good taste

his prices? bordering on exorbitant, but everyone was paying for discretion and quality. just two out of many things the tall blond excels at. enjin isn't like a stereotypical plug: some dude with shaggy hair who looks like he smells weird or some dick who shorts you on a gram. enjin is known for attending all the parties while maintaining a decent GPA. he helps freshmen find their classes after forcing them to listen to one of his bad jokes.

simply saying everyone loves him is a gross understatement. not only is everyone on campus scrambling every weekend to get his best stock, they crave his attention. men want him around for a good laugh exacerbated by the smoke hitting their lungs and circling the room. women want him around for a good flirt and maybe even a wink with a flash of his pearly whites.

every friday night at 12 am? he's got a like 10 other people hitting his line but he responds to you first.

you: need some gas tonight before the frat party pretty pls <3 enjin: i was waiting for you to text you: soooo ur on the way? enjin: knock knock princess

just one joint has your head floating in the strange clouds. muscles relaxing with ease, all the stress from the week seeping from your skin that's warming at a quick rate. the roughness of his jeans tickling your bare thighs sticking out from under your mini skirt. he rants about something… you really can't pin down the topic with how his normally low voice raises a pitch in excitement. enjin speaks at a mile a minute and your brain is running on vibes and fumes.

"—And then I told him, 'no way a T-Rex would win against a Sabre Tooth Tiger.' "

"Wow," Is all you can rasp out. mouth dry as hell.

"You're such a good listener." enjin's hazel eyes roll as he leans over the table and starts rolling another one. that perks you up.

"Don't you have customers to take care of?"

"I'm with my number one customer now." There's that wink. normally it doesn't do much, having been friends with enjin since you two first met at a friend's party. maybe it's the way his sleeves are rolled up. you stare at the swirling black clouds inked on his skin, similar to the ones you were exhaling out just a minute ago.

"But you're right. Business calls." Enjin stands, his jeans a bit low on his waist. there's more red and black swirls that keep your dry eyes fixated on him. he stops when you don't respond.

"Yo, you always get like this." A large hand brushes a stray braid swaying in front of your face. you follow his fingers, head tilting as you rest your hand in his cool palm. "You want me to get you some water?"

"Why don't you stay for a few minutes more?" You can't help but rub your thighs together at the insinuation of your words. a rasp in your voice deepening not just from the harsh plants you ingested.

enjin knows this song and dance. your glossy eyes gave it away every time. if it wasn't that, it was you never giving him personal space. or always asking him to come over at few very specific times when your roommate wouldn't be home. you were needy. but deep down he loves it. you tell him what you want, and you know he won't resist you. not when you always look so sweet.

"I might need more than a few minutes with you."

one thing about enjin, he knows what he wants. the best weed. some good music. and two thighs wrapped around him.

Enjin x f1🏎️🏁

COWBOY TOJIII

content: yandere!nerdgojo, college!au, stalking, brief mention of blood, minor violence, explicit sexual content, mdni

Nerdjo who knew, as soon as he laid his eyes on you that there would be no one else he’d ever need in life.

You walk around campus with your head high, shirts tight around your bouncing breasts, hips swinging in a tight skirt with a beaming smile. He sits in the cafe you always walk past every Wednesday at exactly 8:25 am on the way to your Stats class. You don’t like math, you’re very bad at it. He knows this because he hears you tell your friends this as you reach the door. He hears that you’ll need a tutor or you’ll fail. That’s the last thing he hears before the solid double doors slam in his face behind you. 

No one ever notices him. Not even you. Not yet.

boxer!toji who comes back to his penthouse with thick drops of sweat racing down his body. Muscles sore from strenuous jabs and skin littered with unsightly bruises. The scalding hot water soothes the aches only for a minute, until he reluctantly switches to cold water. Yaga would have his head if he didn't listen to his advice on how to reduce his injuries.

He remembers he has your number, the pretty little bartender from a some nights ago who finally gave into Toji's more-than generous tip. 11:15 p.m. You should be up, right?

Wrong. He flings his phone to the edge of the bed in annoyance. He wakes up expecting a text, call, something. When looking at his usual timeline, you would have been wined, dined, and sixty-nined just a few hours after you met then kicked to the curb like every other fangirl.

Call it desperation, because Toji decides to see you the night before his big match. He's out of his place in record time, donning gray sweats and a thick sweatshirt. He pulls a cap on as if that's enough for anyone to not recognize his hulking figure. The bar isn't as lively as it was, and he's thankful. Now you can give him your undivided attention.

Toji sits directly in the middle of the bar. He pretends to look at the menu until you notice him.

