging to juice boxes and crusty sand-covered toys.

You were holding court beneath the big slide, where your popularity bloomed even back then. Kids circled around you like satellites—laughing when you laughed, watching where you pointed.

And then you saw him.

A boy, perched on the edge of the sandbox with wild, shaggy hair and the widest yellow eyes you’d ever seen.

He was talking—to no one, it seemed—and moving his fingers through the air like he was painting something only he could see.

Sitting in the sandbox alone, tracing shapes into the sand with a stick.

He wasn’t crying, but he looked like he had every reason to.

Some kids had called him weird.

Others said he talked to himself.

One even pushed him when no one was looking.

But you saw him.

You left your kingdom beneath the slide without a word.

He blinked when you crouched down in front of him. “Are you playing with someone?”

“My monster,” he said, not looking at you.

Most kids would’ve laughed. Or backed away. But you tilted your head, curious. “Can I play too?”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah. But I want to meet your monster first.”

That was the beginning.

From that day on, Meguru Bachira had two friends: his monster, and you—and that was more than enough.

As the years passed, your worlds stayed tangled.

In elementary school, you were the girl who could talk anyone into anything. Kids followed your lead like it was instinct, and adults praised how well you got along with everyone. But no matter how many people clung to your orbit, you only ever circled one boy: Meguru.

You sat with him at lunch. You picked him first in group games. And when kids whispered things about him—about the way he laughed too loud or talked to things that weren’t there—you told them to shut up.

“You like him?” someone once sneered in third grade.

You blinked, as if the question was ridiculous. “Obviously.”

Middle school was harder. Puberty made people mean, and popularity became currency. You were rich in it—liked by everyone, admired for how honest you were, how you never put on a mask. 

Kids whispered louder. They laughed when he answered questions too fast or smiled too wide. And you? You heard it all. You were too sharp, too outspoken to let it slide. 

But people still talked behind Bachira’s back. Sometimes to his face.

One day, after someone called him a freak in the hallway, you stormed up to him, face red with fury.

“Next time they say something, I’ll say something back. I don’t care, I’m not letting them get away with it.”

But he shook his head, a soft smile on his lips.

“No. Don’t. You don't have to do that. I have you—and my monster. That’s enough.”

That was the same year he discovered soccer. T

he same year he kicked a ball for the first time and heard his monster cheer. 

And the same year you sat in the grass for hours, watching him practice alone with a makeshift goal and an old ball.

You never understood why he loved it so much. 

But when you saw the fire in his eyes, the way he looked alive in a way that only happened when he played, you figured... maybe it didn’t matter.

High school came, and with it, new uniforms, new pressures, and new boys who thought they were better than they really were.

One day you stood near the edge of the soccer field, sipping a red Icee, watching as the team ran drills. You weren’t really paying attention—until you overheard a few boys near the bench whispering:

“Let’s not pass to him in scrims today. Freak always plays like it’s a one-man show anyway.”

“Coach only keeps him because he racks up assists. Still plays like he’s in his own head.”

“Bet he talks to the ball.”

You didn’t even think. You just moved.

Your hand flew out. Red Icee hit cotton. It splattered across their white jerseys like blood. They shouted, stepping back in shock.

“What the hell?!”

You raised an eyebrow, voice sharp. “Let’s look at some stats, shall we? Most goals? Bachira. Most assists? Bachira. Fastest recovery time after injury? Bachira. So tell me, exactly how do you think you’re winning?”

They stammered. One tried to argue, but you weren’t having it. You turned and walked away, your ponytail swaying like a battle flag.

From across the field, Bachira had seen everything.

And it was in that moment—shirt soaked in sweat, breath still heavy from drills, the sun catching in your eyes as you marched away like some kind of storm goddess—that he swore he fell in love with you.

He didn’t tell you right away. But he started finding new reasons to walk you home. 

New excuses to hang around your house. 

New ways to make you laugh. 

And every time your hand brushed his, he swore his heartbeat was doing backflips.

It wasn’t until one late afternoon—walking home in the sunset, sneakers crunching against gravel—that he finally said it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You stopped. Blinked. Turned to him slowly. “You think?”

He grinned, a little sheepish. “Okay. I am in love with you.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes as you stepped closer, hands reaching for his hoodie. “Took you long enough.”

You kissed him first. He kissed you second. And somewhere in the distance, his monster laughed.

Then the Blue Lock letter came.

You were sitting beside him in his room, feet tucked under a blanket, when he opened it. You gasped before he could.

“Oh my god. Meguru, you—this is—this is huge!”

He stared at the letter. Quiet. Too quiet.

“You’re going, right?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“What if they’re right? What if I am a freak? What if I get there and it’s just more people like them? I can’t do it without—”

You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Meguru. Look at me. You are not a freak. You’re brilliant. You’re a genius on the field. And they’ll see it—you’ll make them see it.”

He blinked, eyes glassy.

“Prove them wrong,” you said. “Prove them all wrong.”

You kissed him like it was a promise. And a week later, you were at the train station, hugging him tight, trying not to cry as he boarded.

“Come back to me,” you whispered.

“I will,” he promised. “And when I do—I’ll be the best.”

The day of the U-20 game, you were there. Front row, signs painted in yellow and black, wearing his number.

You screamed every time he touched the ball. Cursed when he got knocked down. Jumped up and down like a maniac when he scored.

And when they won—you didn’t wait.

You ran past security. Dodged the guards. Your shoes hit the pitch like thunder.

He turned just in time to catch you, your arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

“See?” you grinned, breathless. “I told you!”

He laughed, holding you up, the stadium a blur around him.

And then, he said it—quietly, just for you.

“She’s gone…”

Your smile faltered. “Huh? Who—?”

“My monster,” he said. “She’s gone.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but he shook his head.

“I’ve met some amazing people,” he whispered. “But no one like you. Thank you. For everything.”

Then he kissed you. Right there, in front of everyone. With his silly smile and wild eyes and heart full of fire, Meguru Bachira kissed the girl who had been there from the very beginning.

And he knew—

He didn’t need the monster anymore.

He had you.

bachira my love, idk why i don't write for you more

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev❀ join the taglist here!

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

I love bachira

COME ON, COME ON ⋆˙⟡ BACHIRA MEGURU

"In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream, It's like a million little stars spelling out your name, You gotta come on, come on, Say that we'll be together, Come on, come on, Little taste of heaven" - "Untouchable" by Taylor Swift Tags: FLUFFY! A little bit of hurt (mentions of Bachira being bullied but nothing explicit) with a lot of comfort! Bullied! Bachira X Popular Kid! Reader. Not proofread.

a/n: hey y'all! I just rewatched s1 of BLLK, and it reminded me how precious Bachira is w/ his backstory ^_^ . I wanted to write a cute little story for him, which I think will be a recurring thing on my account, where I'll write stories for BLLK characters based on my fav T Swift songs from each album!! Fearless is up first!

Bachira lay curled up on the floor for at least an hour after everyone had left. The alley between the two school buildings is particularly useful in practicing head butts with his soccer ball, but it is also conveniently shady enough that his bullies had no trouble cornering him there and beating the shit out of him regularly.

He slowly sits up, his shoulder aching. His face is all scratched up and his lip is split. Fuck, how would he explain this to his mom? She'd promised the school hell last time he came home like this but she was struggling enough on her own. A single mother, an artist to boot, threatening a school like his? Forget it.

"Fuck," Bachira mutters, cradling his head in his hands as tears leak down his cheeks. "Fuck."

"Oh my god," a voice croaks a few feet away from him. Bachira looks up to find a figure standing there, their eyes wide in horror, a hand clasped over their mouth, and their body shaking. "A-are you okay?"

They rush towards him and he flinches back. At his jerk, the stranger stops. Bachira holds their gaze. After a beat of silence, they reach into their pocket and take out a handkerchief.

"Here," they say softly. They approach him slowly now and kneel at his side, extending the cotton square to him. Bachira blinks down at it, his expression dull.

"For me?" he asks.

"Your lip is all bloody. You should use this to clean yourself up and then go to the nurse!" you exclaim.

Bachira gives you a soft smile and takes the handkerchief from your hand. "That old lady has already seen me too many times this year. I'll just hide out in the bathroom until it gets . . . better. Is it really bad?"

You feel kinda bad nodding, but he really looks rough. He laughs softly at your nod and shakes his head. "Whatever, thank you for the handkerchief."

Bachira stands to walk away, but you gently take a hold of his wrist before he makes it very far. "Wait! What happened?"

Bachira turns back to you, his round eyes wide at your touch. Your hand is soft, and cradles his wrist tenderly, as if you believe the touch will make yet another bruise blossom on his skin. Another beat of silence passes before he asks, "What do you think, Y/N?"

You balk. "How do you know my name?"

"We're in the same class."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Bachira scoffs and a humorless smiles appears on his face. Of course they don't know him. They're friends with the kids who did this to him. He attempts to tug his hand out of their grasp again, but he's ultimately unsuccessful when your grip holds fast.

"Wait- I do know you! You're the one who's really good at soccer!" your face breaks into a small smile, and something aches in Bachira's chest. It's been so long since someone who wasn't his mother smiled at him with anything other than malice. When you ask, "You're name is Bachira Meguru right?" Bachira swears the floor gives out under him.

" . . . is this a joke?" he asks.

There's a bit of annoyed wariness in his voice, but ultimately, the only thing you get from the question is fear. The idea that someone is scared of you makes you feel incredibly upset. Since you were eight years old, you'd prided yourself on being the people person, and inviting everyone to be your friend. You'd been with people who were shy before, but never with someone scared. Bachira's fear was almost palpable in his eyes, his pupils tiny and assessing your every move. It's beyond sad.

"That's an awfully mean thing to do, isn't it?" you say as you rise. "I'm not a mean person."

"But your friends are, so think again. What does that make you?" Bachira says softly as he walks away.

Once again, you're left stunned and shaken by this kid. What the hell? No, it couldn't have been your friends who did this to him. They were good people! Yeah they might've laughed behind people's backs every now and then, and make the occasional crude remark, but-

Holy shit, your friends are douches.

You shake your head and hurry after Bachira, your hand going to his bicep. He turns again and stares at you with a surprised expression, as you say, "Please. Let me at least walk you to the nurse's office. You took a real beating."

" . . . fine."

The trip is a silent affair, with a thin blanket of tension hanging over you. The two of you pass your classroom on the way, and you catch your friends giving you odd looks while you walk with Bachira.

One of the guys in your group, a boy named Mori Hinata mouths What are you doing?

You turn your face away and continue with Bachira to the nurse's office.

You sit next to him on a cot while the nurse gets her equipment.

"He has a crush on you," Bachira says suddenly.

"Huh? Who?" you ask.

"Mori. He was talking about it while he was . . . y'know."

" . . . I didn't know."

Bachira cuts you a shocked look. "Really?"

"I don't know! I guess . . . I guess I always had a feeling, but it was never anything super concrete. He's super mean to me too, just not," You look up at Bachira and sigh. "Physically."

"Must be nice," Bachira smiles and laughs.

Your brows furrow. "I don't want someone like him to have a crush on me. I don't want someone who's capable of this," I gesture to Bachira's injuries, "to like me."

"No? He can protect you though," Bachira flexes his bicep and puts on a goofy face. "Like Hey, stay away from my girl, you prick. Something like that, you know?"

I snort. "Still. He's a bully. I guess I was blinded by knowing him for so long. I . . . I didn't want to believe he could do something like this."

"Well, technically he didn't touch me. He just got Saito and Nishikawa to do it."

"Still! That doesn't make it any better!" You sigh and rest your chin in your hand. "I don't even want to be friends with him anymore . . ."

Bachira chuckles. "I don't think it'll go well for me, if he finds out I'm the reason you're ignoring him."

You whip you're head in his direction. "If he, Saito, or Nishikawa touch you again, tell me I'll deal with it."

"Really?"

"I have no issue yelling at ex-friends."

Bachira blinks as he watches your determined expression. "But, you'll be lonely."

"Hmm?"

Bachira turns away from you, a sour expression on his face. He stares down at his hands, flexing his fingers. After a moment of him thinking, he whispers, "I don't want to cause someone else to be lonely. I am, and it's the worst."

You stare at Bachira, your heart aching. After a moment of silence, you reach up and tuck a strand of loose brown hair behind his ear, revealing some of his under dye. He turns a furious shade of rose and turns his head to face you. You meet his honey eyes before smiling and looking down at your lap.

"Do you remember when they taught us about penguins as kids? Like, why they huddle up?" Bachira tilts his head in confusion before nodding. You giggle and continue. "It's cause of the cold, right? If they don't huddle up together, they'll freeze. Well, up until around second grade, I was super shy. I would sit at my desk and doodle on the wood while watching everyone form groups. I felt like a penguin that was freezing, since everyone around me was huddling up together.

"I used to pray to stars at night, begging them to keep me from freezing to death. I'd sit on my knees with my hands clasped like this, whispering C'mon, c'mon. Send someone my way. Eventually someone did show up, Mori, and he whisked me away with him to huddle in his group. It was nice to be warm but now I see the truth."

I look up at Bachira. "If he wasn't willing to invite you into his huddle, he doesn't really care about keeping people warm. That isn't someone I want to be around. I want to keep you warm though, so I'll have you if I leave the huddle right? I won't be lonely, right?"

The look on Bachira's face is precious. His eyes are bright, his face flushed, and his aura just glows. He looks five years old, fresh and new to the world, and totally unaware of the dangers that lurk just beyond the door. For his whole life, he'd thought of something like this as entirely unattainable, but now you're sitting here across from him, promising to keep him warm. It's too much. It's so much.

Without warning, he flings himself onto you, wrapping you in a tight hug and you have to lower yourself onto the cot in order to not fall flat onto the floor. He pulls back a little bit, and his cheeks are puffed as a smile carves itself on his face.

"Woah! Bachira!"

"You're an angel right?" he asks, his smile bright. "A guardian angel? No, that's too little. You're a piece of heaven itself."

You blush and giggle. "What? No, stop . . ."

Bachira shakes his head and laughs. It's a bright sound, like bells. It reminds you of birds chirping and the sound of a newborn's first laugh. It's enchanting.

"I'll keep you warm," Bachira promises. "I'll never leave you out in the cold! I swear! Me and my monster got you, no matter what?"

His what-

Your thoughts get cut off when he lowers himself on you again, losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. You shake your head as a smile also grows on your face. You wrap your arms around Bachira as well and nuzzle into his neck.

