Gumiiiiezzzz - Indi!

welcome to my second mlist!! <3

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

GOJO

ᑉ³ gojo’s valentine’s surprise

ᑉ³ jerking gojo off

ᑉ³ public fingering w/ transmasc gojo

GETO

ᑉ³ geto stealing gojo’s girlfriend (you)

ᑉ³ waking perv!geto up with head

ᑉ³ officer geto body searches you

ᑉ³ rough sex with perv!roomate geto

ᑉ³ geto panty wearer suguru

SATOSUGU

ᑉ³ gojo cucking geto

NANAMI

ᑉ³ baby making

TOJI

ᑉ³ playing with toji’s nipples

ᑉ³ best friends dad

CHOSO

ᑉ³ tying choso up and making him watch you get off

ᑉ³ anal with choso

ᑉ³ choso controlling his dick with his technique

ᑉ³ jerking choso off + lactation kink

SUKUNA

ᑉ³ milking sukuna’s cock

ᑉ³ sukuna sucking himself off

ᑉ³ predator and pray play

ᑉ³ milking sukuna’s tits

HIGURUMA

ᑉ³ nsfw alphabet w/ hiromi

YUKI

URAUME

ᑉ³ nsfw alphabet w/ uraume

MULTI

ᑉ³ jjk men catching you masturbating

ᑉ³ jjk porn links

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬

ᑉ³ nanami fingerfucking you

ᑉ³ itafushi getting together

ᑉ³ virgin choso

ᑉ³ dry humping with itsuomi

you are part of me. (gojo satoru x reader)

summary: when gojo satoru loves, he is loud about it. and he doesn’t care if you don’t love him back.

word count: 3604

warnings: fem!reader, friends to lovers, very mild angst, swearing, gojo being gojo, canon compliant storyline

Gojo Satoru enters your life at 16 years old.

His presence suffocates the room, his cursed energy is something not best ignored. Quiet, yet noticeable. Like something that’s bubbling just under the surface. It’s almost as if a very dangerous animal has been reigned in, held back on a leash. That’s how his cursed energy feels to you. You, who is a mere novice. New to the world of curses and sorcery, landing in Jujutsu Tech after everything near and dear to you was ripped from you by this world.

He intimidates you.

He is loud, lean, but very tall. He demands attention when he walks into a room. He is jovial, a little aloof (you're not sure if it’s on purpose), big goofy grin and round, almost comical sunglasses. His hair is so bright, and his eyes are so blue, it’s almost blinding to look at him.

He is everything that you are not.

He is a year older, and your classmate Haibara can never stop talking about him and Geto. Nanami does not enjoy being around them, but he holds them in regard because they are his seniors. Shoko might be the only one he truly respects, and that almost makes you fear her. You make up your mind to try and stay as invisible as possible around them. You do not enjoy the spotlight.

Unfortunately, Gojo thrives in the spotlight, and he has a knack for pulling other people into it with him.

“Oh hello. Fresh meat?” He is grinning down at you, eyes barely visible behind the dark, circular lenses. “And aren’t you cute. You better toughen up sweetcheeks, or the big bad curses are gonna eat you up.”

You don’t know what exactly he means. You’re too caught up in the fact that he called you cute. It makes you heat up under the collar of your brand new jujutsu uniform. And his intense stare makes you fidget.

You do not like it.

You just frown at him and turn away, taking advantage of the fact that Nanami was leaving the room and going along with him. You don’t notice how he stares at the back of your head as you leave, but Geto sure does. The raven haired boy lets out a pained sigh before leaning back on the creaky classroom chair.

“Here we go.”

Gojo hums questioningly, glancing at his best friend once you have left the room.

“You’re going to fixate on her now. And you’re going to be an insufferable prick about it.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it. He merely settles into a chair of his own, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

……………….

Life at Jujutsu Tech isn’t as bad as you expected.

Your room is spacious enough to hold all your belongings. It has a nice view of the gardens, and is warm enough that you sleep comfortably through the nights. Your classmates are easy to get along with. Haibara loves carrying the conversation, and while Nanami isn’t as energetic, he shares a lot of your interests so you love talking to him.

The deep, sorrowful ache in your chest is slowly subsiding. Very slowly. Oftentimes, you remember your old life. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, and you shed tears in the late hours of the night. But they are gone. And you are here. You can’t do anything about it.

And then there’s Gojo Satoru.

For someone who is apparently the ‘strongest’, part of a major jujutsu clan and heir to the infamous Six Eyes, you would think he would be a busy person. But somehow, he finds a way to always be lazing around the campus, and unfortunately, he loves engaging you in conversation.

“Fresh meat!” He hasn’t stopped calling you that. He hasn’t even learned your name. Or introduced himself. Of course, you already know who he is. But it would be the polite thing to do, wouldn’t it?

You would soon learn that Gojo Satoru has no manners, and no amount of scolding could teach him any.

“Heard you took down a fourth grade all by yourself. Congratulations!”

You eye him with a scowl, while all he does is grin back at you.

“You’re mocking me, senpai.”

Gojo places a hand on his chest, gasping so loud it was comical, acting shocked at your accusation.

“I would never!”

You sigh deeply, a regular habit you have developed since the boy had decided to shadow you, continuing to make your way back to your room as he trails behind you. While a fourth grade may not be a big deal to someone like Gojo, it is to you, who has never interacted with, let alone fought a curse.

