Dogs Out. Zenin Toji

don't go Nanamin don't go

Deceiving Dreams

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji woke up sweating, a foul feeling in his chest after what he just dreamt. You were the star and your co-star was not him, but some random dude who was way too comfortable with touching you. His hands would brush over your shoulders and your thighs like he was familiar with your body, but what was absolutely stomach churning, was the way he kissed you softly and slowly. You didn't even push him away, instead you reciprocated the gesture. You did the sweet things that you only do with him, like smiling at this man in that way that makes wonder brim your eyes. You kissed the corner of this stranger's lips, on the same side that Toji's scar is on, coincidentally, and you wrapped your arms around this stranger with that same amount of hesitance you show Toji, as if this person you've known for mere minutes summed up the butterflies and electric feelings your lover makes you feel in that short span of time.

Toji hasn't been this unsettled by something regarding you since the time you cried during an argument that spiraled out of his jealousy. Things got out of hand, but since then, he's learned that he can't do things that way with you. He can't shut you out, and he can't snap at you or you will crumble to the ground.

Patience is a hard thing to learn, and though being with you has taught Toji how to be more careful with his words and to be understanding of your struggles to communicate certain things, at the end of the day, he's still learning. How does anyone deal with this kind of thing in a gentle and unassuming manner? He can't just spring such a question on you without it rubbing you wrong. "Are you cheating on me?" No. That is a recipe for disaster and just asking for unwanted distance. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows it, but that dream... It just seemed so real.

Hey, ma. You awake?

It's two in the morning, and you probably won't answer, but as Toji lies there in his bed, waiting for a response from you, he realizes he can't wait to hear from you, so he does the next best thing—he calls you.

The line rings a couple times, and by the third time, he's ready to end the call before he gets sent to voicemail, deeming his reason for pulling you out of sleep so early in the morning to be ridiculous. It was a dream. You're not cheating on him. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows this, yet, here he is, trying to sleep in your bed with you, like a child who woke up from a nightmare, tiptoeing over to their parents' bedroom.

"Hi, Toji," you answer, your voice quiet and slightly raspy with sleep. "Toji?" You call, again, when you get nothing from him. "Are you okay?"

He feels somewhat embarrassed for having woken you up for this, but if the deed has already been done, then he needs to make the most of it.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm doing just fine. Everything's fine. Listen, would it be alright if I came over?" He asks, already sitting up and getting out of bed.

"It's a little late, isn't it? It's..." you hum as you quickly check your phone, "...two seventeen," you respond, trying your hardest not to nod off as you lie comfortably on your side, your phone placed between your ear and your pillow, again.

"I know. I'm sorry. You don't have to wait up for me, though. I can let myself in. You gave me your spare, remember?"

You blink, tiredly, and remain silent for a few seconds until Toji calls for you. "Yeah, okay, then. Drive safe. It's raining really hard."

"Will do, mama. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you," you mumble, before hanging up the phone. You went right back to sleep, afterwards. The sound of the rain pouring outside was soothing and the coldness that came with the weather made the perfect contrast to the warmth of the blanket you bundled yourself in.

Toji got to your place twenty-something minutes later. His hoodie was heavily spotted with the raindrops it caught during the walk to your front door from his car. He fishes out his keys from his pocket and looks for a shiny, bronze key on his keyring. Once he has it, getting into your warm home goes smoothly. From taking off his shoes and setting them beside yours, to removing his hoodie so that the wetness doesn't touch you, he moves quickly. He doesn't stray from his path to finding you, not even to grab a snack from your kitchen cabinets like he normally does, no matter the time—he just goes straight to your room.

When he opens the door, Toji is met with nothing more than the adorable sight of you curled up in bed, like a puppy sleeping peacefully under a heap of toasty blankets. He shuts the door behind him, quietly, and moves swiftly, but carefully, so that he doesn't wake you up before he even starts crawling into bed with you. He gently lifts the blanket off the vacant side of your bed, and slides into his place beside you. Instantly greeted by the warmth you generated, he feels the urge to pull you into his arms and just hold you all night.

"Sorry, baby. I know i'm cold," he says, softly, when you stir at the iciness of his fingers dragging up and down the side of your neck.

You blink your heavy eyes open and take in the sight of Toji right in front of you. Him calling you wasn't part of a hyper realistic dream, he's actually in bed with you.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned for his reason for wanting to be there in the early hours of the morning, rather than just waiting until later on in the day. You had plans to meet, anyway. What is so important that he couldn't wait until then?