"Me too."

--------------------------------------

"Y/N~" Bachira coos as he wraps his arms around your waist. "You're so busy, you're not paying any attention to me."

You giggle and kiss his cheek. I lower my water bottle and turn to kiss his cheek. "You're so impatient."

"Come on~" he whines. "You promised me we'd get insta-ramen and mangas after school today."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

You pick up your duffle bag and swing it over your shoulder. However, Bachira takes it from your hand and bears the load himself. He links his free hand with yours and lifts it to his mouth, pressing kisses along the knuckles.

A chill rushes through the air, winter rudely announcing her presence. You shiver and Bachira immediately drops your duffle to the floor. He takes his scarf off and promptly weaves it around your neck, securing it with a firm tuck.

"You'll get sick," you pout.

"I promised to keep you warm, and I will," Bachira responds firmly. "Besides, you can keep me warm then, when I'm sneezing and coughing-"

"And are gross?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

Bachira giggles. "Exactly."

He picks up your duffle bag again, and the two of you continue your walk out of the school gates, the penguin key chains you got dangling from the zipper.

"Gentle," you murmur, lips curled softly in amusement as you watch Toji plant kisses all over your bare thighs. "Geeentle," you repeat, when he starts inching closer to the inner part of your thigh. Then you see it, the hyper focus he holds on the plush area of your legs. You watch as he prepares to strike, his mouth widening while he starts leaning in closer.

"Gentle, gentle, gentle-- Wait, Toji-!" You blurt, needlessly, since he didn't make any attempt to slow down once he set his plan in motion. Your laughter interrupts the stillness of the once calm room, while Toji is just there with his teeth, harshly, sunken into your thigh. It's warm, it's wet, but most of all, it stings.

After relaxing his jaw, his grip on your delicate skin loosens, and he pulls away, before taking his sweet time to admire his newly created masterpiece. He rubs the temporary impression he left on you, eliciting an expected but still mildly unpleasant soreness with every press and drag of his fingertips.

"That was a good one, huh?" Toji murmurs, a smug grin on his face as he leans in to leave a much gentler brush of his lips on the "affected" area.

You scoff and roll your eyes, but agree nonetheless. He doesn't need to know that, though. "Pshhh, it was alright. I'm not missing a chunk out of my leg or anything, so..."

"Mm..." he hums, like he got your message loud and clear. "Let me try that again, then."

"Wait, no, please! No! Oh god, please, no! Please don't," you cry out, like you're auditioning for the most dramatic TV series. He laughs at the way your legs shuffle before he can get another good bite on you.

"I didn't even do anything and you're already crying," he says, unfazed but stilled entertained, as usual. He's used to your dramatics, by now.

"Ahh! That's what you say to me every night."

"Damn right," he says, proudly, in agreement, reciprocating your menacing grin. "You're chicken, baby," he fires, dropping the grin almost instantly.

"You're chicken, baby," you sling back, turning his insult on him.

"If you let me get another bite in, I'll take it back," he says, bringing your legs back to where they rested before, carefully, so that you don't pull away again.

"But, but, but-"

"But, but, buuuuuut," he mocks, sounding like a mosquito and snickering when you deadpan.

"You're not funny," you say, your voice icy. It's hard to stay serious in the moment, considering how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Look at you. You wanna laugh. Aaaand your lips are twitching. They're starting to curl."

"Stop narrating my movements, damn it," you chide, giving into the laugh he witnessed slowly unfolding.

Chomp.

Your laughter doubles down, and you swear you feel the breaths coming from his own chuckle on your skin.

"Oww," you wail, pushing at his head to try and shake him off, but he's like a dog with an object it refuses to let go of. "Toji, i'm gonna scream in three... two..."

He loosens his hold on your skin, pulling away completely to avoid setting off the siren that is you, his very lovely lady.

"Don't," he strictly instructs.

"Hm, maybe I should do it, anyway. I'm in so much pain."

"Is that a threat, baby?" Toji asks, scarred side of his lips curling. He watches you shrug in response, followed by a sassy tilt of your head, as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?'

"Be good."

"Be nice," you retort.

You both just stare at each other for a couple seconds, eyes never separating from each other. It's a brief moment between lovers who enjoy these little showdowns and how they almost always immediately come to an end when both of you inevitably crack.

Starting with you...

Your lips being tightly pressed together does nothing to suppress the loud snicker that cuts through the silence you both created. Toji follows almost instantly, unable to hold back his own entertained grin as he leans down to leave gentle, soothing kisses on the new impression he made on your thigh.

"You're nutso," you say, nothing but love in your tone, as you delicately run your fingers through his hair.

"You love it," he responds, caressing your thighs in his warm hands as he continues to soothe your tender skin with his lips.

Nanami is such a gift giver

"The roses that came at lunch were beautiful," you said, fingers tracing the back of his hand under the warm water.

Nanami’s lips curved into a rare smile against the back of your head, "I wanted you to know I was thinking of you between meetings. That even when I'm buried in paperwork, missions, and everything else- part of me is still with you."

It had become something of a legend among your friends- the way Nanami Kento never stopped courting you. Never taking your presence for granted. The flowers that appeared mysteriously on your pillow some mornings- the ones he’d cut from the garden before work or purchased the night before. The handwritten notes tucked into places he knew you’d rummage through throughout the day.

"Some people say romance dies after the honeymoon phase…" you said while leaning back into his chest, watching as the candlelight danced across his knuckles, "That once you've 'caught' someone, you stop trying."

Nanami’s arms tightened around you, "Those people misunderstand the nature of love..." His voice was matter of fact, as if stating an obvious truth, his free hand coming up to gently move your damp hair away from your neck, "Love isn't a trophy to be won and displayed. It's a garden that requires daily tending."

A shiver ran through you as his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. His lips trailed down the column of your neck, pressing light, almost ticklish, kisses along the sensitive flesh. Your hand found the side of his neck and you tilted your head further to the side in an unconscious invitation.

He nipped playfully at the skin where your shoulder and neck met and then soothed the spot with his tongue, "And you just so happen to be my favorite flower... You don't need a trophy case, just a loving gardener..."

His hand drifted to the edge of the tub, reaching across you, retrieving something from the edge- a small velvet box that hadn't been there when you'd entered the bathroom.

"Which is why," he continued, opening it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet adorned with black opal, its dark surface shimmering with a kaleidoscope of firey blues, greens, reds, and even purples, "I never intend to stop reminding you why you chose me. Every day. For as long as you'll have me."

SAY IT LOUDER

i’m gonna adress this once on this acc and never again

if u have a problem with me saying oh my god of jfc in my fics/smaus, DO NOT ENGAGE WITH MY WORK!!! i do not worship and my intent is not to be blasphemous BECAUSE i dont worship, but i am going to continue saying those phrases!!

not sure why people (2) are complaining since my page is PORN and scripture says engaging with pornography a sin, then u care if i say omg… but that’s between u and the big man

sorry if it offends u but like i said, im not intending to be blasphemous by invoking his name because i don’t even believe in the thing im supposedly invoking, so i am going to keep saying omg!! again, if that bothers u, do not read my work bcs in all 400+ of my works i guarantee ive said “omg” over 200 times while reader is getting their back blown out and i dont want u to be bothered by that!!

i understand if that matters to u how that would take u out of a fic so save urself the hassle and don’t engage with my work

nsfw!

dadbod!toji loves his family dearly, he's put aside his work, outside life, and his bad habits just for his family. He's put all his time and effort in taking care of you and your baby, but Toji didn't realize that keeping away from work for so long would get him so out of shape.

dadbod!toji who starts looking at himself in mirrors all around the house in disbelief, realizing that his abs are now enveloped by a soft puge.

dadbod!toji who you find in the bed room one day staring at himself in the mirror with no shirt on. His back muscles flexing as he flexed his abs and arms, then realizing you were watching him the whole time.

dadbod!toji who turns to look at you with a scowl, but it quickly turned into more of a perplexed look once he realized you were fully checking him out.

Your lip practically bleeding from how hard you were biting on it while your eyes were wandering down from his thick muscly neck, across his even bigger juicer pecks, and god his already huge biceps the size of a bears arm that somehow, grew even bigger.

"look at what ya did to me babe,"

"trust me Im looking."

"I need to get back in the fuckin gym"

dadbod!toji who notices your pout when he tells you that he wants to 'get back into shape'

"whyyy?"

"babe its getting ridiculous, you've been fattening me up with your cooking. this is your fault."

"aw my two babies are so adorable all chubby." you would reply while squishing your babies cheeks and earning a scoff from toji as he watched.

dadbod!toji who cant help but to be amused at how much more obsessed you have become with his body, but he'll pretend like he thinks you're just a weirdo.

dadbod!toji who chuckles to himself when you and your baby nuzzle up to him on the couch to watch a movie, just for the both of you to fall asleep in the first fifteen minuets of it starting, leaving Toji there wide awake.

Not that he minded, he wasn't even paying attention to the movie, he was more focused on the soft snores coming from you and the baby.

dadbod!toji who smiles to himself when he realizes that the baby sleeps way faster on his warm and soft chest.

dadbod!toji who finds you on the couch after putting the baby to bed and pulling you into his lap and kissing you passionately.

"toji what was that for?" You questioned with a small giggle.

"lets have another one."

"hm?"

"you heard me women." he said with a smirk and pulled you into another deep kiss.

"toji what are are you-"

"I wanna get you pregnant again, make you a mama a second time. please." he held your chin gently, but the look in his eyes was anything but innocent.

"please make me a dad again." he said in between kisses.

"please baby."

dadbod!toji who has you on your back sprawled open on the couch, your legs bent over his shoulders as he pressed your thighs against your chest, pounding into you relentlessly.

His huge thighs slapping against the bottom of your ass as he rammed his thick cock into your pussy, he felt even bigger then before.

"t-toji I-i cant. its-its too much." you whine, tears of pleasure brimming your eyes, and gliding down your cheeks.

"shhh, its okay mama-fuck- you can take it. I know you can." he says as kisses away your tears, pounding into you harder than he ever has before.

you grab onto each of his biceps and squeeze as hard as you can, moaning out while his cock hits all the right spots, the pain never felt so good.

"toji, m'gonna-fuck! m'gonna cum!" you squeal out.

"cum with me baby. m'gonna fill you up so good ~plap~ get this belly~plap~ nice and round again hm? ~plap~ youre gonna look ~plap~ so beautiful ~plap~ with my kid inside you baby.~plap~ make me a daddy again."

dadbod!toji who admires you sound asleep on his chest, making a silent vow to himself to not lose the weight just yet.

I mean who else is gonna be your human maternity pillow?

another toji drabble/hc my period is making me fucking feral and horny so yuh, not proofread btw :p

divider creds: @cafekitsune

Beginner's Guide to Tumblr

Choose an aesthetic!

℘ As you can see on my blog, I've chosen a brown and yellow/orange cafe vibe. Before that, it was a sunrise with an overflow of yellow, and before that, it was purple and pink cyberpunk.

℘ The great thing about Tumblr is how easily you can decorate your blog and make it truly yours to reflect your personality, so you can have a home to get all comfy in

℘ I recommend going on Pinterest or your favourite blogs for ideas. Choose a colour scheme (pastels, maroon, black and white, foresty green etc), a vibe (warm, exciting, dark, light, angelic, witchy etc)

℘ Play around with dividers which you can make on Canva, or other platforms -- there are many tutorials out there! You can also use other creators' but follow their rules (most will want to be credited via a tag or by reblogging their works, please be sure to respect their wishes) I use @/enchantings very often but these days I'm trying to make my own

℘ You can also use fun colours and different layouts for your post. Pick and choose the things you like to make your own but be sure you don't copy other people. If you like gradient text (like the one I use for my title), you can use stuffbydavid.com (@/screampied has a tutorial in their faq)

℘ If you want to have cute little symbols like these: ℘ ✧˚ ⋆｡˚ (≖_≖ ) use cool symbols.top . Play around with it.

℘ Be original!

Make a Navigation post!

℘ This is important, even if you have no plans of posting your own creations, because it is a further reflection of who you are. If you want to have followers, you'll need a Navigation post for them to refer to. It's your blog's headquarters.

℘ A Navigation post is your pinned post and it contains preliminary information about yourself like your age, your rules for interaction, your masterlists, your faq etc. If you're a creator, tell people what it is you predominantly do, the way I've said I write for JJK mostly

℘ You can decorate it too, reasserting your aesthetic and the vibe you want to go for. Show off who you are and what you want people to know!

Tumblr rules!

℘ Always credit other people you take direct inspiration from

℘ If you don't like a post, scroll on. Sometimes things just aren't for you. And you can always filter tags you don't want to see or block the creator

℘ Don't argue with people in the comments, others have a right to express their thoughts, whether you agree or not, the same way you do

℘ Put your age in your bio. Especially if you interact with nsfw/18+ content. Most creators have rules and boundaries in place where they only want 18+ individuals to interact so for your safety and for their comfort, clearly outline your age please.

What, other than writings and art, can I put on my blog?

℘ You can reblog other people's works with your own comments and thoughts! Contribute to threads and conversations. Reblogs are always appreciated for creators too because it gets their work out there further

℘ You don't have to write fanfiction, you can also post food/restaurant reviews, pop culture news, memes etc.

℘ Just ramble about your interests, the world is your oyster!

I saw this one idea from an acc and i LOVED IT. Bluelock boys x football player reader?? Thank uuu

“𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐟 > 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦”

a/n: soccer is such a hot sport

ft. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, tabito karasu, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧

rin doesn’t do loud cheering. no standing ovations or dramatic fist pumps. nah, he’s the type to sit in the stands with his arms crossed, expression blank, looking like he doesn’t even care. but anyone with half a brain could tell by the way his eyes are locked on you, laser-sharp and focused, that he cares more than anyone else in the stadium. when you score, his lips twitch into the tiniest smirk, and he barely nods, but his fingers tighten around his phone, snapping a photo of you mid-goal. and when you jog over to the sidelines for a water break, he casually offers you his bottle with a deadpan, “good shot.” but the way he holds it out, already uncapped, like he was waiting for you? yeah, he’s been holding that bottle for the last ten minutes, just in case. 