You open your room door, stepping in and looking back to stare at your senior as he smiles down at you. You wait for him to say something cheeky like he usually does, about how you should invite him in so you can hang out, or his usual ‘let me take you out to dinner’, which he loves tossing around whenever he sees an opening.

“I’m real proud of ya, sweetcheeks.” He says instead, and his voice is softer, having lost the sharp edge that it usually carries.

There it is again, the heat under your collar. The little knot in your throat.

You close your room door in his face.

………………

“He likes you.”

“He doesn’t. He just likes to annoy me.”

“That’s his way of spending time with you.”

“I’d rather he leave me alone, then.”

“That’s an impossible ask.”

The chocolate icing on your brownie melts in your mouth as you chew on it, giving a disdainful look to Utahime who is apparently hell bent on proving this nonexistent crush Gojo seems to have on you. You don’t believe her. Mostly because you don’t think Gojo is capable of liking you, of all people. You also doubt his ability to genuinely give a shit about anyone that isn’t his closest friends. You’re just some underclassman that he thinks is fun to pester every now and then.

(‘Every now and then’ in this context means ‘every possible second of every day’.)

Utahime takes a big gulp on her coffee, and you have to wonder why the hot liquid doesn’t burn her throat as it goes down. Your phone pings again, for the seventh time in the last half hour, and Utahime stares pointedly at the unsaved number on your screen. You swipe the phone off the table quickly and flip the switch to ‘silent mode’.

“You haven’t saved his number? Ouch. He’s not gonna like that.”

You roll your eyes and glare at the screen of your phone. How long has he been texting you with random crap?

“I don’t give a shit what he likes.”

“You will. When he whines about it and never lets it go for the rest of your life.”

You sigh defeatedly and give your friend pleading eyes. “Can we please talk about something else? I see and hear Gojo enough during the day. I don’t need to talk about him with you too.”

When your friend agrees, you are blessed with a wonderful, Gojo-free afternoon of chatting, shopping and excessive eating. You’re still buzzing as you climb up the steps to Jujutsu Tech at sundown, rummaging through the tote bag where you had dropped all your little purchases. Just small knick knacks that made you happy to look at.

“Did ya get me anything?”

You yelp and jump, nearly falling off the step behind you but catching yourself before you can faceplant on the concrete. Gojo lets out an annoying cackle at your reaction, making you glare up at him.

“What is wrong with you?! I could’ve gotten seriously injured!”

He scoffs, walking the few steps between you two, hands buried in his pants pockets. “Like I would let that happen. You gotta trust me more, sweetcheeks.”

You ignore the now familiar way your ears and neck heat up, choosing to walk past him and continue your way up the steps.

“So? Got me anything?”

You groan internally, knowing he wouldn’t leave this alone. If you say no, he will complain about how he isn’t important enough in your life to warrant a little gift. If you then say he isn’t, that will result in even worse (and louder) whining, and you don’t have the energy to deal with that right now. You scramble through the bag slung over your shoulder, pulling out a cute carrot shaped pen with a smiley face on it. You had gotten two pens, one carrot shaped and one that looked like corn. You just thought they were insanely cute. It’s okay. You can afford to lose one.

Gojo eyes the pen when you hand it to him. “Why did ya get me this?”

He clearly knows you just pulled a random object out. He just wants to see what you will say.

“It’s…. tall and thin. You’re tall and thin.” You deadpan.

Gojo snorts, seeing through your very obvious lie. “You love me so much, don’t you?”

You stop in your tracks, watching Gojo’s back as he keeps walking, unaffected by your shocked gaze.

“Senpai-”

“See ya tomorrow!” He calls, twiddling the pen around his fingers as he disappears near the landing of the stairs.

Your heart races at his words. You feel angry and frustrated. But you’re not sure at whom.

………………….

When it’s Shoko’s birthday, you are forced to be around Gojo all day.

It’s a harrowing experience, one that can only be withstood by god’s toughest soldier, and god thinks that is you, apparently, because as per his usual habits, Gojo doesn’t leave you alone.

“Oh, this is nothing.” Geto comments, sipping on some fruity punch that you are almost sure contains alcohol. Both of you watch as Gojo tries to tie a conical party hat on Nanami’s head, while the boy in question puts up a valiant fight to try and keep his upperclassman at bay.

“He once had a crush on the daughter of some prominent gang leader in Tokyo. Almost landed himself in jail with the kind of stunts he pulled.”

You blink at him, watching as he brushes some strands of black hair off his face. “Seriously?”

He nods, smirking at your shocked silence, watching the gears in your head turn. “Don’t worry, he won’t do that to you.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “What makes you sure of that?”

Geto shrugs, watching the way Gojo’s eyes flit to you every now and then. You fail to notice it, too caught up in making up scenarios in your head where Gojo does something potentially illegal and lands both of you in serious trouble.

“You’re different.” Is his simple reply. It does nothing but confuse you more.

Later in the night, Shoko forces you to down an alcoholic drink. You sputter on the horrific taste of it, trying to get out from under her hold as she laughs at your reaction. Haibara enjoys your misery just as much, while Nanami’s face is blank. You are sure he is trying to erase tonight from his memory entirely.

The night is cold, but your hands are warm and your head is buzzing with happiness. Your cheeks hurt from the constant smiling and laughing. Every now and then, your eyes would meet brilliant blue ones. You are so cheerful that you even giggle when Gojo makes some lame pun at Geto’s expense. So cheerful, in fact, that you don’t protest when he decides he wants to walk you to your room.

