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[soseojade]

It's actually a scam that fingering yourself doesn't feel anywhere near as good as when someone else does it to you

[soseojade]

240323 Skzoo Cafe ©️ 20240323wow

[soseojade]

by the window under the moonlight

inumaki toge x fem!reader ♡ royalty au

♡—when sent to look for your brother, you find a handsome stranger instead.

word count♡— 1.9k words

genre♡— fluff, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— strangers to potential lovers, mutual pining, everyone is a prince or princes, older brother!gojo satoru, no use of y/n, love at first sight ish, very fluff, mc pins toge to the wall, toge writes a love letter, toge uses sign language bc I refuse to write shake or salmon in a royalty au, lets just say that mc is called princess bc their empire > the other kingdoms

author's note♡— i desperately needed toge fluff, so i was motivated to write this! might be a bit wonky bc it's been a while since i wrote a fic, but i'm still happy with how it turned out ^^ enjoy!

You don't know why you believed Satoru when he promised he would sit still at tonight's ball. Maybe it was because you were genuinely looking forward to it. Maybe you wanted to believe that you would have fun with your friends without having to worry about the troublesome crown prince.

But... he was your brother, and as it always was in times like these, you're sent away to find him.

Because he does listen to you.

...

To an extent.

...

When he feels like it.

Running your hands through your hair, you turn towards yet another empty corridor.

“Just where is that annoying—” Your grumbling is interrupted when you spot a head of white hair flit by the corner of your eye.

‘Aha!’ You rush immediately to follow the figure.

It quickly becomes clear that he's very good at dodging you and leading you in circles. However, you know this castle better than anyone, and you trap him into a corner soon enough.

“I'm surprised you fell for that. You aren't usually this easy to... catch...”

A beautiful stained glass window is fixed at the end of the corridor you led him to. The moonlight shines through it and paints the stranger in breathtaking colors.

‘Who is he?’, you wonder. You don't think you've ever seen someone so handsome... Despite an extended collar covering half of his face.

He meets your eyes and frowns. Though you only stand in front of him in confusion.

“You're not... Satoru.” You start slowly, trying to grasp the situation. “Why did you run from me?”

You hear several scuffling feet in the distance, and suddenly you're alarmed.

‘Shit, is this an ambush?’

The stranger seems to be distracted by the noise as well. Taking the opportunity, you sprint and tackle him, pinning him to the wall. This hallway is secluded enough that you're confident whoever's following you won't be able to find you if you keep quiet.

He looks like he's about to say something, but you don't let him.

“Shush!” You say. He looks bewildered.

A moment passes, and you realize that the noise was only from the knights rushing to look for Satoru as well.

You find yourself staying still despite having nothing to hide from the knights. ‘Why do I feel like I've done something wrong?!’

You take the time to analyze the man in front of you while waiting for the knights to depart. Though you can feel his strong build, he doesn't resist you. Perhaps he isn't particularly dangerous, or maybe he doesn't see you as enough of a threat to put up a fight.

The latter irks you more than you thought it would.

The noises fade, and you're about to loosen your grip on the stranger when you hear more sounds. This time, it's the boisterous laughter of those annoying, pompous delegates.

Annoyance paints your face just thinking about the ridiculous rumors they spread. If only they'd properly do their jobs instead of gossiping and pestering you to get married. Imagine if they saw you now, pinning this man to the wall. Why, they would probably chatter about it for years and—

You suddenly realize how... delicate your current situation is.

You panic, and the stranger tilts his head as if asking you, ‘What?’

“Shhhhh!!!” Before you could help it, you shush the man with urgency, using your hands to cover his mouth. You couldn't even begin to comprehend the international scandal that would unfold should you be discovered in this very compromising position—with a noble you've never met, no less!

“Did you hear that the crown prince disappeared again?” One of the delegates cackled.

“Oh my, again? Then was the princess sent to fetch him?”

“It seems so! But I hear she has been gone for some time as well! Ho ho!”

“Perhaps she has gotten tired playing her brother's keeper. I can't believe the future of the empire lies on the shoulders of someone so happy-go-lucky. Tsk.”

The voices fade. Holding your breath, you crane your neck every which way to see if the delegates have truly left. You finally spare the stranger a glance once you're met with a noiseless hallway. You sigh deeply.

‘This man would probably be angry’, you think to yourself...

You expected him to be mad, or to throw a tantrum. You waited for him to shove you off despite you being a princess—to demand an explanation and god forbid, compensation for the stress they endured this entire ordeal. That's how most, if not all, nobles were these days. Entitled beyond repair.

But to your surprise, you find him smiling. The corners of his eyes pinch as if he finds the situation very amusing. His shoulders shake due to laughter, and that's when you notice the color of his coat—a deep bluish purple... The color reminds you of the Inumaki clan, of the flag on the carriage you saw arriving this morning.

...

Ah. You let go of him.

His eyes glow with mischief as he watches you take in his appearance. The coat. The color of his hair. The purple eyes...

...The markings he reveals after he pulls down his collar.

You've played yourself a fool.

You back away from him immediately, clearing your throat and smoothing your hands over your skirt. “I deeply apologize, prince Toge.” You bow deeply.

Toge bows to you as well. Afterwards, he begins to sign a response. ‘You have a strong grip, princess.’

Your cheeks grow warm. Of course he decides to make fun of you. But then again, it was very rude of you to have literally cornered and restrained him.

“Again, I'm sorry.” You take a deep breath. “As you may have heard, I was looking for my brother. I only followed you because I thought you were him.”

His eyes glint wickedly. ‘And the pinning?’

“I-I was flustered.” You still are, but you curtsy to him and look to the floor to hide your expression. “Please excuse me. I must go.”

Toge watches you leave, and a smile blooms on his face when he sees your ears turning red.

He looks back to the stunning window at the end of the hall, and engraves into his memory how beautiful you had looked under the iridescent moonlight.

⋆｡˚ 🪟 ˚｡⋆｡˚🌕˚｡⋆

After trying (and failing) to find your dearest brother, you decide to return to the ballroom. You spot your trio of best friends conversing near the buffet table. Prince Megumi catches your sight first, and walks briskly to meet you.

“Where have you been?” He asks, and you think this is the most frazzled you've seen of the dark haired prince.

“I was looking for my brother, where else?” Your thoughts wander to prince Toge, and you subconsciously look around to see if he has returned as well. Your eyes find prince Yuji and princess Nobara approaching.

“When we thought you were taking too long, we left to find you.” Nobara explains. “But we ended up finding your brother instead.” She gestures to the end of the ballroom, where Satoru is sprawled on his seat next to the emperor's.

“Serves him right to look so bored. He's so much more trouble than he's worth.” You tsk.

Yuji catches your attention. “But I don't understand what took you so long, princess. You usually find him quickly, did something happen?”

Once again, your mind is brought back to Toge, and how he looked when you first saw him.

You must have taken a beat longer to reply. The three of them suddenly lean closer to try and read your expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Don't you dare try to keep whatever this is a secret from us!”

“So something did happen!”

They bombard you with questions, and you're suddenly overwhelmed. “I'll explain if you all let me, now will you?”

You pull them towards the wall, where there are less people, before explaining what happened.

...

You immediately regret doing so.

Your friends fail to compose themselves as they laugh. You're baffled as even Megumi laughs at you. He tries to cover his mouth, but it's too late. You glare at all of them.

“I can't believe you told prince Toge, of all people, to shush!” Nobara wipes her eyes with a handkerchief.

Yuji is still keeled over as he nods. “I would have paid to see that!”

“Now I understand what Maki and Panda were laughing about earlier, and why they kept looking over at us.” Megumi smirks at you teasingly.

“No!” You gasp. “They didn't!”

“Oh yes they did!” Yuji counters. “It all makes sense now!”

The trio seems to have regained their composure, but you're still a bit miffed. You refuse their offer to dance with you.