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

you know shidou’s the type of bf who yells your name like he’s front row at a concert. “THAT’S MY GIRL, BABY! YEAH, SHOW ‘EM WHO’S BOSS!” he’s practically hanging over the railing, shirt half unbuttoned, hair wild from how many times he’s run his fingers through it in excitement. the man is hoarse by halftime from screaming praise at you. when you land a perfect corner kick, he turns to the random dude next to him and slaps his shoulder. “DID YOU SEE THAT? THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND. LIKE, ACTUALLY. I’M DATING HER.” post-game, he practically tackles you with a hug, sweaty jersey be damned. he grins like a maniac, pressing wet, obnoxious kisses all over your face. “fuck, you were insane out there. mvp. the whole field was yours.”

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞

sae acts like it’s no big deal. like, whatever, you’re just a pro soccer player, no big deal. but he cannot help himself. whenever someone even vaguely mentions soccer, he casually slips your name into the convo like it’s nothing. “yeah, my girlfriend scored twice in her last match. no big deal.” except he says it so smugly that people have to ask. and oh, does he love when they ask. his voice is flat, but the glimmer in his eyes is unmistakable as he shows them a highlight reel of you absolutely cooking defenders. and when you spot him watching from the sidelines during your game? he’ll give you the laziest little wave, like he’s totally unbothered, but the way his lips twitch ever so slightly when you look his way? yeah, he’s so proud. 

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢

isagi is basically your personal hype man. he knows all your stats by heart – goals, assists, minutes played – and he’s ready to recite them at a moment’s notice. before your match, he’s pacing by the tunnel, hyping you up like a coach. “you’ve got this. you’ve been nailing your shots in practice. just play your game, baby.” and when you score? oh, he loses it. he’s standing, hands in his hair, eyes wide with disbelief like he just watched you score the winning world cup goal. “holy crap, that was insane!” he’s clapping so hard his palms are probably red. post-game, he hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, grinning like a fool. “i’m so proud of you. like, ridiculously proud.”

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

bachira is a menace on the sidelines. he’s doing little soccer tricks with a stray ball while you play, calling out your name every chance he gets. “go get ‘em, baby! woooo!” when you nutmeg an opponent, he full-on sprints down the sideline like a deranged golden retriever, yelling, “MEGURU’S GIRL, MEGURU’S GIRL!!!” when you win, he storms the field, despite the officials yelling at him to stay back. he picks you up and spins you around, planting kisses all over your face. “you were sooo cool! did you see yourself? wait, of course you did, you were right there! but still!! you were SO COOL.” and yes, he absolutely posts 30 blurry photos of you with captions like, “my goat gf 🐐💖.”

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐨

reo buys box seats just so he can get a better view of you. he’s wearing designer sunglasses even though he’s indoors, and he sips his expensive sparkling water all casually, acting totally chill. but the second you make a play, he drops the rich guy act. suddenly, he’s standing, clapping loudly and shouting, “YES, BABY! THAT’S MY GIRL!” he’s the type to bring an entire bouquet of roses to your post-game interview and place them dramatically in your arms with a grin. “for the most talented player on the field.” and if the cameras catch it? good. he wants the world to see how proud he is of you. 

𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨

nagi might seem lazy about everything else in life, but when it comes to your games? he’s fully locked in. he shows up wearing your jersey, hair still messy from a nap, but his eyes are glued to you the entire time. he may not be the loudest cheerer, but his voice is the one you hear the most clearly. every time you make a play, he leans forward and mumbles, “so cool…” under his breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. when you win, he’s the first one to greet you, still half-sleepy but grinning ear to ear. he loops his arms around your waist and leans into you like he’s about to fall asleep. “mmm… you’re my mvp. carry me home?” (bro’s gonna break your back)

𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

karasu cannot shut up about you. he’s straight-up posting memes like, “my gf could outplay your entire team.” at your game, he’s the guy standing by the railing with his arms spread wide like, “did you guys see that?!?!” if you score, he’s turning to random strangers like, “that’s my girl. mine. you see that? yeah, i go home to her.” when you walk off the field, he greets you with the cockiest grin. “pfft. that was light work for you. wasn’t even a challenge.” but then he softens, brushing some hair out of your face. “seriously, though… you were unreal out there. my little soccer star.”

𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐚

otoya is leaning against the stadium railing like a walking thirst trap, winking at you every time your eyes meet. “hey, number ten, you single?” he calls out dramatically, earning glares from nearby fans. when you land a perfect free kick, he lets out an exaggerated, impressed whistle. “damn, babe. you always this sexy when you destroy your opponents?” post-game, he slinks over with that flirty grin, resting his arm around your shoulders. “you were so hot out there. i think i need a private post-game interview with you. maybe in my hotel room?”

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮

yukimiya is all soft smiles and heart eyes. he watches you like you hung the moon, his hands clasped together as if he’s witnessing a miracle. when you score, he exhales softly, eyes filled with admiration. he’s not the type to shout, but you can feel the warmth in his applause. post-game, he greets you with open arms, pressing the softest kiss to your temple. “you were incredible,” he murmurs, voice full of awe. he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes glimmering with so much pride it makes your chest ache. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

Scent-sational!

Smau: in which you've sprayed pheromone perfume Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

🤣🤣🤣🤣 I'm about to join nanami 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“. . do you . . know what happens after death, sweetheart?”

the words that slipped out of nanami’s lips struck you right in the very depths of your heart.

it stung—a sharp prod that made the very crevices of your mouth twitch. his hands, his once warm and loving hands started to grow abnormally cold. frigid to where you even started to adapt to his chilled temperature.

“no why….” you started, feeling your throat tighten. “why are you asking me that, kento?” you sniffle, tightly interlocking your fingers with his.

he stares at you with a warm smile spreading across his lips.

regardless of his current position, peacefully resting his back against the ground—his inevitable fate had finally caught up to him.

nanami’s breathing patterns changed significantly. everything was so loud, all he could make out through his peripherals was splotches of blur and your pretty worried face. “. . because,” he continues, and his speech was so slow. you could tell he was trying to get every word out, every syllable, every vowel. just for you and only you. “i’m about to find out, my love . .”

your irises focused on him. nothing else, no one else—just him.

you’ve never seen him like this. so pale, so weak, so . . . scared.

his pure emotion, it showed in his eyes. his perfect brown eyes that you never failed to get lost in. for the first time in what was probably forever, nanami felt…scared. he tried his best to conceal it in front of you though. but even his best wasn’t enough, because you probably knew him better than you knew yourself.

“don’t say things like that, kento,” you mutter, already feeling that annoying plump knot rise up in your throat. your breath was shaky, tremble after tremble. “you’re fine. you can get up. we can get up.”

he knew when you said we, you implied that you’d both be walking away together — hand in hand, like in those stupid cheesy movies you’d watch with him every sunday after he gets off work. but alas, reality was quite harsh to face. an even more incredible tough pill to swallow. nanami knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

it was irksome, you had to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent a single tear to roll down your cheek.

nanami’s eyelids were hanging on by a thread, just barely open. he was trying—trying so hard to hang on, a small pout curls against his lips before he huffs out a single breath.

“ah . . forgive me, you’re right,” he says, his thumb swiftly stroking the front of your hand. a single tear escapes past your lower damp eyelid. even his voice sounded different. a voice you grew to love, so sweet and protective. it now sounded incredibly tired. you could hear a slight wheeze between breaths of his. “hey, don’t cry. don’t do that, look at me.”

his voice was so soft, you sniffled—despising the irritating tears that started to run down both sides of your temples. if it was anything nanami couldn’t stand, it was that he couldn’t stand to see the love of his life shed such sweet pitiful tears for him.

you looked at him, watching his eyelids struggle to stay open for you. everything ached, his body didn’t even feel like his own anymore. it was an indescribable feeling from when he got struck, laying against the slick cold floor of the shibuya train station.

“. . d-don’t leave me,” was all you managed to say, your lips was trembling, your heart pounded and you didn’t wanna say goodbye just yet. “kento, i need you.”

“hm? what are you mumblin’ about, sweetheart? ‘m right here.” his voice, it sounded happier.

you furrowed your eyebrows, now finding yourself buried into nanami’s bare chest, damp chin pressing against his pecs and all.

you were here safe and sound, snuggled up all against him, as you should be. it took you a long while to calm down, he’s staring at you with a soft loving gaze—a brief look of concern before you mumble out a, “..kento? are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be, baby?” nanami hums, a soft thumb stroking your back. with a relaxed breath, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss near the very tip of your forehead. his touch was forevermore soothing, a touch you never wanted to forget.

you let off a jittery sigh of relief, finally coming to the conclusion that it was another one of your horrid nightmares. you had nothing to worry about.

he was fine.

you were fine,

everything was fine.

. . is what you kept telling yourself.

nanami never told you those words, he didn’t kiss the tip of your forehead or stroke your back lovingly whilst staring into your eyes. the only true unbearable truth was that nanami was gone.

he was gone, and his last words weren’t even “i love you,” or “i’m sorry.” on his fatal dying breaths, nanami’s last words to you while squeezing your hand, sliding a ring into your palm, he rasps out a breathy, “will . . you marry me?”

but before you could tell him yes, he was already gone.

i just know atsumu LOVES gossip , he is just so damn interesting in how you discovered that your coworker was cheating on her husband with the boss. he’s on the edge of his seat, gasping like never before “NO WAYYY” he leans in eyes widening “ HOWD YA KNOW ?! YOU CAUGHT EM’ HOLY—” he’s now fully invested, he wants every single detail and he will complain if you don’t know everything.

atsumu is sitting cross-legged in front of you, nodding along like this is the most important thing he’s ever heard. he interrupts every few seconds—“wait, wait, back up. so he found out from his cousin? NOOO, that’s so messy.” “and then what? did he leave ? please tell me he left ‘er.” by the time you’re done, he sighs dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “holy shit that was good.” he grins, poking your cheek. “babe, ya gotta keep me updated. this is important.”

atsumu definitely pulls a “who are we to judge” after destroying the person he was talking about

He actually likes it

You tie cute pink bows that match Sukuna’s cute pink hair and he almost banishes you for it (still with the bows on, though.)

Something is happening to me...

morning~

TOJI IS SO FUNNY IN THIS

I Did it Better

coɴтεɴт - MDNI, PLEASE have age in bio when interacting, Jealous!jjk men x reader, jjk men find you playing Love and Deepspace, crack, weird crossover cus I found it funny

cнαrαcтεrѕ - Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Toji

an - I need to know how men feel about their partners playing this game

Something about softkuna...

lovesick — ryomen sukuna.

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is." "I see, I see." Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway. “Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 3.8k words.

Note: i wanted to see ryomen sukuna be someone that is pathetically in love with his lover, because i needed a break from my pattern of being angsty with sukuna, so here you go. that being said, i'm sorry this is shorter than what i usually write. i'm prepping a lot of things because im going to be back in uni soon and i need to make sure i fix the queue!!! that being said, i'll post tomorrow about the valentines special!!! thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

IF THERE WAS ONE THING ABOUT HIM, ITS THE FACT THAT HE IS A STRONG PERSONALLY. He knew that too well, everyone knew that just as much. Ryomen Sukuna was just easily the most incredible force to be reckoned with. Whether that be meeting him personally or whether that be hearing baout him in passing.

Everyone would say the same thing about him — it's hard to find out what to say about him without going on a tangent for hours on end. And that was just the easiest thing to do, rather than finding anything definite to say.

The one and only captain of the top ranking college varsity volleyball team in all of Japan, Ryomen Sukuna dominated the court like it was his personal kingdom with that iron fist. He has such a stellar record of existence, that was to be sure, wearing the crown.

All his opponents could only quiver at the sight of his one of a kind powerful line spike. All the teammates he'd have since junior high could only respect and fear him with almost military reverence, like he was their general.

Of course, all his coaches over the years swore he could crush concrete if he so much as clenched his fists mid-serve. That perhaps, it would be good to gentle parent him as much as possible, knowing he's already quite the fire cracker of a man.

Or that he could end up cussing out everyone at the court as easily as one does breathing. That's of course, why the coaches would find him to be the "Cursed King." It was an intimidating title that had followed him since junior high school.

One moment he's someone that you curse because you lost a game because of him, another time you curse him because your team got fined because he ended up causing a fight. And with a name like that, Sukuna relished the air of invincibility it gave him.

Everyone had a box for Sukuna to fit in, of course. That continued over time, to be something that people couldn't avoid making for him and only him. That was just how it was, when you have someone as enigmatic as him.

To some of his teammates, he was "Cap"—the iron-willed leader who demanded nothing less than perfection. The one that would force them to run miles on end until they fell from exhaustion. The one who forced them to do hundreds of spikes until it took out the bottles he prepared on the other side of the court.

The rival schools referred to him as "Demon Spike" but this was mostly because he left a trail of destruction (and bruises) every time he stepped onto the court. One moment that's from the fact that his serves were just dangerously low and one moment it's because he heard someone bad mouth his underclassman.

Of course, even his many teachers and now his college professors had their own opinions for him one at a time over the many years. One of the most known nicknames for him by the professors in the college halls is “The GPA Crusher”.

To the younger underclassmen, who unfortunately still looked at him with bright eyes under those filtered glasses on — he was a mix of "Sensei of True Discipline" and "Volleyball God".

He was to them, a figure of unadulterated awe and of course, that desire to hope, that perhaps they would end up like him too. After all, he was always a star in the court. But in a different way, in the good way. That's how they think.

But this was because Ryomen Sukuna spent more time perfecting his jump serves against his opponent than ever having effort in writing essays for submission. Ironically, even though he was quite a smart young man. The fact that he shows up to exams more than classes and still passes with flying colors is quite certain proof.

But to you, his beloved girlfriend, Ryomen Sukuna was none of these things. He didn’t live in a box and he never wished to do so, no. Instead, he lived eternally, forever, even in the next life — in your heart.

Though he’d never say something that cheesy out loud. That part is not easy for him, but you didn't mind that. You liked to keep him to yourself most of the time. And he was satisfied with that.

The most you could hear from him about you is in passing. Sometimes practice would finish and he, still full of sweat, would immediately pack his things into his gym bag, almost suddenly becoming ignorant of everything else.

His underclassman would invite him to eat something like yakuniku and he would say with a straight face — "I can't. My girfriend wants to cook some authentic pasta for me at her place. Bye."

He would leave almost instantly, much to the shock of the underclassman each year. But most of his teammates, who were also somehow his friends, were not surprised. He and you were dating early on during junior high school. And he would be the same way.

When he wasn't looking, people could only surmise what he looked like when he towered over your giddy figure at every practice, at every game — 'Ah, I see. He's lovesick. And in a good way.'