You hum the song you had sung karaoke to, walking without so much as a thought in your head. Gojo is munching on a mini chocolate bar, one hand in his pocket. For once, he is silent.

When you stop at your door, you turn to look at him, trying to search his eyes. You find nothing, and you feel the sudden urge to know more about him. Geto’s words roam through your head.

“Senpai,” You whisper. “Why am I different?”

He smiles then, not his usual toothy grin, but softer, kinder. It makes him look even younger than he is. Somehow, it seems he knows exactly what you mean.

“Because I’m in love with ya, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves it at that. And you don’t ask any follow up questions.

……………………..

Gojo’s love is loud.

He never says the word after that one night. But he never exactly negates his declaration. He continues to be around you as much as possible. He loves pinching at your cheeks until they sting, loves draping an arm over your shoulder and laying a sloppy kiss on it when he can get away with it. He is much taller and stronger than you, so pushing him away does nothing except spur him on even more. You realize that he is naturally a very touchy-feely person, so you dismiss his affection as just him being annoying as hell. Both of you settle into a strange dynamic, one where he teases you endlessly and you try not to appear affected by it.

It’s unconventional but it works. You will even go as far as saying that he is your friend.

When you refer to him as such, he stares at you mouth agape, before letting out a big whoop and crushing you into a hug. You protest his grip and try to free yourself, failing as usual. Deep in your chest, your heart stutters at his proximity.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t have a single subtle bone in his body.

He introduces you as his girlfriend to curses, claiming it doesn’t matter because they are all stupid and can’t understand him anyway, so he can say what he wants. Besides, he’s gonna kill them mere minutes later. You don’t even know where to begin to fight his logic on that, so you just facepalm and let him do it, provided he doesn’t say it in front of actual people.

“You say it like being my girlfriend would be so bad.”

“It would be the worst thing known to mankind. I would kill myself actually.”

That earns you a very strong pinch on the cheek, one that has you yelping and pushing him away. It leaves behind a red mark that makes you hold back a smile every time you see it in the mirror.

Sometimes you wonder how easy it is for him to talk to you like this. He seems to not have an ounce of fear of rejection, no matter how many times you have told him that you aren’t interested. Like he is confident that it simply isn’t true. He makes it seem effortless, to attach himself to you and declare that you’re his ‘favorite’ person and one day he would be your favorite person too.

You try to ignore how accurate you think that is. And how close he is to actually becoming your favorite person. You can’t possibly let him find that out. He would become even more unbearably smug than he already is.

And so you continue to bask in this…. strange limbo. You warm yourself in the glaringly bright light of Gojo Satoru. And you secretly pray that it never goes away.

When Geto defects, you almost lose him.

You find him on the steps of Jujutsu High, staring out at god knows what, completely silent. In your years of knowing him, you had never seen him sit in one place for so long. He doesn’t even budge when you sit next to him. You don’t say a word. And neither does he.

The wind moves gently through his silver locks. The blue in his eyes has dulled and darkened. You sit on those steps for hours.

Something changes between you two after that evening. Somehow, Gojo is more…. human to you now. You see him struggle to come to terms with what has happened, to truly realise the unfair responsibility that he bears on his shoulders as the strongest sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. You sees how that changes him, how it dims him, and how he matures in that time.

Yet Gojo is still Gojo. Even years later, he continues to love you loudly and proudly. He is still constantly attached at the hip to you, even more so in your adult years now that you live off campus. He is somehow always at your place, even after you take away his emergency key because he never uses it for emergencies. There is a ‘Gojo drawer’ in your storage closet, huge bathroom slippers and an extra toothbrush. His preferred brand of shampoo and conditioner are housing in your cabinet, spares that he keeps for when he crashes in your guest bedroom.

(Let’s be honest. It’s less of a guest bedroom and more so Gojo’s room at this point).

You commute to work together in the mornings, which you think is funny since Gojo can just teleport wherever he wants. He says it’s because he wants to spend more time with you.

Oh yeah, he still constantly says he is in love with you.

Years and years after his first declaration, Gojo has still not budged. At this point you are so used to it that it doesn’t bother you anymore. Like it’s second nature. Like Gojo is meant to love you. Like there was never any doubt about it. Your mutual friends have accepted it too by now. No one bats an eye when Gojo whines about missing you. Or when he waltzes into your on-campus office claiming “two hours is enough time for us to be apart”.

You don’t know when exactly it settles over you. How important Gojo is to you. How you can’t go a day without him. How you get pissy and irritable when he goes on missions overseas that take weeks at a time. The transition is so smooth that sometimes you think you were always meant to love Gojo, just like he was always meant to love you.

‘Senpai’ becomes ‘Gojo-san’. Which becomes Satoru’.

It never occurred to you that Gojo was still, technically, a friend. You were with him so often, bickering and snickering, cuddling and lounging around. He was a part of you, like you were a part of him.

Then you hear words that shock you to your very core.

“In my eyes, you two are already married.”

Never in a million years would you have expected Ijichi to say those words. Everyone else is one thing. But fucking Ijichi?

You stare at the back of his head when he says them, the silence in the car deafening. You know Ijichi well enough to be certain he isn’t saying these words falsely, even if he means them lightheartedly. If this is what Ijichi truly thinks, then….. Is it what things are actually like?