“I don't want to dance with any of you right now.”

“Oh shush, princess!” Nobara says, and they're caught in a fit of laughter once again.

But then their eyes shift to something behind you, and their next words get stuck in their throat.

You hear footsteps before you look over your shoulder. Prince Toge advances towards you.

He bows in a graceful motion, just as he did before. ‘I greet the princess of the empire. May I have this dance?’ He asks before holding out his hand.

You expected to be too embarrassed to dance with him well. But you're learning that your expectations are often wrong tonight.

Words fail to describe how wonderful it was to dance with him.

For someone who held him against a wall, the prince looks at you fondly. More fondly than you expected, and more fondly than anyone else has ever regarded you. His movements are confident and smooth as he leads you along to the music.

You want to apologize again, and possibly say that you're enjoying your time with him; but you have the strangest feeling that he already knows.

And thus, you stay silent, and let yourself be swept off your feet. The gentle melody plays on and contrasts with the erratic beating of your heart.

When the dance ends, he leans down to bring his face closer to yours. He takes your hands and brings your fingers up to cover his lips—reminiscent of how you had done earlier when you were hiding. You blush as he kisses your fingers while holding your hands firmly.

You find yourself unable to think of anything else even when the ball draws to a close.

You're unable to properly greet him goodbye, but you meet his eye when he looks over before entering his carriage. He nods, and smiles sweetly at you, the kind that reaches his eyes.

Your attention snaps away from him when Nobara demands you make her your maid of honor at your wedding, and you're left flustered once again.

⋆｡˚ 🪟 ˚｡⋆｡˚🌕˚｡⋆

A letter from him arrived the next day.

Dearest princess,

I realize I left you last night without apologizing to you. Please accept my apology now, though it may be late. You said you were flustered, and that was what led you to your actions last night. I'm afraid it was the same for me.

I don't know why I ran from you, or why I didn't bother to turn around sooner to confirm the identity of my pursuer. But now I'm certainly glad I didn't, for it has left me with memories I will surely cherish.

I will be frank. I am unable to stop my thoughts of you, and would like to get to know you more. Allow me to be the one to pursue you, this time.

In a few weeks, during the crown prince's birthday banquet, please let me steal you away for a while. I hope to meet you there again, by the window under the moonlight. I look forward to your reply.

Thinking of you,

- Toge

⋆｡˚ 🪟 ˚｡⋆｡˚🌕˚｡⋆

[PART 2]

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

[soseojade]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

[soseojade]

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

[soseojade]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru’s love for you has never diminished—even after being your husband for a few years now. in fact, his love for you continues to increase with each passing day.

wc. 500-ish

tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff. satoru being clingy as per usual. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, my wife.’

“and my lovely wife right here will have the vanilla flavour,” satoru announces to the ice cream man. he’s smiling from ear to ear as he shamelessly puts emphasis on the word ‘lovely’.

it’s embarrassing to you. especially because everyone in the queue - plus the vendor - is staring at you. some giggle at the affectionate display from your husband, others just stare or roll their eyes.

satoru does not care about any of them. all he cares about is expressing his love to you in any way he can—whenever, wherever. this time he went for a much more. . . direct approach.

“you didn’t have to say it like that,” you mumble under your breath. you tug at satoru’s arm, clinging onto him whilst hiding your face against his bicep.

you get even more flustered when the man behind the counter nods at your lover’s words—telling you he ‘agrees that you’re indeed a lovely woman’.

satoru feels a sense of pride in having you with him. he always does. seeing the reactions of others when he’s boasting about having a pretty wife makes him feel all giddy.

“why? i’m proud of my wife,” satoru shrugs nonchalantly. he lowers his head to yours, looking you in the eyes from behind his sunglasses. he giggles once he sees that flustered expression of yours from up close.

the sorcerer ruffles your hair before over excessively nuzzling his cheek against yours. perhaps he’s actually experiencing what’s called a love surge, “my girl, my sweetheart.”

you cringe at the cheesy moment that’s happening. you love satoru and his clingy affectionate gestures, but when you’re surrounded by a bunch of people, it can become overwhelming.

you whimper and scrunch your nose up, “mghhh, stop it—we’re in public, ‘toru.”

a futile attempt to stop the white haired man. though, after a few seconds, he actually halts his movements. satoru pouts dramatically whilst holding your face in his hands. he squeezes your cheeks together, “awww. . . but what if i want the world to know that i’m the luckiest man ali—ow!”

you bite satoru’s thumb the second it teasingly rubs with your bottom lip. he’s always so touchy and knows no boundaries when it comes to pda. however, it does make you happy to know that he’s not afraid to show you off to the world.

you playfully frown at your husband, his thumb still between your teeth. it’s cute how easily flustered you get. it makes him want to play with you some more—to tease you some more.

“alright, alright,” satoru gives up and sighs deeply. his head is held low as he steps back to give you some space, “i jus’ wanted to let my girl know how much i adore her, y’know.”

“hah, i’m not falling for your dramatics this time,” you chuckle and roll your eyes. you grab your order once it’s done and walk out of the shop without waiting for your pouty but lovely husband.

you hear him whine out your name. satoru hurriedly grabs his own ice cream cone before rushing after you. once he’s caught up, he wraps his arms around you from behind and lifts you up.

“hey! you can’t just leave your hubby like that. c’mere,” satoru smirks and you can hear it in his voice. you kick your legs, though to no avail.

“gojo satoru! don’t you dare,” you warn whilst holding tightly onto your dessert. satoru ignores your warning and spins you around in circles with him—laughing at your high pitched shrieks.

he doesn’t stop until you’re both dizzy and have to hold onto each other to prevent from falling. satoru kisses your neck gently and you can feel him smiling against your skin, “i love you, sweetheart.”

his love for you has and will never fade. many may say that the honeymoon phase will end sooner or later in a marriage, but that’s definitely not the case with your marriage.

satoru will always be head over heels for you and his affection for you will never stop. even if you’re both old and grey; he’s going to love you all the same.

[soseojade]

megumi's friends can tell when he's thinking about you.

"fushiguro, you're turning red again."

"megumi's got that look in his eyes..."

"hey lover boy, your feelings are showing."

he'll glower at them, but there's a hint of a smile that curls its way onto his face, and his eyes sparkle when he scratches the back of his neck and looks away. "shut up."

"did she text you?"

"have you guys even kissed yet?"

there's laughter at the table, remnants of lunch scattered about. megumi pokes at his leftover rice and rests his chin in his hand. he has kissed you, in fact. it may or may not be what he was thinking about before his friends interrupted him with their good-natured ribbing.

he doesn't divulge many details to anyone about you or your blossoming relationship. the moments you share are for you and him only. it isn't that he's embarrassed of you. far from it. he's filled with an overwhelming urge to shout it from the rooftops that he likes you, and you like him back, and when he holds your hand he feels all those horribly cliché emotions that he's only ever read about.

he doesn't understand how he got so lucky, and he doesn't want to ruin it. he doesn't want to scare you off with just how devoted he is. so he tampers it down. he plays it cool, indifferent even, and pretends that you don't occupy every thought when you're not at his side (and sometimes even when you are).

"hi megumi."

he can't breathe when he hears your voice. nobara and yuuji wave and smile while megumi turns around to see you standing there, lunch tray in hand, your smile brilliant and adoring.

"can I sit with you?"

"we were just talking about you!" nobara says, elbowing yuuji in the ribs. if looks could kill, megumi would be accused of first degree murder.

you slide into the seat next to your boyfriend and laugh lightly. "well, I hope it was good talk!"

"we were teasing fushiguro about how–"

"shut up," he warns, though there's little threat detectable in his expression because he's rendered into hopeless fluff when you're this near.

yuuji holds his hands up in surrender. "fine, fine! but I bet she'd think it's cute that you–"

"–look like a total sap when you're thinking about her," nobara says before he can kick her under the table fast enough.