To Sukuna, you were perhaps the only thing that could triumph against volleyball. You were his number one. And he knew that you thought of him the same way too. And everyone knew that too.

That's why you only ever called him one thing: my love. And to Sukuna, that title was worth more than any championship trophy. But of course, no one knew that. It's not like you don't call him that in public. It's just that no one asks, what that nickname is.

The look in your eyes was more than enough when he makes a wink for you at each serve was enough, the smile on your lips when he comes to greet you at the bleachers was more than enough. No one needed to hear the nickname to know that there was something loving between the two of you.

He knew this truth as well as he knew how to spike a ball with a precise edge. He knew this as much as he knew what would get him a championship. But of course, that doesn't stop curiosity at times. At times he humors them, at times he does not. It was a hit and miss.

That’s why, during a post-practice break, when the Vice Captain of the Volleyball team, Gojo Satoru, decided to start stirring the pot as usual with his antics. And somehow, today, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t mind it. There was something in the air. They could feel it.

(He won't tell anyone about this, but he has very happy about something.

He was after all happy that his girlfriend was staying at his dorm tonight to spoon on his bed after your finals kept you apart for nearly two weeks —

But no one needs to know that.

Otherwise, they'd use it against him.

And he can't have that right now.

It will spoil these bastards and make them too relaxed before championships again.)

Gojo leaned against the bleachers with that signature cocky grin. “Hey, Sukuna.” he drawled, as he watched the captain drink from his water bottle. "You’ve got about a million nicknames floating around. But what are you to your girlfriend?”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t miss a beat.

He put down his water bottle swiftly.

He glared at Gojo Satoru with a passion.

He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded with that calm arrogance he wore so well. “Huh? My girl can only call me my love or nothing.” he said, his voice practically dripping with pride.

"Hehhhhh, really?"

“If she calls me anything else, I’ll disappear and leave no trace. Hell, I'll jump off a cliff and make sure I drown into the ocean and never be seen again."

Gojo barked out a laugh, his hands clapping together as if Sukuna had just told the world’s funniest joke. “Wow. Our captain sure is seriously whipped. Actually, that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is."

"I see, I see."

Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway.

“Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Ryomen Sukuna turned slowly, his earlier bravado evaporating the second he saw you standing at the gym door. Your arms were crossed, your eyes sharp, and your posture practically screamed, You’re in trouble.

“Sukuna.” you called out, your tone cutting through the gym like a whistle signaling the end of a game.

His entire body could only stiffen. He didn’t just flinch—he practically short-circuited. The other players and members, the entire volleyball staff, sensing the shift in the air, immediately stopped what they were doing to watch the drama unfold. All of their eyes were glued on this moment, more than anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” you said again, each syllable landing like the sound of a referee’s whistle before a penalty.

Sukuna’s brain scrambled for an escape route. “What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath, frozen in place.

“Ryomen Sukuna, come here.”

“No.” His voice cracked as he stood up so fast he nearly knocked over a water bottle.

His scarlet eyes were shaking as much as his body was. No one has ever seen this before. No one had ever seen the panic on his face before. Not even in a hard game to win. This was the very first time their formidable captain looked so defeated and horrified.

“No, no, my name is my love! It’s my love! What did I do?” he asked, practically sprinting toward you like a volleyball rolling out of bounds.

Gojo Satoru, thoroughly entertained, cackled so hard he nearly fell off the bleachers. “Man, even the Cursed King has a leash!” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "This is how he is with her. That's interesting, isn't it?"

"He doesn't look like who he actually is in the moment, huh." Nanami Kento whispered under his breath, wiping the sweat with the towel over his shoulder. "We should have used this card when he refused to stop practice during last year's finals."

"Well now we can." Geto Suguru snickers, lounging on the floor as he watched the scene with mirth in his purple gaze. "Does anyone have objections?"

"None here!" The chorus of seniors and juniors retorted back at him.

"Someone save her phone number for speed dial!" Gojo said, pointing to one of the managers who nodded.

By the time Ryomen Sukuna reached you, he was a completely different man. The fearsome captain who dominated courts and crushed spirits was reduced to a panicked, apologetic mess. You continued to stand before him, rolling your eyes, his towering figure in tatters at what you called him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything! There's no girls or even guys! There isn't anything else. You can check my phone. Or you can ask everyone here too!"

"Sukuna—"

"Whatever it was, I’ll do everything fix it and make it right, babe—just don’t call me that again. Please!” he begged, his voice low enough that only you could hear the desperation in it.

"Calm down." You raised an eyebrow, letting him stew for a moment before finally speaking. “You forgot to text me that practice was running late. And I was concerned. I thought we were going to meet up at the cafe nearby so we can go to your dorm together!”

Sukuna blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” you said, though your tone suggested you might have a few more grievances stored up for later. "Well, I'm also hungry."

Sukuna exhaled so dramatically it was a wonder he didn’t collapse on the spot. “I’ll never forget again, okay?” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Babe, I’ll set an alarm—no, two alarms—just for you. And don't worry, we're gonna eat. Actually, take my card and buy something in the cafe while you wait for me.”

As he continued to rattle off promises, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Cursed King or not, to you, Sukuna was just your dorky loving boyfriend, forever trying to live up to his title of my love in your life. And if the rest of the gym wanted to watch him grovel? Well, that was just an added bonus. By the gods, you love him.

"I love you, my love." You whispered to him, taking his hand into yours. "I'm sorry I scared you like that."

"No, no, that was my fault." He grumbled under his breathe, taking a moment to settle in the warmth of your eyes, reserved just for him. "I should have noticed the time. I will never forget about it again, I promise."

"Hm, that's all that matters, my love."

"I'll make us dessert tonight as an apology." He says, moving closer to kiss your temple.

"That would be good, my love."

As Sukuna continued his frantic apologies, the rest of the gym erupted into poorly stifled snickers. Gojo Satoru, of course, was the loudest, slapping his knee like he’d just witnessed the greatest comedy set of the century.

“My love, huh? Big, bad Cursed King reduced to a golden retriever!” he teased, practically howling. “Hey, did you hear that, boys? If she calls him Ryomen Sukuna one more time, he might just cry.”

“Should we start calling him my love too, senpai? Y’know, in solidarity?” chimed Underclassman Itadori Yuuji, grinning as he leaned on his volleyball. The suggestion earned a chorus of laughs and a few enthusiastic nods.

“Yeah, Cap! Don’t worry, my love, we’ve got your back!” Underclassman Fushiguro Megumi deadpanned from the sidelines, his usual stoic face cracking into a rare smirk.

One of the first year underclassman, emboldened by the chaos, cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “We love you, my love! You’re our MVP for all seasons! With so much love, my love!”

Sukuna whipped his head around, his scarlet glare promising death, destruction, and possibly laps for everyone involved. “If anyone other than my girlfriend calls me that, I swear.” he growled, “I will personally make sure you regret it.”

“Sure, my love!” Gojo crowed, leaning back against the bleachers with a devilish grin. “Ooooh, should we get it printed on the back of your jersey? Cursed King on the front, My Love on the back—perfect balance, don’t you think?"

Geto laughs loudly. "You know what, I think we can make this happen. Coach! We got the budget for that, right?"

“Or maybe embroider it on the team banner!” someone else chimed in, sending the gym into another fit of laughter.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, doubling over as Sukuna turned a deeper shade of red than the volleyballs on the court. His sharp retorts and death glares only fueled the chaos, the once-commanding presence of the Cursed King now utterly eclipsed by the sheer hilarity of the moment.

Finally, Sukuna turned back to you, his expression a mix of betrayal and exasperation. “You’re supposed to defend me, babe.” he muttered, his voice low but desperate.

You reached up to pat his cheek, your grin as sweet as honey. “Oh, my love, I am defending you. I’m making sure they never forget how cute you are to me."

For the rest of practice, you sat down and watched everything unfold before you as you ate your croissant and drank your coffee from the cafe which you bought using your boyfriend's card, of course.

For a while, the gym echoed with the sound of volleyballs, laughter, and the occasional teasing chorus of “My love!” — especially when Sukuna found himself scoring a point, which of course led to him missing the next hit.

Every time someone said it later on, Ryomen Sukuna looked seconds away from snapping a net in half, but deep down, though he’d never admit it, he wouldn’t have traded his nickname or the teasing for anything in the world. Not when you were there, cheering it for him with that adorable voice of yours, loving him completely.

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be lovesick like that.

Not when it was you who loved him just like that.

That's just how he loved you too.

══════════════════

epilogue

After what felt like the longest practice of his life, one that was just peppered with relentless teasing from his teammates and the volleyball team staff — Ryomen Sukuna was finally free to leave with you, to enjoy the weekend together.

He barely said goodbye to the others, grumbling something about “making them run that suicidal hill again on Monday” before grabbing his bag and leading you out of the gym.

“Unbelievable.” he muttered under his breath as you walked side by side. “Gojo’s gonna be insufferable for weeks.”

You stifled a laugh. “Weeks? You mean forever.”

He shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. Instead, he sighed and draped an arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to his car. “You’re lucky I love you, y’know. Otherwise, I might’ve disappeared on the spot after what you pulled, babe.”

“Oh, come on, my love.” you teased, leaning into him. “It was worth it to see the great Cursed King turn into a puddle in front of everyone. Especially because he loves me.”

“You’re cruel, babe." he grumbled, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can't believe I've loved you since we were in junior high."

You winked at him, smile on your lips growing wider. "And for forever too! You'll have to deal with it."

By the time you got back to Sukuna’s place, you immediately made the move to cook while he got into the shower. Soon enough, the air was thick with the scent of miso broth bubbling on the stove.

You’d planned this hotpot night earlier, since he was supposed to have gone home much earlier. But after the chaos at the gym and his long grueling practice, you just felt like it was even more well-earned.

Sukuna, finally emerging from the bedroom, rolled up his sleeves and helped you set the table, his mood softening with each step of the ritual as you hummed along the song playing on the radio.

“You got everything, babe?” he asked, peering over your shoulder as you arranged plates of thinly sliced meat, tofu, and an assortment of vegetables.

“Yup.” you replied, popping a piece of bok choy into your mouth. “And don’t even think about hogging all the meat this time.”

“Me? Hog it?” He snorted, grabbing the chopsticks and pointing them at you in mock accusation. “You’re the one who fishes out all the good stuff when I’m not looking.”

“That’s called strategy, my love.” you said, grinning as you threw his words from earlier back at him.

Sukuna groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Not you too…”

You waved your chopsticks at him. "Well, I say it more lovingly. You like it like that, you know!"

He grumbles under his breath, red appearing on his cheek. "You're lucky I love you like that."

"Hm, that's why I'm shameless!"

But any complaints were quickly forgotten as the two of you settled down around the simmering hotpot. The warmth of the broth, the crackling of the stove, and the quiet clink of chopsticks filled the room. Sukuna started to relax, his earlier frustrations melting away as he watched you happily dunk mushrooms and noodles into the pot.

“Okay, babe.” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve decided.”

You raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of tofu. “Decided what?”

“Next time Gojo calls me ‘my love’ in front of everyone, instead of just you, it’s on sight,” Sukuna said, leaning forward with a wicked grin that promised destruction.

He jabbed his chopsticks into a slice of tofu like it was Gojo’s face. “I’m spiking a volleyball straight at his stupid face.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on the piece of fish cake you’d been chewing. “Good luck with that. He’ll just dodge it and make fun of you even more. You know how he is—Gojo thrives on chaos. The man’s immune to consequences.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, stabbing another piece of tofu with unnecessary aggression. “Then I’ll spike two balls. One after the other. And if that doesn’t work…”

You looked at him curiously, mirth in your eyes. "What will you do?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in mock concentration. “I’ll add laps. So many laps. He’ll be running until graduation.”

You snorted, wiping a tear from your eye. “Right, because Gojo would totally listen to your orders. He’d just turn it into a race and leave everyone else in the dust.”

Sukuna grumbled under his breath, his scowl deepening—but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. “Fine. If volleyball and laps don’t work, I’ll come up with something else. Something evil.”

“Evil?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What, like stealing his Bottega Veneta sunglasses?”

“Too easy. He’s got like fifty pairs, babe.” Sukuna muttered, resting his chin on his hand as he considered his options. “Maybe I’ll prank him during practice. Replace his water with vinegar. Or set his alarms an hour early every day.”

"I forgot he makes his password too easy for people to guess." You murmured, drinking from your cup. You sigh. "Well, I suppose that would work."

"Right? Fool-proof!"

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm, as solid as that is, what if he gets revenge? Gojo’s the type to double down, you would know best."

He hummed. "I'm way better at being stubborn than he is."

"I know that. But he might start serenading you in the middle of practice. Like, full-on ‘My Love’ with a guitar and everything on campus like it's 10 Things I Hate About You."

Sukuna froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, he absolutely would.” you said, grinning. “And you’d never live it down. The Cursed King getting serenaded in front of the entire team? In front of the whole university? They’d be talking about it for years.”

He groaned, dropping his chopsticks and leaning back against the chair like he’d just been defeated in battle. “Why do I even put up with him? Or any of you, for that matter.”

“Because deep down, you love us.” you said, smiling sweetly as you plopped another piece of meat into the hotpot. “Even Gojo.”

“I do not love Gojo,” Sukuna snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Sure, sure, my love!” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “But admit it—you’d miss him if he wasn’t around to drive you insane.”

Sukuna gave you a flat look, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him again. “I’d miss you more.” he said gruffly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip.

“Aww, my love.” you cooed, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good to know, babe.” he said, turning back to the hotpot with a satisfied grunt. “At least you don’t call me my love in front of the team like that.”

You smirked, swirling your chopsticks through the broth. “Not yet, anyway.”

Sukuna froze mid-bite, glaring at you with wide eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“No promises!” you said with a mischievous grin, earning a groan from him that was half exasperation, half affection.

"You're such a menace."

"Well, that's how you know I love you, my love!" You grinned, moving forward to steal his tonkatsu.

"Babe!" He groans, as he watches you eat the tonkatsu happily.

"I love you!"

Sukuna sighs, his eyes softening, watching you happily eat. "I love you too......"

Where am I gonna find a man like this

with toji you know it’s not his first kiss. he’s experienced, he’s probably kissed so many people before you. it’s all that is swirling in your head as you climb into his lap where he motioned for you to go just seconds ago, staring at him wide-eyed with your heart feeling like it’s gonna explode out of your chest.

once you’re situated, straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beneath you, your arms around his neck, he places his big hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“you nervous?” he asks and your eyes dart, as you feel your face heat up.