It takes only a few minutes of reflection for you to realise that he isn’t far off. Gojo is so deeply ingrained in every nook and cranny of your life that it is beyond irreversible now. There is no way to untangle your lives. He is part of you, just as you are part of him.

It’s almost as if the universe is nodding in confirmation when you open the door to your apartment and find Gojo sprawled on the couch, flipping through TV channels. He is wearing sweatpants and a black T-shirt that looks unfairly good on him, especially since he clearly isn’t trying at all.

He stands up and you notice on the coffee table before him that he has laid out a myriad of snacks, both savory and sweet to cater for your varying taste buds. You spot at least three of your preferred treats in them. Your heart beat slows down, settles. Like you are at peace again. You feel a warmth under your collar. One that you haven’t felt since you were a wee teenager just stepping onto the Jujutsu High campus. You eye the back of Gojo’s head.

“Hey.” He calls, barely glancing back at you, eyeing his treasured snack collection as if contemplating which one he should start with. “Some shitty American reality show is on. You wanna make fun of ‘em together?”

He turns to look at you when you don’t respond, raising an eyebrow. Brilliant blue eyes bore into you.

“You okay?”

You walk closer to him, still silent, until he is mere inches from you, craning your head up to look at him. The background noise from the TV gets tuned out.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

Gojo blinks. “I’d kiss you back.”

Your breath hitches. The knot in your throat tightens. No hesitation. No shock. Not so much as a stir. It’s like you’re asking him what to make for dinner.

“Okay.” You whisper. And then you’re leaning up, pressing your lips to his.

His hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck. The other stabilizes you at the waist. His lips are soft and smooth, almost dainty, slowly picking up intensity as he presses closer to you. Your heart is racing a mile a minute, and as you press closer to him, you feel that his is just the same, the only indication that he is affected by you just as you are by him.

When your lips part, you don’t open your eyes. Your foreheads touch and you let yourself feel, truly feel, the effects of his touch on you.

“I love you.”

Gojo’s smile is soft. His touch is tender. Comforting. Familiar. “I know.”

I WANT A HEART TATTOO!

I'LL NEVER GET IT REMOVED!

synopsis// suguru gives you your first tattoo.

➚ pairing// tattoo artist!suguru geto x gn!reader

➚ word count// 2k

contents// friends to lovers, tattooed and pierced geto, reader is a chicken, mentions of drinking, maybe like the ittiest bittiest type of suggestive toward the end...? slightly teasing/cocky geto?

notes// this is kinda cringe but i am cringe and free. also this was inspired by heart tattoo by joyce manor (dont play with me rn.) hoping this will help hold yall off till i can finish the smau...

Geto meticulously cleans up his tattoo station, occasionally stopping to take a swig of the beer you so kindly brought him. 

“You’re quiet.” 

You hum as you take a sip of your own beer. 

He stops and turns around to face you, his eyebrow raised. “Why?” 

“I like watching you clean.” 

Geto laughs. Not just a small one either, but the kind that makes his nose crinkle and his cheeks bunch to the point his eyes are forced closed. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach, blaming it on the alcohol (even if this is only your first beer and definitely not enough to have any sort of effect on you, but you digress). 

“What’s so interesting about watching me clean anyway?” 

You huff, ignoring the increasing heat on your face. “I don’t know... Just shut up and finish cleaning, Suguru. I wanna leave.” 

He smiles and turns back around, continuing to clean. “I told you you could go home.” 

“And leave you to fend for yourself?”

“I’m a grown man.” 

“Whatever… Besides, I can’t drink all these beers by myself.” 

Geto doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders shake slightly with a small, silent laugh, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You love his little quirks. You always have.

maybe a little too much.

Meanwhile, he picks up his tattoo machine and stares at it. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it; it’s just plain black, freshly wrapped in some black medical tape. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and turns to face you again, tattoo machine still in hand. “You still don’t have any tattoos, huh?” 

“Um, no,” you respond sheepishly. “I’m not like scared or anything-“ 

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” 

“Oh. then what were you gonna say?” 

“Can I give you a tattoo?” 

You blink at him. It’s not like you don’t trust him. You trust Geto with your life. You trust him more than anyone or anything in the world. Shit, you might trust him even more than you trust yourself. It’s just…

Geto impatiently groans at your lack of answer. “Oh, cmon, you literally promised me when we were younger that you would let me tattoo you!” 

“That was when we were like twelve!” you scoff, in disbelief he’d throw something as old as that in your face… Maybe he’s been hanging around Gojo too much. 

“Give me one good reason why you won’t let me tattoo you.” 

You frown as you look away, and right away you can hear his footsteps as he places himself in your line of vision again. raising his eyebrows as if to ask, “well?” 

You mumble something under your breath that he doesn’t quite catch. “Y/N, you know I can’t hear you when you do that.” 

“I actually am scared!” you finally say loud enough for him to hear, and it comes out more like a single word than a full sentence.

Geto can't help but giggle, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth, but not even that helps.

“Suguru, this isn't funny; I'm being vulnerable here!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says through stifled laughter before finally calming down enough to clear his throat. “You're right, it isn’t funny,“ he pauses for a moment. ”Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“Getting tattooed scares me too.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “You're covered in them.”

Geto shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it’s not unnerving each time.”

“I just don’t want it to hurt,” you explain with a slight pout.

“It’s a needle going in and out of your skin, Y/N.”

“Exactly!”