"It's nothing to worry about. Just wanted to be here with you," he responds, not totally lying, but also not telling the whole truth.

"Remember what I told you when we first met?" You mumble, not satisfied with the vagueness of his response. There seems to be more that he isn't telling you.

"You said a lot of things to me that day," he responds, with a low chuckle.

"I did," you agree, smiling softly at the memory. "I also told you something important that day, didn't I?"

You watch the contemplative expression on his face, the outward appearance of his brain whirring. It's cute, even in his handsomeness. "Do you want a hint?" You ask, though when you see his eyes widen a little, you know he won't need it.

"You're better at listening than you are at talking," he recites, with a smirk, like he's patting himself on the back for being able to remember.

"Right. So, if there's something wrong, I want to know about it. I know i'm not the best conversationalist, but you know that I always try for you."

Now that you're more awake, Toji doesn't feel so heartless for handling you like you're merely a teddy bear, so that you're lying on top of him. He wants you close to him all the time, but when you say things like that, he instantly feels the need to bring you closer. It's pure instinct by now.

"You ever get tired of me just scooping you up out of nowhere?" He asks, lips curled in amusement as he watches and feels you wiggling around, trying to make yourself comfortable. Finally, you rest your head on the upper part of his chest and let your arms go limp beside him.

"Never," you respond, simply, smiling when a low chuckle rumbles out of Toji's chest.

His arms tighten around you a little more when the room goes silent, and then he remembers why he's here. He can't lose this. Your warmth, your careful affection, the way you constantly look at him like he's the reason the moon and the stars shine at night. He never wants you to look at him another way. There's absolutely nothing hard about loving you, and if you can't believe it on your own, he'll prove it to you.

"You know how much I love you, don't you, doll?" He asks, his palms finally warm enough to work as heating pads for your back.

"I do," you assure. Maybe this is his concern—that he's not showing you enough love. No, that can't be it. If that was it, he would've waited until later on in the day to see you and talk about it.

"And how much I need you? Do you know that, too?" To that, he doesn't get a response from you. He knows you aren't sleeping, because he can feel your legs shifting against his every once in a while.

"Doll?" He calls.

You let out a soft breath, before responding with your truth.

"I don't know if you need me, Toji. When you tell me you love me, I believe it, because I feel it and I know it, but I don't think you need me."

"Don't..." he sighs, not expecting this as a response from you. "...don't say that. Don't you dare say that. What does that even mean? Because I don't fucking get it. I really don't, ma."

Your heart rate picks up a little, but you try to keep yourself as calm as possible. You understand that this isn't something he wants to hear, as the one who's helped you through so much, but you can't help but share how things feel on your end.

"Don't you ever think about how much better it would be for you to love someone who makes things easier on you rather than overcomplicating them? Someone who tells you what they want straight up, instead of having you basically pry the words from them?"

Toji stays quiet this time, not because he agrees, but because he's figuring out how to say things without it being explosive. He knows that those few seconds of relief will be followed up by a tidal wave of regret. It's not worth it. You're his little sunshine and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason for why your light died out.

"I love you, Toji, but I think about that a lot. I want you to know that if you ever get tired of me-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he cuts. "I don't wanna hear it."

There's no playfulness or warmth to his tone. Nothing but the weight of his words. Your heart feels a little heavier, but you brush it off and utter a phrase that you're all too familiar with.

"Sorry."

You feel nervous, and not in the "good" way. Not in the way that makes your cheeks heat up and your stomach swarm with butterflies, but instead the way that makes your chest feel strange, and like there's a knot forming in your throat.

"I don't wanna hear that either, doll," Toji says in response, his tone softer, now, his thoughts collected. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. You know I love you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs the center of your back in soothing motions. The silence that returns makes your heart beat even faster. You wonder if Toji can hear it through the lack of sound in the room.

"I had a really stupid dream," Toji finally confesses, a low, humorless chuckle vibrating against his chest. "I mean, really stupid. Can I tell you about it?"

"You don't have to ask, baby," you respond. Your cheeks go warm at your use of the pet name, but it felt right in the moment. Maybe this is what's been lodged in his mind this whole time. You want him to feel as comfortable as possible as he recounts it to you.

Toji smiles softly at the term of endearment you used for him. Somehow, the way you said the word made it sound softer and even more cushioned than it already is.