"Not much on that menu worth a second glance," A melodic voice resounds over the loud music from the speakers. "Let me fix you up something from the top shelf, sweetie."

boxer!toji whose eyes meet your cleavage before meeting your eyes. You sport a vintage black tee ripped into a v-neck to show off your tits sitting prettily. The cropped tee hugs your waist right at your pierced navel. A tight leather mini skirt hugs your full and fleshy hips.

"Oh. It's you again." You whip around to the wall of bottles and grab a top-shelf whiskey.

boxer!toji who can't help the slick smile that parts his lips when you slide him the same drink he had the first time you two met. Of course you remembered his order.

"Don't get too excited, sweets," Toji sips from his glass. "Tryin' to keep a low profile here."

boxer!toji who pitches a tent just from the way you roll your eyes at him. Ever flick of your moisturized locks over your shoulder to the sway of your hips as you walk to other customers. He isn't even jealous as your fingertips delicately swipe over the arms of guys who fist cash across the bar for whatever you're selling.

"Oh shit! It's him!" Some random patron shouts from the pool table.

He gives a huff disguised as a chuckle before moving to take off his hat. Before he can give his best, "Alright, who wants first autograph?" the crowd rushes to the door. He follows the swarm and his face flushes with heat.

As if the bar couldn't look any smaller, Ryomen Sukuna's presence alone dominates the space.

Spiked hair dyed in a flashy pink was unavoidable in the crowd. His canines are capped in a expensive platinum grills that glint with each flash of the phone cameras. Jet black tattoos peek from under the collar of his sweatshirt and up his tree-trunk forearms. Stoic bodyguards remain at the door, as if they're aware they aren't needed should something unpleasant happen.

Sukuna is a human tank. Well, human is debatable. His viciousness in the ring causes opponents to leave in an ambulance.

Toji would find out in about 20 hours if his blood would be next to spatter across the white mat.

To Toji's dismay, Sukuna makes his way to the bar after satisfying every fans' need for attention.

"Shots on me tonight, baby girl." Sukuna slaps a metal card down. You take it slowly, fingers lingering over his warm hand.

"Anything for the King of the Ring." You wink and type in the order.

"Get this dick a fresh drink, too." Sukuna juts a thumb to Toji in the next stool over. "Let's chat a bit, Fushiguro."

★   ⸺   『ガチアクタ』

★   ⸺   Original Work By: Urana Kei

olderbf!nanami headcannons ! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

olderbf!nanami who never rushes you, no matter how impatient you get. you’re standing in front of your closet, frustrated, pulling out dresses and tossing them onto the bed.

"i have nothing to wear," you groan. he’s sitting in the armchair by the window, his tie already loosened, watching you with that calm, steady gaze.

"we have forty-five minutes," he says, his voice low and even. "take your time."

you huff, turning to face him. "you’re always so patient. it’s annoying."

he smiles, small and fond. "i’ve waited forty years to find you. i can wait forty-five minutes for you to pick a dress."

olderbf!nanami who always makes sure you eat before you leave the house. you’re running late, your heels clicking on the kitchen floor as you grab your purse.

"we’re going to be late," you say, already halfway to the door.

he steps in front of you, a plate in his hand—toast with avocado, a soft-boiled egg, sliced fruit arranged neatly. "eat first."

you stare at him. "nanami, we don’t have time—"

"we have time," he interrupts gently, setting the plate on the counter. "you’re not leaving this house on an empty stomach. sit."

you sit. you always do. because when he looks at you like that—like taking care of you is the most important thing in the world—you can’t say no.

olderbf!nanami who never raises his voice, even when you’re being difficult. you’re arguing about something stupid—where to go for dinner, maybe, or whether you should cancel plans to stay in—and your voice is getting louder, your hands gesturing wildly.

he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you. "you’re not even listening!" you snap.

"i am," he says quietly. "i’m listening to every word. and when you’re done, we’ll talk about it calmly. like adults."

you deflate, your anger fizzling out. "you’re too kind to me," you mutter.

he steps forward, his hands finding your waist. "you’re worth the kindness."

olderbf!nanami who takes his time undressing you, like every layer is a gift he’s unwrapping. you’re in his bedroom, the lights dimmed, and you’re already reaching for his belt, impatient, wanting him now.

