sugurus-slxt
sugurus-slxt
My Starlight...
445 posts
I sometimes write but as of this moment school is kicking my a** sorry my loves but I'll try my best || Minors DNI
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sugurus-slxt · 7 days ago
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୨୧﹕fem!reader, ryuken catches you filming...
the soft ring light hums as it casts a warm, slutty glow over your oiled skin. you're kneeling on the bed, lace panties tugged to the side, ass arched just so for the camera. a playful pout twists your lips while your fingers trace slow circles down your slick folds.
the phone, perched on the tripod, records every teasing moan, every obscene little whimper you let out for your subscribers. you’re talking to them, whispering filth like it’s sacred scripture, fingers dipped inside yourself, glistening with need.
and then— click. door. opening.
you freeze mid-stroke. your stomach clenches in pure, molten panic.
ryuken stands in the doorway. silent. still. a shadow in that immaculate white coat of his. he doesn’t say a word at first, doesn’t move. his eyes—cold, sharp as shattered glass—lock onto yours, then drift lower. you follow the slow drag of his gaze: down your arched back, your trembling thighs, to the way your fingers are still buried in your cunt.
your breath catches. the phone’s still filming. he sees it. he knows.
"interesting," ryuken says, voice flat as steel, the tone he uses when a quincy’s disappointed him. “tell me—was this some sort of personal experiment in spiritual degradation?”
his footsteps are quiet as he enters the room, but every click of his heel might as well be a gunshot. your heart’s hammering in your throat now. you scramble for the phone, fumbling for the stop button, but he’s already there—fingers around your wrist. not rough, but firm. dominant. commanding.
“i’d advise against deleting that.” his tone never rises. that cold, clinical detachment makes your skin crawl—and pulse throb.
he looks you over like you're a case study. like he’s analyzing a strange hollow breed that somehow spread its legs for a camera and called it business. his eyes settle on the glisten between your thighs, the twitch of your soaked hole still aching around your own fingers.
“you started this without telling me,” he murmurs, reaching out—two fingers catching your chin, forcing your gaze up. “but now that i’ve seen it…”
he lowers himself behind you.
the sound of your panties tearing as he rips them off with two sharp, brutal yanks. lace shreds flutter to the carpet like surrender flags. his breath touches the curve of your ass, his hand smoothing over it.
“…i have no intention of letting you finish it alone.”
your moan dies in your throat as he spreads your legs wider, pushing your face back into the mattress, the camera still rolling. he doesn’t turn it off. no, ryuken fucking ishida angles it better. adjusts the tripod like a meticulous scientist, lining up the perfect view of your pussy—red, twitching, dripping—and his pristine hand moving down between your thighs.
“let them watch,” he says.
the first slap lands before you can protest. not violent. deliberate. fingers smacking your wet slit, sending a lewd, squelching noise through the air. another follows, harder. you gasp, hips jerking.
“you want to put yourself on display like this?” his hand comes down again. “then be sure to give them what they paid for.”
another slap. you’re shaking, drool pooling on the sheets as he teases your clit with cruel precision between every sting. he doesn't take off his gloves—no, the man’s too composed for that. he simply pulls one hand back and unzips his pants with the other, never breaking rhythm.
you hear the sound of his belt sliding loose. then the unmistakable click of lube being opened.
and then you feel it— the thick, cold pressure of his cockhead pressing against your entrance. he’s big. of course he’s big. clinical precision and cold judgment wrapped around a cock that knows how to destroy.
“smile for your subscribers,” he murmurs, voice right behind your ear now. "show them what a needy, camera-hungry whore looks like when she's being put in her place."
he slams into you in one clean, punishing thrust.
the scream that tears out of you isn’t cute or composed. it’s raw. full-throated, ruined. the camera catches every twitch of your thighs as he fills you, every moment your body convulses trying to take him.
"you like being caught," he growls into your neck, hips pistoning into you with brutal, punishing rhythm. "don’t you?"
he knows you do.
your fingers claw at the bed as he fucks you harder, his belt still half-looped around his hips, slapping against your skin every time he slams home. your ass bounces lewdly for the camera—his cock so deep you can feel it in your gut. he pulls your hair, forcing your head back, your mouth open in a broken moan as drool runs down your chin.
“you think this is pleasure,” he snarls, every thrust bruising. “it’s discipline.”
and fuck, he never breaks a sweat. perfect posture. cold, brutal rhythm. the kind of man who doesn't fuck for pleasure, but for correction.
"keep those lips parted," he growls. "i want to see the drool. let them see what their little onlyfans princess looks like when someone real ruins her."
he pulls out, flips you onto your back. doesn’t ask. just does. your legs are tossed over his shoulders, your body folded in half. you're wrecked. sweating. begging. all for him.
and the camera watches it all.
“you’ll upload this,” he says, fucking you so hard your vision goes white. “you’ll tag it ‘daddy found out.’ and you’ll watch your subscribers thank me.”
you don’t come—you shatter. screaming his name, squirming under him as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train. he keeps going, through your spasms, through your sobs, until he groans through clenched teeth and empties himself inside you.
hot. deep. unforgiving.
when he pulls out, cum oozes out of you slow and messy, painting your thighs. he grabs your chin again, forces your face to the camera.
“you’re done filming when i say you are.”
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sugurus-slxt · 7 days ago
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୨୧﹕fem!reader, size training w ruru
he makes you strip in silence.
not a word, not a flicker of hesitation—just that same unreadable look in his pale eyes, like this is all protocol, procedure, something mundane that needs to be handled and filed away. quincy efficiency. that’s what you expected.
what you didn’t expect was the sheer fucking size of it when he undid his belt.
it thudded out of his slacks like a weapon, thick and long and heavy, so heavy it curved with its own weight, veins bulging along the shaft like raised silver etchings, the head flushed a dusky red that gleamed with a single bead of precum. it looked angry. it looked like it shouldn't fit.
ryuken glanced down at you—half-naked, mouth parted, thighs clenching—then back to his cock, and sighed.
"you're staring."
"y-you're huge," you breathed, eyes wide. "it’s not gonna—"
"that’s why we’re doing training," he cut in flatly. "you’re to lie back. breathe. don't squirm. if you can’t take it, you’ll tell me immediately.”
as if you'd be capable of speech.
you nodded mutely, already trembling as you lay back on the clinical white linen, thighs spread as instructed. he was already in latex gloves, one hand gripping a bottle of slick, scentless lube, and the other holding his cock at the base like he was about to insert an iv.
“raise your hips,” he said. “no, higher.”
you did. you felt like a fucking specimen under his gaze, every movement scrutinized, every flinch noted like data. he touched your thigh with two fingers and you jerked. he clicked his tongue.
“sensitive,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “you’re already flushed. don’t overheat.”
“over—what?” you managed, right as he poured the lube over your pussy. it was cold, clinical like everything else—sliding down between your lips in sudden shivers.
and then came his fingers.
two slid in immediately, curling, stretching, opening you up with businesslike precision. he didn’t moan, didn’t breathe heavy, didn’t even look interested. he looked like he was performing maintenance. meanwhile, you were panting, back arching as he worked you open, scissoring and pressing with the calm expertise of someone who’s had his hands on anatomy charts more than actual people.
"you’ll need to loosen more,” he said coolly. “you're resisting the second knuckle. if you clamp like that on my cock, you’ll bruise."
you wanted to scream. you would bruise? his cock looked like it would snap your damn pelvis in half.
he added a third finger without warning.
your head slammed back against the pillow, thighs twitching. “f-fuck—! that’s too—!”
“it isn’t,” he said calmly. “breathe. i'm angling downward. you’re just overly reactive.”
overly reactive? he was elbow-deep in your cunt and still treating it like a scientific experiment.
and yet, you moaned. loudly. desperately.
he slid his fingers free and wiped them clean with a small white towel.
then he reached for his cock.
“no…” you whimpered. “you’re not—not yet—”
“i’ll only insert the tip,” he said, not even looking at you, just watching the angle of his cock as he lined up. “this is to determine elasticity.”
it pressed against your entrance like a threat.
just the head and your cunt was stretching open, lips straining wide, slick already coating him in a sheen. you gasped, legs twitching uncontrollably. the girth of him was unreal—your pussy ached just from that first push.
“you’re shaking,” he observed, unmoved.
“you’re splitting me open!”
his eyes flicked to you, unamused. “that’s an exaggeration.”
he pushed a little more.
your hands clawed at the sheets, thighs shaking, mouth open in a voiceless cry. you felt every vein, every pulse, every inch of him as it forced you wider. there was no prep in the world that could have made this easy.
and still—still—your cunt was gripping him like it never wanted to let go.
ryuken inhaled through his nose.