“Fine,” Suguru says with a sigh, and you think that's it; he's done, but not even a few seconds later does he speak up again: “What if I said I'll be gentle?”

“Haha.” Your brain immediately short circuits, and the butterflies in your stomach are something you can't blame on the alcohol this time. “Huh.”

Geto laughs softly. “With your tattoo?”

You nod blankly, your brain still not working properly and not yet actually computing what he’s still asking you.

“Yes?” he confirms excitedly.

“Yeah…” Finally, it hits you. “Wait, no! I mean, no. and not to mention you’ve been drinking?”

“Like two sips, Y/N,” he says with a slight pout and roll of his eyes. “You know better than anyone; it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk.”

“Okay, well, what about me? Isn't it bad to get tattoed when you’ve been drinking?”

“Oh my god, just say yes or no. You know I won’t be mad if you decide not to.”

You stare deep into Geto’s eyes, and he’s not lying; he won't be mad. disappointed, sure, but not mad. never mad, never when it comes to you. And right then and there, your conviction crumbles into a million tiny pieces, just dust in the wind.

“…fine”

“fine?”

“You can tattoo me. But!" you exclaim, pointing a finger at him as if lecturing him, “it has to be small! and somewhere where it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, I can't guarantee that last part, and you know that,” he says blankly.

You sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”

Geto smiles at you softly and coos, “But I will try,” as he gently caresses your cheek before breaking away and turning around to pull back out the stuff he needs.

You stand there wide-eyed, and your jaw dropped. Geto is affectionate, sure, but he’s never been that affectionate. He couldn’t feel the same way, could he? You shake your head, denying that thought, even despite how hot you feel.

He just did that to comfort you.

That’s all.

He was just trying to be reassuring.

That's it.

At least that's what your brain is trying to say, but your heart is saying another with the way it violently beats against your rib cage.

The minute he turns around, you compose yourself, shutting your mouth and hoping to god he doesn’t notice your chest heaving almost uncontrollably.

Geto pats his tattoo chair. “Sit.”

You hesitate, standing there like a deer in headlights.

Geto clicks his tongue dramatically before grabbing your hand and leading you to his chair, mumbling a reassuring, “Trust me.”

You frown, placidly letting him drag you around like a rag doll. “I do trust you.”

“Then sit.”

And when he says it like that, how can you say no? When he’s staring at you so intently that it’s almost as if he can see right through you, how do you say no? You cant. So you don't. The only thing you can do is—petulantly—plop down into his tattoo chair.

“Sit right and lay your arm on the armrest.”

“No, do it like this.” By ‘this’ you mean with you hunched over and your arm resting on your leg rather than the armrest like Geto is telling you to.

He sighs deeply. "Y/N, your arm resting on your leg is not stable enough. like at all.”

“Do it like this or not at all.”

“Fine.” He raises an eyebrow at you in mild disapproval and says, "But if it comes out bad, it’s not my fault.”

You roll your eyes, unamused. Geto would never let anything he puts on your body come out even remotely bad. “Whatever.”

“Why like this anyway?”

“Because it’s comfortable..?”

Not really.

Like at all.

Actually, this is extremely uncomfortable, and you're sure your back will hate you later, but this gives you the best view of Geto, and that's all you care about.

“Okay, fine,” he says, not bothering to put up much more of a fight before getting in position. “Ready?”

“Yeah…” Not even a second later, you blurt out, “Wait!”

Geto’s head shoots up, his concerned eyes scanning your face intently. “What? What is it?”

You don't say a word; instead, you grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, prepared to claw into it if and when need be.

“Is that why you’re sitting like this?” He asks, a smug smile creeping onto his face as it finally hits him. “You just wanted to hold onto me?”

You nod sheepishly.

Geto smiles. “Are you ready now, then?”

You nod again.

but that's not good enough for him. He wants a real reply. “For real this time?”

“For real this time.”

Geto doesn't miss a beat, and you close your eyes as your face scrunches up in anticipation, your nails already sinking into his shoulder. But the minute the tattoo machine actually meets your skin, you peek one eye open because all you really feel is some vibration and the tiniest of scratches. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all, actually; it’s more than tolerable, and with that, your hand relaxes against his shoulder, still resting on it but no longer gripping him like he’s the only thing tying you to this earth.

It’s not long after that the feeling fades into the background of your mind, like a blur. Being tattooed isn’t even a thought in your brain at all right now. Geto could be tattooing a dick on your arm right now, and you wouldn’t even know because the only thing you can focus on is him.

The only thing you can ever focus on is him, if you’re being honest.

But right now, something is different. Seeing him in his element makes your knees go weak, and you’re grateful for the fact that you’re sitting. and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve never let him tattoo you sooner. You’d let him tattoo you a thousand more times if it meant you got to see him like this. He somehow makes the way he focuses look like art—from the way his brows are knitted together in concentration to the way he absentmindedly bites and fiddles with his lip piercings—it’s all art; he makes it look too beautiful. like he’s more modeling and pretending to focus than actually doing it. You involuntarily let out a deep, longing sigh, your eyes fluttering close in the process.

Geto’s gaze flits up to your face. “You're not about to pass out on me, right?”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze with a small, content smile on your face. “No, I'm fine, Suguru.”

“I mean, if you were, that would be fine too, because I'm done,” he replies, turning off his tattoo machine and moving away from you.

“Already?!” you ask, slightly shocked. It didn't feel like it had been that long.