“yes,” you reply and toji rasps out a chuckle, deep and fond, all adoration and sparkle.

“me too,” he replies and your heart stutters slightly as he grabs your chin and presses your lips together for a short while. your eyes flutter closed and you’re simply dazed when he pulls away, blinking at him like an owl.

“nothing to be scared of, baby, it’s just me,”

then he kisses you again. and again, and again, and again. short, chaste kisses to your lips, barely letting you feel the scar you like so much. and then he kisses your cheek, and your nose, and your chin, and your forehead until you whine, tugging on his shirt in an attempt to get closer.

“don’t tease me,” you huff, aiming at his lips, but he easily dodges, making you kiss his jaw instead. and you scoff, grabbing his face with your hands, cupping his cheeks and pressing your lips together.

this time he deepens the kiss, moving his lips against yours, and you follow along clumsily, trying your best to keep up.

“my pretty baby,” he murmurs against your lips, swallowing your little gasps and sighs.

you feel hot. toji is warm and big and by now rugged hands have gone from playing with the hem of your shirt to pressing against your bare skin, trailing up your back, holding you closer as if that’s somehow possible.

and when you pull away, trying to catch your breath, he follows for a second, before you giggle, your hands threading through his hair and tugging him away.

toji smiles. his lips are kiss-bitten and you bet yours are too. it’s hard to tell how much time has passed, and you feel shy all of a sudden, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, pressing little kisses there.

comforting hands rub your back.

“still nervous?”

“no, i’m okay. thank you.”

Just thinking about Sylus giving you attitude when he mimics your words during the event, but he really hates when you flip it back on him... especially when it means you stop begging/talking to him next time you have sex as revenge.

Best believe he's pounding you deep into the mattress as soon as he realized what you're doing, nonstop filth coming out of his mouth as he begs you to forgive him and let him hear you once more as you fight nearly to tears to keep your sounds muffled just to torture him a little longer.

THIS AU IS MISCHARACTERIZING ME COZ ID NEVER SAY ANY OF THAT!!!!!!

Return Ticket

Smau: in which they're moving elsewhere Warnings: angst, cursing, not proofread (I actually haven’t looked at this in a hot minute and I can’t bear to reread my works right now lest I lose all creative motivation so yeah enjoy) Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

I love itafushi

I fell in love with an emo… BOY???

Tags: itafushi, megumi x itadori, bl, aged up characters, modern!au, side of SatoSugu, crack, NO SMUT, unserious joke about suicide, maybe some tension and suggestion though, megumi wants that cookie so damn bad, hey what’s junpei doing here???

Synopsis: There should only be ONE emo boy in Itadori’s heart, and it damn well wasn’t going to be the one who died in season one.

An: If you don’t ship itafushi, don’t read this LOL. This was so fun to write honestly. I didn’t take it too seriously. You shouldn’t either. The idea just popped up, and I wanted to write it as a palette cleanser from all the dark shit I’ve been conjuring up.

Megumi was going to need a dentist.

Yep, he was surely going to need to take Gojo’s precious black card and pay for all new veneers because his teeth were practically going to be dust by the time this visit was over.

It shouldn’t bother him this badly. His best friend and long-term crush was only visiting with his childhood best friend.

Itadori was a fucking saint. A ray of sunshine and pretty pink flowers on a rainy day. He exuded kindness and thoughtfulness in everything he did. He was unapologetically himself, even if he was a total dork. He was charming as all hell. It was no wonder how he was so popular.

Megumi wasn’t the only one that was blessed enough to feel his warmth, and that thought was sickening enough.

Usually, the black-haired male didn’t necessarily care about all the attention Itadori received. He didn’t bat an eye when Todo would unabashedly sling his arm across Itadori’s shoulders. He couldn’t care less when Nobara would sit on Itadori’s knees and apply skin care to his face, and he definitely never cared whenever Hana would run up to Itadori and give him one of the biggest hugs ever.

So, why was it bothering him so bad that Junpei was simply sitting next to Itadori… laughing at his god awful jokes? They were clearly close… Their knees casually leaned up against each others as they weren’t afraid of touching.

Maybe it was because Junpei laughed really hard at Itadori’s shitty jokes? Everyone loved Itadori, but it wasn’t because of his sense of humor. That was for certain.

Maybe he hated Junpei because he just sprung up out of thin air? Gojo had just shown up with Junpei with basically no forewarning. He knew how much Megumi hated when he did that.

Maybe it was because they had history together? History that didn’t involve Megumi. Maybe he felt some weird claim and ownership over Itadori because he was the first one out of the group of students to meet him. They had known each other the longest… even if it was only by a couple of days.

Or maybe it was because Junpei had that fuck ass haircut. The 2009 emo boy look was so stupid, and it didn’t help that he was wearing a My Chemical Romance t-shirt… It was an exact carbon copy of the one in Megumi’s closet.

“What about you, Megs?” Yuji voice snapped Megumi out of his train of thought. He looked up at the two pairs of eyes that were waiting for his response. Shit. He had been so focused on trying to deduce the status of their relationship that he hadn’t been listening for the past ten minutes.

“Hm? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” He responded casual enough. It wasn’t unlike him to mentally check out of conversations… especially whenever Itadori brought up that godforsaken human earthworm movie.

“I was just trying to see if you wanted to go see a movie with Junpei and I?” Itadori asked without even skipping a beat.

Junpei and I?

Junpei and I!?

They were like some fucking package deal or something. No, he’d rather drop dead than go hangout with them. He couldn’t stand to see them together for any longer.

“I don’t have anything else better to do.” Megumi sighed in agreement. He couldn’t stand to see them together, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of them going on a date alone! Sorry Junpei, Megs was definitely going to tag along and be a complete cockblock for him.

“Really? Hell yeah!” Itadori grinned as he quickly sat up from the couch, exuding excited puppy energy. Megumi never wanted to go to the movies with him, so this was a treat. His two best friends going with him to see a movie! What could be better?

“Kugisaki!! Come with us!” Itadori shouted towards the short brunette, who was currently sitting at the table with Hana, painting her nails.

“I’d rather kill myself. Thanks!” Kugisaki called back to him, causing for him to pout in response. That’s fine. It was good enough that Megumi and Junpei were tagging along.

Yuji knew how much they had in common with each orher. He at least hoped they’d finally talk on the way to the movie theatre.

Megumi leaned his head back against the couch, and he started to dial Ijichi’s number for a ride. Despite being legal adults, none of them had their license yet. Why get a license when Gojo’s money and staff supported all of them?

It was a little while later when Ijichi pulled the car up. Megumi’s stomach flipped as he thought about the seating arrangement for the car. It was something he hadn’t considered yet.

The three of them could pile into the backseat, except that would be three tall men piled into the backseat. That would be far too uncomfortable. Itadori was the tallest. He could sit up front, but… that would leave Megumi and Junpei in the back seat.. no thanks.

They could have Junpei sit up front. Then, Megumi could sit in the back with Itadori and…

Oh look, Itadori was already opening the backdoor for Junpei and ushering him in before sliding in beside him… how nice.

Megumi was left brooding in the front seat, internally cursing himself for coming along. Being a cockblock required getting and keeping Itadori’s attention, but he had no fucking idea how to do that.

Their relationship had always been Itadori reaching out to Megumi, and the brunette acting indifferent towards him. Megumi envied him for being able to reach out to others so confidently.

“Gojo said he’d be home later tonight, Fushiguro.” Ijichi informed meekly, sensing the other’s frustration. He was just trying to make small talk, but Megumi really wasn’t in the mood today. He actually was never in the mood, but today was worse.

“I already told you to call me Megumi. You’ve known me since I was a kid.” He rolled his eyes at Ijichi, never understanding why the man insisted on using his last name.

“Right… right.” Ijichi fumbled over his words as he continued to drive. Megumi was grateful yet also hated the silence between them. Now, he could hear Yuji yapping to Junpei about the latest horror movie release.

They hadn’t stopped fucking talking since Junpei showed up. It was unnerving. Unnatural. No one had that much to say, did they?

“God, I wish you would’ve been there, Junpei. Megs hated that movie. You would’ve enjoyed it though.” Itadori said with a small laugh.

It was like a knife to Megumi’s gut. All this time they spent together… had Yuji been comparing him to Junpei? Had he secretly wished the Junpei was there instead of Megumi?

Aaaannd his teeth were grinding together again. He propped his head up with his hand, glaring out the car window. He wasn’t a cockblock at all. Fuck, he was a third wheel.

He debated on faking some sort of illness to stay behind in the car, but he knew Ijichi would’ve taken any opportunity to take him to see Shoko. Shoko would’ve found out quickly that nothing was wrong with him, and she would’ve forced him to explain why he faked being sick.

He trailed behind the two as they walked into the movie theatre. They were constantly bumping their arms together as they walked in perfect sync.

Junpei was a little smaller than Megumi, so he came up just to Itadori’s shoulder. Did Itadori prefer shorter men? He liked tall girls… Did that translate to men as well?

He knew Itadori didn’t care about gender. He had revealed such over a game of truth or dare. Kugisaki had asked if Itadori would ever date a guy. Megumi’s ears subtly perked up with the pink-haired male said he really didn’t care what gender someone was. He only looked for personality. With a bit more digging, Kugisaki had taken the honor of labeling Itadori as pansexual, and the young man agreed with such.

Megumi was glad that no one had pressed about his sexuality. It’s not that he was ashamed of being gay. Hell, shame wasn’t a thing when you had Gojo as a parent. He just didn’t want there to be that weird awkward tension that always happens between two friends when they find out each of them like the same sex.

It happened in middle school once. He was finally coming to terms with his sexual identity with the help of Geto. He came out of the closet to his closest (and only) friend in middle school, and there was a pregnant pause when his friend replied, “Wait really? I also like guys.”

He honestly preferred coming out to straight men. Sure, they’d make the common mistake of saying, “Well, as long as you don’t hit on me. We’re cool, dude.” but at least there was no complicated feelings when Megumi would always reply with them not being his type.

Lost in thought, he had completely been acting on autopilot this entire time. He didn’t even realize that they were already in the movie theatre until he sat next to Itadori. Junpei sat on the other side.

Itadori held a large bowl of popcorn on his lap. It was more than enough for the three of them to share, especially because Megumi despised popcorn. There was too many times when Gojo would try to serve popcorn as a meal to him as a young kid.

Granted, Gojo was a teen dad who ran off of sugar and desserts, so he really didn’t know any better either. Geto would always come by and save the day with his cooking.

A small tap on his thigh had Megumi tensing. He slightly flinched before snapping his gaze at Itadori.

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispered with a soft laugh. Even though it was dark, Megumi could still see how bright his smile was. It made his heart skip a beat. Christ, he was whipped. “Here. I know you don’t like popcorn.”

Itadori gently nudged Megumi’s thigh once again with a bag of American salty chips. It was one of his favorite kinds. Did Itadori by chance know that was his favorite..? If he did, was that something that friends did for each other?

It’s better not to read too deeply into it. He slowly took the chips from his friend’s hand. “Thanks.” He muttered as he just stared at the chip bag. Something about the small token kindness made his heart swell. Itadori didn’t get Junpei his own special snack.

“Don’t mention it.” His friend replied, immediately shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Megumi took a deep breath, and he tried to relax in his seat. Finally, rational thought was beginning to come back to him.

Junpei was only visiting for today and tomorrow. If there was some weird tension between him and Itadori, it’s probably just lingering feelings of their past. Megumi really had no right to be jealous. It’s not like he had ever expressed his feelings to him. He had no claim on Itadori.

Junpei would be leaving soon and flying back off to wherever the hell he lived now. This would be a funny memory in the future.

All was well… until Megumi caught a glimpse of the two men whispering to each other and laughing. Their hands kept bumping together in the popcorn bucket. Itadori was leaned against Junpei so they could hear each other better.

Fuck this. This was torture to witness. Junpei could get fucked for all Megumi cared. Who needs to visit their childhood best friend for a full two days, and who cared if Megumi had no claim over Itadori!? He was still his best friend. That had to count for something.

The movie Itadori had chosen, Human Tarantula, was nothing like Human Earthworm. It took a horror twist upon the movie, and there was little to no romance.

If Megumi wanted his attention, he was going to have to fight for it.

Even though the jump scares were pretty predictable, the next one that happened, Megumi sharply inhaled, and his hand latched onto Itadori’s thigh, feigning terror from the movie.

The pink-haired male straightened, and he looked away from Junpei for once as he looked over at Megumi. He never usually got scared during these films. Did… did Megumi have a secret fear of spiders?

Itadori leaned into Megumi, his mouth next to his friend’s ear as he softly whispered a, “You alright?” to him.

The brunette was thankful it was too dark in the movie theatre for Itadori to see how much that affected him. His cheeks flushed a soft red, and he carefully removed his hand from his friend’s thigh. “I’m fine..” He responded, not risking a glance in Itadori’s direction.

Itadori softly laughed. It was totally like Megumi to act like he wasn’t scared. The pink-haired male just didn’t expect him to be so afraid of spiders. It was cute though. He made a mental note of it. He would be the designated person to take care of spiders if they ever crawled their way into the house.

It wasn’t five minutes later until Itadori and Junpei were all huddled up together once again. They weren’t even talking. They were just leaned against each other, enjoying the movie together… like a couple.

It made Megumi’s stomach turn. He had to act scared to get Itadori’s attention even for just a minute. Meanwhile the emo with the fucked ass haircut can manage to keep his attention the entire day.

Junpei was getting to experience Itadori whispering into his ear constantly throughout the entire movie — something that Megumi only got to experience once, and it was something he craved again.

He was about to just excuse himself to the bathroom to go hide in self-deprecation. He was tired of third wheeling, and he was certainly fucking tired of hearing Junpei giggle at Itadori’s comments.

A scene played on the giant movie screen of a whole nest of baby spiders crawling around. It was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl with disgust. The sound alone made Megumi’s hair stand up on the back of his neck. He wasn’t actually afraid of spiders, but he also didn’t fuck with them either.

A hand rested on his knee, and Megumi tensed. Itadori casually had his palm on the brunette’s knee. He focused on his breathing — trying to not appear as if he was about to die over such a simple touch.

Itadori was clearly just trying to soothe him. It’s not like this is a romantic gesture. No, this is just what friends did for each other, right..?