His arms readjust around you, tightening the perfect amount so that you're secure against him and he can feel more of your body's warmth on his. He peppers a few more kisses on the top of your head before going on to tell you about his dream.

"So, I kind of just spawned into a room where you and some random guy were sitting on a bench, and he was getting really touchy with you. His hands were rubbing your thighs and your shoulders and..." He pauses. This is his least favorite part. He didn't like any part of it, but this part took the cake, because no one kisses your lips but him.

"It's okay," you say, encouragingly. You rub his side a few times and endure a squeeze of his arms—the equivalence of a rush of emotional support in a gesture.

"Well, you and him started locking lips, and it looked like you were really enjoying it. Your eyes were sparkly and you were smiling at him all pretty." He sighs, bothered anew, the same way he was when he first woke up. "See, I told you it was stupid," he grumbles, mildly embarrassed. "Obviously not stupid enough for me to sleep in my own bed for the night. It's fucking ridiculous. Sorry, doll."

You utter another phrase you're all too familiar with—not one you say often, but one you hear from Toji plenty.

"Don't apologize," you murmur. A few seconds pass, and you know just what to say. "Toji?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

You say it like it's as easy as breathing, because it is. There's nothing hard about loving Toji. He's good to you. It's a love you've never experienced with another, and you do your damn best for him, which is why him showing up at two a.m. isn't a problem. Him crawling into your bed, and reaching for you with hands that are cold as ice isn't a problem. He needs comfort this time, and all you can do is hope that the way you console him is enough.

"Only you, and that's how it'll always be. Your brain thought it would be funny to trick you, but it grayed on the fact that I suck at talking to people."

That made him snicker. It wasn't a reaction meant to ridicule you, rather one of immediate relief, due to the confirmation you gave him about his place as your only love.

"Not that i'm interested in pursuing others, but how am I gonna go for someone else, when I can barely talk to you?"

Now that made him full on chuckle, and you just lay there on him, withstanding the crushing sensation of his arms squeezing you impossibly tighter. You fear he might break you, but you would endure that momentary loss of breath any day if it means his heart remains whole.

"God, I love you so damn much," he murmurs, low against the top of your head. "I love you," he says, pressing yet another affectionate kiss to the area. "And I need you. I want you to understand that by... now. I need you to understand it, right now, baby."

"I don't think that's how it works," you say, humming out a soft laugh.

"Well, we're gonna make it work. Alright? You're gonna understand how much I need you."

"Okay," you say, resigned to his perseverance.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Yeah," you confirm, lips curling, amusedly.

"Yeah?" He copies once more, knowing it'll grant him one of his favorite little sounds from you.

You giggle. "Yes, Toji."

With that, he's flipping you over, his position expressively dominant, now. It's dark in your room, so you can't really see much, but you can make out most of his handsome features, and you can feel his body heat embracing you, just as much as it did a few seconds ago. His hands are planted right beside your head and he's peering down at you, smirking at the way you look at him, like you haven't caught up with how he handled you so delicately yet efficiently to switch positions.

"You always look so pretty under me," he murmurs, leaning in closer. You in so that you see nothing but him. His hands ball up the sheets beneath them, carelessly wrinkling them as he remains merely inches above you. You slowly release the breath you've been holding in. "You mad at me, baby?"

"No," you answer, trying to remain calm, despite the heat that is beginning to seep into your face. "You've done nothing for me to be mad about, so why would I be mad at you?"

His lips press against the lower part of your cheek—a deep kiss right above your jaw. "'Cause i'm kinda dumb and do shit like this. I woke you up, and now you're losing sleep," he murmurs, against your skin.

"It's okay, Toji," you gently reassure. "I understand and I'm not mad at you." Your hands come up to his back, tentatively, feeling the body warmth that seeps through his shirt.

"No?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss closer to the corner of your lips. "You promise?"

As if trying to further comfort the giant hovering over you, you rub his back in gentle motions.

"There's nothing to be mad about. You've done nothing wrong and you're always welcome here, love." You smile when he continues planting little kisses on your cheek while you keep talking. "You have my spare key, because I trust you and I have nothing to hide from you. If giving you that key means you show up here in the early hours of the morning, because you don't want to be alone, that's okay, too. So, yes, I promise i'm not mad."

A low hum comes from Toji as his kisses inch towards your lips. A few land on the corner of your lips, then he's just a little bit off, and then finally, his lips center on yours. You feel butterflies begin to flutter around your stomach as he collects kiss after kiss from you.