“Yeah,” he says plainly as he stands up and starts quickly cleaning up his workstation once more. "Don't know what you were so scared of, dork.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something sarcastic or explain yourself, but before the words can even leave your mouth, before you can even think of them, Geto is turning back around to face you and cupping your chin in between his index finger and thumb.

Geto leans down at the same time he tilts your head up and places a chaste kiss on the corner of your (still open) mouth, cooing, “You took it so well.”

All you can do is laugh nervously. “What?” You're still giggling; you don't think you could do much else at this point. “What was that- Why did you just-“

Geto starts laughing along with you, except it’s not a defense mechanism for him; he’s just finding this all too amusing. “You didn't think I gave you a heart for no reason, did you?”

You quickly look down at your arm, the action ripping your chin out of Geto’s hold. “You gave me a heart,” you say absentmindedly, and it sounds more like a question than an actual statement.

“Are you just now noticing?” he asks, returning his hand to your chin and gently guiding you to look up at him again. “I thought you were watching the whole time.”

You swallow sharply, becoming acutely aware of how close his face is to yours again. “I was watching something the whole time, but it was not the actual tattoo.”

“Oh? and what was so much more interesting?”

“Mind your business-“

Geto barely even lets you finish your snarky remark before leaning in and kissing you again. except this time for real. except this time you kiss back.

and suddenly tattoos don’t seem so bad anymore, so long as they all end like this.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

a typical family (masterlist)

satoru shows up unexpectedly after six months of silence, two little kids trailing behind him. chaos ensues.

any additional posts tagged under #a typical family

second year.

small talk

admissions

third year.

premature death

year zero. [START HERE]

one in the morning

year one.

three things

eavesdropping

did you miss me?

reassurance

year two.

sick

a bit loud

bad day

he stole my valentine

stay

close up magic (coming soon)

year three.

moving in

new pups

midnight happenings

emotions

fighting

year four.

the brunch

slip-up

cuddle time

hey

keeping secrets

kitchen scene

year five.

a walk

stress baking

it's not my fault

midnight happenings (2)

worth

jealousy

remembering

year six.

are you stupid?

beyond…

guys…. the ideas in my head rn…. for smaus….

WHY DO I HAVE TO HAVE A JOB💔💔💔

gunna grind them all for yall tm for REAL😮‍💨

oKAY i’m thinking either…. you being a new student at jjh or you having the opposite cursed technique style as them…. might try and does a SMAU series involving both🫦💫🤍

WAIT ALSO DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO MAKE SMAU GROUP TEXTS i want to start a series and idk how to make the far group texts if u do hit me up i’ll sell u my liver or my first born 😘😘😘😘 thankkkss

i wish i was kidding tho HOW DO U DO THEM jdhdidjdkd im a fucking BOOMER I GUESS

when he rests his head on the wall with his eyes closed, while you give him a head

art by yunonoaii

☆. contains: 18+ mdni; roommate!satoru gojo x fem!reader; 2.5k; actually gn overall but he does call the reader "girlfriend" once, idiots to idiots, dry humping, some neck kissing and hickeys mwah mwah mwah, satoru is just a super thoughtful roomie:((, a mention of satoru and the reader being pervs but yk what else is new

you've been ranting roomie!gojo's ears off about this annoying guy at work, who keeps trying to hit on you but you're not feeling it. at all. you've already mentioned that you have a (fake) boyfriend but he just won't quit. even ignoring him isn't affecting the guy, he probably thinks you're playing hard to get or something.

"anyway, i don't know, he's just so fucking weird and he creeps me out." you throw your head back onto the soft plush pillows on the couch and sigh loudly, closing your eyes, trying to escape the thoughts of the man.

satoru is sitting on the other end of the couch, gently massaging your sore and tired feet. his nimble fingers are doing something magical and you've physically had to restrain a moan twice now. he's nodding along to what you're saying, biting back the teasing remarks, knowing that you've had a rough day. he's the one who offered the foot massage anyway– to which your first impression was to throw a pillow at him, thinking that he's just messing with you or he's trying to be a freak but no, he really meant that he wants to give you a good old foot massage. to make you feel better. to relieve your stress.

this is nice. he's listening and only throwing in a couple of mhmm's and that sucks' every once in a while. you can feel the weight slip from your shoulders as you continue sinking deeper and deeper into the couch.

"like what the fuck else am i supposed to say to him? how am i going to make him understand that i don't fucking want him? that i have a..." a big sigh leaves your lips. "boyfriend."

having your eyes closed, you miss the way satoru's shine as an idea pops into his head. he zones out on the long-forgotten tv screen as he thinks it over for an exactly one second before deciding that it's a genius thought. he pinches your calf to pull you from your head.

"you know what we could do?"

you hum, letting him know you're listening and he continues.

"i could always mark you up... you know, play your little boyfriend and let him really know that you're taken. that oughta make him understand, hm?"

...

your eyes shoot open but your gaze stays on the ceiling above you, not daring to look at him just yet. that would probably get the point across, right? but are you really considering this? are you gonna let him do that? mark you up?

you slowly lower your eyes and look at him. the light glow from the tv in the background is making his eyes glint, something daring in them. he's wearing his usual sheepish grin, showing off the perfect rows of pearly whites. his lips look so pink and pretty. and glossy? and soft? and now you're really thinking about letting him do it, cover you in hickeys as long as you get to feel him against your skin. let his sharp canines sink into your neck and let him play your boyfriend.

satoru lets you stare at him, reveling in the quiet attention as he watches your eyes trail over his features; from his eyes down his nose, to his lips. he makes an extra move of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh and he knows he's got you; he just wants you to say it now. he needs you to ask for it.