"it's no different than the way he looks at me normally," you say through a smile. the two friends on the other side of the table howl with laughter. megumi looks like he wants to dissolve. "it's cute."

you're left alone eventually, just the two of you, and megumi reaches for your hand. he's tentative, as if holding himself back from touching you in a more intense way.

"no one's ever told me I'm cute," he says. he's looking at you with those lovestruck eyes again, and your tummy does a flip or two.

"well, they're blind," you insist. he doesn't know how to respond to that, so he squeezes your hand a little harder.

"I think you're beautiful. and I think about you all the time," he admits.

it's your turn to feel flustered, but the way he's so earnest about his compliments makes it hard to tear your gaze away from his face. "Thank you," you whisper.

neither of you really know how love is supposed to work, but you think maybe you're on the right track.

[soseojade]

oopsie! You got a bit too manic about a creative project too close to bedtime and now your brain is too awake to sleep. One million dead 10 morbillion injured

[soseojade]

Nervous

hey guuuyyyyyysssssssss im here with another fic for you all ! i hope you enjoyyy :))

@archive-network (ooo whats this account hmmm??)

cw: none

word count: 2.2k

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

After joining Jujustu High as a late start first year. Getting acclimated to the new environment was easier than you thought. The people on the other hand…they threw you for a loop. 

Itadori was normal enough, a bit bubbly and preppy but could still be serious and caring. He was a sweetheart through and through. You two got along really well, considering your own social butterfly-like nature. Though no where near the extreme of Itadori’s. 

Kugisaki was a bit harder to crack, she was a tough nut. Hiding her affection’s with hard insults and shrill yells. It became almost nature for you both to argue about nonsensical things. During your first hangout together she had tried to make you hold all her bags, which you of course declined. 

This had you guys arguing for hours, ending it in a fit of laughter in the middle of the busy Tokyo sidewalk. After that day you both had grown considerably closer, and you found yourself spending many a nights holed up in her room talking gossip and bickering with eachother. 

Fushiguro on the other hand. At first, you were sure he didn’t like you. His never-ending scowls and cold, monotone voice. It was hard to really believe Itadori and Kugisaki when they told you that that was how he was with everyone, that it wasn’t anything specific to you. 

But out of the three, Fushiguro was the one you wanted to get close to the most. His handsome face, his dark hair, his broody demeanor. For whatever reason, it drew you in like moth to a flame.

You recognized the warmth that curled in your gut whenever he came to class a little late, a flush on his cheeks from rushing to the classroom. His hair slightly out of place, his hands quick to run through the soft locks in an attempt to tame them. 

The blush that would enflame your features when you two would get paired to train together. When you would get distracted staring at his face as the sweat dripped down his forehead, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. His husky tone reprimanding your attention being else where, pinning you quickly on the mat beneath you both to prove his point. 

Images of him flashed through your head all of the time. You could never stop thinking about him, and it drove you mad. Especially because you had absolutely no outlet to all these pent up emotions. He would barely hold a conversation with you for more than 5 seconds, a quick hi and bye was all you got on a good day. 

He definitely wouldn’t speak to you outside of class, or hangout with you alone without it being some group outing that Itadori or Kugisaki had dragged him on. 

It made your heart clench at the thought that you two would just never be as close as he was with the others. That your feelings were ultimately one sided and you would just have to find a way to get over them sooner rather than later. Lest they consume any more of you. 

– 

Sitting criss cross on Kugisaki’s bed, flipping through a magazine she had sitting on her desk, while you wait for her to return to her dorm. 

You had texted her before hand about wanting to talk to her about something, of course it had to do with the dark-haired emo boy, and she had responded letting you know her door was unlocked and she would be back from the mission she was on soon. 

So here you were, attempting to pass the time while you waited for her to return. Your mind running a million miles a minute with all the information you had wanted to spill to her. Of course nothing had happened between you two, Fushiguro had been holed up in his room since he came back from a particularly rough mission. Probably sleeping off the ache in his bones, as most of them did. 

A sharp knock pulled you out of your thoughts, causing you to jerk up from your relaxed position. Confusion running through you, it couldn’t of been Kugisaki she had a key to her dorm and could easily just unlock the door. Itadori was out on a mission of his own and wasn’t set to return until tomorrow. 

Your heart beat spiked at the thought of who could be behind the door. 

Padding over on your socked feet, you unlocked the padlock on your side and swung it open. And, just like you expected, you're met with dark spikey hair and deep eyes. His eyes widen as he takes in seeing you, instead of the expected Kugisaki. 

“Oh…is Kugisaki not back yet?” His voice questioning, attempting to peer behind you to possibly catch a glimpse of her brown hair in the back. 

“No, sorry shes still on a mission. Im waiting for her to come back too.” You said, a blush quickly appearing on your cheeks. Going to awkwardly rub at the back of your neck. 

He stood their uncomfortably at the door for a few beats of silence, you still too stunned at the fact that he was in front of you currently to even attempt to think of any conversation starters. Also fully convinced that he's just going to walk away at any moment now without even a goodbye. 

“Did you want to maybe, wait with me?” You try at your luck, stepping back from the door to give him space to come inside. 

His eyes focused on yours for a few tense seconds. Before, without a word, he enters the room. 

Your nerves set alight in your body, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. Turning the tips of your ears a rosy shade. Silently, you shut the door behind you. Turning the lock, taking a deep breath before facing the scene before you. 

Fushiguro had made himself as comfortable as you think he could be in the presence of others. He sat, almost stiffly, in her desk chair. Fiddling with his fingers, he seemed strikingly out of place. His stiff shoulders and awkward demeanor. It created a fuzzy feeling within your chest, staring at him endearingly. Doing everything within your power to hold back a giggle from erupting past your throat. 

Your attempt was unsuccessful as a giggle slipped past your lips. His eyes shot up to yours, glaring at you. 

“What?” His tone was sharp, and it would’ve made you nervous in any other situation but the image of him awkwardly waiting for Kugisaki was still swimming behind your eyelids. 

“I’m sorry..” You managed past your fit of giggles, which only went on longer the longer he glared at you. “You just looked so…stiff. I’m not gonna bite ya know.” You said, wiping the tears that gathered under your eyes. 

With the sudden boost of confidence, you found yourself walking up to where he was sat in her chair. A smile still lingering on your lips from the giggles. When both of your eyes met eachother, you were sure you saw the hints of a smile within them. But that was quickly replaced with shock as you grabbed his arms and pulled him to sit on the bed with you. 

A noise of surprise escaped his throat as he was manhandled, too shocked to do anything to fight back against it. 

“See! Much more comfortable, don’t you think?” You weren’t going for an actual response, going to grab the magazine you were reading earlier. Finding yourself lying on your stomach, legs kicking idly behind you. While Fushiguro attempted to seem comfortable. 

Sneaking glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye made you want to loose yourself into a fit of giggles again. 

“Okay I can’t do this.” You sighed, trying to fight back the smile. This is the closest you’ve been with him alone since, ever really. You were trying to fight back the nerves that kept attempting to flutter out of your stomach. You desperately wanting things to not be awkward, but it seemed like he was going to make that a harder task that necessary. 

“You really don’t like people do you?” The ‘Me’ that floated in and out of the lines of your words was left unsaid, but with the slight widening of his eyes and the way they flickered to your face. You were sure you both heard it loud within the silence. 

He sighed, shifting himself onto the bed in a more lax sitting position. 

“You make me nervous.” 

The words left you staring at him dumbly, his eyes looking down at the bed sheepishly. His fingers fiddling with each other. 

Your mouth open and closed again, not unlike a fish out of water. Your brain shortcircuiting trying to come up with something, anything, to say in response to that. But you were drawing blanks. 

“I-...You-...HUH??” 

This time, you made him giggle. The back of his hand covering his smile as he chuckled at you. It made a dagger stab directly through your heart at the cuteness display infront of you. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” You playfully smacked his shoulder, which only proved to make his laughter worse. Not too soon after, you followed him. Giggles of your own, joining him in his laughing fit. 