"you’re drawing too tightly. control it. you're going to tear."
"i c-can’t!" you gasped. "you’re so big—fuck—it’s too much—"
“you can,” he said flatly. “you’re just overwhelmed. focus. i'm halfway in.”
halfway.
that was halfway?
you looked down—and saw the rest of him still outside you, thick and pulsing and glossy with lube and arousal. he hadn’t even buried the whole thing and your cunt was screaming.
he leaned down, voice low beside your ear. "do you want me to stop?"
the tone was gentle—but the implication was not.
you shook your head desperately. “n-no—don’t stop—just… god, please go slow—”
he nodded once.
and kept going.
he fucked his cock into you like he was pressing a scalpel into flesh—controlled, steady, no wasted movement. you were sobbing by the time he bottomed out, stuffed so full you could feel him in your ribs, like he’d rearranged your guts to make room.
and ryuken—cold bastard that he was—didn’t look triumphant. didn’t groan. didn’t even blink.
you were drooling.
your hands were trembling.
your legs were locked around his hips and he hadn’t even started fucking you yet.
but when he drew back—just slightly—and pressed back in deeper—
you screamed.
and ryuken only raised a brow. “hmm. cervical contact. noted.”
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sugurus-slxt · 7 days ago
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୨୧﹕fem!reader, seduced by ryu
you sat stiffly on the edge of ryuken’s pristine leather couch, legs crossed tight, hands clasped in your lap. you were trying not to fidget. not to sweat. not to look too long at him where he stood across the room, sleeves rolled up, collar undone, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always wore.
“would you like something to drink?” he asked, voice smooth like the clink of ice in crystal. “wine, perhaps?”
you nodded, a little too quickly. “o-oh, um… sure. that’s fine.”
he turned, walked slowly into the kitchen, and god, even the way he moved was intimidating. controlled. sharp. like everything he did had been calculated twelve moves ahead. you stared after him, biting your lip.
this was just a house visit. he’d invited you for dinner. nothing unusual.
except you were sitting in a billionaire doctor’s private living room and your panties were already damp from how he said your name earlier.
when he returned, he handed you a glass and then sat beside you—not across the room like a polite host. right beside you. close enough that you caught the scent of his cologne: clean, expensive, with the faintest hint of something smoky underneath.
you took a sip to distract yourself. bad idea. you ended up downing half the glass in one nervous gulp.
his lips twitched. “careful. i haven’t even fed you yet.”
your cheeks flared. “s-sorry.”
he chuckled low in his throat, setting his own glass down. “you’re always so nervous around me. i wonder why that is.”
you looked away, heart pounding. “i’m not…”
“yes, you are.”
you didn’t argue. you couldn’t.
he leaned in closer, voice low, intimate. “is it my reputation? my age? or is it something else?”
your breath caught. you couldn’t even look at him. your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, trying to ignore the throb between them. you felt him watching your reaction, soaking in every twitch, every breath.
“i’m not like your peers,” he murmured. “i don’t play games. i don’t tease. if i want something, i say it.”
you finally looked at him—really looked—and he was already looking at you. pale eyes pinning you in place. he raised one hand, slow, deliberate, and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering just long enough to make you shiver.
“i invited you here because i wanted you here,” he said. “not for dinner. not for company. for you.”
your lips parted, but no words came out.
he leaned closer, his breath warm against your jaw. “would you like me to stop?”
you swallowed hard. “n-no…”
he smiled, slow and devastating, and tilted your chin up with two fingers. “good.”
then he kissed you.
not soft. not testing.
claiming.
his mouth molded to yours with the precision of a man who’d had years to learn exactly how to make someone melt. his hand slid along your throat—not choking, just resting, like a subtle threat or a silent question—and your body leaned into him without permission. your legs parted slightly, and he caught that too.
he broke the kiss to murmur against your lips, “so responsive. you’ve been thinking about this since i picked you up, haven’t you?”
your answer was a whimper. honest. embarrassing.
his hand slid down your side, fingertips brushing your thigh through your skirt. “you wore this for me, didn’t you? short enough to tease but long enough to pretend you weren’t hoping i’d touch you.”
“i—”
“you don’t have to lie.” his fingers slid under the hem now, just barely grazing the soft skin above your knee. “not here.”
your breath hitched. “ryu…”
he groaned softly at the sound of his name on your tongue, like it tasted better than the wine you were drinking. he pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your cheek, then lower—along your jaw, down your neck. each one slower than the last.
“i don’t rush,” he whispered, voice a low rumble against your skin. “i take my time. i enjoy my company.”
his hand slid higher now, under your skirt properly, between your thighs, and when his fingertips grazed your soaked panties, he smiled.
“just as i thought.”
you gasped, hips twitching toward his touch before you could stop yourself.
“let me take care of you tonight,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your ear. “you don’t need to do anything. just fall apart for me.”
and you did.
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sugurus-slxt · 7 days ago
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୨୧﹕fem!reader, he makes u squirt
ryuken didn’t usually lower himself to debates about sex.
he was a man of precision. control. a practiced hand and a sharper mind. and right now, both were focused on you—laid out on his pristine sheets, legs spread, eyes hazy but stubborn, voice hoarse from earlier moans.
“i told you,” you huffed, panting, your body trembling under his touch, “i can’t. i’ve never—”
“that’s because no one’s tried properly,” he interrupted flatly, gaze focused between your thighs, where two of his long fingers were slowly pumping in and out of your soaked pussy, steady, relentless, curling with medical intent. “or you’ve never been disciplined enough to let it happen.”
you glared at him through the haze of pleasure. “it’s not—about discipline, ryuken—!”
his brow twitched. not in anger. in disappointment.
“don’t be ridiculous,” he said, voice calm and clinical. “this is anatomy. your body has the capacity to do it. you’re simply not trying hard enough.”
you whimpered as his thumb pressed against your clit—no circles, no teasing—just pressure, precise and maddening, dragging heat up your spine like a live wire. you bucked your hips involuntarily, but his other hand pinned your thigh down.
“stop fighting it. you’ll never make it acting like a brat every time it gets too intense.”
“i’m not being a—”
“then prove me wrong,” he snapped, a rare edge to his voice. “you keep insisting it’s impossible, and yet your cunt is swallowing my fingers like it’s starving. you’re dripping down my wrist, and you have the audacity to tell me you’re not close?”
you moaned, breath hitched, walls clenching around him.
“oh, i see,” ryuken muttered, lips curling faintly as he shifted lower, fingers plunging deeper, curling sharper now, brushing that soft, deadly spot inside you over and over with cruel accuracy. “this isn’t about impossibility. you just don’t deserve it yet, is that it?”
your body jolted.
“n-no—fuck—ryuken—”
his hand didn’t stop. his eyes narrowed.
“you’ve coasted by on half-assed orgasms and lazy men with no understanding of your body,” he said coldly, “and now you’re so fucking spoiled you think when something doesn’t happen instantly, it’s impossible.”
you moaned louder, hips rolling, clit grinding desperately against his thumb now.
“i c-can’t—!”
he slapped your pussy, quick and sharp. you squealed, hips jumping.
“say that again,” he growled.
your voice broke. “i—!”
“say it,” he barked. “say you can’t again, and i’ll leave you here a soaked mess with nothing to show for it but wasted potential.”
“f-fuck—please, ryuken, please don’t stop—”
“then stop talking,” he snapped. “shut your stupid mouth and let it happen.”
he shoved his fingers deeper, curling hard against your g-spot, grinding into it now, faster, thumb unrelenting on your clit. the pressure inside you coiled tight—too tight, too much—
“gonna—oh god—gonna pee—!”
“you’re not pissing,” he hissed, voice low, dark, nearly amused. “you’re squirting. that’s your pathetic little brain not catching up to your body. let it happen.”
and then your body gave out.
you screamed, thighs jerking against his grip, cunt pulsing around his fingers as a gush of warm liquid sprayed out, soaking his hand, his wrist, the sheets beneath you.
“f-fuck—!”
you shook violently, tears slipping down your cheeks, overstimulated and wrecked.
ryuken sat back slowly, flicking droplets off his fingers with surgical calm.
“there,” he said, tone dry. “was that so difficult?”
you could barely breathe.
“didn’t think so,” he muttered, already reaching for a fresh towel like this was just another routine procedure. “you’ll do it again.”
you whimpered.
“oh yes,” he said, tone final. “you’ll keep doing it until you understand what happens when you listen.”
his clean hand gripped your thigh again, dragging you back into position.
“now—try harder.”