"You tired, pretty baby?" He asks, his voice only audible between you and him. Not even the thin walls of your room can take away the intimacy.

"I wanna be awake with you," you respond, your voice matching the low volume of his.

"You sure?" He asks, and you do your best to convince him that you are. Your hands pull away from where they once rested on his back and you raise them to cup his cheeks with slightly shaky hands. Your touch is gentle, maybe even a little hesitant, as you begin to slowly stroke the softness of his skin. This is one of the very rare times when Toji accepts your actions in place of your words.

Your thumb brushes over the scar on his lips, and before you can even process it, his lips are on yours, again. You can feel the flourishing warmth of his face beneath your palms as he kisses you with an unexpected amount of fervor. You hear soft panting from him, as a result of him hungrily chasing kiss after kiss from you. He challenges your lungs, letting them feel a slight burn when he doesn't pull away after you've reached your limit. It's not until you're breathing heavily that he lets you go, and begins to scatter soft kisses along the side of your neck.

"Baby," he hums against your neck, leaving another kiss behind. "My sweet, pretty baby. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, smiling as he continues to let his lips feed off the warmth and softness of your skin.

"How do always manage to keep things so peaceful?" He responds. His heart beats slightly faster when you release a precious laugh at the question. "Things are just... so damn simple with you," he says, softly, as he goes lower down your body. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and begin to slowly roll it above your stomach. He instantly takes note of the goosebumps that rise when his palms graze your bare skin.

"I know how much you try for me, and fuck, i'm not dismissing your effort, but I also want you to understand that it's not hard to treat you right." His hands grip your waist, loosely, and he leans in to place a kiss on your stomach.

"There's nothing hard about being with you..." he murmurs beneath your ribs, "...and waiting for you. You aren't difficult like you think you are, sweet girl."

"You promise, Toji?" You ask, glancing down at him as he continues leaving kisses on your skin.

"I promise," he assures, meeting your gaze as he presses another kiss right beneath your chest. "You want me to stop?" He asks, aware of the lack of coverage for your chest under your shirt.

"You can keep going," you respond, willing yourself to relax under his touch. He doesn't waste any time, and immediately buries his face in your bare chest. For a moment, there's no major movement coming from him, just his breathing. You think maybe he's just savoring the warmth that you've accumulated after spending hours under your blanket, but he full on melts into your body. His arms go beneath you, allowing him to wrap around you tightly once more, and he releases an audibly heavy sigh.

"It's okay," you say, softly. You keep one hand on his upper back, while the other gently plays with his hair.

He's not sure if he deserves the tenderness your touch holds for him. He tries to be as gentle and careful with you as he can, but he's so scared that one day you'll shatter and it'll be his fault. You'll walk away from him with no intention of ever coming back and something that was so good to him will be gone. You deserve to be happy—always. He knows this, but he doesn't want to picture somebody else making you happy like he does. He can't accept that. You're his girl.

"Toji?" You call. You know your little place isn't the most high end of them all, but you also know that it's not falling apart. There's no way for the rain to reach your skin if there's no hole in your roof.

"Toji?" You call once more when he doesn't answer. Your hands still on him when you feel his shoulders stutter. You have your own glum cloud resting on top of you. You feel something wet land on your chest—it's starting to rain a little.

"It's okay," you whisper, resuming the gentle motions on his back and the back of his head. "It's okay." You feel him begin to leave languid, spaced out, featherlight kisses on your chest, and you want to freeze. You want to express how impactful the gestures are, and how they animate the butterflies that reside in your stomach, but you can't. You can't and you won't do it, because it's your turn to prove that you'll take care of him when he's not at one hundred percent.

"It's... it's gonna be okay. I have you," you assure, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers as you repeatedly thread them through, and the movement of his back beneath your other hand as he breathes. "And you will always have me, and I love you with all my heart, Toji. I need you to understand that, right now," you tease, lightheartedly, echoing his earlier words back to him in an attempt to make him feel better. You hear a congested sound, something between a laugh and a hitch in his breathing.

Not another sound is made for the next few minutes, no words spoken. Your skin catches a few more of Toji's tears as he continues to brush his lips against the entirety of your chest, reveling in the warmth of your skin. Toji can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest—the way it always is whenever he's around you. Normally, he teases you about it. 'Your heart's gonna explode if you don't calm down.' 'We don't even have to do cardio to get your heart going.' Sometimes, he just holds his fingers against the pulse point on your neck and laughs at the rapid thrumming against his fingertips. He finds it endearing, but right now, it's a comfort.