You both laughed and laughed for what seemed like forever. The awkwardness of before long forgotten, so much so, you had almost forgotten what he had said that even led you both to this in the first place. 

Almost. 

Once the laughter had died down for the both of you, which was extremely difficult as it seemed every time you both made eye contact, one of you erupted into another fit. 

You took deep breaths, trying to regain yourself. You felt his eyes on you, and the heat of it all crept up again. Making itself known on the fat of your cheeks, and the tips of your ears. You avoided his gaze, not ready to really come to terms with whatever was about to happen. 

“Why do I…uhh make you nervous?” You stumbled through your words, the nerves fluttering up your throat. Making it feel increasingly difficult to speak. 

You had spent what felt like years dreaming of this moment. Where you would confess, or he would confess. And you would finally be able to talk to him without feeling like you were going to explode, or feeling like it was such a one-sided conversation. 

The need to know him ran so deep within your bones that by this point, it was apart of you. It became a key point in your personality long ago, almost since the first moment you laid eyes on him. You found yourself searching for him everywhere you went. 

And not just him physically, but in things. When you would see a dog charm at the shop you were looking through with Kugisaki, or when Itadori would take you to this ramen place you would think about how much Fushiguro would like the food here. Or when you would see dark hair walking down the street, and for a split second wonder if that's him. If fate had brought you both down the same street, at the same time. 

He cleared his throat, which pulled you from the deep entralls of your mind. You perked up, eyes darting all across his face. The blush that dusted his cheeks was an intense red color, it made you want to coo at him, but you refrained. Wanting to hear his answer. 

“You just do.” He said, a finality in his voice. But with the way his eyes were refusing to meet yours, and the blush that was still stubbornly apparent on his cheeks. It felt like just enough answer for you. 

It made your heart sing, you felt a smile tugging on your lips. 

“Aww Fushiguroooo.” You extended the vowels annoyingly, playfully playing it up just to get him to blush a little bit more. Throwing your arms around him, you nuzzled the side of his face. Your lips right up against his ear, you whispered. 

“You make me nervous too.” 

You felt him freeze under your arms, his whole body stiffening before relaxing again. His chest rumbling with a laugh, as he turned in your hold to face you. A small smile on his face, and you felt your heart swell for the nth time that night. 

He opened his mouth to say something, you more than ready to listen. When the door was slammed open and Kugisaki barged in. 

You both shoved eacother apart, hoping to create enough distance that wasn’t suspicious between you two. Immediately, your cheeks felt like they were going to catch fire with how hot they were. 

“Hel- woah. What happened in here?” Kugisaki asked, her eyes darting between you two. 

“Well you kn-.”

“Nothing.” His voice slightly shaky as he stood and went to leave without another word. 

Your mind racing, wasn’t he in here for something? You thought, but your thoughts were cut off as Kugisaki flops onto her bed. Narrowly missing you, her voice muffled. 

“You guys better not have fucked on my bed.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

authors note: heyyyyy i hope you guys enjoyyy ! i think i really like the way this turned out! and its my first fic, kinda, for megumi so hopefully i did him justice !! thank you guys for reading and for all the love!!

[soseojade]

[soseojade]

THIS IS SO HOT OMG 😩😩

Older bf!Nanami Kento

— disclaimer (mdni, 18+ only)

Older bf!Kento had his moral’s tested the day he met you — the pretty little uni student who lives in the building across from him, but always seems to run into him every time he leaves and comes home from work. He swears it must be just another one of those little inconvenience that makes a person an adult every time he catches you all doe-eyed, a glossy smile, and a polite ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ coming from your mouth ever time you cross paths that makes the hand holding his suitcase grip it until his knuckles turn white.

He’s a man of self restraint.

He’s a man of self restraint until one day you’re asking him if he could help you hang up something in your apartment, the way the end of your almond french tip ends up between your teeth through that dumb smile while watching the muscles in his biceps flex when he hammers the nail until your wall makes his stomach drop. It doesn’t matter if he’s 27. You’re still in uni, and he would never risk the chance of having to go through explaining to his colleagues that his girlfriend isn’t employed, but a girl in university — heavens, no. It sounds taboo.

His resolve further crumbles after weeks of asking for assistance with all the little, yet what he finds unnecessary, renovations in your apartment, the cookies you bake him as a ‘thank you’ always seeming to melt in his mouth. That’s what you’re doing now, standing in the doorway of his apartment with a skirt too short to be considered appropriate and eyes that are wide like a sweet little doe caught in the barrel of hunters rifle. He hates the way his heart clenches to the point it’s painful at the way you stammer through that nervous grin, the pinch in your eyebrows revealing your anxiety when you ask him to go out for coffee — and fuck, he knows it will break your little heart if he tells you ‘no.’

Older bf!Kento who agrees to taking you out for coffee, which you were presuming would simply end in a walk to the coffee shop at the corner of the block where he sits across from you for two minutes before he up and leaves. You don’t expect him to pick you up in his car, one that makes you a little stiff when you sit in it with this worry of somehow ruining the leather seats or damaging the expensive interior. He doesn’t even look at you on the way to the over-priced café with expensive interior that makes you feel as if you’re on your own little Europe getaway. The only responses he gives you are short, majority of them being ‘uh-huh’s’ as you babble in attempt to find the right thing that would make him respond to you.

All you want him to do is say a little bit more, and halfway through your Frappuccino, one that made you cringe upon hearing the price yet profusely thank him for buying you as you didn’t want to come across as greedy, he finally starts to ask you questions. It feels like an interrogation for a while, and when you try to reciprocate the questions, his responses are bland. He hates that you have to worry so much over academics, and hates that he feels this need to not let you lift a dainty little finger over a thing when he can easily do it for you.

Your shoulders are slumped when you’re walking back out to his car to leave, feeling like you’ve wasted a pretty outfit for nothing other than getting your heart hurt. You don’t expect him to text you later that evening that he had a good time.

Older bf!Kento who’s absolutely enamored with everything about you, and loses all his restraint the minute you’re kneeling in front of him as he stands. Your hands fumbling with his buckle while giving him those familiar doe eyes of yours, questioning softly, “please, Nanami?”

He grits his teeth. You’re still calling him Nanami after being corrected to call his Kento so many times, but you’re a worrying little thing who, when not stressing yourself sick over academics, is thinking all dreamily about her handsome boyfriend, Kento.

You can only lean into the hand, calloused from years of being a jujutsu sorcerer, comes down to rest upon the crown of your head, sliding to your cheek, under your jaw, tilting it up to look at him properly. You’re so transfixed by the honey-brown eyes peering down into yours with all the care in the world held within them, a contrast to the stoicism on his face, that you almost don’t catch the sound of his free hand undoing the buttons of his slacks for you.

“Need some help or can you do it yourself, sweetheart?”

— reqs are open<3

[soseojade]

best friend megumi fushiguro who doesn't let anyone else get close to you, especially not someone who he knows just wants to get into your pants. he'll stand behind you, his stare intense and deadly, a subtle baring of teeth, until the guy fumbles over his words and dashes away.

megumi knows you're a virgin, never even had a proper boyfriend once the dark haired boy found you — there's no secrets between the two of you. well, almost no secrets.

you didn't need to know the way megumi couldn't help himself when he was alone in the darkness of his room, fist wrapped around his aching cock, moans muffled as he stuffed his shirt is his mouth. a small part of him wished you were here with him, that it was your hand stroking him and making his tip leak that pearly white. or better yet, maybe you'd let him take your virginity. maybe you would beg him to make love to you, spread your pretty thighs apart so he could go right where he belongs.

he wonders how it would feel, being buried deep within you. he was a virgin, too, after all — saving himself for you.

but your first time together would be special, it would be perfect, not some rushed and sloppy fuck because of his carnal desires. megumi needed to be patient and let everything fall into place. he couldn't have you running off to someone else when you two were made for each other.

so he waits for you to realize that fact, too.