"you're thinking about it."

the tone of his voice is teasing but still as sweet as honey, designed to trap you and it's fucking working. you rub your feet together in his lap, his hands still resting on your calves. his thumb keeps drawing lazy circles into your skin and it's making you feel warm.

"and what if i am?" raising a brow at him, you try to keep your composure, to seem unaffected by his very tempting offer.

his long fingers slither around one of your ankles and he can't hold back his teasing anymore. he reckons he's been quiet enough for one day.

"aww..." he coos, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "do you want me to be your boyfriend, pretty?" his free hand grabs onto your other ankle, raising them off of his lap and back down onto the couch. he stands and takes a step toward you, dragging his finger from your ankles up your legs and thighs.

"a fake boyfriend." you correct him as a wave of chills runs all over your body. the only sound that slips from his lips is a smug little tch! and then he's already situating himself onto your lap, his strong thighs closing around your hips. you're skin to skin; well, material to material but you're close. there's no room to wriggle, nowhere to run and your little surprised expression is only feeding his already big ego – he's loving it.

you don't know where to put your hands, finally letting them rest on his thighs as you try your best to avoid his gaze, suddenly feeling a bit flustered at the proximity.

"so you do want me to do it." his fingers grab your chin and tilt it up, forcing you to look at him; doe eyes meeting his excited ones. "want me to mark you up, to let him know you're taken, right?"

his fingers move up to your cheeks and he gives them a faint squeeze, making your lips pucker at the action. he lets his eyes fall from yours to your mouth for a second before speaking up. "i can do that."

your fingers dig into the material of his sweats and his heart does a little flip inside his chest. you hate when he gets the upper hand, you hate when he makes you nervous like this but you just can't control your body around him. heart beating so fast, you're sure you're nearing an untimely death and it's all his fault.

are you letting him do this? are you seriously letting your annoyingly cocky roommate with his stupid pretty blue eyes and his even stupider smile do this?

he's staring down at you with said smile and your thighs press together on their own. the corner of his lips twitch but he doesn't say anything. his hand travels from your cheeks to push away a few stray hairs, letting his eyes take in your current state. he pushes his knee into the side of the couch in order to make a bit more room for himself, lowering his hips against yours and you hold back a noise.

are you gonna let him do this?

yes.

definitely yes.

getting impatient, satoru leans down and brushes his nose against yours. his rich cologne fills your nostrils and your eyes threaten to roll back inside your head. he's now putting almost all of his weight onto you and it just feels right. your fingers curl deeper into his sweats, quietly asking for something but you won't get it that easily.

"you need to say it, though." he whispers while nosing at your flushed cheeks. his one head rests beside your head, holding him above you as the other traces down your jaw. he's so fucking close and you feel like you can't breathe properly. you're blaming your long day for being so worked up, for being so sensitive.

"c'mon, i want you to say that you want me to mark you up. can't possibly do it without your permission now can i." you don't need to see his face to know that he's smiling, you can feel it against your skin.

nodding your head, you just hope it's enough for him because you don't trust your voice. don't trust yourself to be sure that you won't let an embarrassing sound escape your lips.

but it's not enough. satoru can be so greedy; he wants to be greedy with you. he shakes his head, his breath tickling the sensitive spot right under your jaw.

"nuh-uh." satoru coos. "i wanna hear it. please, i wanna hear it, baby. tell me that you want it." he's pretty much begging now and you don't know who wants this to happen more, him or you.

"i– fuck, i want it." you mumble out. the air around you is so thick and it's hard to swallow the lump in your throat. "want you to mark me up, satoru..." removing your hands from his thighs, you let them fall to his soft hair, combing through the locks as you try to keep your head clear. it's not helping though because next thing you know, satoru is pressing his crotch against yours, almost grinding down.

"see, that wasn't so hard."

before you can whine about his teasing, his lips latch onto your skin.

feeling your hips buck up under him, he hums into you. his mouth is so warm against you, his wet tongue marking the spot before he gets to work on the hickey itself. your lips part and a tiny whimper manages to slip out, making your body temperature double in number. you feel him grin, most certainly letting you know that the sound didn't go unnoticed.

he holds your head to the side so he's presented with more skin, his new canvas, and he wastes no time in sinking his teeth into you. he is a man on a mission and nothing will stop him now. you give his roots a strong tug at a particularly sharp bite and now it's his turn to buck his hips; he's completely flush against you and the slight grinding is making him feel hazy. he can only imagine what's happening underneath your clothes and his dick twitches at the thought.

of course he would like to have sex with you. hell, he would love to fuck your brains out right here on the living room couch and have you chant his and his name only but this is not the moment. you're not there yet; he wants to take it slow. is this being slow, though?

he unlatches from your neck and licks over the fresh blooming mark. this is not the time to be pondering over the status of your relationship either – he has you right here under him, mewling and whining; he has more important things than that. he'll bare the consequences tomorrow. he's just being a good friend right now.

fuck... he wishes he could record the shy little sounds you're making though. he knows they're unintentional – he can feel how warm you are. how warm you are everywhere. he wishes he could record you, so he wouldn't have to only use his imagination every night when he jerks off to the thought of you. you're just roomies; just friends.