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sugurus-slxt · 12 days ago
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r. itoshi relationship headcanons
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dry on the outside, simping on the inside—rin is silent, but he watches everything. memorizes your voice. your smile. the way your fingers curl when you sleep. you catch him staring and he just mutters, “nothing.” (it was everything.)
you are his entire safe space—he doesn’t let people in easily, but when he does? he lets you see everything. his insecurities. his past. the nightmares. and the way he clings to you like you’re the only thing grounding him. “stay with me tonight,” he says, barely audible.
touch-averse with others, clingy with you—he hates being touched by strangers. but with you? he craves it. sleeps with a hand on your waist. gets visibly annoyed when you sit too far on the couch. “come here. i’m cold.”
listens to your voice notes 100 times—you send him a voice message once and he replays it like it’s gospel. you say, “i love you”? he stares at his phone like it just punched him in the chest.
horrifically jealous, tries to act cool, fails—some guy laughs too hard at your joke? rin glares at him like he’s plotting murder. “is he always that loud around you?” you tease him, and he just scoffs. but later that night he fucks you like he’s reclaiming territory.
slow, deep, deadly—rin doesn’t rush. he fucks you with heavy, intentional strokes that make your toes curl. holds your face in his hand and says, “you take me so well. so tight like this for me. you’re made for me.”
low, dangerous praise—his voice drops and it’s so low it makes your whole body throb. “you’re shaking.”—“can’t even take it all, can you?”—“good girl. just let me wreck you slowly.”
overstimulation king—once you come, he doesn’t stop. he’s slow but relentless. fingering you lazily while you’re twitching, whispering, “you’re not done. you can take more. i know you can.” watching your eyes flutter as he keeps going.
jealous = dangerous sex—he acts cool, but if someone flirts with you? that night you’re on your knees, throat raw, mascara smudged, while he fucks your mouth and says, “only mine. you hear me? say it.”
choking, hand-holding, forehead kisses—he’s got you pinned, hand on your neck, hips grinding deep, and suddenly he leans down and kisses your forehead like you’re precious. “you feel so good,” he whispers. “don’t ever leave me.”
possessive about your sounds—rin gets obsessed with your moans. covers your mouth once and immediately removes his hand like ‘no, i want to hear everything’. then whispers, “that’s it. that sound. that one’s mine.”
aftercare turns him so soft—he washes you. wraps you in his hoodie. pulls you onto his lap, arms around you. won’t look you in the eye but mumbles, “you okay? was it too much?” you say no, and he presses his lips to your temple. “good. because i’m not done needing you.”
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sugurus-slxt · 19 days ago
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gojo was going to cry.
and it was all because of his child. his baby. or what they had heard you say so really, it was because of you.
your baby was at the talking stage. they’d begin talking more just a few months ago— gojo bringing it up whenever he can (which was all the time) that your baby’s first word was dada. he cried when he heard it. and he was going to cry rn because your child won’t stop.
you had called him by his name. his last name. something you never say unless you’re trying to get through to him. that usually does it because he’ll look at you and go “you hate me.” and now it’s like your baby hates him because they’ve been saying gojo for the last few minutes.
“I’m not gojo. I’m dada to you.”
“go-jo.” your hand was over your mouth trying to keep yourself from encouraging the child, who was trying to enunciate the name— clearly enjoying themselves and the reaction they were getting from their parents.
“no. no, no- I’m dada.” gojo was on his knees in front of you.
you nosed your baby’s cheek from where they were sitting on your lap. “is that daddy?” you asked softly. your child, who looked exactly like the man in front of you, stared up at you. the audacity for them to not only come out looking like their father— when you carried them for months— but to also inherit his eyes. "who's dada?" you asked again.
your child looked to satoru, finger sticking up to him. "that's right, that's dada." satoru held his arms out to lift them from your lap.
"I'm dada." your child nuzzled their head into his neck before lifting their head up to stare into his blue eyes with their very own.
"go-jo!" you cracked at your child's exclamation.
"nooooo."
gojo was going to cry.
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sugurus-slxt · 19 days ago
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synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you talk about your husband like he is a dream and, frankly, your coworkers think that you are making him up. that is until your husband shows up.
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you talked about your husband all the time.
nanami this nanami that
“oh, my husband makes the best lunchboxes”
“he stayed up to help me with my report”
“he walks me to the station when i stay late”
you weren’t annoying about it. not really. just a little too consistent. always saying things like “he’ll pick me up after work today, we’re going to get pastries!” and showing off texts that made your coworkers tilt their heads and squint.
kento nanami sounded fake.
a little too nice. a little too attentive.
and when you tacked on the fact that he was hot — “blond, tall, glasses, kinda quiet but really handsome, you know?” — people at work started to think that maybe you were pulling everyone’s leg.
just a little.
not out of malice — no, never that — but maybe you were lonely. maybe you just needed a sweet little fantasy to get you through the day. who could blame you?
because no way someone like nanami existed. not the way you described him. it just didn’t sound real. not in this world. not in this economy.
but you never let up.
you beamed like a lovesick fool when your phone lit up with his name. you refused to make afterwork plans on fridays because that was “friday pasta night with kento.” you sighed wistfully every time someone so much as mentioned a bakery and then whispered, “kento always remembers my favorite,” like you were in some fairytale.
you weren’t smug about it either. it was just… relentless. like you were trying to manifest it into reality.
and maybe it would’ve stayed harmless water cooler gossip — “hey, what do you think her husband actually looks like?” or “maybe it’s just her roommate who makes all the food?” — if you hadn’t mentioned that he’d be picking you up from work one day soon.
“he’s on leave,” you’d said, head bent over a spreadsheet, smiling to yourself. “wants to take me out for dinner. he’ll be here early. maybe you’ll see him.”
you said it innocently. with that dreamy lilt you always got when his name was on your tongue.
but that set off everyone.
bets were placed. theories floated. some said he’d never show. others swore they’d catch you whispering to your reflection in the hallway like a crazy person. one guy from accounting said he saw you with a facetime open to a picture of a k-pop idol and he swore it was nanami. it was all harmless. mostly.
people just didn’t believe it.
until the elevator doors slid open.
and nanami stepped out.
he wore a tan wool coat, fitted slacks, button-up half undone at the throat — all that fine-tuned, elegant masculinity that seemed sculpted into place. hair slicked back, wristwatch glinting, and an expression that was all quiet restraint, the kind that turned heads on instinct.
and his eyes — sharp, deep, familiar — scanned the room once, then softened the moment he saw you.
“you ready, sweetheart?” he asked.
your coworkers went silent.
someone dropped their pen.
you lit up instantly. grinned, grabbed your bag, waved at everyone with a cheery, “see you tomorrow!” like this wasn’t the most monumental moment of vindication in the history of your office.
nanami took your coat from you before you even shrugged it off fully. guided you with a hand on the small of your back. leaned in and brushed a kiss to your temple so naturally that your coworker audibly gasped.
he glanced up then. noticed the sea of frozen faces.
“good evening,” he said politely, like he didn’t just obliterate the collective doubt of your entire floor with one gentle peck.
you left with him. smiling, chatting, looping your arm through his as he opened the door and held it for you.
and behind you — a stunned, stunned silence.
“…so,” someone whispered, finally. “that was nanami?”
“the nanami?” another croaked.
“that man’s real?”
“she wasn’t even exaggerating,” came the hollow, awe-struck reply. “she was under-selling him.”
and in the elevator, nanami turned to you and smiled, faint but amused. “you were right,” he murmured, “they really didn’t believe i existed.”
you snorted and leaned into his side. “i told you. now they’ll think i made you in a lab.”
“i wouldn’t be bothered by that,” he said, tugging you closer, kissing your knuckles as the doors closed. “you did a perfect job, if so.”
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sugurus-slxt · 19 days ago
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you’re lying in bed with nanami, skin still warm from the shower, legs tangled under the sheets. the night is quiet, city buzz faint behind thick windows, the kind of calm that only settles in when the world’s already asleep.
he’s on his side, propped up on one elbow, thumb brushing slow lines along your hip. the bedside lamp casts soft gold over his face, and for a second you think you could look at him forever and never get tired of it.
“can i ask you something?” you murmur, voice muffled against his chest.
“of course.”
you hesitate, not because it’s a hard question, but because the quiet between you feels so delicate. like it might shatter if you speak too loudly.
“when did you know you liked me?”
he’s quiet for a second. thinking, not avoiding. and then—
“i think it was the first time you fell asleep on me,” he says, voice low. “you were talking about something—i don’t remember what—but your head was on my shoulder and you just… drifted off. you trusted me enough to do that.”
you glance up at him. “that’s it?”
his mouth twitches. “you drooled on me, too. just a little. really cute.”
you groan and try to hide your face but he catches your wrist and kisses your knuckles, laughter in his breath.