His thumb gently stroked the outer part of his knee, and Megumi gripped onto the arm rest of the chair like he was fighting for his life. His heart was racing in his chest. Butterflies swarmed his stomach. Itadori and him were close, but they had never even shared a hug before. They weren’t the type of friends to casually share touches… like him and Junpei were.

Of course, on the outside, Megumi looked terrified. Itadori genuinely pitied his friend. He would’ve chosen a different movie if he knew about Megumi’s aversion to spiders.

His hand continued to caress his friend’s knee, thinking this would be a soothing motion to ease his terror, but Megumi was nearly shaking.

Itadori leaned over against him once more. “We can go if you’re not having a good time.” His breath brushed against the shell of his ear, causing Megumi to shudder.

“I’m fine.” He managed to get out in a low, steady tone.

Itadori gave his knee one good squeeze before continuing to rub circles around his knee. Megumi swallowed harshly as he tried to keep his breath slow and steady.

The rest of the movie went by painfully fast. Megumi couldn’t focus with Itadori’s hand on his knee, and he couldn’t get enough of the feeling. His hand itched to just reach down and hold it, but he was too nervous. He kept trying to remind himself that Itadori was likely only doing this so he could be a good friend.

The loss of contact had Mugumi’s heart sinking down into his stomach. Itadori was right back to being all up Junpei’s ass. Were they in some weird ass throuple situation? Is that what people thought about them as they saw them in passing? Two emos sharing a golden retriever?

Returning home, Gojo was sitting at the dining room table, playing on his Nintendo Switch before he looked up at the three with starry eyes. Megumi had forgotten Ijichi mentioned Gojo would be home this afternoon.

During the school semesters, Megumi, Itadori, and Nobara would all go live on the college campus they all went to. However, it was summer time, so they all stayed at Megumi’s since Nobara and Itadori really didn’t have any family.

Megumi’s house was expansive thanks to Gojo’s handsome check from being the clan head. Geto’s income also helped a bit, but he mainly ran a nonprofit for disadvantaged children.

Hell, their home was like a nonprofit for disadvantaged children. It felt like the collected orphans like pokemon cards. First Megumi when he was seven, now several college students found refuge in Gojo’s house.

Hell, Junpei was probably an orphan too. They were really trying to catch ‘em all.

“Gumiii~!” Gojo called out to his child by that god awful nickname that Megumi hated. He was eternally grateful that Itadori had landed on calling him ‘Megs’ instead. “How was the movie?” He asked.

Junpei and Itadori had already settled right back on the couch right next to each other, going back and forth about the voice actors for the movie they just watched.

“Outside.” Megumi grumbled as he grabbed his adoptive dad by the collar of his shirt and comedically dragged him backwards until they were in the backyard.

“Why the fuck did you bring him here, and when the fuck is he leaving exactly?” Megumi asked as soon as the door shut behind them.

“Grouchy.” Gojo laughed, scratching the back of his neck once his son released him. “I guess the movie wasn’t that good, was it?” He asked, clearly just trying to egg the brunette on.

“Gojo.” Megumi’s tone was low and threatening. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides. Small crescent shapes were likely indented into his skin from how tight his grip was.

“Okay, okay- No need for the government name, Gumi.” Gojo responded with his hands up in a dramatic surrendering expression. “Itadori had mentioned having only one close childhood best friend one time, and I decided that a reunion was very much needed.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. He had really filled out his frame since he was a teenager. He still wasn’t as tall as Gojo, lanky bastard, but he wasn’t as defenseless as he use to be. And he honestly debated fighting his adoptive dad.

“So, anyone can just mention to you about a previous friend, and you’ll go dig them up and fly them out?” He asked in a careful tone. His voice was low and filled with misplaced anger.

Gojo pretended to contemplate Megumi’s question before finally giving a response. “If they give me pretty puppy dog eyes, yes.”

“He begged..?” Megumi’s anger was swiftly forgotten, replaced with shell-shock. Itadori had been so desperate to reconnect with Junpei that he begged Gojo to find him and fly him out..? His stomach coiled from the news, and his face paled.

Gojo chose his next words very carefully. “He said he wondered how Junpei had been getting along, and he missed their long talks about movies.”

It was enough to send Megumi straight to his room, locking the door behind him. He knew he had just been mindlessly jealous thus far today, but this level of self pity was unprecedented.

His long-term crush wasn’t fulfilled enough in his friendship with him. He had to go search out his old childhood best friend likely to rekindle old nostalgic feelings. They got along great. There hadn’t been a moment of silence in the house since Junpei had arrived.

Fuck. The memory of Gojo showing up with Junpei flooded Megumi’s mind. Gojo’s stupid ass had shoved Junpei into a box to make a grand reveal. Megumi was too surprised to notice how Itadori’s eyes gleamed and how he ran straight up to Junpei to envelop his body into a tight hug.

Even now, Gojo was sitting downstairs with Junpei and Itadori as they played a board game. It was sickening to think about.

Maybe… maybe he should just move on from Itadori. There was clearly nothing between them on Itadori’s side. He should take on a few more classes during the fall semester and bury himself in his studies to forget about his crush.

A soft knock at his door had him wiping his face, making sure no residue tears were left behind. “What?” He called out in an unamused tone.

“Don’t what me.” Geto’s calm voice filled the room, and Megumi immediately moved to unlock the door for his other adoptive dad.

Megumi knew better than to pick a fight with Geto as he was the lawmaker in the house, and Gojo would back him all the way to the moon over anything.

“Sorry…” He muttered as he sat back down on his bed, avoiding eye contact with the other male.

“Why are you up here moping? Nanako and Mimiko are even downstairs socializing, and you know how hard it is to get those girls to do anything besides stare at their phones and laugh at each other.” Geto said as he took a seat down on the bed next to Megumi.

Megumi shrugged his shoulders. There was no way he was about to vent out his frustrations right now. He already felt too vulnerable and raw. He didn’t need anyone else knowing what was going on.

Too bad for him, Geto was perceptive as hell. He was always the first to notice when Megumi would go on downward spirals like this… probably because he went through the same thing.

Geto’s episodes were far and few between nowadays, but he still had his days. Gojo had luckily gotten better at picking up on Geto’s warning signs, and he’d always do whatever was necessary to bring his husband back to life.

“You know… I remember I use to hate this girl back in college. She was brash, strong, and had long dark hair that rivaled my own.” Geto said as he looked at his son. He knew without even having to ask. Megumi was clearly stricken with jealousy and grief.

“So?” The brunette asked, giving Geto a raised eyebrow.

“So, Satoru was too touchy with her. He always use to tease her until she went red in the face, and they way he said her name had me plotting her demise. Uttaahimmee~” Geto mocked Gojo’s teasing tone of voice, earning a faint smile out of Megumi.

“We weren’t dating at the time, and I’d say we barely even had a situationship going. I felt like I had no right to be so jealous. I usually tried to play along, until I found myself retracting from what Satoru and I had been building.” He went on, recounting their teenage years fondly.

“I almost let him go, but I decided to give a last ditch effort. Can you imagine what would’ve happened if I had retracted completely instead of just telling him how I felt? He admitted that he was only acting that way so I’d feel jealous. He thought it’d make me want him more. What an idiot.” He laughed, and Megumi joined in with his own soft laughs.

“Thanks. I know what you’re trying to do..” Megumi said with a soft smile planted on his face. “But I don’t think Itadori is doing this to get a rise out of me.”

“Certainly not. That boy doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t perhaps like seeing that jealous side of you.” Geto said, raising his eyebrows with suggestion that had Megumi shoving him out of his room with embarrassment. His dads were too cool joking about that stuff with him, even if he was grown now.

After a few moments of reflection, he set forth a plan in his mind before collecting himself mentally. He was going to allow himself to feel jealous without any judgment.

He walked downstairs, and he lingered around the back of the couch as he watched his sisters, Itadori, Junpei, and Gojo all playing some sort of board game.

Itadori and Junpei were nearly on fucking top of each other. It was disgusting. He let out a disgruntled noise of dissatisfaction as he climbed over the couch to sit on Itadori’s other side.

“Hey Megs. I was going to go check on you after this round.” He said as he freed himself away from Junpei.

“It’s fine.” He said as he placed a firm hand over Itadori’s knee. Butterflies once again swarmed his stomach. He really couldn’t touch the other without getting all flustered. He tried to control his breathing, and he forced his voice to be steady. “What are you playing?” He asked.

Itadori noticed the sudden hand on his knee, but he didn’t dare to comment on it. “We’re playing Life.”

“Speaking of which, it’s your turn, Yuji.” Junpei spoke up, interrupting their small interaction.

Megumi glared at Junpei unapologetically until every person in that room felt uncomfortable.

“Actually, I completely forgot. I have a livestream to go watch!” Mimiko said as she hurried out of the living room.

“Me too-“ Nanako added as she chased after her twin sister up the stairs.

“I think I hear Suguru calling for me.” Gojo said with a knowing grin as he leisurely left the living room as well.

“Well…” Junpei muttered lowly as he looked around. “Maybe we can watch another movie, Yuji..?”

Megumi didn’t miss how Junpei clearly didn’t intend on inviting him to their plans. His teeth ground together, but he stayed silent, waiting to see what Itadori’s response would be.

“I… actually need to shower. It’s getting late, and Todo expects me to be in the gym every morning at 5 o’clock sharp.” Itadori said as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Good boy. Megumi thought to himself.

“I’ll bring you down some blankets and pillows. Hana’s currently taking up the guest room, but you and I can camp-“ A disapproving growl from Megumi had Itadori quickly rethinking what he was saying. He felt the brunette’s hand tighten around his knee. “You and I can… catch up tomorrow.” He quickly adjusted his words.

“Yeah, sure.. That’s fine.” Junpei nodded as he got comfortable on the couch. Yuji stood up, and Megumi followed along right behind him. It took work to keep the smug expression off his face. He finally fucking won. He was officially a cockblock.

His smug victory was cut short when he was swiftly jerked into the bathroom, and his back was pressed against a wall. The door shut, and the lock clicked into place. Itadori’s hands trapped him in, and he looked up at his tall friend with wide eyes.

“Mind telling me what’s going on with you?” Itadori spoke in a voice that was not at all intimidating, but it was more concerning than anything.

“I don’t know what you’re-“ A hand placed firmly under his jaw had Megumi’s heart nearly leaping out of his chest. He secretly hoped Itadori couldn’t hear it.

This was straight out of his fantasies. His friend keeping him still against a wall, forcing his gaze up into his big brown eyes. He had the face of an angel, but his actions spoke to a hidden darkness underneath.

“Don’t lie to me, Megs.” Itadori spoke with a frown. It looked like disappointment on his face, making Megumi feel slightly remorseful for the bold display of jealousy. Though, he wouldn’t have had to do that if Yuji and Junpei weren’t so annoyingly close.

“You’ve been up Junpei’s ass since he got here. It’s like you forgot you have other friends around.” Megumi finally fessed up as he tried to jerk his jaw away from Itadori’s grasp. He only tightened more around his jaw.

“That’s what your mood has been about?” Itadori asked with a laugh. A laugh. Megumi could feel his anger boiling over as if he wanted to explode right then, feeling so invalidated by the guy he had longed for-

His train of thought completely stopped as he felt a pair of lips upon his own. No way was this happening right now. He literally had to look down and check. Yep, Itadori was kissing him right now.

After the smallest moment of hesitancy, Megumi instantly melted into the kiss, looping his arms around Yuji’s neck and swallowing down each and every small noise he made.

The kiss was short, but it was lust-filled on both sides. Itadori was gently panting with a dumb grin on his face as he eyed his best friend. Megumi face had a subtle blush to it, and he was avoiding his gaze.

“Does that make you feel better? I didn’t take you for such a brat, Fushiguro.” Yuji gently teased, squeezing onto Megumi harder as he tried to get out of his grasp.

“What did you just call me?” Megumi asked as he was trying to fight Yuji’s hulking figure. The pink-haired male had supernatural strength that rendered Megumi completely useless against him.

“I’ll let you mark me up if you stop fighting me and forget that I called you a brat.” Yuji bribed with a laugh, and Megumi went completely still in his arms.

“Wherever I want.” He negotiated with a narrow stare.

“Wherever you want and however many it takes for you not to be such a jealous recluse.” Yuji offered.

“Deal.”

*** *** ***

Todo was a loss for words when Yuji walked into the gym the next morning littered in bruises along his neck and collarbones.

Also, no one dared to mention to Megumi that Junpei was actually straight… There was never a battle of the emo boys in Yuji’s heart after all.

gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because why would you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promises to pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

4d imax experience took me out

Do You Mind?

Smau: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you brought/are bringing a one night stand over ooh Warnings: cursing, sexual language, mostly crack, Choso, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

This made me IJBOL SO HARDDD

jjk men projecting their feelings onto you ☆ #2

cw : second hand embarrassment, pre-established relationship

Nanami if he stayed true to his emo era

punk 🔴

ac: kimmy

BoobGuy!Suguru who will stop to no end to just fondle and and grope your soft mounds.

BoobGuy!Suguru who could just be spooning you and will "accidentally" pop a boner from just twisting your supple nipples between his fingers.

BoobGuy!Suguru who does not give a flying fuck about the size of your breasts, all he wants is for some part of him to be touching your cute tits. Wheather it be twisting your nipples, groping your breasts, meticulously placing hickies, or even biting your hard little nipples!

BoobGuy!Suguru who doesn't mean to seem like a pervert when he does it, he just can't help seeing your supple breasts sit in your shirt or bra without his mouth salivating by the thought of them being within a 2 inch radius of his mouth or large hands.

BoobGuy!Suguru who buys you all sorts of different lotions and oils just so he can try them out on your tits. He would gently rub the substance into your mounds and would genuinely look hypnotized while mindlessly groping you. (He doesnt stop because "your skin hasnt absorbed the moisture yet")

BoobGuy!Suguru who INSISTS that you dont need to wear bras anymore. I mean, why would you? He will always be there, with his hands (and mouth) to take the stress off your gorgeous tits.

PINK BOWS | NANAMI KENTO

syn. your boyfriend is scared of intimacy, but for all the reasons you never expected.

── virgin!nanami kento & fem-bodied!reader, established relationship, panty kink, masturbation, sexual fantasies, accidental vouyerism, etc | 3.1k words ( minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact )

note. a fic i found in drafts that i never got around to posting.