[soseojade]

nanami being the type to get upset that his wallet was stolen simply because someone else has a picture of you in their possession

nanami who goes along with your antics-- like pulling him into a photo booth-- because he loves you. unlike what you thought he wasn't all stiff and awkward. he wore a gentle smile on his face as he mimicked your poses. throwing up a relaxed peace sign in the first, happily squishing his cheek against yours in the second, taking matters into his own hands in the third as he tucked his finger under your chin, tilting your head until your lips met.

nanami who spins your desk chair until you're facing him, making sure your work is saved and your tabs are closed before taking your hand in his. he kisses each of your knuckles softly as he pulls you to stand, leading you to your bedroom because it's all too late and you'll be able to work better with a fresh brain in the morning.

nanami who hates working overtime because he'd much rather be with you. he'd much rather massage your feet while you're nose deep into a book or listen to your deep breaths when you fall asleep with your head rested on his shoulder.

nanami who never thought he'd be able to have a partner while being a sorcerer.

nanami who is grateful to have met you because you showed him he could.

nanami who would light the world on fire if that meant being with you for the rest of his days

domestic fluff w/ nanami | jjk men x reader masterlist

sanrio divider by pommecita

[soseojade]

and there's this burning, just like there's always been—

fushiguro megumi x reader

wc: 5.5k+

warnings: 18+, explicit language, angst, underage drinking, light smut, loss of virginity, struggles with mental health, i use too many commas, toji is a bad dad, gojo is a menace, fwb, end of long-term relationship, college/university au

Melancholy has always been a blade at Fushiguro’s throat.

Even as a child, six or seven, Megumi can remember how uninterested he was in the activities Gojo tried to put him in, the books Tsumiki read to him — the life he lived. There’s always been a flat line on his face, even when his knuckles were reddening over the skin of someone’s cheekbone, and there are very few moments he can look back on and realize that heaviness hadn’t been behind his eyes.

Toji is a piece of shit dad, but most of those moments are all with him.

And Megumi knows better than that, to think the fleeting dates with his father meant anything at all, but it still made his chest pound when he thought of seeing Toji coming to check him out of school early, to buy him ice cream and take him to the arcade in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. Laser tag and pizza, that motorcycle game and a handful of stuffed animals from the claw machine, the dinosaur themed shootout; Toji had racked up more than 400 tickets that day, let Megumi use them to buy a giant toy gun and walkie-talkies (they were cheap as shit, probably came from a 99-cent store somewhere, but he’d earned them, with the little tickets those machines spit out — and that mattered).

All those memories are ruined, of course, by the tears that kissed out the flames of his birthday candles instead of his breath. Surrounded by adults he didn’t care about — Utahime, Shoko, Gojo, and even Nanami — Tsumiki told him to make a wish, but Megumi hadn’t gotten the chance, wouldn’t have taken it anyway, because a wish wasn’t going to earn him enough tickets to buy another afternoon with Toji (just one, that’s all he wanted).

It follows him everywhere, the end of that knife, and there is a long period of his life that Fushiguro feels really, really alone — and this is all before college, all before Itadori and Nobara. All before you.

It’s the summer after he graduates high school that he finds comfort in someone that isn’t Toji, for the first time.

Fushiguro wouldn’t have ever considered someone like Kamo his friend. They’d been through school together, shared classes and projects, ate lunch together when there was no one else to sit with — more of an acquaintance than a friend, and though he thought the guy was a bit of an asshole, Megumi can’t forget the night they’d been standing around a fire at Maki’s house and Kamo slurred out,

"I respect you, Fushiguro, for never backing down.”

It had been completely unprecedented and all eyes moved from the fire to him, which Megumi hated, and all he’d done was nod and mutter out a quiet "thanks”.

That’s when you’d come out, quietly, Mai in tow, to slip between the other six bodies standing around, to slither up to Kamo, to place your hand in his. Megumi didn’t really think about you at that point, when he was seventeen and quiet and alone, but he knew your name, knew you and Kamo had been together since the two of you were barely fifteen. Young love — the two of you seemed determined to make it last.

He didn’t think about you then, not at that point, but you’d always been nice, casual; you looked in his eyes when he spoke and asked his opinion if he was silent when a question was asked to the group, you laughed (maybe because you felt like you should) if he said some witty, asshole kind of thing. But Kamo’s arm was around your shoulders, your lip gloss was on his cheek, and Fushiguro isn’t that guy, knows better than to pine over a woman on another man’s arm.

It isn’t until another year later, six months after he’d turned eighteen — and Gojo still hadn’t kicked him out, like he always said he would — that he found you in the grass outside of Miwa’s house, that he found another woman on Kamo’s arm. That sight had sent him searching for you (maybe because he felt like he should), absentmindedly, ignoring the warm buzz beer was producing in his chest.

Toji wasn’t ever going to help him get a truck, even if he’d said it one weekend in January, when he’d bought Megumi cigarettes for the first time, and there was no asking Gojo for assistance, so the little truck he managed to save for was sitting in the street. Your feet were against the wheels, kicking them without any real force, and when you looked up at him, Fushiguro recognized the heartbreak on your face.

“I can’t find my phone,” The mascara running down your cheeks was quickly wiped away before you patted the grass drunkenly, pulling some of the blades out with a little, angry grunt. It had been underneath you; Fushiguro asked for your number and called it, a little tune from a Sci-Fi movie you’ve talked about playing from underneath your butt. That’s when he’d offered you a ride home, since you looked about as miserable as he felt.

The truck cab had been filled with only the sounds of your sniffling, your hiccups, all the way across town as he drove, and the little bit of alcohol in his system hadn’t let him feel like it was weird of him to do. Out in the grass, crying as the love of your life got hot and heavy with a college girl — why wouldn’t he offer you a way out? If you felt awkward, he had no idea, you just kept tucking your hair behind your ear, yawning, picking at your cuticles as the street lights grazed across your face.

When Fushiguro turned the truck off in your driveway, the both of you just stared at the garage door, left half open by your younger brother to allow you a silent sneak inside. That’s when you asked,

“Why doesn’t he want me anymore?”

There wasn’t anyone more ill-equipped to answer that question than him. It dawned on Fushiguro that he should’ve said something positive, something motivating about not needing Kamo, but Megumi has never listened to that bullshit — especially not from Tsumiki — and he wasn’t about to be a hypocrite.

“I don’t know.” Is all he said, all he knew to say.

How many tickets do you have? Megumi wanted to ask. Maybe the two of you could pool them together, get another night with Kamo, taste whiskey for the second time with Toji in the harsh fluorescent light of a liquor store. If the two of you tried hard enough, they’d come back. If the two of you blew out the candles together.

But Fushiguro hadn’t said that, just nodded when you said goodnight, watched you crawl into the darkness of your garage. And then he went home.

Two weeks later, Gojo wouldn’t stop asking him about college, if he was going, in that annoying way he does, when he acts like he doesn’t care — but he wouldn’t have been asking so much if that were true. It had been the kind of night where Fushiguro knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep, and he knew right away; there are very few things in the world that make him as content as crawling into the warmth of his blankets, shutting off his brain and emotions and turmoil long enough that he lay, suspended, time passing him by and not hurting like it usually does, so when his eyes hadn’t fallen shut after twenty minutes of honest-to-god trying — Megumi knew.

Your number hadn’t even been saved to his phone, just sitting in his call log, staring back at him as he tried to understand why he’d even thought about you. It had been late Saturday, early Sunday morning really, and the chances of you being awake were slim, even slimmer than the chance that you would answer. There wasn’t any way his number was saved to your phone, no way, and a call in the middle of the night — morning? — was something that was likely to go ignored.

Even before he pressed ‘call’, Fushiguro regretted it, but you answered after the second ring. You said his name in a question when the line picked up.