You don't mind the occasional slight pinch of his lips—the more physical proof of his appreciative affection. You simply remain focused on soothing him and reassuring him of how strong your love for him is and will always be.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, ma," he mumbles, his cheek resting on your chest. He could fall asleep so easily to the sound of your heartbeat in his ears, the feeling of you playing with his hair, and the way you slowly rub his back, but he's torn between staying where he is and coming back up to hold you close through the rest of the early morning.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," you assure, wholeheartedly.

With that response, Toji makes his choice. He pulls his arms out from beneath you and sits on his knees, between your legs for the quick second it takes him to fix your shirt. After, he lifts the blanket and reclaims his rightful spot beside you.

"Come here," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms without an ounce of struggle. He waits for you to settle, back against his chest, before fully enveloping you in his warm embrace.

"It sounds like pebbles hitting the roof instead of raindrops."

"Mhm," he hums, into your neck, letting his hand slide beneath the front of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your abdomen. "If your roof starts leaking, you're coming to stay with me." It's not a question or an offer.

You laugh. "The rain isn't that bad."

"Mm..." His lips home to your shoulder, a gentle peck placed on the concealed area. "Love seeing your pretty face first thing in the morning. You stay with me if your ceiling ever caves. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, through a giggle. "You'll be my first call."

"Good," he murmurs.

"I'll make you breakfast later, when we wake up."

And though Toji responds with, "Sounds good, ma," all he can think about is how you're going to struggle so hard to get out of bed because he's going to make it nearly impossible for you to do so. The gears are already turning in his head. He'll pin you down, he'll strengthen his hold around you, he'll roll on top of you "in his sleep". You're too polite for your own good, you most likely won't try to wake him up. He'll swaddle you in the blanket, he'll tie your shirts together in a tight knot-

"Goodnight, Toji," you mumble, feeling your tiredness return as he continues drawing little lines and shapes on your stomach.

"'Night, baby," he murmurs, feeling much more content and at peace with the idea of sleeping knowing that you're in his arms, not in anyone else's.

everyone’s talking about nerd gojo (thank you @to00fu for the meal), but what about nerd nanami? and i’m not talking about just any nerd nanami, im talking about letterboxd nerd! nanami — 

who wears a “directed by quentin tarantino” tshirt under his suit because he's a bit embarassed about unironically liking this type of merch, and who actually reads through all the letterboxd published articles from cover to cover.

his profile is so organised and he leaves such beautifully written and critical reviews that people who read it go crazy and spam the review’s comments section with “who is this diva 😭” and “WHO LET BRO COOK 🗣️” (he doesn’t understand the meaning of these phrases, but yuuji told him they’re positive phrases so he lets them be).

he's very selective about who he follows — a few of his irl's do know he's on letterboxd, but when they ask him for his profile he does not bother entertaining them. it's not that he's ashamed of his profile or taste, he just likes to keep his irl's seperate from his online activity. 

letterboxd nerd! nanami is heavily against piracy, and he refuses to opt for the “easy way out” when it comes to watching regional films. (he once took a flight all the way to paris on a weekday just to watch a movie that hadn't started international screening).

not to mention, he has a lot of friends that are directors, producers, script-writers, actors etc…it's not even a flex, he was genuinely the most supportive figure in their lives when they were starting out, and often times he gets free tickets or VIP passes to special movie screenings as a way of thanks.

letterboxd nerd! nanami is always one of the top three or five reviews in most trending movies on letterboxd, but imagine his horror when casual letterboxd user! reader bests his review and pushes him down to seventh place.

the horror.

and it's not even a “good” review, as nanami says —  it's just a rant about how hot the cast is. and for some outrageous reason, everyone seems to be upvoting your poorly written review instead of his meticulously detailed review about the script writing, acting, soundtrack, camera angles…you get what i mean. 

naturally, letterboxd nerd! nanami is pissed. 

and he's even more so when he realizes that casual letterboxd user! reader doesn't even log films on the daily — no, it seems more like you just remember this app exists and then log in whatever you just watched. you didn't even bother putting up a profile picture up until yesterday. and why the hell have you rated most of the disney movies a 5/5? do you not know what an objective rating is? 

letterboxd nerd! nanami, after stalking your watched list, prays you never come online to log your films again. he can't afford to be bested by you again. until he sees a notification that makes him groan out loud in annoyance — 

y/ncore has started following you.