“no, really,” he says, quieter now. “i liked you before that. but that night… it settled something. i knew i wanted you forever.”
you smile into his chest, tracing lazy shapes into his skin.
“what about you?” he asks. “when did you know?”
you hum, pretending to think, even though you’ve always known.
“when my shower broke.”
you feel him shift slightly to look down at you. “your shower?”
you nod. “remember? i called you. it was like, stupid late, and i barely knew you. but you came over anyway. you didn’t even ask questions, just showed up and fixed the whole thing like it was nothing.”
he blinks. “i do remember. you looked… distressed.”
“i was so close to crying,” you laugh softly. “and then you showed up and just handled it. and i was standing there like, god, i should probably offer to suck him off or something.”
his laugh is a quiet rumble under your cheek.
“i didn’t,” you add, mock stern. “i had some self-control.”
“that’s very admirable of you.”
you shift a little, looking up at him again. “i mean it, though. you could’ve just told me to call a plumber in the morning.”
he’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize you, every blink and curve and whisper.
“it wasn’t a big deal,” he says.
“it was to me.”
he pulls you closer, his hand pressing against your back, grounding. steady.
“always calling me a sap— you’re a sap too, aren’t you, kento?” you murmur, but your voice is fond, teasing.
he kisses your forehead, lingering.
“i’m in love,” he says simply. “what else am i supposed to be?”
you don’t have an answer. just a full heart and a man who never lets you fall apart alone.
and for once, that’s more than enough.
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sugurus-slxt · 19 days ago
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tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ just some emotional damage via praise and love because i’m pretty sure nanami is not protected from that
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nanami is brushing his teeth when you sidle up beside him in the mirror, stretch your arms overhead, and sigh like a sleepy cat.
“you’re very handsome, you know,” you murmur, voice low and scratchy with sleep.
he blinks at you through the mirror.
you blink back. grin.
“what was that?” he asks, mouth full of toothpaste foam.
“i said you’re handsome.”
he stares for one more second—and then leans over the sink and spits, lingering a second longer than necessary to keep his expression in check.
“why?”
“…why are you handsome?”
“no, why would you say that?”
you raise an eyebrow. “because it’s true?”
he rinses out his mouth like he’s trying to scrub the embarrassment off his tongue. “you can’t just—say things like that. in the morning. while i’m brushing my teeth.”
“i literally woke up and felt overcome with love for your stupid face.”
he covers his face with one hand.
“you don’t like being complimented while you’re… minty?”
he sighs. “i’m not prepared for this level of sincerity at 7am.”
“what is your preferred time for me to express how stupidly in love with you i am?”
“never,” he mutters. “or at least after coffee.”
you lean in, cheek against his bicep, watching him in the mirror as he rinses his toothbrush. “i like your laugh lines.”
“they’re wrinkles.”
“they’re hot.”
he drops the toothbrush. “stop.”
“you have excellent forearms, by the way.”
“what does that mean?”
“and your shoulders? criminal. you should be fined.” your hands fall off of them as he steps away to go get dressed.
“i’m leaving.”
“i’ll miss you desperately, lover:”
he stares at you from the doorway like he’s rethinking his entire identity. then, very slowly, he walks back over and takes your face in his hands.
“listen,” he says seriously. “you can’t just… emotionally ravage me before I’ve had a chance to emotionally armor myself.”
“that sounds like a you problem.”
“it is a me problem.”
you grin. “does it help if i say i’m proud of you and think you’re amazing and love the way you always fold the laundry just how i like?”
his expression crumples.
he buries his face in your neck.
“stop,” he says, muffled. “this is damaging.”
“do you need me to—”
“no. no more compliments. not until at least lunch.”
you giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist. “deal. but at noon, i’m telling you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
he sighs against your skin. “i’ll prepare accordingly.”
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sugurus-slxt · 23 days ago
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husband!nanami preemptively budgeting for your unborn baby
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on the morning after your second positive test, your husband’s standing hunched over the kitchen table—he’d left bed quietly, with the soft deliberation he applied to most things in life. in front of him sits a mug of untouched coffee gone tepid. a yellow legal pad: column after column of figures in tidy script, annotated with 0.5 uni ball pen.
you hover in the doorway a moment, admiring his profile: barefoot in his slacks, hair slightly mussed. he doesn’t hear you until you shift your weight, floorboard creaking underfoot.
“seven weeks,” you say, by way of greeting.
“approximately,” his gaze drops back to the paper. “which, optimistically, gives us about seven months to account for the first year’s expenses.”
“did you know,” he murmurs, “the average cost of a child’s first year is nearly two million yen? that doesn’t include school fees. or medical insurance. or college tuition.”
you step closer, skimming the columns. food, childcare, emergency savings, medical contingencies. even a line labeled ‘adjusted parental leave income.’
“this one here,” he says, tapping his pen against a neat cell, “is a preliminary projection for an international preschool program. in the event we don’t stay in tokyo. though it’s still early.”
you blink. “ken. our child is the size of a blueberry.”
“irrelevant at this stage. what matters is equity of access.”
you fold yourself into the space between his chair and the table, arms looped around his neck, cheek pressed against his temple. his pen halts midstroke.
“i’m not worried,” he adds finally. “i just want to plan ahead. i don’t want you—or them—to ever need anything.”
you kiss the top of his head. “you’re gonna be a great dad.”
he hums, then under his breath, “do you think two air purifiers would be too much?”
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sugurus-slxt · 23 days ago
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Kento Nanami x Reader
OlderBoyfriend! Kento Nanami, posted on his instagram??..
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you’d recently taught your older boyfriend, Kento, how to use Instagram so you could tag him in posts and stories of the two of you. But you never expected him to eventually engage in posting online, so it was a surprise when you refreshed your feed, only to find a short video of your boyfriend lifting weights at his gym, with an ancient heavy metal song overlapping the background noise he didn’t mute.
And lord behold, he has over fifty thousand likes on all his posts, equaling up to four. Four singular posts. And he's already on top-charts of instagram, without hashtags, and only one previous follower, you.
You currently were sitting in the living room of the shared apartment you'd bought with him a while back, sliding off the couch and walking to the bathroom where he was showering, since he'd just got home from the just mentioned gym.
You knock on the bathroom door, before walking into the steam filled room, shower running and fan on. “Baby.” you say, pulling the curtain aside, staring at him.
Kento wipes his face of water and turns to you, a small concerned frown on his face as he sees your odd expression, “sweetheart, are you alright?” he says quickly, turning the knobs of the shower to stop the water.
You held up your phone that was displaying his page, “you didn't tell me you started posting videos?” you say, legs shifting slightly as you spoke, and of course, he noticed.
He grabs his towel and wraps it around his waist, stepping out and taking the phone out of your hand and putting it down on the countertop softly, pulling you into a small embrace, looking down at you, “is that the matter, darling?” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll delete them if you'd like, i just thought other men would like to see the process-”
You stop him, placing your fingers to squish his lips together, “I’m just surprised you didn't tell me, that's all, I’m not mad.” you say quietly, “but I do want you to put my username in your bio.” you finish, kissing his cheek and letting him go.
He blanked for a moment, a brow lifting.
“Sweetheart, What's a ‘bio’?”
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© all works belong to chikithree. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.
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sugurus-slxt · 1 month ago
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messy sex with nagi ♡
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nagi who’s definitely very appreciative of you. all the girls around him always crushed on reo, so it came as a surprise when he learned that you were interested in him. he’s not very good with words, but he’s so in love and smitten with you, that the best way to show how grateful he is is by fucking his big cock into your pussy.
you’re squealing as he pulls his cock halfway out and slams back in, watching how your slick dripped down around his cock and made a mess between your thighs. he had you all spread and stuffed full of him, your pussy fluttering and so messy from how many times he’s already made you cum.
“ah—mmnh—! ssseiii, it’s so loud…” you whined, face burning as the slick, messy sounds of his cock pistoning in and out of you, balls slapping against your clit echoed through the room.
“so what?” he panted, licking into your neck as your walls clenched around him. “s’just your pussy tellin’ me how good it feels. can’t help it, right?”
“it’s embarrasssing—!” you’re cut off with him shoving his mouth onto yours, tongue slipping in as he kissed you through it, causing your head to go all fuzzy for him.
“means your pussy's really happy," he mumbled, lifting your leg a little higher so he could go even deeper, hitting that spot that made you cry out.
then he leaned in close, head tilted down as he looked at where you were connected, your puffy folds stretched around his cock, all shiny and soaked with your cum and his.
nagi abruptly pulled out, leaving you empty as you twitched and squirmed. but before you can even whine at him to go back inside, it seems as if he’s totally entranced by something, causing you to realize he’s staring at your cunt. his eyes are half lidded, and his big hands are holding your thighs wide open so he could get the perfect view.
you blinked down at him, breathless. “what…?”