“Hey,” he said quietly, digging his fingers into his eyes because he was a fucking idiot. “Wanna go for a drive?”

Between the tears and sadness and longing coating your throat, you croaked out, “Yes.”

There hadn’t been any destination in mind, not at 2 in the morning, and you still sat beside him and sniffed and cried as he drove aimlessly. There was a shirt on your frame that was too large and, even though it smelt like you, it had been obvious why you’re wearing it, who it belonged to, and the sweatpants on your legs had little rice balls all over them (not that he had been wearing much better). It’s not like you wore that much makeup, but he’d never seen you so bare-faced; eyes red and swollen, nose raw from rubbing it, lips peeling because you couldn’t stop biting them. Even after Miwa’s party, mascara had been enough of a mask on your sad, pretty face that he hadn’t looked too close.

But then, as you played with a string coming loose from your seatbelt, watching the long-closed buildings pass you by, Megumi wondered if he looked like you. The stupid name had always made him feel unintentionally feminine, not to mention that Tsumiki called him a pretty boy, but he’d been just as bare-faced as you — eyes red, nose stinging, lips chapped. It made him feel like he wasn’t so alone, for the first time.

Fushiguro pulled into a parking lot eventually, a spot as far away from the lights as he could find, and he’d been about to start crying, too, encouraged by your shamelessness, when you turned to him.

“What are we doing?” The way you asked made it sound like something else had been going on, something besides two lonely souls trying to understand why they aren’t enough.

“I don’t know,” Fushiguro said — again — then he worried you were expecting something from him. Did you smoke weed? Is that what you thought he meant? Fushiguro never had, but there were cigarettes in the glove box if you wanted one. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” It sounded like another wave of heartbreak was about to crack you open, the way you clutched your stomach and groaned quietly. In some dark, disgusting way, Fushiguro hoped it would — then he could let go, and maybe he could trust you not to say anything. “Are you a virgin?”

That had him choking on the lump in his throat as his face lit up the inside of the cab. “What?”

You faced the parking lot again, tucking hair behind your ear as you spoke away from him. “Because if you are, then I’m not gonna do this.”

This. His mind started racing, trying to remember how his voice had sounded when he called you, if — somehow — he had made you think this is what he wanted from you. It wasn’t, hadn’t even been a thought in his head until just then. Was he that guy? The kind that takes advantage of girls that are heartbroken and crying, searching for comfort from a boy just as lost?

“No,” Fushiguro breathed, “I just wanted to —”

To sit and cry with you? About the ache in your chest, because he had it, too?

“It’s okay,” With a sniff, you shrugged, finally looking back at him, and then he realized you weren’t crying anymore. “I just didn’t know if you were —” a frown split your face, like what you were about to say hit too close to home, “— saving it for someone.”

Fushiguro had watched porn plenty of times — something he insists to himself is out of curiosity and not because he’s some horny bastard like Toji — and he’d flown straight through puberty. Gojo took out a new girl almost every week, even had the audacity to bring them back to the apartment and hang a sock on the door, which always made Megumi scarce for at least two hours. There hadn’t been any girls in school that seemed worthy enough of the effort it would take to unveil himself, to take out the broken parts of him and arrange them in a way they could understand, and so he hadn’t.

The this you’re referencing made his whole body hot, turned him into that horny bastard he didn’t want to be, and he should’ve told you yes, that he was a virgin and no, he wasn’t saving it for anyone, but he hadn’t. There had been enough want pumping through his blood to cloud his head, especially as you shuffled around to get rid of your cute, little sweatpants, and crawled to straddle him in the truck. When you scratched your fingers against his scalp, he was already half-hard, even when you told him,

“I’m not going to kiss you, though, is that okay?”

It’s a good thing you wouldn’t; Fushiguro just nodded.

Gojo bought him condoms for his eighteenth birthday, arranged them in the shape of a dick in front of everyone — adults he didn’t care about; Utahima, Shoko, even Nanami — and Megumi had thrown them into the glove box, furious, afterwards. When he reached to grab one for himself, the pack of cigarettes fell out; there were only two missing: the one he smoked, the one Toji bummed.

"They’re extra lubed up,” Gojo had told him, grinning like an asshole and patting his shoulder, "because you probably won’t get her very wet the first time.”

Fuck him, he’d been right.

The feel of your breath against his neck, the way your nose nudged just under his ear, the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin; Fushiguro was embarrassed at how hot it made him, how quick he got rock solid without so much as a kiss from you. The way you’d started rubbing your clit told him you’d done this before, especially since you didn’t so much as cringe when sinking all the way down on him.

Nothing had ever been as difficult as not cumming on the spot for Fushiguro.

The whole interaction lasted about six minutes and had been painfully awkward, especially since he hadn’t even held you, just gripped the seat underneath him so hard his knuckles turned white, and because he filled up that condom long before you finished around him. His legs were made of jelly when he slumped out of the truck to toss it in the dumpster and your sweatpants were on when he came back. The two of you just sat in silence, breathing evening out, while staring at the parking lot.

If you had started crying again, Fushiguro would have felt really bad, even worse than he already did as the cloud of lust faded from his mind, but he tried to find solace in the fact that you didn’t look bothered. You tucked hair behind your ear again and had the courage to smile sadly at him, which made him realize he was probably in love with you.

“I was gonna follow him to college, you know?” The reminder of Kamo had him flinching, “Even though it wasn’t my first choice school, but —” you shrugged, “— he wanted to go alone.”

Fushiguro wouldn’t have ever considered someone like Kamo his friend, but he did consider him to be a giant idiot. It’s really cliche, the way he felt about you after that, especially since the quiet way you mourned over a guy that wasn’t thinking twice about you seemed all too familiar.

“My dad,” Fushiguro breathed, wiping a damp hand against his sweatpants, “is a fucking asshole.”

It didn’t have anything to do with what you were saying and you cast him a quizzical glance. It didn’t have anything to do with what you were saying, and yet it did.

Maybe Fushiguro had been imagining it, since he’d started seeing you in a rose-colored light, but it seemed like you understood. “Kamo is a fucking asshole, too.”

That made the both of you laugh, bitterly, and then you started crying again.

That summer, it only happened three more times before coming to an end. It hadn’t been all that special and he always came before you, but he’d say something about Toji (“I’ll never be like him, for as long as I live. I’ll kill myself before letting that happen.”) and you’d say something about Kamo (“I just don’t know what I did wrong, what I did to make him change his mind.”) and it felt a little like the two of you were lying in the grass, looking for the phone, kicking the wheels of someone’s truck together. Like the candles were lit and both of you were crying and neither of you were making the wish, because it didn’t matter.

Neither of you were enough and it had been comforting, in some weird, sick way.

The second and third time happened in the bed of his truck, because you almost hit your head multiple times when riding him, and he gathered all the blankets in the apartment to bring with him — casually — when he picked you up again. And the last, because he was a fucking idiot, had been in his room.

Gojo had that nice shirt on again, so Fushiguro had been watching from the window, waiting any minute for his car to disappear from the driveway before you came over, but it never did. Everytime he peeked out into the living area, Gojo had been just sitting in the kitchen, picking idly at a book, at his phone, inspecting his sunglasses as if they were broken. Of course Fushiguro hadn’t mentioned you’d be coming over, because that would have only started a grand shit-show, but, nevertheless, when you came walking up the driveway in a dress, he’d had to slide down the wood floor in his socks before Gojo could answer the door.

“Myfriendiscomingover.” Is what he’d spit out, standing as still and straight as the pencil poised between Gojo’s fingers. When the doorbell rang, when he pulled it open to reveal you, wearing a less-than-sincere smile, his roommate had grinned.

“Oooooh, who’s this?”