bonus: nerd gojo and letterboxd nerd! nanami are mutuals and close friends on letterboxd (under aliases of course), but both of them hate each other irl — nerd gojo mocks him for spending time on “lame” things like movies, while letterboxd nerd! nanami scoffs at his blatant attitude of “not appreciating cinema.”

working out together ♡

꩜ trigger warnings | this is 18+ content. contains mentions and/or descriptions of man handling, choking, size difference if you really squint

caleb definitely gets off by using his strength on you. it really gives him a kick knowing he's stronger than you, faster than you, that he can manhandle you in whatever position he pleases with little to no strength even needed. whether it's letting you sit on his back while he does pushups or throwing you over one shoulder when you whine about not getting your way, caleb loves the idea of it. even more so when he's got one thick arm wrapped around your throat in a headlock while he pounds you from behind, the soft coo of his voice a stark contrast from the way his cock assaults your poor fluttering cunt, murmuring, "look at you take it like such a good girl, huh? you like it when I get a little rough with you, hm? yeah, you do. I can feel you clenching around me." you can hear the smirk in his voice. "nasty thing."

inspired by this post!

you going on a work trip was the worst thing that could’ve happened to your little family.

you and girldad!sylus’ little bundle of joy (or, currently, despair) wails in his thick arms, chubby face scrunched up as big, sad tears stream down her flushed cheeks.

he tries to bounce her, follows all of the motions you usually do: cooing, rocking, bouncing, taking numerous laps around that expansive house, putting on that white noise machine that usually has her out in minutes.

nothing is working.

sylus is resilient — if something is wrong, he’s determined to fix it. the deep(er) bags under his eyes are evident of that. issue is, his little girl is just as resilient, if not more so.

the n109 zone’s princess is beyond displeased, and it’s obvious why, because he feels the same way: she misses you.

they both miss you.

he heaves a quiet sigh. “it’s okay, it’s okay, sweetie. papa’s here. and mama will be home soon, hm? she’ll play with you and sing to you and—”

he stops.

wait. duh. sylus can just sing.

babies don’t know what vocal keys are, right? and when you sing, it always soothes that viscous little temper of hers, screeching cries wilting down to tiny sniffles and happy coos.

he’ll just follow your lead.

sylus shifts his darling girl in his arms, tucking her a little close to his face and chest. his brain flips through an endless list of songs, filtering out the ones that would be most effective and appropriate.

he picks out a tune he knows you sing often and gently clears his throat. it’s now or never.

if this doesn’t work . . he doesn’t know what will.

sylus starts to hum, low in his throat and definitely off-key. it sounds nothing like your heavenly voice, and while he knows it, he really hopes his lovely little girl won’t.

her cries stutter to a pause, wide, teary crimson eyes locking onto sylus’ weary pair, and her hands loosen from their angry fists.

. . .

it’s working. she’s not crying, and—

slap!

one tiny hand comes up to cover his mouth, stubby brows furrowed in a way that scarily resembles a certain wife.

your daughter starts to babble, as if she’s scolding him for such horrendous singing. well. he never claimed to be beyoncé, now did he?

but it did work, his pride be damned.

she stops crying, the bright red flush slowly starting to leave her round cheeks as sylus trudges his way back to the nursery and sets her down in her crib.

he wastes no time pulling his phone out and calling you, using one big hand to push his glasses up and rub at his face as he plops down in the rocking chair.

“. . hello?”

your voice sends a jolt of energy through him like he just snorted a line of coke, and he looks up at the phone screen, greeted by the sight of your worried face and the blurred background of your hotel room. “what’s wrong?”

he chuckles, a weary sound that does jack shit to convince you. “nothing, beloved, it’s just . . our daughter is very opinionated, yes?”

you sigh, but a small smile creeps onto your face regardless. “really? what’d she do now?”

you two talk until sylus’ eyelids get unbearably heavy, his responses teetering off into quiet “mhms” and “yeahs” and “mms”. if you listen hard enough, you can even hear the faint snores of your darling babygirl. and you’ve only been on the phone for fifteen minutes.

“goodnight, sylus.”

“what’s your type?” caleb stops in his tracks as a phone acting as a microphone was shoved in his face. 

he was walking back to his dorm after taking you back to yours, the interviewer looked to be about a sophomore. he knew that the question was harmless so he smiles as he grabs the phone and looks straight at the camera. 