“miss me already?” he cooed, thumbing at your folds.
your pussy fluttered helplessly, slick dripping down to your thighs, and nagi only leaned in closer, so close you felt his breath ghost over your skin as he whispered, “y’re so cute…”
you squeaked, “seishiro—stop talking to my pussy!”
finally, his lazy eyes lifted to yours, slow, smug, lips curled in a grin.
“but she’s being so honest with me,” he said, cock nudging at your entrance again. “y’re so shy, angel… but she’s makin’ it clear how much she wants me.”
he kissed your wrist, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a deep, messy kiss while slowly pushing back in, stretching you open again.
“m’bad, baby,” he murmured between kisses, cock buried to the hilt now. “i’ll pay attention to you now, m’kay?”
by now, you’re too far gone, begging him to keep going, whining to him, “y-yeah, please.. ssseiii—make it worse, wanna feel you drip out of me, want it all messy and gross, I don’t care—!”
“if that’s what you want, angel.” he hums, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. he knew it’d be a hassle to clean up later, but how can he ever refuse you?
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sugurus-slxt · 1 month ago
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Room for One more ?
Pairing - JJK Men x reader
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CW: suggestive language, sexual innuendo, age gap dynamics (19+ reader), inappropriate comments, possessive and flirtatious behavior, mild coercion, power imbalance, light alcohol use, emotional tension.
next chapter | M. list
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Chapter 1
The apartment smelled like something warm—cinnamon maybe, or toasted sugar. It didn’t match the sight in front of you: a door propped open with a sneaker, a white sock hanging off the doorknob, and voices filtering through the narrow hallway.
You hesitated at the threshold with your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, trying not to fidget with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. Your friend, Aki, swore this was a good idea.
“They’re chill,” she’d said. “Little weird, but harmless.”
You were starting to think “little” had been a generous understatement.
A head peeked around the corner. Messy white hair. Sunglasses indoors.
“Hey. You must be the new stray.”
Your mouth opened, then closed again.
“Um… I’m Y/N.”
He grinned—wide, all teeth. “Cute. I’m Gojo. I call dibs on teaching you how to use the shower if you don’t know how.”
“…I do know how.”
He winked. “That’s what they all say.”
Behind him, another man walked into view, holding a mug and wearing a loose black tee that hung off one shoulder. His hair was dark, tied up lazily, and his gaze was unreadable as he sipped.
“Don’t harass her at the door, Satoru.”
“Harass? I was welcoming her,” Gojo gasped, offended.
“Sure,” he said. Then, to you: “I’m Geto. Ignore him. Mostly.”
Geto looked calmer, quieter, but you already felt how his eyes lingered too long—just a second more than appropriate. You swallowed and nodded politely.
Gojo turned back to you, gesturing wildly.
“Rules are simple. No bringing partners over, no stealing my snacks, and everyone’s required to attend Friday Movie Night. Also, if you’re gonna scream in your sleep, do it in your pillow. Sound carries.”
“Scream—?” you blinked.
He beamed again. “You’ll understand eventually.”
They showed you to the empty room. Technically Toji’s old room, but he’d moved everything out two days before to Nanami's as for welcoming you. It was small, but it had a bed, desk, and bathroom of your own. More than you expected, honestly.
You didn’t meet Nanami until that night.
He knocked on your door at 9:12 sharp.
“I wanted to introduce myself properly,” he said, standing stiffly at the doorway like he was afraid of invading your space.
“I’m Nanami. If any of them bother you, let me know. I’ll handle it.”
You nodded, voice small. “Thank you.”
His eyes flicked over you quickly, then away, as if embarrassed he’d even looked. “And welcome. Please don’t feel uncomfortable. You’re safe here.”
There was something… reassuring about him. Stoic, maybe, but polite. You felt your shoulders relax.
Until the next day.
You woke up to the sound of low voices, distant music, and the thud of something heavy—weights? A punching bag?
You padded out of your room and followed the sounds to the shared kitchen, only to stop short when you caught sight of the last one.
He had a towel slung over his shoulders, sweat gleaming across his chest. Tattoos peeked from the waistband of his shorts and his broad back flexed as he cracked open a water bottle.
His gaze flicked to yours. Unblinking. Cold green eyes. The stare of a man who didn’t say “hello,” just sized you up.
Toji.
“You’re the new girl,” he said. Voice rough, like gravel. “Didn’t expect you to look like that.”
You frowned. “Like what?”
“Soft. Lost.” He let his eyes drag over your body—bare legs, oversized shirt, sleep-flattened hair. “Easy.”
You stepped back, flustered. “I—excuse me?”
He shrugged, then grinned—sharp, quick.
“Don’t get all squeaky on me. I say what I think.”
You turned and nearly ran into Nanami, who appeared out of nowhere like a silent guardian. He placed a mug in front of you.
“Don’t take anything Toji says seriously,” he said, almost gently.
“And please wear slippers. The floor isn’t always clean.”
Toji snorted. “Keep babying her, Nanami. Let’s see how long that works.”
“Don’t call her that.”
You felt like you had walked into a play already halfway through—like everyone already had roles, histories, fights, flirtations. And now you were here, the only one out of place.
But they welcomed you.
They let you eat breakfast with them.
And when Geto leaned over to pass you a spoon—his arm brushing yours, his voice low as he said, “you really are cute when you flinch,”—something in you jolted awake.
This was not what you expected.
Not even close.
You hadn’t even finished your cereal when Toji spoke again.
“So,” he drawled, slumping lazily into a chair across the kitchen table, “you’re in my old room.”
You paused mid-bite. “…Sorry?”
“Don’t be,” he smirked, cracking open a second water bottle.
“Didn’t say I minded. Was just curious how it feels sleeping in a room that still probably smells like me.”
Your face heated instantly. “I—uh—what—?”
Nanami set his coffee down with a sharp clink. “Toji.”
“What? I’m just being friendly.”
You could barely look at either of them, the spoon trembling slightly in your grip. Toji leaned forward on his elbows, jaw flexing, muscles rolling under the ink on his forearm as he continued, voice slow and intentional.
“Should’ve asked me before giving up the room, though. Could’ve made a deal, sweetheart. Maybe shared it with you instead of Nanami.”
Your breath caught.
Nanami stood up straight. “Toji. Enough.”
Toji tilted his head, annoyed. “Relax. She’s not a kid.”
“She’s nineteen.”
“She’s legal.”
"Barely."
"Still legal."
“Toji.”
You could hear the edge in Nanami’s voice—firm, low, a thread of warning barely held back. Toji scoffed and sat back in his chair, tapping the bottle cap against the table.
“Whatever,” he muttered. “Was joking.”
“Don’t joke like that.”
Toji rolled his eyes. “You know, this is why I didn’t want to share a room with you. You kill the vibe.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Nanami shot back, calm but cold.
Toji smirked again, looking at you. “Still think I should’ve shared a room with her.”
Your spoon hit the bowl with a soft clatter as you stood, too flustered to stay seated.
Nanami’s voice softened only slightly as he turned to you. “Ignore him. He’s like this with everyone.”
“I’m not,” Toji said, without missing a beat.
“Just with the ones I like.”
You practically ran to rinse your bowl and retreat to your room, mumbling something about needing to finish unpacking. Nanami’s eyes followed you until you disappeared, then turned sharply to Toji.
“She’s uncomfortable.”
“She’ll get used to it.”
“She shouldn’t have to.”
“Spare me the lecture.”
Before Nanami could retort, the front door burst open with a dramatic thud, followed by an enthusiastic, drawn-out, “We’re hooome!”
Gojo’s voice, unmistakable.
He strolled in like a celebrity on a red carpet, sunglasses still on despite the dim lighting of the apartment hallway, arms loaded with takeout bags and a six-pack of beer. Geto followed behind, phone in one hand, hair tied up tighter now, holding the speaker end of the Bluetooth playing obnoxiously loud house music.
“Don’t worry, I brought enough food to bribe your forgiveness,” Gojo said, dropping the bags onto the kitchen counter. “And beer to blur your memories.”
Toji was already halfway through his first can before they even settled. Geto gave a soft chuckle when he saw him.
“Didn’t even wait for us?”
Toji shrugged. “Why would I?”
Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You said you were picking up groceries, not takeout and alcohol.”
Gojo waved a hand. “Tomato, tomahto. Let loose, Kento. It’s Friday.”
“I’m going to my room,” Nanami said flatly, already walking away.
“Again?” Gojo called.
