♥︎: Fluff ♡: Angst ☆: Suggestive ★: Smut

PL4YL1STS >:3

JJK

MHA

i imagine toji and his wife having the "he asked for no pickles 😡" dynamic idc how big and bad toji is

if u wear glasses satorus cumming on them. like purposefully aiming for the pretty frames. he also volunteers to clean ur glasses for u after only to stick out his pink tongue nd run it alllll over ur face nd glasses to clean u.

i want to make suguru call me daddy. mhmhmhmhmhmhm

thanks 4 the most shitty ending of all time gege luv u very much

why r there no tall votes. do u want me to die.

guys do i give tall or short energy……… pls be careful w ur answers im sensitive……

reblogging this bc it’s so cute and TMMRWS MY BDAY YAYYY 19 on the 19th is so cute and aesthetic

☆ gojo satoru x gender-neutral!reader ⇢ domestic fluff, established relationship.

you’re woken up by a kiss.

gojo satoru smiles against your lips, only allowing a hair’s breadth of space to form in between you both as you let out an annoyed huff. you roll onto your back and he towers over you, arms braced on either side of your head.

“hi,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“go to sleep,” you grumble, cracking one eye open lazily.

“it’s midnight.”

“exactly.” you try to turn over, but he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a brief, open-mouthed kiss to the sliver of skin exposed near your shoulder. 

“you know what that means.” he presses his fingers into your waist, bunching up your robe. his hair tickles your neck; you smile.

“it means you need to sleep,” you say pointedly, squinting into the darkness. you bring a hand up and card it through his hair. he sighs softly when you lightly scratch on his scalp.

“and it also means it’s a new day already.”

“‘s not a new day ‘til the sun comes up,” you murmur sleepily.

satoru doesn’t argue. he only grabs your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist. the muted lights that penetrate the darkness through your open window are reflected in his eyes—but he looks at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the sky, just for him.

“happy birthday,” he says, mouth splitting into a wide grin, and despite your drowsiness, you let him pull you into a kiss.

69 followers yall ty for this honor of having the funny number 🙏

dyeing my hair purple today :p

AGAJNANSNAKWNKWNAKKW

Mommy kink, piss kink, humiliation, infantilization, mentions of spankings, dacryphilia, dubcon (?) mdni♡

Mommy!Suguru finds immense joy in making you wet yourself.

One long finger slides underneeth your belt to tug you back, your behind softly crashing against his chest, he secures you in place with one big hand over your tummy then starts squishing the flesh gently.

"S-sugu-" you whine, already knowing what's to come, "please d-don't"

Suguru only chuckles, his hand sliding down to rest over your full blatter, he places several feather light kisses along the crown of your head.

"Sshhhh" he mumbles against your hair "don't be a fussy baby" he whispers before placing a wet messy kiss on your cheek.

Your stomach drops when his hand begins to apply more pressure on your bladder. You stumble back, a futile attempt to escape his touch, and both of your hands fly to rip his off of you but to no avail.

"S-sugu-"

"try again" he warns, and you swallow a lump of saliva before proceeding with your words.

"M...mommy..." you quickly correct yourself. as if you weren't embarrassed enough..

Suguru seems satisfied, and you're relieved, you think about how you might have dodged a potential spanking. Suguru is very serious about the way you address him after all.

"Good baby..." Suguru smooths down your hair gently "empty your head, sweetie..." he brushes his hand against your trembling shoulder, then leaves several kisses on the same spot "My silly little baby and their silly litte worries" he shakes his head fondly "let mommy take care of everything, okay?"

And you nod because what other choice do you have? Suguru is sweet, gentle and motherly, and you'd like to keep him that way, even if it means putting up with him when he gets in one of his moods. Because you've tried, and you can't handle him when he's mean.

"Good.." and before you know it, his hand comes down like a verdict, pressing against your blatter in full force, and you come undone, completely wetting yourself and effectively being stripped of any illusion of dignity to desperately held on to. Hot tears start to spill and you don't get the chance to cover your red face because –of course– Suguru is right there to catch them, right there to catch you when you go limp, just as he has conditioned you to.

"Sweetie...did you make another mess? Aww, let mommy clean you up"

whoa actually breathless from this one yall holy shit i think i’m gonna die

Nanami Kento is the kind of man who always makes sure his lady’s nails are done. He doesn’t care the shape nor color, just that you get his initials on your ring finger each time, an unofficial token of your love — until he gets you the real thing, of course.