"slow down," he murmurs, catching your hands. "we have all night."

you pout. "i don’t want to wait."

the stop for Itahoney's Romantic Universe is now approaching. please collect all your belongings, we thank you for riding with us today.

behind our exit doors lie your desired relationship. choose a path, meet your lover, and start your journey. At the moment, all exits include content that is 18+ ...mdni. Mature content is labeled accordingly. Thank you for your understanding~

💖 - fluff

🔥- smut

exit one - jujutsu kaisen

nanami kento

♡ A For Effort - single father!nanami x teacher!reader 💖 (part II) 🔥

♡ To B Honest - bestfriend!nanami x reader💖

choso kamo

♡ For a Good Time, Call... - lucky caller!choso x phone sex operator! reader (part II)🔥

hiromi higuruma

♡ the summoning - (lawyer higuruma x cursed spirit!reader)🔥

satoru gojo

♡ Poolside - Yandere Nerdjo🔥 ♡ Do What I Say - Fratjo & Fratgeto x reader🔥

toji fushiguro

♡ coconut - nerd!toji x reader💖 ♡ one shot - boxer!toji (pt. II)💖 ♡ private show - prisoner!toji x reader🔥

general

♡ The Comeback - boyband!jjk x girlgroup!reader🔥

exit two - gachiakuta

enjin

♡ sweet sucker - tattoo artist! reader x enjin🔥 ♡ down south - bounty hunter!enjin x reader💖 ♡ wanna hit? - plug!enjin x reader💖 ♡ adrenaline - f1!enjin x press!reader💖 ♡ butterflies - dollfestival arc enjin x cleaner!reader💖

Our remaining exits are currently under construction. We ask for your patience as we work hard to finish them~

every single time you bend down in front of him he smacks your ass like it’s a reflex. like a doctor hitting your knee with that little hammer. he genuinely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore.

when you take off your shirt he hollers, “BOOBIES!” loud enough for half of the cleaner hq to hear. rudo once dropped a wrench because of it.

he got a pic of you in his pocket where you sleep with your mouth wide open, double chin included. he proudly shows it EVERYONE.

calls you baby in increasingly stupid variations. sugarbaby. babycakes. babygirl. babybel cheese. babesaurus rex.

absolutely the type to fake dramatic injuries for attention. “aughhh… my heart…” — “what happened?” — “you looked too pretty.”

if you ignore him for more than ten minutes he starts escalating. first it’s whining. then poking. then laying on top of you like a weighted blanket. “hello? hello? customer service? my girlfriend stopped loving me.”

he cannot flirt normally. ever. he points at you and goes, “that one’s mine btw,” like he found a cool rock.

one time he tried to kiss you smoothly and accidentally headbutted you hard enough to make both of you see stars.

obsessed with making you laugh. if you laugh so hard you snort, he acts like he just won the lottery.

if you’re cooking he WILL appear behind you and steal food straight from the pan while acting offended when you hit his hand away. “wow. abuse. in my own home.”

absolutely the kind of boyfriend who starts fake beef with inanimate objects for hurting you.“this table got one more time to hit my girl before i square up.”

loves putting his cold hands on your skin just to hear you shriek.

kisses you mid-sentence. not romantically either. fully to shut you up because he thinks it’s funny.

every time you wear something slightly revealing he malfunctions, in a “walking into walls because he’s staring” way.

would 100% yell “THAT’S MY WIFE!” over the smallest accomplishments. you parallel parked successfully? THAT’S MY WIFE!!!!

he treats your bra like a deadly ancient artifact whenever you ask him to unclasp it. “okay wait. hold on. i almost got it. why’s this built like a fucking escape room?”

once tried to carry you bridal style to be romantic. immediately dropped you both onto the couch because he tripped over absolutely nothing. another time he knocked you out on the doorframe.

if you’re shorter than him he rests his chin on your head constantly. if you’re taller than him he still tries. the posture is horrendous.

shamelessly fishes for compliments. “babe do i look sexy today?” — “you’re wearing one sock and my shirt?” — “answer the question.”

he sees you naked and suddenly turns into the loudest man alive. “WOOOOOOO!!!!” then rips his shirt off like in the werewolf meme.

a/n: no spoilers, but takes place in the doll festival arc. pure fluff.

The October air whistled through the throngs of fully costumed people swarming the cobblestone streets.

"Yo, the party's this way! Keep up, would ya?" Enjin puts his palm on your back, making sure you keep up with him.

The lack of chokers provided little relief from your leader's irritating voice.

"I seem to be the only one that remembers our mission—"

You're cut off by your own screech as a masked man flails his pale arms in your face. Had Enjin not held you by your right wrist, you would have cracked the man's face in half.

"IT'S THE DOLL FEST-I-VAAALLLLLL!" August gets so close you can make out his excited eyes behind his sunglasses. "I DIDN'T MAKE ALL THESE FITS SO YOU COULD JUST WORK IN 'EM! GET YOUR GROOVE ON!"

You open your mouth to argue when you promptly shut it just as fast. Having a simple conversation with the Cleaners' wardrobe designer is about as easy as it is to get Enjin to not piss you off.

Your shoulders slump in defeat. There's no chance anyone will stop shopping or gawking at the displays of magic around them. Enjin's stupid grin widens, small dimples indenting the smooth skin of his cheeks.

"You heard the man," Enjin drags you to the next stall. "Let's get our groove on."