“Come on, don’t be lame. You’re gonna make her think this house is boring.”
Nanami stopped at his door and turned to you—eyes softening slightly.
“If you want peace,” he said, “I’d suggest you do the same.”
You nodded quickly. “Y-Yeah. I’ll—”
But you didn’t even finish the sentence before Gojo zipped past Nanami with a devilish grin and took a sharp turn toward your room. You blinked, confused, until—
“Wait—! What are you—?!”
Too late.
Gojo was back in the living room with you in his arms, bridal style, grinning like a maniac while you squeaked and clung to him.
“She said she was gonna hide,” he said to Geto, who leaned lazily against the wall, enjoying the show. “Can you believe that?”
“I can,” Geto said. “But I support your kidnapping. It’s fun.”
“Put me down!” you yelped.
“Nope. House rule number five—‘All Friday nights must be celebrated with excessive noise and minor abductions.’ Look it up.”
“There is no such rule!”
“There is now.”
He dumped you unceremoniously onto the couch, and you bounced with a soft “oof” as Geto plopped beside you and handed you a can of soda. He opened one for himself—beer, obviously—and stretched one arm across the back of the couch behind you.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, voice low, mouth too close to your ear.
“This place isn’t so bad once you lower your standards.”
Toji dropped down into the armchair next to the couch, now on his second beer. His eyes dragged across your legs, your face, the curve of your back as you tried to sit properly—anything but notice the way his gaze lingered.
“Don’t act so scared,” he muttered. “No one here bites.”
Then a pause.
“…Unless you ask nicely.”
You swore you heard Geto chuckle behind you. Gojo walked past, ruffling your hair playfully, before collapsing onto the rug in front of the TV and pointing the remote like a weapon.
“Now,” he declared. “Movie night begins. But first—shots?”
“Absolutely not,” Nanami’s voice called from the hallway.
Gojo grinned. “See? He’s always listening.”
And you, sitting on the couch between Geto’s lazy smile and Toji’s dark stare, started to realize something.
You weren’t going to live in this house.
You were going to survive in it.
You’d tried to stay quiet—really. Sitting tucked on the couch, legs pressed together, soda can hugged to your chest while the boys sprawled around like they owned the entire apartment complex, not just the living room.
But that never worked for long in this place.
Especially not with them.
“Look how tense she is,” Gojo grinned, poking at your shoulder as he lay on the rug, head tilted back to peek at you upside down. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”
“She’s probably just overwhelmed,” Geto added smoothly, resting his chin in his palm as he leaned on the couch’s armrest.
“New house, new people. Four grown men. Living with us must feel like walking into a lion’s den.”
Gojo pouted. “Hey! I’m a kitten.”
Toji scoffed. “A loud one with rabies.”
Nanami’s voice floated from his room. “All of you have rabies.”
Laughter echoed around you, but your face was already heating.
“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “Just tired.”
“Sure you are,” Toji muttered, sipping his beer and eyeing you from the chair across the room. His legs were spread wide, arms resting loose on the sides, posture lazy—but his eyes were sharp, tracking every twitch you made. “You always this jumpy around guys?”
“Wha—no, I—”
“Uh-huh.”
You turned away quickly, but that only made things worse.
Geto leaned closer, his arm brushing yours. “You’ve never lived with boys before, huh?”
You shook your head, hoping they’d drop it.
They didn’t.
“Never even had a boyfriend?” Gojo teased, propping his chin on his fists, grinning wide. “You’re giving… pure vibes.”
“That's—,” you hissed, your ears turning hot.
“Ohhh, no way—” he gasped.
“Are you—wait, wait—are you seriously untouched? Like, untouched-untouched?”
You choked on your drink.
“God,” Toji muttered, dragging a hand down his face and grinning like he knew something dirty. “You guys are vultures.”
“But she’s so cute when she’s flustered!” Geto said, laughing now. “Look at that—she’s about to melt.”
You were.
Your face was burning, your heart pounding too fast, and the room suddenly felt stifling.
“I’m just gonna get some air,” you mumbled, slipping off the couch and weaving past the mess of limbs and bottles and pillows scattered across the floor.
“Need help breathing, princess?” Toji called after you.
You didn’t answer.
The balcony was small but quiet. The city lights glittered in the distance, noise a soft hum beneath the apartment’s height. You inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the tension—but the air wasn’t clean.
It was thick with smoke.
You turned and froze.
Toji was already out there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers. He glanced sideways at you, one brow arching.
“Well, well.”
You blinked. “I—I didn’t know you were here—”
“Door’s open. I’m always here.”
Your stomach fluttered.
He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl through the air before flicking the ash over the edge. You hovered near the doorway, hesitant to step fully into his space.
“You coming in, or just planning to stand there breathing my secondhand smoke?”
You swallowed. “I—I can come back later—”
But before you could even step back, he moved—reaching past you, gripping the balcony door, and swinging it shut behind you with a soft click.
Your heart jumped.
He didn’t touch you—but he didn’t have to. The proximity alone made your nerves spark.
“…What are you doing?” you asked, voice quieter now.
Toji turned to face you, only a foot or two away now, flicking the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with his boot.
“Nothing. Just thinking.” He paused, then grinned. “You make it a habit to run when guys talk to you?”
“I—I wasn’t running.”
He gave you a look.
“…Okay, maybe a little,” you muttered.
He chuckled—low and rough. “Thought so.”
Silence stretched for a second, uncomfortable.
Then, softly: “So what’s your deal?”
You blinked. “My…?”
“Yeah. What’s your story, sweetheart?” He stepped closer, arms crossing over his chest.
“You some rich daddy’s girl cut off for bad grades? Or did you just lose a bet and wind up here with four assholes?”
You fumbled, laughing awkwardly. “N-No, nothing like that. I—I just… needed a cheaper place. Couldn’t afford dorm rent anymore. A friend of Gojo’s mentioned the room.”
“Friend of Gojo’s,” he echoed, smirking. “That explains a lot.”
You fidgeted under his stare.
“What are you studying?” he asked next, voice quieter.
“Economics.”
“Big dreams?”
“Sort of. I—I mean, I want something… stable.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt. “You’ll hate it.”
“I—huh?”
“Trust me. People who want stability are always the ones who end up miserable.” He tilted his head.
“How old did you say you were?”
“N-Nineteen.”
He smiled again. Not kindly.
“Barely legal.”
You flinched. “I—um—can I go to sleep now?”
Toji stepped in again, this time close enough that you could smell the mix of smoke and aftershave clinging to him.
“What’s the rush?” he said, voice low, teasing.
“Talk to me a little more. I’m curious about our new roommate. You’re a shy little thing—but I bet there’s more under the surface.”
“There’s—nothing, I—I swear—”
“You always this bad at lying?” he grinned. “Cute.”
You felt heat crawl down your spine.
Then—
“Yo! Where’d you go, princess?”
Gojo’s voice. Loud. Coming closer.
“Damn,” Toji muttered under his breath.
Before you could even turn, the balcony door swung open again, and Gojo poked his head out, eyes lighting up when he saw you cornered.
“Aha! I knew he was hogging you.”
“I wasn’t—” you started, but Gojo didn’t wait. He swooped in and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
“Wha—HEY—!”
“Sorry, Toji,” Gojo chirped, grinning. “I'm taking her. Find your own cuddle buddy.”
Toji’s jaw flexed, brow twitching.
“Put her down, idiot.”
“Later,” Gojo called as he carried you back inside, music still blaring, Geto laughing from the couch.
He plopped you down again, passed you a fresh can.
“Cheers,” he said, grinning into your eyes.
“To surviving your first night in hell.”
You lifted the drink, heartbeat still racing, and took a sip.
But even as you sat between the chaos, you felt a burning gaze linger behind you—from the balcony where Toji still stood, jaw clenched around another cigarette.
Watching.
Waiting.
to be continued in the next chapter
.
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sugurus-slxt · 2 months ago
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HUSBAND TOJI !
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CW: Smut, breeding kink, possessiveness, degradation, cockwarming, rough sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving & m. receiving), titfucking, domestic settings, public teasing, pregnancy themes, explicit language. 18+ ONLY.
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HUSBAND!TOJI who always sleeps with a hand down your panties, even when you're mad at him.
He says it’s for “security” and grins when you swat him. “Shut up. S’not like you’re pushing me away.” You’re curled into his chest, and his palm is firm over your mound, thumb lazily brushing against your clit. It’s barely even sexual—it’s possessive, grounding. And yet, your breath still hitches every time he stirs in his sleep, fingers twitching. You whisper, “You’re such a perv.” He hums, “Married one, didn’t you?”
HUSBAND!TOJI when you wear his shirt around the house and nothing else.