“i have a girlfriend.” 

“oh.” the sophomore deflates before she perks up once more. “so what’s your type?” 

“my girlfriend.” caleb replies, the sophomore blinks as she asks another question. 

“what does she look like then?” 

caleb looks faraway, dazed as he replies to the mic with a dopey smile on his face. 

“she looks like my girlfriend.”

the sophomore furrows her brows before she looks at her cameraman and gets to the point. 

“so… what would you rate me on a scale of one to ten?” 

the daydreamy look on caleb’s face shattered as he looked at the sophomore as if that was the most absurd question he has ever heard. 

“yeah so… i won’t rate you.” finally. he says something not about his girlfriend. 

“you can’t rate me at all?” caleb nods, confirming the sophomore’s words. “yep.” he emphasized. 

“what would you rate your girlfriend on a scale of one to ten?” a charming smile appears on caleb’s face as he shows his clear phone case that had a picture of you beaming brightly at him. 

“she’s not even on the scale because she’s so beautiful.” he sighs, dreamily. he can feel the awkwardness of the interviewer as she tries digging for more answers but gets nothing.

all caleb cared about was his beautiful girlfriend.

- - -

the next thing you knew, caleb’s face showed up on your moments page with your university’s local celebrity and his video garnered millions of views with thousands of comments cooing at your lovestruck boyfriend. 

“really, caleb?” you asked as he hugged your waist, head resting on top of your hips as he scrolls on his own phone. 

“what?” he asks, having no context of your question before he grins at the sound of his voice on loop on your phone. 

“hehe. just gotta let everyone know i’m taken.” he says before nuzzling his head onto your hip, pressing a small kiss on your skin.

after the video went viral, the sophomore reached out wanting to interview the two of you to which caleb politely declined. he thinks that the internet doesn’t deserve to see your beauty (you point out that he revealed your face in the video but he says it doesn’t count.)

note/s: inspired by a tiktok audio i heard

ᡣ𐭩 content — baby fever!satoru. fluff-ish/angst.

baby fever!satoru who's accepted that you don't want kids. and, really, he gets it. you're young, you like where your job's at. where your life is at. so, okay, no kids.

baby fever!satoru has you, anyways. he'll be okay.

baby fever!satoru who can't get it out of his mind. he'd leave jujutsu for it. for a little, mushy baby. one that has his eyes, and your hair. his nose, and your smile. he can't get it out of his mind, a little person, a combination of you and him.

baby fever!satoru who likes to go to parks, to stare at kids. and, god, he knows that's creepy. that there are laws in place for people like him, okay? but, he can't help it.

baby fever!satoru who's favorite part is watching them interact with their parents. after they make it down a slide, and run straight into their mother's arms. or, when their dad pushes them up, up, and up on a swing.

baby fever!satoru who can only sit by himself on the bench, a ghost of a smile on his face.

baby fever!satoru who always feels guilty. you're his everything, and he's so lucky to have you. why is he being selfish? why does he need more? he has it all, doesn't he? he's rich, good-looking, and has a wonderful girl.

baby fever!satoru who hates that, sometimes, everything isn't quite enough.

baby fever!satoru who comes home one day, after running into nanami, and his family. his wife. his newborn baby. his happy, complete family.

baby fever!satoru who can't stop thinking about how content nanami had looked, like he'd found that last puzzle piece.

baby fever!satoru who had found that last puzzle piece, he just couldn't have it.

baby fever!satoru who sinks into the sheets, sight blurred with hot tears. "i don't need a baby," he says, voice breaking. "i don't. really. they're stinky. and they poop. they vomit everywhere."

you'd placed your novel aside, shifting on the bed, trying to meet his face. it was buried in the pillow, as he refused to meet your eyes. "oh, baby," you coo. "it's okay. c'mere, it's okay."

you who gave into baby fever!satoru. how could you not? and, god, he thanked you for it everyday.

it was just like baby fever!satoru wished. a beautiful baby girl. she had his eyes, and your hair. his nose, and your smile.

baby fever!satoru who was sobbing in the hospital, getting to hold his daughter for the first time. you cried, too, but because of how happy the love of your life was.

you cry today, too. he wanted this baby, didn't he? so, why would he go leave you with it? you aren't her mother. she isn't your daughter.

she's his, but he's gone.

baby fever!satoru who's only left you with a dream. his dream.