Nanami had been raised to value his future career-wise over all else. Taking his parents’ teachings to heart, he solely focused on his career, making sure that he followed the path to becoming someone who was financially stable and didn’t need to stress over bills and obligations. However, that seemed to be the only merit to it— not having to worry and being able to live a lavish life. They didn’t mention the exhaustion he would experience, putting excruciating hours in working behind a desk. They didn’t tell him how robotic it would feel to wake up for most days to get ready, go to work, and come back home at late hours to only eat takeout and fall straight to sleep. 

Barely a social life because all of his friends and the people close to him are always busy and when they do have the time, he unfortunately doesn’t. It was such a period of lonesomeness for Nanami, surviving but never really living. It wasn’t until a rare occasion of getting off of work early that he found himself in a bar, hitched up at a stool and slouching over the counter with a glass of whiskey nestled in his hand. He let out a deep sigh as he felt like this is the most rest he’s gotten ever since becoming a salaryman. In his blue button and animal print tie, he loosens the decorative piece and unbuttons the first few of his shirt as he slouches.

The sound of jazz playing through the speakers and the voices of other customers piling in on the Friday evening. He’s unaware of the pair of eyes that have settled on him this evening, the fine dime that watches two seats to his right. In a cute black backless dress that hugs every curve, you admire the blonde beauty that seems so exhausted. The way he composes himself, you can tell that he’s a reserved man and if anything, you’d have to be the one making a move on him. In your hand, a Sex on the Beach, the fruity drink gets disposed of in a few chugs before you’re standing on your heels and pulling out the stool right next to him. The scraping of the chair legs finally calls for his attention as his chestnut-colored eyes come into view. 

He wonders how you were able to do it so quickly. The many times he’s been approached by women in the office, he was always quick to turn them down. However, with you, he didn’t feel that inclination to deny you. You spoke as if it was your right to have him, the way your eyes twinkled as you smiled up at him and started an easy conversation beginning with a simple “hey!” You had so much charm to you that it loosened him up, and while you carried on most of the conversation, he found himself deeply captivated by you as you were him. 

At the end of the night, both of you exchanged numbers. You gnawed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering to his with a desire that he wasn’t used to seeing. You started to inch closer in hopes of something more, but you felt his body tense up when your lips ghosted him as you stood on your tippy-toes as he backed away. He cleared his throat, quickly dismissing the failed kiss and bidding you a farewell. “Have, uh— have a lovely night,” he stammered out before his leather shoes clicked on the hard concrete and he turned his back on you. 

Leaving you alone in the chilling night, you were grateful for the lack of people to witness your embarrassment before your heels clicked against the sidewalk as you walked in the other direction. He remembered feeling such guilt for leaving you hanging like that, and he felt anger within himself for doing the same to him. He’d love to have a taste of those plump and glossy lips of yours. Do they taste as sweet as you look? However, that curiosity died as his anxiety overcrowded his brain and spoke against his better judgment, his mind chastising him for a week as he stared at your phone number, neither one of you having the strength to message first. 

It’s pathetic how he deprives himself of something— someone— he wants. Someone he needs. Because only the heavens know how much Nanami needs this. Thankfully the gods listen to his pleas and his incessant whining, granting him the courage to finally message you first and ask you out on a date. It took you a couple of hours to respond back, debating with yourself if you should really go out with a man who backed away from a kiss. However, you figured that you were only being too fast and he wanted to take things slow. 

  He took you out to a food mall, a large building backed with restaurants, bakeries and cafes all in one setting. It proved that he was truly paying attention to you when you were droning on and on back in that bar. Dressed in a pink sundress that flowed down your body, each strut you took had Nanami mesmerized when you got excited and ran off to look at something. Your eyes would sparkle as a worker would come and hand you a little skewer to try. And for once Nanami was happy with his job, grateful to be able to spend ample of money on a pretty thing such as yourself. He didn’t care how much he spent on you, as long as he got to see the way your eyes lit up as you beckoned him to follow right behind you. 

Winning over each other’s hearts, you placed the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend on each other. Nanami was content with it, happy to spend time with you— to hug and hold you close whenever you came to visit him and vice versa. However, while he was complacent in the place where your relationship stood, you weren’t. When you finally managed to kiss him, they were always a peck and never lasted for too long, and even when he held you, that felt awkward. 

You could never rest on his lap, your head always against his chest. When you tried to deepen the kiss, he’d always pull away. Dammit, when you tried to take it even further, thinking that you were ready to sleep with him, he’d always break that sexual tension that lingered in the air, cutting his visit short. 

He treated you so well in almost every aspect except for the ropes of intimacy. Were you doing something wrong?

—

Nanami felt guilty for how he’d pull away, and deny you of what you wanted. He really did, but you really didn’t understand what you do to him. He felt weak and pathetic about how just being in such close proximity to his girlfriend made him feel. How his cock would create a tent in his pants and he struggled to conceal it. How had you not noticed? His body would shudder every time you tried climbing on his lap, his entire body stiffening as you’d do so. When you tried to deepen the kiss, he felt like he was a high school boy again, near to releasing in his pants. Things would escalate and he was afraid of the possible embarrassment he would feel for his inexperience. 

He should know better. He should know that you, his sweet little girlfriend, would always be so understanding and love him regardless. Something that he shouldn’t be so ashamed of. What was there to be? For you to know that your boyfriend loves you so much that he finds your presence to be an excruciating turn on? That a simple peck on his lips drives him crazy? That a single hug made him want to devote the rest of his life to you? He knows this conversation will happen sooner or later. But, for right now, he’d prefer it later. 

Standing outside your apartment door, he unlocks the door with ease, pushing it gently open. Your car’s not outside, but you should be home soon according to your work schedule. He had forgotten some work from his last visit, wanting your company while he caught up on the tedious workload, but ultimately forgetting it by the time that he left. Entering your small abode, the chill of inside greatly contrasts the heat of outside as he shuts the door behind him. He kicks off his shoes, a habit of his as he makes a beeline straight to your bedroom. Your bedroom door is wide open and he can spot just what he needs right on the desk that he claims as his own as you barely use it. 

He reaches for the stack of paper when he takes notice of a flimsy piece of fabric lying on the ground. Letting go of the documents, the sound of his footsteps echo through the room. Bending on his knees, he picks up a pair laced white panties with a pink bow right at the center. It has pink trimmings and in Nanami’s hand, they feel silky to the touch. He curses to himself for this type of intrusion. You’ve come to trust him so much to give him a spare key to your apartment, but here he is violating it to hold your dirty pair of panties and having the nerve to get hard while he’s at it. 

“Fuck,” he curses, looking at the crotch of your undergarment to see a dirty patch of your discharge. The way he can feel his cock strain in his khaki work pants makes him feel embarrassed and dirty, his face heating up in a shade of red. However, he never throws down the flimsy garment. He doesn’t stop himself from bringing it up to his nose, taking a heavy waft to know what you smell like. The musky scent of sweat and the pungent scent of your discharge overflowing his senses is overwhelming, feeling how his cock twitches inside his pants. He lets out a stuttered breath, his free hand going to cup his erection in some sort of attempt to let go of some of the tension. 

Veins protruding his hands as he palms himself, hands running along his girth. He can feel precum leaking from his tip. He hisses with how the urethra runs against the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs, wanting relief from its confined torture. He used to think of himself as a better man than this, a man who wouldn’t succumb to lust. However, the longer he withholds himself from you, the stronger the urge and his resolve is breaking— or, it has already broken. 

He finds himself sitting on the very edge of your bed, toes curling as he brings himself to undo his belt, letting the buckle fall as he loosens it. He unzips his pants, providing further relief to himself before he’s shimmying out of his pants and underwear. His work shirt rides up, revealing the blonde happy trail that leads to his cock. A dark shaft in comparison to his bright pink head, it’s swollen with lust as he continues to drip of precum. 

Nanami glances at the clock sitting on the ivory-colored nightstand. You’ll be back in less than an hour, which should be ample of time to get himself off before disappearing. He just has to make sure that he cleans up after himself well. His heart races at the excitement, which only makes him more turned on for this endeavor. Cupping his balls, he fondles them before letting your panties drop, them landing on his lap before he drapes it around his length. It looks pretty like this, he can’t help but think. He fixes the next hole down his cock before gripping the base of his length. Spit pools in his mouth before it lands on his pelvis, making him swipe the glob down. He smears it down his length, painting himself with the innocent body fluid. 

The palms of his hand are cold, making him tense up as he hikes up one leg for the pad of his foot to rest on the edge of your bed frame. The metal digs into the heel of his foot as he sets a moderate pace, toes curling as he can only think about you. He imagines your plump lips wrapped around his length, taking him in so slowly as those beady eyes of yours would look at him so innocently. Batting your eyelashes at him while you have your mouth open, on your knees so pliantly as he guides his cock to your lips. Precum smeared over your lips just how you like to decorate your lips with gloss. They’d shine so beautifully and smell just like him, too. You’d work your mouth like a pro, taking him inch by inch and making his mouth fall open as he’d throw his head back. 

This is all he thinks about when he’s pumping his cock, his grip tightening as he can only imagine. It’s shameful with how quick that coil in his stomach approaches, a choked up gasp leaving his lips as his cock twitch. His hold tightens around the base as he uses the next hand to cup at his balls with your panties wrapped around it. He can imagine you wearing these, how they’d hug you so cutely.

You’d be stripping out of your clothes slowly, in an effort to tease. They’d work, too. Shredding each layer of clothing until you’re in nothing but those same pair of panties before sauntering over to him seductively. And when you’re in front of him, forcing him to look up at you as you push him to lay down. You’d crawl over his body, your bare breasts hanging freely as you rest your ass down on his pelvis. You’d grind your hips so sweetly wearing those white laced panties, pink trimmings and a pink bow right in the middle, telling him to claim his prize. 

You’d grind your hips amazingly, putting him in a trance as you have his cock aching for more than the rock of your hips. His fingers digging into your flesh before trying to bring you even closer to him. You’d manage to make him whimper out the most pathetically filthy whines and whimpers known to man. He knows it. He just knows it. 

He knows it by the drawn out moan he makes when he releases on the white tiles, spurting out a load that should be stuffed inside of you. He throws his head back, nearly slipping off the bed before he catches himself. It feels euphoric to let himself go, to give into his cravings for you. If only you were here though, he sighs. It feels pointless to voice that if the person he craves the most isn’t here. 

But, speaking of the devil, you’re parking next to his silver Lexus, your 2010 Honda looking shabby in comparison to the up-to-date vehicle that belonged to your boyfriend. You hum in content, your eyes lighting up in anticipation to see your boyfriend. Parking the car, you reach for your handbag as you climb out the vehicle. With the click of a button, your car is locked as you climb the two-story flight to your apartment. You’re out of breath by the time you’re in front of the door and fishing for the right key off of your keychain. 

He promised himself that it would be quick, but Nanami’s still fucking his fist. His carnal desire for you pouring throughout in this moment, not hearing the shuffle of the locks from your front door. So absorbed in this lustful moment as he squeezes the tip, his fingers coated in his seed as he quickens the pace. 

You can see his shoes resting in the right corner while you hang your bag on the rack and shimmy out of your cardigan, kicking off your flats gently. While he can’t hear you, you hear him— the deep sounds of his voice grunting and panting from afar. With furrowed eyebrows, confusion fills you before realization as you near your bedroom. The wet sounds of plat, plat, plat echoing as you take careful steps. Your heart races as your eyes widen when you take a peek inside of your bedroom to see the compromising state of your boyfriend. 

Sitting on your bed with his pants resting a bit above his knees. His cock, spent as he strokes it. You can see the jagged line of his cum squirted out on the floor, strays catching his pants and the rest dripping from his fist. Arousal pools immediately as you silently watch, clenching your thighs together as you shuffle on your footing. You’ve been unknowingly holding your breath, your face heating up as you watch this moment. Your mouth dries up, gulping as your eyes flicker to his length as you watch his languid movement. His hip bucking in further need. It’s then do you see the strikingly bright shade of white and hints of pink, falling under realization that he’s jerking off with your panties wrapped around him. Shit, you curse as you start to heave. You cup your heat in need, thighs trapping your hand as you grind into your digits. 

“Shit,” Nanami curses, calling out your name as he can feel his balls tighten and his legs stiffen. “Fuck, I need you.”

With another orgasm, it’s not as copious as the previous, the trail following a shorter path as he paints his hand in his seed. Hips stuttering, he brings himself to lean back, using his cleaner hand to hold up his weight to bring himself back to reality. A fog full of stars and ecstasy clouding his vision before it’s all cleared up. He thinks he’s alone. He thinks the coast is all clear until he’s sitting up and right at the door way you’re standing there. He gasps, calling out your name in shock.

You feel like a deer caught in headlights, but this is your apartment after all. Eyes dilated as your hand is still stuffed in between your legs, you let out a heavy breath. It’s nice to know that all your worries about your relationship seem to get relieved at this moment as you quickly become elated. 

You start to saunter towards him, just as he envisioned. Only, you’re fully clothed when you push him down on the bed. His eyes widen as he calls out, “Wait. I—”

You cut him off, taking his cum-coated hand and bringing it to your lips. Tongue sticking out, you clean him all up and all his worries dissipate as he curses once more, fuck. “Whatever it is, promise that we work through it together, ya?”

Nanami nods, speechless and he puts all of his trust in you and his cock hardens again. He was a fool to be so worried. Finally, he’s able to mutter out a single word. “Yeah, okay.”

subscriptions ── @r0ckst4rjk @kasukuna @satsattoru @blcknebula @tojirin

heard someone say archive of our own should install a "dislike" button and I thought I should say this: no, there's absolutely no need for archive of our own to install a "dislike" button.

why? because archive of our own isn't tiktok or youtube or twitter/x where users can monetize their content. archive of our own is a nonprofit site run by fans for fans, which means every content — every fanfic — you see on archive of our own was made out of pure love and passion from the artists/authors.

ao3 authors write because writing about these characters is their happiness and passion. they write for themselves, but they were generous enough to share with you their creations.

they're not "content creators" the way tiktokers or youtubers or instagram models are. they don't "make content" for views and engagements that can be monetized.

so no, you don't get to "grade their works" unless they specifically and directly ask you to.

you don't get to "say what you dislike about their works" unless they specifically and directly ask you to.

you don't get to "dislike" works that are not made specifically to please you in the first place. you're just a guest in someone's house, a house in which they let you in because they were kind, you don't get to roam around their house and say what you dislike about their furniture. you don't get to roam around their house and say you "dislike their house".

of course, you can have your opinion about the house its host invites you in. but if it's a negative one and you find yourself not liking the house, the polite things for you to do is excuse yourself and leave without telling them you dislike their house.

and just because you personally dislike the house doesn't mean the house is "ugly" either. the house you dislike could be a favorite, most luxurious place to many others.

my point is, don't be entitled by wanting the rights to voice your disapproval of things that you get to enjoy for free. don't be entitled by wanting the rights to voice your disapproval of things that were made out of love and passion — things the artists made for themselves for fun.

it makes you look like an entitled jerk with main character syndrome. the universe does not revolve around you.

now repeat after me: don't like don't read. no one forces you to continue reading a fic you don't like. quietly leave instead of being rude to authors who write for free because writing is their source of comfort.

people are so used to contents that were made because it's a trend / contents like tiktok that were made with the main purpose of reaching high engagement and making profits that they forget sometimes things can be made out of love and be made just for fun. sometimes things are supposed to just be for people to enjoy, and if some people don't enjoy them, then they can simply leave without being unnecessary unkind.