He stops mid-step, leans in the doorway, and just stares. “You tryna kill me?” he murmurs, voice thick. You roll your eyes, walking past with a sway in your hips, but he’s already grabbing your waist. “S’cute how you pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.” His hands slide beneath the hem, palming your ass as he groans low. “Keep walking around like that and I'll knock up one more into you again. No hesitation.”
HUSBAND!TOJI when he gets back from work and sees you napping in his hoodie.
The living room’s quiet except for your soft breathing, knees tucked to your chest. His hoodie hangs off your frame, sleeves too long. He kneels beside the couch, brushing hair from your cheek. “Damn, you’re cute,” he mutters, voice rough from the day. You stir a little, and he kisses your forehead. “Go back to sleep, mama. I’ll start dinner.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who stuffs you full and calls it “marital duty.”
“You’re my wife. Know what that means, right?” he growls into your ear, rutting deep inside you. “Means I get to breed you whenever I want.” Your legs tremble as he presses your knees to your chest, cock slamming into you like he’s trying to plant his name in your womb. He watches your stomach bulge slightly with every deep thrust and groans. “Fuck, look at that. So damn tight around me—greedy little thing.” You sob his name, and he snarls, “Gonna make sure you’re leaking for days.”
HUSBAND!TOJI when he catches you without a bra at home.
He corners you in the kitchen, arms braced on either side. “No bra?” he smirks, gaze dark. “You tryna make me lose my mind?” His hands are already under your shirt, kneading your tits like they belong to him—because they do. He toys with your nipples until you’re gasping, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna see how loud you get when I fuck these pretty tits.” And he does—right on the counter.
HUSBAND!TOJI who makes you cockwarm him during dinner.
He pulls you onto his lap, lowering you on his cock slow and deep. “Sit still, yeah? Don’t make a mess on my pants.” You tremble with every twitch of him inside you, your pussy squeezing reflexively. He eats dinner like nothing’s wrong, occasionally shifting his hips just to watch you struggle. “God, I love you like this. My little cockwarmer.” By the time dessert hits the table, you’re shaking and glassy-eyed, and he smirks. “Beg me nicely after this, maybe I’ll let you come.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who fingers you in the shower just because he missed the way you sound.
Water rushes over your bodies as he traps you against the tile. “Missed this tight little pussy,” he rasps, two fingers already thrusting into you knuckle-deep. You’re slipping, clutching his biceps, moaning shamelessly. “You’re already this wet?” he chuckles. “Didn’t even touch your clit yet.” And when he does—you nearly collapse. “Fuck, you’re so easy for me.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who humps you during laundry, muttering filth into your ear.
He pins you to the machine, hips grinding into your ass, cock hard against your thin shorts. “Look at you—trying to fold clothes like you’re not desperate.” His voice is breathless, low, filthy. “You feel that? You feel what you do to me?” You moan when he grabs your tits through your shirt, dragging his cock along your ass again. “Gonna ruin these fuckin’ panties before the spin cycle’s even done.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who lifts you up and fucks you against the wall because you mouthed off.
“You’ve got such a dirty little mouth,” he growls, hauling you up like you weigh nothing. Your back hits the wall, and his cock’s already pushing inside you, thick and fast. “Let’s see if you’re still smart when I fuck the attitude outta you.” Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and he groans. “Shit, you’re tight. Always such a brat ‘til I split you open.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who raw fucks you slow and deep until you’re begging him to move.
He’s hovering over you, arms caging you in, just grinding in so deep it hurts. “Feels better like this, doesn’t it? No rubber. Just you and me.” You sob, trying to buck up into him, but he holds you down. “No rush, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel every inch.” His hips move in torturous rolls, dragging along every sweet spot until your nails dig into his back. “This pussy’s mine. Don’t forget it.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who loves using your tits to get himself off on lazy mornings.
He straddles your chest while you’re barely awake, cock already hard. “Morning, baby,” he says with a smirk, sliding between your tits. “Hope you don’t mind if I use these for a bit.” You groan, blinking up at him as he thrusts slow, then faster. “Fuck, they’re perfect. So soft, so pretty—‘m gonna make a mess on that cute face.” He cums with a grunt, hot and sticky over your lips and cheeks. “Now that’s how a wife should wake up.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who loves fucking you from behind while you're on the phone with your mom.
He catches you on the bed, phone to your ear, chatting sweetly with your mom. “Just a second,” he mouths, grinning as he pulls your shorts down and slides in from behind. Your gasp is muffled in the pillow as he thrusts slow, shallow, teasing. “Tell her how good your day’s been,” he whispers darkly. You try to form words, voice shaking as he pushes deeper. “She’s got no idea her daughter’s getting her guts rearranged while talkin’ about dinner plans.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who wakes you up in the middle of the night just to use your mouth.
You blink awake to the feeling of his tip brushing your lips, already leaking. “Open up, baby. Ya husband needs you,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and want. You do, warm and pliant, letting him slide into your throat. His hand cups your cheek as he rocks into you gently, groaning. “Good girl—fuck, just like that.” He finishes in your mouth with a low, breathy moan and strokes your hair. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll take care of you in the morning.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who makes you ride his cock in front of a mirror.
“Look at yourself, baby,” he growls, hands gripping your hips as he makes you bounce on him. The mirror reflects everything—your flushed cheeks, your tits bouncing, the way you’re taking every inch of him. “You see how pretty you look getting ruined by your husband?” he purrs, licking at your neck. You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “No hiding—watch me stretch you open like this,” he grunts, thrusting up hard. “You were made to take my cock. Look at that sweet little pussy swallowing me whole.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who stuffs your panties in your mouth while he fingers you.
“Too loud,” he smirks, yanking your soaked panties off and pushing them between your lips. “Can’t have the neighbors hearing how desperate my baby gets.” You moan into the fabric as his fingers slide deep inside, curling just right. “Tight,” he mutters, watching your legs twitch. “Maybe I’ll use my tongue next... or maybe I’ll just edge you until you cry.” Your eyes roll back as he rubs your clit, slow and cruel, while your mouth stays gagged with your own scent.
HUSBAND!TOJI who loves using you as his personal stress reliever after work.
He comes home, tired, eyes dark. “Bend over,” he says simply, already unbuckling his belt. You don’t ask—just obey, trembling. He takes you fast, rough, groaning like he needs this more than air. “Shit, I needed this,” he pants, grabbing your hips. “You’re better than therapy, baby. Fuckin’ perfect little wife.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who makes you sit on his face first thing in the morning.
“C’mon, baby,” he mumbles sleepily, patting his chest. “Sit up here, give ya husband his breakfast.” You’re still groggy, but your core’s already pulsing when he pulls you up over his face. His tongue flicks slow and deep, groaning like he’s starving. “Fuck, you taste even sweeter when you’re half-asleep,” he purrs. Your thighs quake as he sucks your clit, wet and sloppy, tongue working faster until you’re crying out. “Now that’s how you start a goddamn day.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who fucks you dumb while you’re wearing nothing but his shirt.
You thought it would be cute—wearing nothing but his oversized shirt around the house. He thought it was an invitation. “You’re asking for it walking around like that,” he growls, yanking you against the wall. His hand’s already between your legs, fingers finding your slick slit. “No panties? Fucking slut.” He lifts your leg and slides into you hard, the shirt bunched around your waist. “Gonna fill this cunt until your brain melts, baby.”
HUSBAND!TOJI who talks to your belly every night like your baby can hear him.
He lies beside you, hand resting on your bump, voice soft. “Hey, little brat,” he mutters with a small smirk. “You better not give your mom hell tomorrow.” You giggle, combing your fingers through his hair as he kisses your stomach. “She’s already cranky as hell without you kicking her bladder at 3 a.m.” Then his voice lowers, a bit more serious. “But I hope you turn out just like her. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me."
HUSBAND!TOJI who gets possessive seeing your pregnant body in public.
You’re wearing a simple sundress, bump on display, and some guy glances your way. Toji’s arm wraps tight around your waist. “He’s lucky I don’t rip his damn eyes out,” he mutters against your ear, voice low. You laugh, trying to calm him, but he glares after the stranger like he’s a threat. “This belly? Mine. That glow? I did that.” He rests a hand over your stomach with pride, daring anyone else to even glance your way again.
HUSBAND!TOJI who helps you with swollen feet but grumbles the whole time.
You sit on the couch, huffing tiredly as your feet throb. “Should’ve worn the damn slippers I told you to,” he grumbles, grabbing your ankle and dragging your foot into his lap. But his hands are gentle, massaging carefully, thumbs pressing into all the right places. “Tch. You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, then kisses the inside of your ankle with a soft grunt. You smile, already melting from the warmth of his touch.