permanent taglist: @mia-can-yap-too, @jeonwiixard <33

NEED to see gojo and toji with a good girl. maybe you can do how they react to having the opposite. only if you want 😋

┌─ .✦ WITH THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT THEY PREFER part one

characters. multi jjk.

authors note. I too wanted to see gojo with a good girl. so here you go angel face! also i couldn’t come up with a better word than ‘prefer’ 😭 BUT WHATEVER YOU ARE!! THEY PREFER YOU

✦ — gojo satoru, with a good girl.

at first, he’s amused. like really? no fight? no attitude? but once he sees how sincerely you want to please him, something inside him shifts—gets more gooey and slow. he likes corrupting you. his praise is so filthy it’s practically degrading. whispers sweet things after he break you. in the end though he’s the love drunk one. “fuck—you’re really letting me do whatever I want… you’re dangerous, baby.”

✦ — geto suguru, with a brat.

he laughs when you act out. he likes watching you throw a tantrum. he breaks you down with patience by using rope and eye contact. keeps you restrained and aching until you beg him to take control again. he’s not mad. he’s disappointed—and that’s worse. “are you done embarrassing yourself, or do you need help remembering your place?”

✦ — naoya zenin, with a brat.

he’s pissed. his ego demands respect and you decide to challenge him? he snaps. he doesn’t get flustered though—he gets mean. “you think mouthing off makes you strong? pathetic.” grabs your jaw, fucks you face-down ass up, makes you cry for being disrespectful. every bratty act gets met with punishment until you learn to bow. he won’t stop until you’re trembling and whimpering his name.

✦ — toji fushiguro, with a good girl.

your obedience catches him off guard. but once you obey without question? he gets mean in the most delicious way. he tests just how far your obedience goes by fucking you like he hates you. imagine his surprise when he sees his good girl taking the rough pounding like it’s love. “tch. so fuckin’ obedient… bet you’d let me ruin you and still thank me.”

✦ — nanami kento, with a brat.

visibly annoyed. the glasses come off and the sleeves roll up. but deep down? he enjoys putting you back in place by edging you for hours so he gives you rules he knows you’ll break. he’s known for being calm and clinical, but underneath that? he’s filthy. you don’t act out for a while after he’s done. “I suggest you get it out of your system now.”

✦ — sukuna ryomen, with a good girl.

he thinks it’s boring—until he realizes how much power he has. a girl who worships him? you become his entirely. calls you his little worshipper. makes you beg for his cruelty—and calls it love. “you’d kneel for me without even being told? fuck. I could do anything to you.”

✦ — choso kamo, with a good girl.

he’s… stunned. like emotionally overwhelmed. this soft, obedient energy? he doesn’t know what to do with it. he gets so gentle with you and your body but later? he starts testing—just a little roughness, a little teasing—trying to see if you’ll still be good. and when you are? he falls harder. calls you his girl in the softest voice you’ve ever heard. “you… trust me? just like that?”

thinking about boxer!toji who is your loving boyfriend of 2 years. you’ve been dating since the first year of his boxing career and he’s been treating you like an absolute princess.

boxer!toji who you can’t help but gush at whenever you watch his matches. god.. his back, the way his shoulders firm and his big arms swing. how his biceps have silly bite marks you gave him last night—you could just eat him up.

boxer!toji who usually comes home late all bruised and bloody. however, a sigh of relief comes out of you as you look up to see the huge grin on his face, holding up his winning trophy.

boxer!toji whose abs are so toned you could practically crack nuts on them. like, seriously. after you showered you swore you could see your reflection on them.

boxer!toji who really cannot get off his beautiful girlfriend. literally. his hands are always on you. when in public, his hand is always on your lower back. in private, he’s cuddling you like there’s no tomorrow. hands all over your hips, taking in your scent and kissing you everywhere.

boxer!toji who looks for you in the crowd when he wins, kissing the medal and winking at you.

boxer!toji who is.. quite famous. he has no intent on getting on social media, but his inbox is bombarded with tiktok edits of him that you sent. you giggle and kick your feet whilst the said “Sexiest Boxer Alive” gets out of the shower drying his hair. he has never seen the appeal, but he might just get social media to brag about you.

boxer!toji who asks you to help him with his exercising routine, getting you to sit on his back when he does pushups. it’s quite impressive, really. how is he able to do pushups with you on his back, and with one arm?!

boxer!toji who never thought he’d want to settle down, but ever since he laid eyes on that cute news reporter (you), he has never wanted anything more in his life.