BARK BARK WOOF WOOF GRRRR

THEY GAVE THEM MULLETS YA'LL SOMEBODY CHAIN ME UP

I love mr one pump

two weeks.

it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.

but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.

he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.

he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.

he can't take it anymore.

"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."

you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."

over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."

you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"

"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."

kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"

though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.

"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.

eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.

"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."

you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.

he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.

"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.

"did you just—"

"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."

"you just—"

"don't laugh."

"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."

"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.

that shuts you up good.

dilf december

day eleven ⭑ ushijima wakatoshi ⭑ time for christmas kids?

tw: nsfw minors dni, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, riding, squirting, size kink and cervix bruising

to everyone's surprise, ushijima was strangely receptive and understanding when his contract with the swedish adlers expired and they didn't renew it for the next season; telling him they didn't make the decision out of ill-intent, they just think it's time for him to retire.

there was nothing stopping ushijima from simply trying out for another team. he'd likely have no problem finding another one that would except him, despite him being thirty-five, since he is still fit and healthy.

however, shockingly, ushijima took the adler's advice.

this was unlike him as all throughout his career, he has vehemently protested whenever anyone even alludes to his retirement, insisting that he will remain on the volleyball court until his legs give out from under him.

and although that is true to some extent, because he often visits the court and plays games recreationally while in retirement, it still puzzled you as to why he switched tempo so suddenly.

although, you weren't going to complain, as since leaving the swedish adlers you've been able to spend a lot more time with him than you usually did, which is always nice, especially around the holiday season. you almost felt greedy having him all to yourself: no useless teammates blowing up his phone and no whiny managers asking to meet with him. just love and peace on earth!

that is, until you remembered a conversation you've been having with him ever since the beginning of your marriage.

"when are we going to have kids, toshi?" you would look up at him with boiling anticipation in your eyes.

and though he'd appreciate your eagerness, he'd frown and reply sternly, "i don't have the time to raise kids, currently. i don't think i will ever have the time while i am employed as an athlete. we should have this discussion once i retire."

you grumbled, "but you literally always say that you're never going to retire?"

"that's true, though i might fall into unexpected circumstances. say, if i am hit by a train."

"or my car." you'd comment with a titter.

it was funny and light-hearted dialogue back then, but now that you had both matured and grown in your relationship, you find that particular topic of disucssion to be more pressing. especially as you have fallen into what ushijima may describe as "unexpected circumstances" where he now has all the time in the world to help you raise a child.

so, you decide to bring this point to his attention one night, before bed.

the outside is consumed with darkness and your back windows are virtually blackened; it reflects the flickering light of the festive scented candles placed around the room. wafting the smell of freshly baked cookies through the space, pleasing your nose like a warm hug, while your focus constantly shifts between the tv screen and your husband, who is sat beside you on the couch with his eyes drilled into a book while you lounged in your fluffy robe.

you weren't paying attention to the show currently playing at all. no, it was simply background noise to the chorus of worries and perpetual screaming in your mind, as you mulled over whether or not now was a good time to bring up the topic you so desperately wanted to discuss. the last thing you'd want to do is disturb the peaceful night you were sharing and cause tension in the household.

but if you can't talk to your husband about something that is important to you, what is the point of getting married?

you swallow your pride and inhibitions with an audible gulp, then croak, "wakatoshi?"

"yes, dear." he replies in his usual blunt manner, not glancing up from the pages.

"do you remember a while ago when we talked about having kids?" you said timidly, so quiet that ushijima could barely hear you over the noise of the tv. so he pauses the show, and replies,

"yes, i think i do remember."

hsi face is so stern and unwavering; it's hard to tell if that is due to his natural stoic nature, or if he truly does not care for what you are saying. for the sake of your self-esteem, you assume its the first one, and continue talking.

or, at least, you try to. it's quite hard when your heart is pounding so harshly in your chest that you feel it could leap out of your throat at any given moment. "you said we should talk about it when you retire. so, have you given it any thought?"

he furrows his eyebrows together, and stares into the distance. a couple seconds pass, and he closes his book too, placing it to the side in order to focus on pondering your question.

it takes a minute, but he finally responds, "yes, i have."

you blink, expecting him to continue, so when he doesn't, you urge him to do so, "and?"

"and i think it's a great idea. now is the perfect time to have child." he says it in such a dry manner that any onlooker would think he was being sarcastic, but you know your husband all too well, and you can pick up on the subtle signs of sincerity in his cadence.

your whole face lights up, and you perk up in your seat, "really? that's amazing news, toshi!" you squeal, lunging forward and throwing yourself into his arms. and as always, he's ready to catch you in his strong arms and hold you close for however long you need.

as your melting into the hug, wakatoshi uses his gentle grip on your waist to pull you onto his lap, only so you could be even closer together. he peppers kisses up your neck and across your shoulderblade, while his hand sneaks behind your thigh.

at first you think nothing of it, as you know your husband enjoys a sneaky little grab at your ass sometimes. however, when his squishing slowly turns into rubbing, and his target moves from your perky ass to in-between your thighs, you gasp at the realisation and stagger, "oh, you meant like.. right now?"

you jerk away from him, and he meets your shocked expression with an entirely blank look on his face, "of course."

you blink, and so does he. considering it for a moment, it only takes you a couple seconds to land on the conclusion that there is no time like the present.

thus, you slip your arms around his broad shoulders again and pull him in for a passionate kiss; lips sensually weaving together, as you bounce on his lap a little, prompting him to continue his risky endeavours.

originally, both hands are fixed on your waist. however, he slips one down under your robe in order to rub your clit. he was expecting you to be wearing undergarments underneath the robe, but he was in for a pleasant surprise when his palm made direct contact with your damp folds, and you feel him smirk into the kiss slightly, causing you to titter.

meanwhile, his other hand swiftly got to work on pulling down the elastic of his sweats and whipping out his hardened length. while the two of you were still engaged in a heated make-out session, and his fingers were still working at your clit, he stroked himself a lazily, in an attempt to temporarily satiate his desperate hunger, but his mere hand couldn't even come close to the homey grip of your pussy. he needed to be encased in your walls urgently.

soon though, after a couple more minutes of harsh action on your clit, he reckoned you would be wet enough to take him by now. and he tested this hypothesis by dipping two meaty fingers into your pussy, stretching it out and causing you to arch your back as waves of unexpected stimulation shoot through you.

your whiney moans vibrate against his tongue, as you are still locked in an intimate kiss, and he furrows his brows in thought, prodding and stirring his fingers around your insides to assess whether your hole was lubricated enough for him to enter. and with each poke at your gummy walls, he sends another lewd moan winding down to your lips.

he yanks his fingers out, deciding that however wet you were right now would have to do because he wasn't able to wait any longer.

with that, he uses the same hand to manoeuvre his cock so it was hovering right by your dripping enterance, allowing this tip to be greased with your arousal. in doing so, you are pushed back a bit, forcing you to break free from the intense kiss with a dramatic gasp. you look at him, with your pretty chest floating up and down with each shallow breath.

he looks you in the eye sternly, with a kind glint his iris, waiting for your approval.

you nod slightly, but before you are even able to processs your own response, he's already pushed you down around his girthy length, forcing your tight pussy to suck it all up, somehow.

your eyes rolled back into your head as he did so, and an obscene, pornographic whine was pried from your throat. ushijima basked in it for only a moment before he made you ride his cock by using his grip on your waist. he set a relatively slow pace to begin with, allowing your gracious hole some time to adjust to his length, but it wasn't nearly enough.

despite that, he hastily quickened his pace, bucking his hips slightly into you with every bounce, meaning he would brush your cervix with his tip, which caused you to grunt and mewl each time. you appreciated he was trying to be thorough and having him so deep inside you might increase the chances of fertility, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth having your cervix brusied for.

the veins on his length rubbed the most delicious parts inside you, it was like he was scratching an itch you weren't even aware of until now. your cheeks and the tips of your ear heated up with pure pleasure, and you could feel him getting warmer under your touch as well. meanwhile the molten coil inside you was only growing more rigid by the second, threatening to crumble at any moment.

his dick rammed into your hole repeatedly, at an increasingly feverish pace, eliciting a short moan or grunt from you each time, and your whole body shook. therefore, ushijima had no idea where to look — he was spoiled for choice — although he revelled in watching your tits bounce wildly around and threaten to escape the confines of your robe, he was also partially mesmerised by the way your perfect cunt consumed him so nicely.

"tight.." was all he was able to grit.

you nod, but you're too fucked out to even muster up a coherent response; your mind was almost as scrambled as your insides.

with how his dick was ploughing into your poor pussy, it wasn't long until the coil inside you snapped and you found yourself suddenly shaking and tremoring while you squirted around him, unleashing a dam of crystalline fluid over his sweats and the couch.

and the harsh squeeze of your pussy around his cock was enough to tip him over the edge of a climax too, and he groaned lowly with his eyes shut as he deposited his first load into your hole. thick warmth flooding your insides in an instant, sticking to your walls and leaving you conjested.

he stayed there for a moment, to allow you both to catch your breathes, and he pried one of his eyes open to look at your beautifully dishevelled state, "thank you, (y/n)."

you chuckle, and rest your weary head on his shoulder, "thank you, toshi."

"no, thank you." he looks down at your stomach, and strokes it tenderly with his big hand, "i can't wait to see you carry our baby."

you pout, gazing up at his cute dumb face, illuminated only by the coloured tv light, which cast shadows over his strong features. you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, and sunk into his embrace, "i can't wait either. you'll be such a good dad." you muse, dreamily.

meanwhile, he slowly eases his cock out of your hole, provoking a small hiss from you at the change. but little did you know, he was kind enough to stick his three fingers in immediately afterwards, so none of his cum threatened to spill from your leaky pussy.

"and you will be a good mother." he assures you softly, snaking an arm behind your neck to cradle your head in arms.

then, to your surprise, he utilised this position in order to flip the two of you, so you were laying face up with your back against the couch, and he was kneeling between your legs, which he pushed spread-eagle by your knees.

it all happened so quickly, that you were already in the position before you were able to gasp, "huh?! what're you doing?"

"round two." he keeps his three fingers stuffed in your pussy while he uses his other hand to guide his erect dick towards your hole, "for the best chance of pregnancy."

Secretly down bad!Naoya who walks around acting like he's a part of the whole "I hate my gf" trend when in reality, you drive him crazy in ways he couldn't possibly begin to explain or understand.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets hard whenever you yell at him. Something about that aggravation in your tone, the way you glare at him, and the overall frustration that takes over your body makes his cock twitch without second thought.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who can't handle arguments with you for that exact reason. Most of his past "lovers", if you can even call them that, would've left him after the first argument. But you? Oh, your tongues ten times sharper than his could ever be. He's tried insulting you in every way possible but somehow you always make him eat his works.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's unintentionally become a gentleman around you. Following things like the "side-walk rule", referring to you as "ma'am", and doing things like holding the door open for you. All very simple things but all actions he's never done for anyone else. Ever.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who learned so much about himself ever since he got with you. You've suggested some wild things in the bedroom and although his initial response is usually no, he somehow ends up doing exactly as you've requested.

Secretly down bad!Naoya one time scowled at the mere idea of bondage, especially when you said he'd be the one restricted. And yet, there he was on that fated night with his hands tied behind his back as he watched you play with yourself right in front of him. He was so frustrated that night that he ended up cumming without you even touching him.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who still has a smart mouth, as expected, but he now only gets smart with you to provoke a reaction out of you. Sometimes you'll land a playful smack on his arm and all he can do is smile and ask you to do that again.

Which is roughly what opened his eyes to the fact that he quite enjoys a bit of pain from you. Choking him while you ride him to the point of throated grunts 'n groans catching at his throat? Telling him about himself in more ways than one and how he's such a shitty person?? Well, shit, he can't quite get enough.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who felt a shiver run down his spine when you once blocked him for something rather trivial. What really topped it all off was when you told him that the only thing that'd make you unblock him was if he sent an apology video, with tears.

And not just any kinda apology video either, no, of course not. The woman he's found himself with is far more demanding than that. Instead, you told him to send you a pathetic video of him getting off to you, still with tears, and a genuine apology.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who rolled his eyes at that rediculous request of yours. Never in a million years would he send some woman (the love of his life, btw--I know, surprising) a video of him not only jerking off, but also apologizing over something stupid he did? No way. Over his dead body-

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gives in after a total of three hours and sends you a lengthy video of his shaky hands wrapped around his cock as he pants out your name, whispering how sorry he is in a tone so unbelievably embarrassed that you can hardly believe it's him at first.

And if that wasn't enough, it's even more surprising to you how Secretly down bad!Naoya also has a pair of your panties pressed up to his nose and is ranting about how agonizing it's been not being able to text or call you for the past few hours.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who, at the end of the video, utters a bratty complaint about how much you get on his nerves. Which is so hilarious considering the mess he's made of himself, on video, all for you. And on top of this complaint of his? Seconds after, he's whining a plea for you to unblock him so he can get your attention again, even if said attention consists of you cursing him out again.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets unblocked about thirty minutes after he sent those videos of his and starts smiling to himself like an idiot. Somehow in that insane mind of his, he's managed to convince himself that he won whatever conflict was just between the two of you.

Even though he had to send you multiple videos of him jerking off and making an overall fool of himself...

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's not even 'secretly down bad', you're actually well aware of how pathetic your boyfriend is for you. He can't explain it too well but, you've always had him wrapped around your pretty lil' finger like no other.