"you taste so fucking good, i might jus' eat you alive." he mutters before wetting his lips and starting on another mark. he grinds his hips down against you again and groans when you push his head closer to yourself.

"you– ah... my fake boyfriend really seems to, hmpff– enjoy this." you mewl out as your free hand finds its way under his shirt, fingers tracing over his side. he shudders against you and a little lust-blown smile takes over your lips. you slide your fingers upward, letting them glide over the strong muscles of his back. your hips are now moving in tandem, not too slow nor too fast – just enough to drive the both of you insane.

"my fake girlfriend seems to be enjoying it even more." his tongue dances on your skin, the wet warm muscle making your breath hitch alongside the word.

girlfriend.

satoru calling you his in that sweet voice is something new. it's just a word though, it doesn't mean anything.

your body betrays you when you grab onto him stronger, push him against you stronger. satoru is almost completely flat against you and it feels great. your hips aren't stopping – you push up as he pushes down and it feels great. your eyes roll into your head when you feel him bite down on you again before sucking on your tender skin and you reward him by pressing your nails into his back. he groans and the vibrations from it echo through your whole body. back arching off the couch, you try to close whatever gap there might be left between you. satoru's hand stays firmly on your neck, not letting you run away anywhere (not that you'd fucking go anyway).

you're fairly sure that you can feel his hard-on but you don't question it; grinding up against it instead. he nips at your skin and pulls away, quietly admiring his sloppy little masterpiece and then he's lowering himself for a third one. another faint whimper slips from the depths of your throat and he opens his mouth to make you suffer further, to tease you about being so damn sensitive to his touch but three loud knocks against your apartment door shut him up.

your eyes widen as you stare up at satoru but he just stares back at you just as dumbfoundedly. he's ready to dive back in when a voice calls out.

"PIZZA DELIVERY!"

...

you let out a small fuck and satoru's head falls into the crook of your neck, hiding from the monster that is the pizza delivery man that he himself indeed called for. he leaves a couple of wet smooches down the expanse of your chest before smiling at you with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. he pushes himself off of you and swiftly fixes himself and heads for the door. he ruffles his hair and clears his throat before opening it, casting a nearly perfect smile at the delivery guy while you're left panting on the couch, neck wet with his drool and saliva and a terrible ache between your legs.

after satoru sends the man off with a big tip, he plops back down to the couch and places the pizza between you two like nothing had happened. he's not as slick as he thinks he is though because the flush on his cheeks and neck stays on for way too long and he can't sit still for the life of him. he keeps eyeing you, your neck, every time he grabs a new slice – the drying saliva reflecting in the light coming from the tv screen. after three slices he excuses himself to the bathroom, grinning at you stupidly as he insists that he's just gonna go for a piss. ususally you'd make fun of him, tease the living hell out of him but you just can't this time. you're not doing any better than he is. was the tv volume this quiet before or did you do that after you heard him lock himself into the bathroom?

you're not trying to listen in, are you?

+ you can find more of roomie!gojo here!

+ hihihi @staryukis & @elusivemoon

hi pookie! i love your writing, it makes me blush and ugly-laugh. do you think you can add ino into your jjk smaus + hcs :’) ?!

HEHEHEHE hi anon 🥰😋 thank u sm got me giggling kicking my feet over here🫦 but literally yes i will include ino :D

i am currently writing another set of the jjk boy smaus, then ill be writing some jjk men smaus where i will include ino!!!! 🫡🫡🫡🫡 he’s a top tier pookie and WILL be included

i’ll be writing hcs sometime this week too hehe lmk if u have any other requests or any specific asks 🫶🏻🫶🏻

divider credz* ੈ✩‧₊˚ : @elfbar-baby

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* thinking about college!yuuta, who mustered up all his courage to finally ask you out on a date. you remember the way he had flushed this pretty and soft pink, all the way up this ears, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as he asked if you were free on friday night to go check out that new movie you had offhandedly mentioned a couple days ago. "i—i got a spare ticket if you wanted to come join me."

you had smiled, eagerly accepting the invitation and watching, satisfied and curious as the rest of his body seemed to turn into this most adorable shade of pink. "great! i'll... i'll pick you up from your dorm!"

friday night comes, and even the slightest of touches seems to set him off. when you go for a hug upon greeting him, he's flustered and flushed, mind short-circuiting with the way you hold onto him enthusiastically.

it becomes sort of like a game, at that point, to see how far you can go, to see just how pink your yuuta can become.

fingers brushing against his in the popcorn bowl leads to a furious blush blooming across his face. nuzzling your head into his shoulder during a particularly scary scene, and you don't even have to look to see he's fighting down his emotions. you hear him mumbling your name, all breathless and bewildered.

to your delight, he's just as sensitive and pink everywhere else. much later, sucking marks into that beautiful column of his neck, borderline clambering on his face with need as he tries to ground himself to reality by holding onto your waist, your neck, fuck—

he knows he's a goner when you slide your hand down his pants, and that wicked smile of yours comes back with a ferocity. "someone's been excited."

you slip his pants down his legs and fall to your knees, and you didn't think he could've possibly gotten more flustered, but your next words may have just sent him into cardiac arrest.

"s'pretty and pink, yuuta," when you look up, your beautiful boy is gripping onto the side of your bed with white knuckles, entranced and pupils blown wide at the way your voice tinges with need. your mouth waters. "wanna give me a taste?"