It had been a giant mistake, to bring you there, but Gojo was supposed to be long gone, not in all his menacing glory, asking you your name and where you came from, how much money Fushiguro paid you to come over. Everything got worse when Gojo insisted he wasn’t going anywhere, that the two of them were about to start cooking a three course meal, if she was hungry, because he’s a fabulous cook, did you know? Don’t be shy, Megumi-chan!

You kissed him that time, after he’d finally gotten you into his room and his pants off (just before Gojo had knocked and asked, “I’m going outside, need anything from the car?”; he didn’t, he’d gone to get them from his truck yesterday). It was hopeless, how he felt about you, which is why he’d stolen Gojo’s cologne and put on a shirt he hadn’t worn since the last Zen'in reunion, trying — and failing — to remain casual, and it’s why he tried to take the lead and be on top that time.

He told himself it had been an accident, when you placed your hands lightly on his shoulders and leaned up, mid-thrust, to kiss the lip that was throbbing between his teeth. When you did it again, then he knew, and it made his hips stutter in a way that told him he was a lot closer to finishing than he wanted to be, so he just stilled inside you and moved his mouth against yours until his lungs began to ache.

Just for once, Fushiguro was enough. At least, that’s what it felt like.

Gojo actually had gone to the car, and then to a place down the street to get food for the three of you, and Fushiguro — as usual — was done in a heartbeat, before he got back. You did stay for dinner and laughed at the dumb things Gojo said and did. The two of you were left alone again, just to watch a movie on the couch, and you sat next to him and held his hand, leaned your head against your shoulder and only left after the film was over. Before getting in your car, you’d even kissed him again.

It felt like something he had always wanted and always needed, the calm kind of serenity that most people were born with, the kind Toji had robbed him of long ago. Even Nanami commented on it, once more when they were pestering him about college — Tsumiki was pissed, when she came home from University one weekend to find out about it from Satoru, of all people.

The traitor that is his heart wondered (a lot) if his dad would like you, if he’d meet you — even once, just once. Maybe Toji would be proud of him, scoring a girl like you.

The next time Fushiguro called you, it had been screened almost immediately, and he was halfway into over analyzing the text he’d been typing out when yours came across the screen first.

I still want to be friends, but I feel like I should let you know Noritoshi and I are back together.

The two of you didn’t stay friends, didn’t speak again before you followed Kamo out of the city, off to college.

When Nobara finally gets to the library, where Itadori and Fushiguro are waiting, there are three cans of watermelon Redbull in her arms, along with her books and pencil case. As usual, she sits down in a huff and whacks Yuuji when he reaches for one, chastising him, “the last thing you need is any more energy than you already have, idiot”. It makes him smile when Itadori whines about it, when they get into a whisper-war about name calling.

These days, at college, with friends that remind him he isn’t as alone as he once thought, Megumi smiles a lot more, feels threatened by that blade a little less.

It had taken a year for Gojo — with the help of Utahime and Shoko, even Nanami — to finally convince Fushiguro to enroll in a local college. All the money his “guardian” had been collecting, all this time, for raising him mysteriously materialized when he finally applied; to this day, Gojo insists he spent that money on clothes, cologne, women whose names he didn’t remember. He was behind them, Nobara and Itadori, but it only made them better study partners.

The Redbull should have been a dead give away; Kugisaki likes them — the taste more than the rush of caffeine they provide her — but she never drinks more than two in one sitting.

She doesn’t look up, avoids eye contact with Fushiguro completely, when you sit down beside her, squeezing her bicep and whispering, “sorry i’m late”.

“It’s okay,” Nobara whispers back, “I just got here, too.”

It’s only after you pop the top of the can that you peer at him, over the lip of the energy drink. Nothing flashes over your face, not recognition, not shame or surprise, and he just gapes at you.

Fushiguro just gapes at the tan-line around your ring finger.

It had been late August when the Zen'in’s had their reunion again. Fushiguro hated them, all of them, but he only went because Mai felt left out when Maki started strutting around, making her presence known, being the pest she thrived on being. To his surprise, Mai had taken a cigarette from his pack when he’d pulled it from his back pocket — after the summer ended, he started smoking them more, even if they made his lungs ache, because he was searching them, trying to understand what Toji liked about them so much. If he found out, then maybe he would understand his piece of shit dad a little more.

The two of them had been leaning against a tree outside, ignoring all the talking and bullshit reminiscing. Mai had been in the middle of complaining about the way Naoya spoke down to her, threatening to kick his ass, when she’d tried to show him whatever she’d been absentmindedly scrolling through on her phone.

“Him, too,�� She spat, angling her phone in a second attempt to make Fushiguro look at it; he didn’t care what was on her Instagram, honestly. “Kamo was always a fucking asshole. I can’t believe she’s gonna marry him.”

The ring he bought you was nice, because he came from a wealthy family and could afford it, and in the photo of you, showing it off with a great, giant, teary smile, Fushiguro noticed that you’d cut your hair, that you looked as if you’d lost a little bit of weight since he’d kissed you. The caption you put read, and they lived happily ever after. It had a bunch of likes, comments from your friends — even Mai double-tapped it, though she’d just been fuming about it.

The last known number Megumi had for his father was one from a shitty complex a few towns over, which made the chances of Toji answering dismal. Fushiguro called from a pay-phone, because maybe, if his dad didn’t know it was his son calling, he’d pick it up — and he had.

Megumi wanted Toji to sound tired or drunk, as if he really was out there, addicted to or busy with something that could justify the absence in his son’s life, but he hadn’t. Toji sounded fine, normal, casual.

“I’m glad mom left you because you never deserved her, not a second of her fucking time.” Fushiguro spat, “You’re a goddamn disgrace and leaving you and me was the smartest thing she ever did because you’re a fucking curse, you know that? And I’m doomed, just like you, to die in this world without anything or anyone.”

And then he hit the pay phone against the receiver, over and over again, until change started shaking out of it, until the plastic cracked and the dial tone finally went quiet.

Itadori looks surprised when he sees you at the table, too, but you don’t look at his face for very long, you only smile, as if you’re shy, before scooting closer to Nobara.

“Hi,” Yuuji whispers, a friendly grin quirking up on his lips. “Nice to meet you.”

Kugisaki rolls her eyes — and finally spares Fushiguro a quick glance. “Don’t be weird.”

“All I said was hello!”

“Hey, Megumi,” Your eyes are on your notes when you say it, writing something in your loopy, pretty hand-writing. When you look up at him, his face goes red, just like it had in the truck. The smile you send him is sincere this time, for the first time.

“Hey.”

Now Yuuji looks really surprised, looking between the two of you, even as Nobara kicks him under the table. “You know each other? Ow! Knock it off!”.

The lead in Kugisaki’s pencil breaks with how hard she presses it into her paper. “I told you already, Itadori. Remember?”

He leans across the table, as if you aren’t going to hear him loudly whisper, “I would have remembered if you told me about Fushiguro knowing —”

Another kick silences him, this time from Megumi himself. Yuuji looks at him with a frown, shrugging as if he can’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

“Yes,” You lean a little forward into the table, eyes dancing over Fushiguro’s face in a way that’s too studious, “we know each other. We graduated high school together.”

There are rings on your fingers, little silver ones, but none of them are the diamond you had shown off in that picture, four years ago. Fushiguro is twenty-two now, he’s kissed and slept with a few other girls since then, but the sight of you — looking at him like that — breaks and heals his heart all over again. Young love — it’s determined not to die out, no matter how hard he wants it to.

“Do you have the notes from Yaga’s class last week?” You ask, tucking hair behind your ear. “I missed and I’m struggling to get caught back up.”

Fushiguro snaps his eyes back down to the notebook on the table, suddenly insecure of everything about him — his handwriting, the smell of his deodorant, the crinkles in his clothes, the messiness of his hair. “Uh, which lecture?”

With a sigh, you say, “All of them from that week.”

“She’s behind, too,” Nobara says casually, looking up at Megumi pointedly from underneath her eyelashes. “I think the two of you even have all the same classes.”

Does she know?