He grows utterly weak in the knees whenever you get them obscenely long or a little pointy (bonus points if you get gems or sparkly glitter.) He loves how confident it makes you feel, how your eyes gleam with elated gratitude whenever he presents you with his credit card or a wad of bills, suggesting you take the day for yourself.

Amongst the few, minute joys that lurk on this godforsaken planet, there is nothing that makes Nanami happier than when his favorite girl spends his hard earned money. He even asked you to resign from your job because he makes enough for the both of you. He hates to see you working anyway, he is a provider after all. What did you expect?

He’d wait ever so patiently for you to come back home. Watching the news or cooking a warm, heartfelt dinner, keeping himself occupied as we awaits your return, just imagining what it is you bought this time — lingerie? New shoes? Hours later, when you’re finally stumbling through the door with several overflowing shopping bags, a fresh set of acrylics, and a beaming smile, his cock swells.

Of course he’ll have you try on everything you bought, it’s only right. It’s his money after all, he just wants to ensure that it’s been well spent. Slouched lazily in an armchair, he’d gawk, shamelessly admiring his pretty girl. Gaunt legs sprawled idly as his head cocks to the right, a slow, sleazy grin twisting his lips. The trail of his sharp gaze warm and unwavering as you strip for him. Every once in a while, the amber of the overhead light reflects off of the gems that adorn your nails, the subtle glint catching attention.

A deep, audible groan ensues each time you peel off a garment of clothing, only to replace it with another, giving him his own, private runway show. His knee would bounce in anticipation, poor, aching cock growing impossibly harder by the minute and you can tell; you can see the way it strains against the restricting fabric of his slacks, begging to be taken care of. He can’t help but to reach out for you, his big, greedy hands finding purchase at the thick of your hips to pull you close, claiming that he just wants to see your nails a bit better, but that’s what he always says.

And it’s always harmless, benign. That is until you inevitably end up with his drooling cock lodged in the very back of your throat, sinful bubbles of saliva escaping from the corners of your tautly stretched lips. He’d hold you hand endearingly, babbling on about how pretty your nails are, how much it turns him on when you spend his money, how he promises to spoil you for the rest of your life.

God, it’s taking every fiber of his being not to fish for his wallet and spread a hefty stack of blue striped bills across the ample fat of your ass. The mere thought makes his cock twitch, heavy hips pushing forward, forcing himself deeeep down your slutty little throat, a thick stream of arousal pooling against your tastebuds.

He whines. “Fuuuuucck,” huffing out a strangled breath, an unintentional gasp following, “sweetheart, you are sooo perfect… such perfect throat, godddd… the way you’re looking u-up at me.” Nanami groans, blindly reaching for your hand, dragging it toward his slick, parted lips, “need to marry you — swear to fuckin’ god m’gonna marry you.” His tongue is whorishly lolling out before he’s drawing your fingers in deep, drooling down all of your pretty knuckles.

You're audibly sputtering around him in agreement, saliva spilling down your chin and pooling near the fat of his swollen balls. Gag after helpless gag reverberates from your occupied mouth, the poor, weeping head sinking deeper and deeper with each subtle buck of his hips, painting your throat in haphazard spurts of precum. He needs you like this forever, to take his cock like this forever. He'd give anything to make you his slutty, little wife forever and ever and —

“Pleasepleaseplease tell me you wanna marry me too,” he whines, warm, eager tongue wrapping so possessively around your ring finger, pulling it into his mouth, "oh, god please tell me you want that. I need you forever, baby... need this pretty little mouth forever.” His thick, blonde brows furrow so sweetly, voice strained and so plainly conquered by his evident love.

Physically, you can't respond and he knows; he's deliberately tucking himself deeper, the neat tufts of hair that adorn his girthy base tickling your chin. All you can offer him is a loud, helpless gag as you nod and he whimpers in relief. Yesyesyes, I'll marry you, is all he hears, your obedient, glassy eyes a testament.

So, why are you surprised when he’s hastily fetching a small, velvet box from the pocket of his discarded slacks, cracking it open in fervid anticipation, his cock resting heavily against your tongue? You said yes, right?