HUSBAND!TOJI who gets weirdly emotional feeling the baby kick.
You gasp softly one night. “Toji—she’s kicking.” His head snaps up, and he’s on his knees in front of you in seconds, palm flat on your belly. The next kick makes his eyes widen. “That’s my girl,” he mutters, voice cracking. “Strong little bastard already.” He leans in and presses a kiss right where the baby kicked.
HUSBAND!TOJI who gets turned on seeing you all round and glowing.
You catch him staring at you again—eyes lingering on the stretch of your belly, the heaviness of your breasts. “Toji,” you say, warning in your tone. “Don’t even think about it.” But he smirks, already stalking toward you. “I’m just admiring my work, baby.” He kneels down, kissing your bump, then looking up with that sinful grin. “Still the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
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taglist: @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @savagecatsuga @sparkling-obsidian @ssstingrayyyyyyyy
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sugurus-slxt · 2 months ago
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JJK men when you go on a date with another guy
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CW: NSFW, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, degradation, choking (light), spanking, begging, mild dubcon vibes, toxic obsession, heartbreak, praise/degradation mix, somnophilia undertones (Geto), angst-laced smut. 18+ only.
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Kento Nanami
Painfully adult about it. He won’t beg, won’t yell, but the way his jaw clenches when you tell him is telling enough. He’ll give you space... but not without asking for something first.
“One last time,” he says, low, almost reverent. “I need to remember what it felt like to be inside you before someone else takes my place.”
That night is slow torture. He kisses you like a man saying goodbye, touches you like he’s etching the memory into his bones. He doesn't cum until you're begging, and even then, he does it deep, slow, aching—whispers a broken “thank you” into your neck as he finishes. Then he leaves before morning, and doesn’t come to your room again.
Satoru Gojo
Oh, he loses it. Cracks wide open.
The second he finds out, he spirals—starts cracking jokes to cover the panic. Then he gets quiet. Real quiet. Follows you around the apartment like a kicked puppy. When you try to leave, he’s at the door, blocking it.
“Please don’t go,” he murmurs, eyes wide and glassy. “Don’t let someone else have you. You think he’s gonna love you like I do? Talk to you the way I talk to you when you're stuffed full of my cock and crying my name?”
Drops to his knees right there in the hallway. Arms around your thighs, face pressed into your stomach. Whispers, “I’ll be good. I’ll stop flirting with everyone else. I’ll give you everything. Just don’t go. I love you so much, please.”
Filthy, desperate, so full of love it’s pathetic. And if you give in? He eats you out right there on the floor like a man starved, moaning into your pussy like it’s the only thing that can save him.
Toji Fushiguro
Quiet. Cold. Terrifying.
Doesn’t say a word when you tell him. Just stare at you with that heavy, unreadable look, jaw ticking. That night, he doesn’t come out of his room. The next morning, he’s gone before you wakes up.
Then you comes back from her “date.”
Toji’s sitting in the kitchen in the dark, one arm thrown over the back of a chair, the other holding a drink. He doesn’t even look at you. Just says, “He touch you?”
If you lie? He stands, walks over slow, cages you against the fridge with one arm, and sniffs your neck like a predator. “Lying won’t save you, baby.”
If you don’t stop him—if you so much as breathes wrong—he lifts you onto the counter and ruins you. One hand choking you gently, the other between your legs, growling things like, “You think some college boy can fuck you like this? You think he knows what to do with a mouthy little cunt like yours?”
Fuck you so deep and mean you forget why you even went out in the first place.
Suguru Geto
Smiles like it’s a joke.
“Oh? A date?” he says, smirking from the couch. “How cute. Hope he doesn’t bore you to death.”
But behind closed doors, he’s pacing. Smoking. Muttering to Gojo about how they should’ve marked you earlier. When you get back, he’s already in your bed, legs spread, shirt off, holding your favorite hoodie in his lap like a fucking scent-hound.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he purrs as you walk in. “Did he make you laugh? Did he make you wet?”
You say no. Of course you say no.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now come here and let me erase him.”
Tie your wrists above your head and make you cum until you're sobbing. Spanks you until your thighs are shaking. Makes you say his name over and over, soft and fucked-out, while he kisses the tears from your cheeks and murmurs, “No one will ever love you the way we do.”
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Comment down to get tagged when i post any JJK content. Also I started a backup account in case something happens to my current one - just to be safe lol, So if y'all are interested, @jinjoohaa-blog - do follow !
taglist : @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @savagecatsuga @bunny-wunni @sparkling-obsidian @ssstingrayyyyyyyy @pota-hoe @shiroonii @odysseusmom @thekkatherineblogg @dinokens-blog @dontcallmedoc @fairygardenprincesss @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh
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sugurus-slxt · 2 months ago
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Shaving your husband Toji Fushiguro, sitting on the sink and him standing between your legs.
His large hands gripping your thighs while his eyes watch you intensely, following your every move.
“You’re having fun, woman?” he said gently, feeling your soft hands on his jaw.
“Yes i do, Toji. I like to do things for my husband.”you replied smiling up at him and noticing the shift in his eyes and stance.
His grip on your thighs tightened and he leaned in grabbing your throat softly.
“You like to do things for ya’ husband? Then why don’t you turn your cute ass around and bend over the sink to make him real happy.”
This wasn’t going to be the last time to shave your husband Toji. He even demands it…
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Art by @0mxmo on X
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sugurus-slxt · 2 months ago
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nerd!gojo who’s your valorant teammate. his voice is annoyingly cocky and all he does is flame you for your kda.
“come on! it’s like you haven’t played in ages. not getting rusty are you?”
nerd!gojo whose val nickname is “bedroommaster69”, so the first time you found yourself on the same server as him, you were getting ready to ruin some middle school kid’s day with insults he has most likely never heard before.
nerd!gojo who turned out to be an engineering major just one year older than you. and when you asked about his stupid as fuck nickname, you could hear him shrug his shoulders. 
“you wanna see if i’m lying?”
nerd!gojo whom you slowly fell for, firstly starting to admire him for the way he always helps teammates, encouraging them and giving them tip tips. 
nerd!gojo who was obviously really good with his fingers, always ending up as the mvp of the match.
nerd!gojo with whom you’d end up alone in vc in the late hours of the night, when out of the blue, he’d say things like “that’s good”, “good job”, “you’re doing so well” in a tone that was nothing like what a valorant teammate should be speaking to you like.
nerd!gojo who ended up sharing his instagram with you. he only had one post, but boy was that one post enough for you to drool over.
nerd!gojo who one day, had had just about enough with you teasing him about his stupid nickname (god forbid he finds out you had been doing it for the past week in hopes of him living up to it).
nerd!gojo who turns out to be the complete opposite of the virgin you thought he’d be - expertly unclasping your bra and diving down between your thighs like a man starved.
nerd!gojo who sucks on your clit ever so gently, the motion having you roll your hips against the sheets in hopes of getting more.
nerd!gojo who just chuckles at your antics.
“hah, so impatient.” he says as his fingers slowly enter you. he fingers you like it’s all he’s been doing for the entirety of his life, crooking up his digits at an angle that’s got you seeing stars and gushing around him, your slick and cum coating the inside of your thighs by the time he’s done with you.
nerd!gojo who goes for another round between your legs, eating you out like you’re sweet nectar, leaving you at his mercy, thrashing around and pulling his hair at the way his tongue expertly licks up your juices, your arousal coating his chin.
nerd!gojo who looks up at you with the biggest grin ever as you cum on his tongue, his name a prayer on your lips and jokes about his valorant nickname long forgotten.
nerd!gojo who’s got you falling apart in his arms before even taking his cock out of his pants.
nerd!gojo who’s already leaking pre-cum, the sight of his gorgeous cock making you drool in anticipation as you prepare. 
nerd!gojo who makes you ride him just to tire you out and end up fucking up into you, spilling his seed deep inside your womb as your entire body gives out and you fall on top of him.
nerd!gojo who slows his thrusts down and wraps his arms around you, gently running his hands along your back as you moan in his ear, your walls clenching around him as you cum on his cock.
nerd!gojo who, after granting you two minutes of rest, gets hard again the second you start shifting around, uncomfortable from the feeling of being so full of him.
nerd!gojo who fucks you from behind and whispers the nastiest things which you couldn’t have even imagined coming from his mouth.
“nastiest little slut, aren’t you, baby?”
“you like it when i fill you with my cum, hm?”
nerd!gojo whose seed is dripping out of you by the time early morning rolls around, your sweet cunt a sight for sore eyes.
nerd!gojo who you think couldn’t have come up with a better idea for a valorant nickname.
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