You send Kugisaki a red look, full of embarrassment, and she shamelessly nudges your shoulder with hers. It makes him hot, the idea that Nobara knows the intimacies of whatever fragments of a relationship the two of you had, the idea that there has been a time when you’ve sat down and explained it all to her. The idea that you’ve thought about him.

The semester is well worn in — they’re all studying for midterms — and he’s never seen you on campus before. How could he have missed you, if you had all the same classes? If you had even one together? How could he have missed the gentle sight of you, when you were supposed to be cities away, living your happily ever after?

(There is a part of him that’s proud that he’s missed you, as if it’s a testament to how far removed from your hold he is, how over you he is. But then Yuuji pipes in with something about his own notes, how he’ll find his old ones and share if Fushiguro won’t, and the genuine grin on your face is so blinding.)

“Of course,” His words come out clipped and he sends Itadori a look he never has before, one that’s green with unjustified jealousy. “Of course I’ll share mine.”

It’s dark outside when Nobara reaches across the table to pinch Itadori in the arm, when she gives him an obvious look and tells the two of you that they are going back to their dorm, because they’re tired. "If you wanna stay and keep studying,” nothing about Kugisaki is casual, “that’s totally cool.”

“I’m tired, too.” A yawn accompanies your words, as if to prove it, and he tries not to feel a little disappointed.

“Don’t you live off campus?” Nobara asks, “Maybe Fushiguro can give you a ride.”

Everyone is looking at him, which he hates.

“Yeah,” You answer and it’s only because of the light in the library that he can see the shyness in your eyes. It’s giving him whiplash; Fushiguro doesn’t have a memory of the two of you where his face wasn’t bright and hot, where he wasn’t the nervous one. “I live with my parents right now.”

There isn’t a ring, there isn’t any sign of Kamo — Fushiguro wonders if this will end like it had before, when he was alone again, when he wasn’t enough. The thought makes his entire chest hurt, but he already knows he’ll let you do it, ruin him.

Maybe he shouldn’t, but as soon as the two of you are outside, away from the hawkish gaze of Kugisaki, he stops on the stairs and asks, “Do you ever think about that summer?”

When you spin around, there isn’t a mask in sight; the heartbroken look on your face is as plain as day, much darker than the smile you’d worn all afternoon. “Yes.” Already you’re crying, hands clenching into fists, and Fushiguro regrets asking. “Do you?”

None of it had been particularly special, but there had always been a quiet peace, when that blade wasn’t nicking him, when he didn’t feel ashamed to bear his emotions to the world — to you — when the feeling of you in his arms was enough. It hadn’t really been about the sex, and Fushiguro is certain that summer would have wounded him even without it, even if his lips had never met yours.

“Too much.” The way he felt about you was cliche, but it would have happened all the same, because he’s cursed.

“Me too.” It’s whispered, since your voice can’t go much higher than that without breaking. “I thought about you —” then your voice raises, and your chin wobbles with the effort it takes for you to form the words, “— more than I should have, more than I ever did. Even after —” You can’t continue anymore and it’s pitiful, how frustrated you seem at yourself, the way your hands come up to cover your face as you sob into them. Faintly, from behind your palms, he eventually hears you cry, “— even after he came back, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

And it’s like maybe you’re doomed, too.

It dawns on Fushiguro that he should say something positive, something to cheer you up or to comfort you, but he’s never been good at that. When he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you, when he rests his mouth against your hairline as you gasp, he says,

“Hey, wanna go for a drive?”

an: thank you for reading !! i post all my works on ao3 and i also have a twitter :3

[soseojade]

bf!megumi୨ৎ

megumi being a cute lil lover boy

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who meets you through yuji, he’s ranting about his long time bestfriend that he had unfortunately lost contact with and how you had just randomly messaged him, asking to reconcile.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who notices that you’re hanging around the trio more often than not. he gets used to your presence as much as yuji and kugisaki does.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who finds himself taking a liking to you. a liking that’s deeper than just friends.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who finds himself buying everything for you. you're hungry? he’s paying. you're sick? don't worry he's already at the store buying you medicine. you're cold? what size are you in hoodies again? you just ran out of your favorite perfume? megumi has the website open, already pressing buy now.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who outrights denies that he has a crush on you when yuji asks even though the tips of his ears are flushed. he denies it to gojo (who drove him there)when he asks even though he's in the store buying you menstruation supplies because you ran out and didn't realize until after you started."aren't friends supposed to help each other?" he responds while adding two packs of chocolate (share size) to the cart.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who begins spending more time with you outside of the trio. he enjoys your company a lot, he realizes.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who feels his heart thump wildly in his chest every time you snort or laugh at something he says.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who allows you to lay your on his shoulder whenever the four of you watch a movie together.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who insists to yuji and kugisaki that he has to be around you at all times due to your nonexistent knowledge about curses. what if one sneaks you while you're walking home alone at night?!

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who blushes whenever you compliment him.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who pretends he hates receiving hugs but finds himself opening his arms for you whenever you initiate one.(yuji tries to hug him also and doesn't receive the same treatment).

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who willingly shares his food with you no matter what he's eating.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who shares his music playlist with you when admit that you like a specific song you heard him listening to.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who spends hours researching hello kitty lore and characters just so he can having something mutual to talk to you about.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who downloads roblox for you. (he gets upset whenever you laugh at him for being a bacon.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who lets you use his gaming pc (gojo gifted him a crazy expensive one for christmas) to play the sims 4.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who responds to your messages in seconds (if possible) whenever you text him.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who finds himself growing jealous when he sees you and yuji hug for a second too long. you guys have never hugged for that long, are you guys in some secret relationship?!

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who can't help but asks yuji if you guys are dating. yuji responds with a loud laugh, he laughs for a looooong time too. "of course not! she's someone i consider a sister." he assures him, "though, she has been talking about some guy that's been trying to get with her for weeks now." he comments mindlessly.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who uses yuji's words as motivation. he runs to your dorm and bangs on your door. the second you open it, he immediately crashes his lips onto yours.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who stammers as he confesses to you, he keeps eye contact with you as he spills out every emotion he's been feeling for you lately. he finishes his confession off by asking the big question, "can i be your boyfriend?"

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who sighs in relief when you say yes and admit that you've felt the same for him since you've first met him.

bf!megumi ୨ৎ who silently promises to both you and himself that he'll do everything in his power to make you happy unconditionally.

[soseojade]

January 30th, 1:00pm Sale To Make Rent

Update January 31st, 9:30pm

I made fairly significant progress, four pieces sold. I'm now have $1100 of $4500. The way my brain works, breaks it down this way I need to sell 4 22"x 30" paintings by this time tomorrow. I'm scared I'm already being seen as a problem tennant.

2024 has been devasting so far. My uncle died on New Year's Day. I had enormous trouble pulling sales together, so my rent was late. The furnace died and took 10 days to been fixed. My hypersensitivity towards smells has reached a crisis point. I haven't been able to properly do laundry since August and the variety of dog and elderly people smells make it so I have a headache, literally, all the time. I'm loosing my mind. Which provided an oppurtunity for a handyman to scam me out of $600, in an attempt to install a washer and dryer.

My rent is $4500 and the estimate for the washer and dryer is $1300. So I need to make sales for that by February 1st. I can't be late again, I can't lose my housing again and I can't survive with a nonstop headache.

Direct Sales payable via

Venmo- Kate-Havekost

Paypal- havekatart@gmail.com

Tumblr discount prices pieces start at $65 for a 5"x 7" (only available via tumblr) to $1800 for a 44"x 30." Shipped same day. Free US Shipping. Sales may be paid via venmo or paypal. Dm to inquire about availability. My etsy will also be 60%. Buyers will receieve a surprise gift with purchase.

[soseojade]

THRHSGVERJRHVEEUDU

(240126) TOPLINE ♡ FELIX & HYUNJIN @ LE GALA DES PIÈCES JAUNES